Date: Wed, 8 Dec 2004 13:59:36 -0800 (PST) From: Robert B <robert_b9968@yahoo.com> Subject: Following the Rainbow AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was an assignment for my English 101 class. The guidelines were simple and very liberal; working off of a previously chosen culture/topic, create a 3-6 page text that includes pieces from each of the previous units. In this case, that required me to include an image reference, two direct quotes, and a statistical source. For the project, I chose to write a 'semi-fictional' account of a young man who came out of the closet in his high school years. To the professor and students, who assume I'm straight for good reasons, this story is based off the untrue experiences of a non-existent friend. In fact, it's how I really came out of the closet, and how I commemorated the one-year anniversary a month ago. If you want to comment, please send me an e-mail at: robert_b9968@yahoo.com ------------------------ Following the Rainbow ------------------------ Each and every day, people make decisions and act in ways that can profoundly alter the course of their lives. Some of these events are small, like choosing what to eat or which turn to take. Others are more significant, such as graduating school or changing careers. Then there are the few momentous times that redefine the meaning of life; actions outshone only by the finality of death. Exactly one year has passed since the fateful hour that changed who I am. I'm sitting on a park bench, staring at the pale full moon, lost again in reflections of what could have been. My vision is blurred by unshed tears, and I still feel filled with unending remorse for what I had done. In spite of all this, a small smile stays on my lips. Carefully, I remove the fat cigar from its plastic package. On every special occasion, it's my custom to enjoy an expensive cigar for an hour while I contemplate life. Tonight is no exception. After slicing off an end, I open my lighter and let the bright blue flame play on the cigar's tip. I bring it to my lips, inhale, and feel the fiery tobacco soothe my muscles. As the cloud of smoke rises, twists, and fades away, my mind drifts back in time, once again recalling my life's most defining act. * * * * I watched the glaring red digits of my alarm clock tick by, minute after minute, waiting with inexorable dread for the impending dawn. The sleepless night had passed by in a series of whiskey shots, helping to steady my nerves and drown out my senses. My bags were packed, and the final escape routes were in place. There was some cash in my wallet, and my closest friends were standing by. Over and again, I prayed that these were needless precautions, but I knew better than to hope for the best. Not after what I'd seen happen to some of my friends. Coming out of the closet can be a very dangerous thing. It isn't uncommon to face physical abuse from an enraged parent. Some gay men I knew had even undergone legal torture under the nominal excuse of 'treatment,' including electric-shock and nausea-inducing aversion therapy. That would not happen to me; I had made several different preparations to protect myself. In the ultimate worst-case scenario, I could be in Canada under a new name in less than a month. There was nothing left for me to do now, and no reason to wait in bed any longer. At four in the morning, I showered and dressed quickly, before my parents awoke. When I left the house, the black of night was slowly being replaced by an eerie gray twilight. It was a cold and cloudy day, but the rising sun had begun to illuminate the eastern sky with hues of red and yellow. Today was the last day of my deceitful life, I knew. Tomorrow I would be a different person. Classes passed by slowly, while I spent the time in a waking coma -- exhausted, hung over, and irrepressibly afraid. Frequently, I would look around and memorize my surroundings, wondering if I would never be back. I cherished any time I could spend with my friends, and made certain to give everybody I cared about a surreptitious goodbye. Just in case. When school ended, instead of immediately going home, I walked to my favorite restaurant nearby. Sitting alone at the bar, I drained glass after glass of soda while I tried in vain to mentally prepare what I was going to say. As I sat, rain began to fall outside. An hour later, as the rain gradually abated and the clouds drifted away, I was still at the bar. Looking out from a nearby window, I saw that a rainbow had formed. My mother had told me once, when I was a child, that rainbows are the ways into our future. Each color, she said, represents a different path. The choices we make in life determine which path we take, and what our future will be. But the future is never certain, and so, the rainbow's end can never be found. Remembering this old fable, I smiled at the remarkable irony. Today, I thought, I would be changing colors. In every sense of the phrase, I truly would be following the rainbow. At length, I paid my tab and said a polite goodbye to the owner. Two hours had passed since I arrived at the restaurant, and my stomach churned in protest of the soda binge. Home was one mile away, and I walked the distance slowly. The time was approaching fast, but I was in no hurry to reach it. I wondered whether this foolish risk was worth any possible reward. In order to ease my own relentless torture, it was inevitable that I would be