Date: Wed, 16 Jan 2002 17:18:19 -0700
From: L
Subject: the big moon (no sex)

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NOTE: While this story is purely fictional, it draws
on my actual experience as a former LDS missionary.
(There's a story there, of course, but it's not the
story you're about to read.)

For conscience's sake, I should say that my decision
to submit this story to the Nifty Archive does not
necessarily mean that I approve of the content of
other stories in the archive. Nevertheless, I applaud
the archive's goal of collecting "the diverse hopes,
dreams, aspirations, fantasies, and experiences of the
Queer Community." Gay Mormon experience--and fantasy--
is one piece of that diversity.
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THE BIG MOON

Elder Cannon learned about the gay bar a few days
after being transferred into the area. The bar was
located six blocks from the missionaries' apartment,
near the outskirts of town. Elder Pilsinger pointed it
out to him as they were driving home one night.

It didn't match his mental image of a bar. There were
no neon signs in the window, no people in leather
jackets lined up outside waiting to be admitted by a
bouncer. Nor was there anything about it that would
seem to indicate it was a gay bar--not that he had any
idea what to look for. It was just a modest,
nondescript, one-story building. It reminded him, in
fact, of the building where his family's dentist had
his office, back in Utah.

"How can you tell it's a gay bar?" he asked.

Elder Pilsinger shrugged. "It's just something
everyone knows. On weekends, the parking lot is
packed." He shook his head in disapproval. "It's a
sick world we live in."

Elder Cannon made a noise that was meant to sound like
assent.

*	*	*

He hated being a missionary. Everyone had said it
would be the best two years of his life, but a year
into his term of service, he was miserable. His
mission was nothing like what he had envisioned when
he submitted his papers. He had thought for certain
that because he'd done so well in his high school
Spanish classes, the Church would assign him to a
mission somewhere in Latin America. Instead he'd been
kept Stateside. He spent most of his ten proselyting
hours each day knocking doors. People were rude. The
ones who let them in were often lonely or emotionally
disturbed, eager for someone to lavish attention on
them. It wasn't uncommon for someone to let them in
just to argue with them. He had not yet witnessed a
single convert baptism. He had not yet been assigned a
missionary companion with whom he felt he had anything
approaching a friendship. He sensed that the mission
president disliked him, though he didn't know why. He
was still a junior companion, while all the other
missionaries with whom he'd entered the field had been
made senior companions or district leaders--one was
even a zone leader.

He was lonely and homesick. He felt like a failure. He
stayed because he couldn't face the shame of going
home early.

And on top of it all, there was the secret he had
carefully concealed through every interview with his
bishop, or his stake president, or his mission
president. He hadn't had...those feelings...for any of
his companions, at least not to a serious degree. But
he knew the feelings were there, and he worked hard
not to do anything that might give them away. It took
a lot of effort, and he was very, very tired.

Something had to give. On a Friday night, about two
weeks after Elder Pilsinger pointed out the gay bar to
him, it happened.

*	*	*

According to the Missionary Handbook, "lights out" was
10:30. By 11:00, Elder Pilsinger was snoring. Elder
Cannon eased stealthily out of bed and stripped off
his temple garment in the darkness. He pulled on the
one pair of briefs he had brought on his mission to
wear while playing sports, followed by the t-shirt and
jeans he wore during service projects or on their days
off.

It was a warm summer night. He half-walked, half-
jogged the six blocks to the bar. The parking lot was
not as "packed" as Elder Pilsinger's comment had led
him to imagine, but the bar was obviously having a
busy night.

He had never in his life set foot inside a bar--any
kind of bar--so he had no idea what to expect. It was
dark and loud and smelled smoky. The bar itself was
located close to the door. Beyond that, on a slightly
lower level, was a small dance floor packed with
bodies. Other people were sitting or standing on the
periphery, checking out the other patrons.

He couldn't see a place to sit that wouldn't have
required him to sit right next to someone else. So he
stood against the wall, directly beneath an Exit sign,
as it happened. Because he was on the same level as
the bar, he had a clear view of the dance floor
beneath him. He was aware that other men in the bar
were looking at him. Their stares made him anxious
rather than excited. He took scrupulous care not to
make eye contact with anyone. He felt acutely out of
place. This made him wonder if he was doing or not
doing something that gave him away as someone who
didn't have a clue how to behave in a gay bar.

His eye was caught by one of the dancers, a young man
who looked to be just a few years older than himself.
The young man had dark hair, conservatively cut, and a
pleasant, clean-shaven face. He struck Elder Cannon as
someone who would turn out to be both athletic and
smart--someone who was equally likely to be found
playing basketball with friends on a Saturday or
reading a book at a bus stop. Elder Cannon watched the
young man dance, wishing he knew how to approach him
and strike up a conversation.

Suddenly, the young man noticed Elder Cannon was
watching him. Their eyes locked. The young man smiled
and nodded in greeting. Elder Cannon looked away,
flustered. When he got up the nerve to look back, the
young man was looking somewhere else. Elder Cannon
resumed watching. After a while, the young man looked
at him again. He didn't nod this time, but he smiled a
little. Elder Cannon willed himself to keep looking.
The young man kept looking back. Several seconds
inched by. They kept looking at each other.

Then, abruptly, the young man stopped dancing. He
began working his way through the mass of bodies
toward the stairs leading up to Elder Cannon's level.
Elder Cannon experienced a wave of panic mixed with
anticipation.

"Hi. I'm Joel."

After a year of missionary service, Elder Cannon's
automatic response was to offer his hand. This seemed
to take Joel by surprise, but he shook hands, looking
amused. Elder Cannon almost introduced himself by his
missionary title; at the last moment he remembered to
answer, "I'm Wayne."

"Can I get you something to drink?"

Another wave, this time of pure panic. "I don't
drink," he answered, feeling like an idiot.

Joel didn't miss a beat. "How about a Sprite?"

"OK."

"I'll be right back."

Joel returned with two bottles of Sprite and handed
one to Elder Cannon. "Cheers."

There was an awkward pause, which Elder Cannon thought
he ought to break. Since he couldn't think of anything
else, he said what he was thinking at the moment. "I
didn't know you could buy Sprite at a bar."

"What?" It was hard to hear over the music.

Elder Cannon stepped closer. "I didn't know you could
buy Sprite at a bar," he repeated.

Joel flashed a kind of sideways smile that made
something stir deep in Elder Cannon's groin. He said
something that Elder Cannon couldn't quite make out.

"I'm sorry?" Elder Cannon said.

"I said, I take it the bar scene isn't your
specialty." Elder Cannon had heard the words this
time, but he wasn't sure what Joel meant by them. Joel
tried again. "This is your first time in a bar?"

"Yes." He thought he ought to explain. "My family
doesn't drink."

"Mine neither. Teetotaling Baptists." Joel jerked his
head in the direction of the door. "Why don't we go
outside where we can talk easier?"

"OK."

There was a waist-high cement planter just outside the
door, littered with cigarette butts. Joel swept the
butts aside so they could sit down. "That stuff'll
kill you," he said. "Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Good. Same here. The Baptist upbringing again. Though
I should add that an aversion to tobacco and a general
avoidance of alcohol are probably the only things I
took with me from my Sunday School days."

He's smart, all right, Elder Cannon thought. He felt
intimidated, plus he was afraid that Joel would
inquire about his own religious background. He needed
to change the subject. It occurred to him to shift
into the "Building Relationships of Trust" mode he
used whenever he met new people as a missionary. "Is
your family from here?"

Joel shook his head. "Austin, Texas. I'm here going to
grad school."

"What do you study?"

"American Studies." Elder Cannon didn't know what that
was. "It includes literature, history, culture, that
kind of thing, all rolled up into one."

"So you want to be, like, a professor?"

"Hopefully. I'm just getting started. I've got a long
ways to go still. What about you? Are you going to
school?"

Elder Cannon blanked. He hadn't thought to work out an
alibi in advance. He latched onto the memory of an
investigator from a previous proselyting area. "No. I
actually live in Colorado. I'm just here for a few
months, living with my grandparents. My grandfather's
recovering from a stroke, so I'm here to help out."

"Wow. That's great--what you're doing I mean. I'm
sorry about your grandfather. Is he recovering all
right?"

"Oh, sure. It'll just take time, is all."

Joel nodded sympathetically. "So where in Colorado are
you from?"

He fumbled for a brief moment. "Boulder."