inflicting pain on those I loved. But the lies ate at me, chafing too strongly to ignore any longer. Insomnia and nightmares haunted me every night. At one point, I would occasionally use alcohol to soothe my anguished mind. Now, I drank every single night, and it no longer helped. Things had to change, and it was now or never. At home, it was quiet. My father sat at the kitchen table, silently going over some papers from work, and didn't look up as I passed by. I found my mother in the kitchen, stirring a large pot on the stove. She turned around and smiled when I greeted her, asking where I'd been while she checked on a roast in the oven. Purely out of habit, I responded with a simple lie that appeased her curiosity. Half an hour later, we all sat down to dinner. My apprehension, as well as my stomach filled with soda, kept me from eating much. The plan was to tell my parents shortly after dinner, and so less than an hour remained. We finished eating, and the table was cleared. I took my time as I washed the dishes, trying to delay the inevitable. Eventually, though, there were no more dishes left, and it was time. I gathered my mother and father, and asked them to have a seat on the couch. I told them that there was something important they needed to know, and took a seat across from them. At first, I couldn't even look at my parents; it took several seconds to gather enough courage to look into their eyes. I shivered and trembled, and my heart beat dangerously fast. My eyes grew hot, but I forced back the tears. I refused to cry. "Mom, Dad, there's no easy way for me to tell you this, so I'll just say it," I began slowly, forcing out each word. My heart began beating even faster, and my breath grew ragged. It felt as if I were cliff diving; on top of a waterfall, looking down, and trying to make myself jump. "I...I'm...I'm gay." The last word drew a curtain of silence over the room. I couldn't bring myself to say anything more, and my parents were too surprised for an immediate response. So for several long seconds, I waited as they processed the information, fully prepared to run away at any sign of danger. "I...I don't understand." My mother said at last. "How? You've never seemed...that way.[ii] What about all those girls you've dated?" "That was all for show." I told her softly. "Keep in mind that I never went out with any of them twice." "Don't worry, dear," my father said sternly to my mother. "It's just a phase. He'll grow out of it." "No, Dad, it's not a phase." I explained wearily. "It's something I've felt all my life, and I've been fighting it for years. I can't fight it any longer." "I just wanted so much for you to have a normal life, Jack." My mother said after a long silence, obviously becoming upset. "I always thought you'd meet a nice girl, get married, and start a family. Now you're telling me that will never happen." "No, Mom. I can still get married, even if it isn't recognized by the government yet. And I still do want to have a kid, someday." "Bullshit," my father interrupted. "There's no way you can have a child, if you choose to go through with this. To create a well-rounded, fully-capable human being, studies have proven that a child must have both a male and female role model. It would not be fair, or in the best interest of the child, to be denied the right of a 'normal childhood' that would afford it all the opportunities of any other like human being. The presence of these role models is vital.i" "If the point of the nuclear family is to raise a child with morals and values that are important to this country," I argued, "then I just don't see what homosexuality has to do with that..." "Jack," my mother interjected. "Why don't you give your father and me some time to think and talk about this?" "Good idea. I'll come back down in an hour, and we'll talk some more." As I was leaving, I heard my mother begin to cry. So, without turning around, I told her, "Mom, this isn't your fault. Or yours, Dad. It's just who I am. I can't tell you how very sorry I feel for it." In my room, I lied down on the bed. For the first time in years, I allowed myself to cry. It truly felt as if I had died, but at the same time, I could feel a faint new hope emerge. * * * * The cigar is burning short, now, and the moon has moved across the sky. A lot has changed, since that fateful day. I didn't have to put any of my emergency plans into use, but the coming out process still took its toll. My mother cried for days, and my father's cold anger lasted for several weeks. The two argued frequently because of me, and even came close to divorce. My drinking escalated further, as is common among men with similar experiences.[iii] It led to a handful of suicide attempts before I finally sobered up. Gradually, though, things grew better. My parents reconciled, and they've finally come to accept me as I am. As I leave the cigar in a nearby ashtray and rise from the park bench, my contemplation finally comes to a conclusion. Life is better now than it ever was before. Now, I think with a smile, it's time to start another year. i 'To create a......role models is vital.' Exact words of ***********, from the Unit 2 interview. ii 'If the point......to this country,' 'then I just......do with that.' Exact words of **********, from the Unit 2 interview. iii R.F. Barr, H.P. Greenberg, M.S. Dalton: "Homosexuality and Psychological Adjustment," Medical Journal of Austin, vol. 1 (1974), 187-189