He had this horrible premonition that Joel was going
to say, "Oh, I've been in Boulder. Which part of town
do you live in?" But Joel just said, "Hm." Another
awkward pause followed.

Joel broke the silence. "How old are you, Wayne?"

"Twenty. And you?"

"Twenty-five." Another pause. It occurred to Elder
Cannon that at age twenty, he might have broken the
law simply by having entered this bar. Growing up LDS,
he'd never really thought about how close he was or
was not to the legal drinking age. He wondered if his
age would also make it illegal for he and Joel to do
what he was hoping he and Joel were going to do.

"I don't mean to pry," Joel said carefully, "but I
guess I want to be clear where this is going and what
we might be on the verge of getting ourselves into.
Are you out?"

Elder Cannon's ears turned hot. "I don't know what
that means," he admitted, shame-faced.

Joel laughed a little, nervously it seemed. "Well, I
guess that answers my question." He turned serious
again. "What I mean is: do your grandparents, or other
members of your family, know you're gay?"

Elder Cannon didn't respond immediately. He realized
that in order to answer Joel's question, he had to
indirectly make a very significant admission about
himself which he had never made before to anyone.
"No."

Joel's voice dropped a couple notches in volume to
suggest that he was trying to probe gently into
intimate territory. "Have you ever...been with a guy?"

"No."

"Hm." Joel looked at Elder Cannon, apparently mulling
a decision over in his head. "Would you like to come
back to my place?" he asked finally.

Elder Cannon had to swallow before he could answer.
"Sure."

Joel flashed his sideways smile again. "Where are you
parked?"

"I walked. I live..." He gestured vaguely. "Just a few
blocks away."

"So we'll both go in my car, and I'll bring you back
here afterwards?"

"OK."

Joel drove a battered-looking used car; he's a college
student, Elder Cannon remembered. Elder Cannon had no
idea what to say during the drive, but Joel seemed
content to travel in silence. At one point he reached
over to take Elder Cannon's hand. It was the first
time Elder Cannon had held hands with a man in a
romantic way. They didn't let go until they pulled
into the parking lot outside Joel's apartment
building.

Joel lived in a tiny studio apartment. "It's cramped,"
he apologized. "But it's private, which is important
to me. No roommates to work around--or to get rid of,"
he added with a sly version of his sideways smile.

The only furniture was a desk and chair, two small
bookcases packed to capacity, a dresser with a
television on top, and the bed. Joel kicked off his
shoes, put his wallet and keys in the top drawer of
the dresser. "Make yourself comfortable."

Elder Cannon bent down to unlace his shoes. He
suddenly felt extremely embarrassed. When he
straightened back up, he found Joel sitting on the
edge of the bed, watching him. "Come sit here next to
me," Joel said. His voice had become soft but intense.

Elder Cannon obeyed. Without thinking, he clasped his
hands nervously between his knees as he sat down. A
second later he realized how silly this must look.

Joel took one of his hands. "Are you nervous?"

"A bit."

"We can stop whenever you want. And if you don't like
something we're doing, just say so." He began to run
the fingers of his free hand slowly up and down Elder
Cannon's spine. Elder Cannon closed his eyes and gave
himself over to the sensation. He opened his eyes
again a minute or so later, when he heard Joel
shifting on the bed next to him. "Turn to face me
more," Joel instructed. He did. Their faces were so
close that Elder Cannon could see himself reflected in
Joel's pupils. With one hand, Joel stroked Elder
Cannon's hair, while with the other he stroked Elder
Cannon's cheek. "You have such an innocent face," Joel
said and moved in to kiss him.

When their lips met, Elder Cannon felt as if a wave
was rushing over and through him. For the first time
in his life, he understood why people like to kiss.

*	*	*

Afterwards, they cuddled on top of the sheets naked--
"spooning," Joel called it. Joel was breathing
drowsily into the back of Elder Cannon's neck. Elder
Cannon craned around to look at the desk clock perched
on top of the television. It was after 1:00 in the
morning.

He turned to face Joel. "I really need to go," he
whispered.

Joel opened his eyes, smiled, and closed in for
another round of french-kissing. Finally he pulled
back. "I wish you could spend the night."

"My grandparents..."

"I know. I'm just saying."

They drove back to the bar. Joel had referred to the
bar as "the Big Moon," so Elder Cannon finally knew
what it was called. "You know, I can take you straight
back to your grandparents' place," Joel offered.

"No, that's OK. It's just a few blocks."

"Which is precisely why it's no problem for me to take
you all the way."

"I'd rather walk."

Joel gave him a knowing look which said: I understand.
You're not comfortable having me know where you live
yet. "At least let me drop you off a couple blocks
away so you don't have to walk so far."

"All right."

He had Joel drop him off a block away from the
apartment, where--he hoped--Elder Pilsinger was still
snoring the night away undisturbed. Before Elder
Cannon got out of the car, Joel passed him a slip of
paper. His phone number.

"I want to see you again," Joel said.

Elder Cannon didn't know how to answer.

"Good night," Joel told him.

"Good night." Just before he closed the car door, he
added, "Thank you."

*	*	*

He did not feel guilty, the way he had anticipated he
would. On the contrary, he felt better than he had at
any point since entering the mission field. He basked
in a glowing pride. He had had sex. He had enjoyed it
immensely. And apparently Joel had enjoyed it, too,
because Joel had asked to see him again. He was
wanted. That knowledge was extremely satisfying.

Through the long days of knocking on doors and
teaching the occasional abortive first discussion, he
would let his mind replay the events of that Friday
night, paying only enough attention to what was going
on around him to take over his part of the door
approach or the discussion on cue. At night, lying
awake in the dark, he smiled as he remembered. He did
not allow himself to masturbate. Before, he had
resisted the temptation to masturbate because he felt
guilty: self-abuse would offend the Spirit, the
mission president had warned them. Now he resisted
because he was "saving up" for the coming Friday.

On Friday night, after Elder Pilsinger was asleep,
Elder Cannon changed his clothes and called Joel from
the living room. He was afraid Joel might not be home
--at the Big Moon again, perhaps--and was relieved
when Joel answered. Joel sounded pleased to receive
the call.

"I was beginning to think I wasn't going to hear from
you. How are you?"

"Good." Elder Cannon had to keep his voice down for
fear of waking up Elder Pilsinger. At the other end of
the line, he could hear the TV playing in Joel's
apartment. "I was wondering if we could...get together
again."

"You mean tonight?"

"If it isn't too late..."

"No, no, it's Friday. The night is young. Shall I pick
you up at the same place I dropped you off last time?"

"If you don't mind."

"No problem. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Joel seized Elder Cannon's hand as soon as he got into
the car. "So where do you want to go?"

"Um...Can we just go back to your place?" He added
apologetically, "I can't be out really late. I have to
get up early."

Joel was visibly disappointed. But he said, "Sure,
whatever you want." There was an awkward silence as
they drove. Then Joel looked over at Elder Cannon and
flashed his smile. "It's so good to see you again. You
look great."

Elder Cannon was flattered but didn't know how to
respond.

When they reached the apartment, Joel kicked off his
shoes, turned on the TV, and lay down, still clothed,
on top of the bed. "Come watch some TV with me," he
told Elder Cannon.

They watched Jay Leno, who was interviewing an actress
Elder Cannon had never seen, talking about a movie
Elder Cannon vaguely remembered having heard of. As a
missionary, he couldn't go to movies or watch TV. He
wasn't even supposed to read the newspaper. When Joel
asked him, "Have you seen that film?" he could only
shake his head and hope that Joel wouldn't pursue the
subject. He lay with his head resting in the dip where
Joel's shoulder and chest met, one arm flung across
Joel's stomach while Joel cradled his side. He hoped
Joel was planning to do more; but still, this was very
comfortable.

When the show was over, Joel got up to turn off the
TV. Back in bed, he started tracing Elder Cannon's
facial features with a single finger. Elder Cannon
decided to be more aggressive, untucking Joel's shirt
so he could put his hands on Joel's stomach. "You
learn fast," Joel said with a smile.

They did different things this time than last. Elder
Cannon was eager to learn, and Joel seemed to enjoy
teaching him. Afterwards, they lay on their sides,
facing each other, embracing. He likes me, Elder
Cannon thought, and the thought made him hug Joel
tighter.

During the drive back, Elder Cannon got the feeling
that something was wrong.

"I don't want to be just fuck-buddies, Wayne," Joel
said before Elder Cannon got out of the car. "I want
to go on a real date with you--dinner and a movie and
all that. I know that things are tricky, what with
your grandparents. But couldn't you tell them...I
don't know...that you're going out with some friends
or something? I want to spend some real time with
you."

"I can't," Elder Cannon said. He groped desperately
for words.

Joel must have seen how distressed he was, because he
backed off. "I'm not saying we can't keep seeing each
other the way we are now. What I'm saying is...I want
more than this. I want to find a way to make that
happen."

Elder Cannon was becoming used to the strange feeling
of being frightened and flattered at the same time.

*	*	*

A few days later, he and Elder Pilsinger were given a
referral by one of the local Church members--the
address of someone who apparently had expressed
interest in meeting with the full-time missionaries.
On the basis of previous experience, Elder Cannon
suspected that the member had pushed the person to
accept an unwanted visit. Sure enough, no one answered
the door at the address they'd been given. It was
7:30. Two hours before the missionaries could call it
a night and go back to their apartment.

"Well..." Elder Pilsinger looked around. He was the
kind of missionary who went around reciting proverbs
like: If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. "Shall
we tract out that apartment building across the
street?"

It was the building where Joel lived.

Joel lived on the second floor. They started tracting
on the first floor. Some people obviously weren't at
home. Others came to the door, peeped at them through
the spyhole, and then pretended not to be home. Those
who came to the door turned them away, some more or
less politely, some rudely.

They started on the second floor. Soon they were
standing in front of Joel's door. Elder Pilsinger
knocked. Please, Elder Cannon prayed silently, don't
be home.

Joel opened the door, a book in his hand and a pencil
clutched in his teeth. He took the pencil out of his
mouth. "Yes?"

Elder Pilsinger launched into his door approach. "Good
evening. I'm Elder Pilsinger, and this is my
companion, Elder Cannon. We're missionaries for the
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and we're
going door-to-door sharing a message about how people
can come to know our Heavenly Father's plan of
happiness."

"I don't think so, guys," Joel said and started to
close the door. As he did so, his gaze fell on Elder
Cannon. He stared. Then he looked back at Elder
Pilsinger. "I'm sorry, who did you say you were
again?"

"Missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints," Elder Pilsinger repeated.

"That's Mormons, right?"

"Many people call us that, yes."

Joel shook his head as if chastising himself for some
mistake. "I'm sorry. I thought you were Jehovah's
Witnesses. Please, come in."

Elder Pilsinger flashed Elder Cannon a covert thumbs-
up as they followed Joel into the apartment. Elder
Cannon forced a smile in return.

Joel had been lying on the bed, studying. He gathered
up his books and papers, brushed down the bed cover,
and invited the missionaries to sit. "I don't have
much furniture," he apologized.

"That's quite all right," Elder Pilsinger said.

Joel sat in a chair in front of them. He avoided
looking at Elder Cannon. Elder Cannon was vividly
aware that Elder Pilsinger was sitting in the same
spot on the bed where he himself had sat that first
night in Joel's apartment. "So," Joel said, inviting
Elder Pilsinger to proceed.

"Well, if you don't mind my asking first," Elder
Pilsinger said, "what do you already know about
Mormons? Why did you decide to invite us in?"

Joel shrugged vaguely. "I had a friend who was Mormon
once." He glanced briefly at Elder Cannon as he said
this.

Elder Pilsinger latched onto this opportunity to Build
Relationships of Trust. "How interesting. Would you
like to tell us about that?"

Joel fumbled. "There's not really anything to tell. It
was...a long time ago. We were just kids. I knew he
was Mormon. That's all. We never talked about it or
anything." He moved to change the subject. "I've seen
the spots your church runs on TV, though. Very...
positive. Very family-oriented."

Elder Cannon expected Elder Pilsinger to ask more
about Joel's impression of the TV spots, as a way of
moving towards Helping the Investigator Feel and
Recognize the Spirit. But Elder Pilsinger let it drop.
Elder Cannon wondered if Elder Pilsinger could sense
that something strange was going on.

"Well," Elder Pilsinger said, "as we said, we're
sharing a message tonight about how people can come to
know our Heavenly Father's plan of happiness. If you
have time, we'd like to share with you a 45-minute
presentation--a discussion, really--about God our
Father, and about our Savior Jesus Christ, and the
method God uses to teach his children about his plan."

"Sure, that'd be great." Joel glanced at Elder Cannon
again. "I'm really interested in hearing what you have
to say."

"Let's start by introducing ourselves a little. As I
said at the door, I'm Elder Pilsinger. I'm from
Lansing, Michigan. My family joined the Church of
Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was four
years old. I feel very grateful to the missionaries
who introduced my family to the restored gospel of
Jesus Christ; and I'm thrilled to be able to serve as
a missionary myself now, helping to bring the same joy
that my family found into the lives of others."

It was Elder Cannon's turn. He felt flushed, and he
could hear his heartbeat pounding in his head. "I'm
Elder Cannon. I'm from Salt Lake City, Utah, and I've
been a missionary now for a little over a year."

"From Utah," Joel echoed. "How interesting."

"What about yourself?" Elder Pilsinger asked.

"I'm originally from Austin, Texas. I came here to
attend grad school."

Elder Pilsinger asked the inevitable questions about
what Joel was studying, the same questions Elder
Cannon had asked at the Big Moon. Elder Pilsinger also
learned that Joel had been raised Baptist, was
grateful in many ways for having received a religious
upbringing, but had stopped attending church when he
graduated from high school and moved away from home.

They began the discussion. Elder Pilsinger moved
quickly through the sections on God and Jesus Christ.
When he asked Joel to share his own thoughts, Joel
said that he wasn't certain there was a God but was
open to the possibility. He added that if he were
going to embrace a belief in God, it would have to be
the unconditionally accepting God that Jesus had
taught about. Elder Cannon could tell that Elder
Pilsinger was filing this information away in his mind
to hash out in a later discussion. But for the
present, Elder Pilsinger simply thanked Joel for
sharing his thoughts and moved on to the next part of
the discussion. He explained that throughout the ages,
God has called prophets to teach his plan and has sent
the Spirit to confirm to people the truth of what the
prophets taught. "And now," Elder Pilsinger concluded,
"Elder Cannon will explain about a prophet called to
teach people in modern times."

Elder Pilsinger turned to look at Elder Cannon. Joel
did likewise. For a second, Elder Cannon wondered what
would happen if he got up and walked out of the
apartment. But he knew he didn't have the strength or
courage to do that. He took a deep breath and launched
into his part of the discussion.

Starting was the hardest part--like breaking through a
wall. After that, it was merely a question of
stringing out the familiar words like beads on a
string, one after another. How many times had he
taught this story in the past year? In 1820, Joseph
Smith was a 14-year-old boy. He was confused because
of the many different ideas taught about religion.
Surrounded by competing voices, each loudly
proclaiming to have the truth, Joseph did not know who
to believe or what to do.

Elder Cannon paused, reaching automatically for his
Bible as he continued to speak. "One day Joseph read a
passage in the Bible which told him how he could come
to know the truth. Would you mind reading the passage
that Joseph Smith read?"

Joel seemed caught off-guard but answered, "Sure."

Elder Cannon passed Joel the open Bible. They both
seemed to be taking care not to touch one another.
Joel read aloud from the Authorized Version of James
1:5. "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God,
that giveth to all men liberally"--Joel grimaced
briefly, presumably at the sexist reference--"and
upbraideth not; and it shall be given him."

There was a pause; Joel seemed to be reading the
passage to himself a second time. He looked up from
the Bible at Elder Cannon.

"Joseph decided to ask God for wisdom, the way the
Bible taught," Elder Cannon continued. "One morning in
the spring, he went to a grove of trees near his home.
He knelt down and began to offer a fervent, heart-felt
prayer. He had faith that God would somehow show him
what he needed to do. In Joseph Smith's own words,
this is what happened next."

Elder Cannon recited the words from memory. "I saw a
pillar of light exactly over my head, above the
brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until
it fell upon me. When the light rested upon me, I saw
two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all
description, standing above me in the air. One of them
spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing
to the other--This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!"

There was a palpable tension in the air. Elder
Pilsinger held his knee hard against Elder Cannon's.
This was his way of letting Elder Cannon know that he
was feeling the Spirit--that he thought the discussion
was going very well. Elder Cannon felt as if he were
trembling inside. He wondered if he were visibly
shaking. He continued with the memorized discussion.
"God the Father and Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph
Smith in answer to his prayer. Joseph became a
prophet, just like the prophets of the Bible. Joseph
Smith is an important witness of Jesus Christ in our
own day. Joseph's experience shows us that there is a
God who hears our prayers and wants to make his plan
known to us."

It was time to ask the investigator what he thought or
felt about the Joseph Smith story, then to move into
an explanation of the Book of Mormon. But before Elder
Cannon could say anything further, Joel leaned
forward. "Do you really believe this?" he asked. His
voice had the same quiet intensity it had had that
first night, when he invited Elder Cannon to sit next
to him on the bed.

Elder Cannon couldn't meet Joel's gaze. "There are a
lot of things I'm not sure of right now," he said in a
hoarse voice. "But there are some things I know
without any doubt. Joseph Smith actually saw God the
Father and Jesus Christ. The Book of Mormon is the
word of God." He was getting ahead of the discussion,
but the words were pushing out of him of their own
accord. "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day
Saints is led by a living prophet and is the only
church on earth with God's authority. I know that."

He hadn't realized until that moment how inexorably he
believed in everything he had just said. He ought to
be feeling a spiritual rush, he thought. Instead he
felt empty.

Joel leaned back in his chair. Elder Cannon was still
looking at the floor, but in his peripheral vision he
could see Joel turning his attention back to Elder
Pilsinger. "I'm a gay man," Joel said. His tone was
harsh. "The Mormon Church has been pouring millions of
dollars into so-called Defense of Marriage acts and
other political initiatives all across this country,
trying to deny gay and lesbian people equal rights in
society. I can't for the life of me imagine why any
gay or lesbian person would have anything to do with
your church." He stood up. "You need to go now."

Elder Pilsinger appeared to be dumbstruck. Finally he
stood. Elder Cannon followed suit, still looking at
the floor. "I'm sorry we took up your time," Elder
Pilsinger said tightly.

Joel said nothing in reply. He was grim as he showed
them to the door. Elder Cannon caught a final glimpse
of him as he shut the door behind them. Joel did not
return his glance.

Elder Pilsinger fumed in whispers; Elder Cannon had
never seen him so angry. "Can you believe the nerve of
that guy, leading us on like that? I should have known
from the beginning he was a fag. The way he moved, the
way he talked...Hey...Elder...what's wrong?"

Elder Cannon was crying--quietly, but his whole body
heaving. "Please," he gasped, "I need to go back to
the apartment."

He realized he was leaving this building for the last
time in his life.

*	*	*

Elder Pilsinger looked concerned, but he didn't say
anything to Elder Cannon during the drive home, and he
made a point of staying in the living room, studying,
while Elder Cannon cried in the bedroom. Elder Cannon
wasn't sure if Elder Pilsinger wanted to give him
privacy or simply didn't know what to make of his
companion's behavior.

At 10:30, Elder Pilsinger came into the bedroom. Elder
Cannon had his face turned toward the wall. "Are you
okay, Elder?" Elder Pilsinger asked. Elder Cannon
didn't reply. Elder Pilsinger stood waiting beside
Elder Cannon's bed for a while, then gave up and
turned out the lights. Elder Cannon heard him
undressing in the dark, kneeling down for his personal
prayer, and then climbing into bed. Perhaps ten
minutes later, Elder Pilsinger was snoring softly.

Elder Cannon crept into the living room, still dressed
in his proselyting clothes. Joel picked up the phone
after just one ring, as if he'd been waiting for the
call.

"Hello?" His voice sounded tense.

"It's me," Elder Cannon said.

"Jesus, Wayne." Joel didn't sound angry, just
disturbed and perhaps worn-out. "What am I supposed to
say?"

"I need to see you," Wayne said.

"That's not going to happen, Wayne. It's best for both
of us that you not call here again."

"No, wait, please," Wayne said, a little too loudly.
He froze, straining to listen for any sound from the
bedroom. He continued in a whisper. "Please. I know
it's for the last time. But I...I have to see you.
Please, Joel."

He felt like a moron. But he didn't know what else to
say. He was desperate.

There was a long silence. At last Joel said, "Fine.
I'll meet you at the Big Moon."

Elder Cannon was afraid to go back into the bedroom to
change, so he walked to the Big Moon in his
proselyting clothes, though he removed his nametag and
his tie. He waited by the parking lot entrance. Joel
arrived about ten minutes later. He pulled up next to
Elder Cannon, leaning over to unlock the passenger
door. Elder Cannon climbed inside. Neither of them
spoke.

Joel finished pulling into the parking lot and turned
off the engine. They could dimly hear the dance music
playing inside the Big Moon, in front of them. They
sat for a while without looking at each other.

"So," Joel said finally, indicating that it was for
Elder Cannon to speak.

Elder Cannon hadn't come prepared to say anything. He
had wanted to see Joel again; he hadn't thought this
meeting through any farther than that. Joel was
waiting. Elder Cannon shrugged and shook his head
helplessly.

Joel breathed a heavy, tense sigh through his nose.
"Wayne," he began wearily, then cut himself short. "Is
that even your real name?"

He nodded, smarting under the accusation. "Wayne
Cannon."

"Fine. Wayne, you have major issues to work through.
You do realize that, don't you?"

Elder Cannon didn't say anything.

"I mean...what would happen to you if they knew?"

Elder Cannon had deliberately not thought much about
that. "They'd send me home from my mission, I guess.
And they'd probably...excommunicate me." It was hard
to say the word "excommunicate."

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"I wouldn't be a member of the Church anymore."

"So they'd kick you out?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"What would that mean in terms of your relationship
with your family?"

Elder Cannon shook his head. He knew that if he tried
to speak, he would start crying again. He wanted to
reach out and grab Joel's hand, but he didn't dare. He
wished Joel would take the initiative to touch him.
But Joel just sat in the driver's seat. At least now
Joel was looking at him.

"What is this, Wayne?" Joel made a motion in the air,
tracing a connection between Elder Cannon and himself.
"Is this...Am I some kind of experiment for you? A
secret vice on the side?"

Elder Cannon felt his face go hot.

Joel shook his head as if to clear it. "You know what?
I withdraw that question. I promised myself this
wasn't going to be about me." He tried again. "You
can't go on living this secret double life, Wayne.
It's extremely unhealthy, emotionally. I realize
you're in a difficult position. But you have to make
some hard choices, and right now you're avoiding
making them. You can't be Mormon and gay any more than
I could be Baptist and gay. You have to choose one or
the other."

Don't preach to me, Elder Cannon thought, enraged. But
he continued to sit in silence. Even though it made
him furious to have Joel talking to him this way,
something inside him told him that Joel was right.

"I really like you, Wayne. I wanted to keep seeing
you. I thought..." He stopped himself, then proceeded
more carefully. "I was eager to see where things
between us might go. But I can't be whatever I am to
you right now. I can't be with you given where you're
coming from. You have an incredibly hard journey ahead
of you. I can't even imagine how hard this is going to
be for you. I dealt with some pretty serious shit when
I came out, but nothing compared to the shit you're
dealing with."

Elder Cannon stared down at his own hands, clenched in
his lap. He was feeling even lower now than he had
when he and Elder Pilsinger left Joel's apartment. He
didn't want to cry. He wanted to curl up in a ball and
tell the whole world to fuck off and leave him alone.

"I was thinking about that Bible verse you had me
read," Joel said. "The one about asking God if you
need wisdom. Maybe that's what you need to be doing,
Wayne. You told me you believe that there's a God who
answers prayers and who wants to teach people his
plan. It looks to me like you're still trying to
figure out what God's plan for you is. That's
something only you can figure out. And you've got to
figure it out. You've got to make a definite decision
about who you are and how you're going to live."

There was another long silence.

"I have to go now, Wayne," Joel said, gently but
firmly.

Elder Cannon waited as long as he dared. Then he
opened the car door. He eased his legs out of the car
and then waited again. He knew he was merely
postponing the inevitable. He stood up and stepped
away from the car. He hadn't done something that felt
so difficult or decisive since walking away from his
family at the Missionary Training Center a year
before.

"Good luck, Wayne," Joel said. He started the engine.

Elder Cannon shut the door. Joel did not look back or
wave as he pulled out of the parking lot. Elder Cannon
suddenly realized he hadn't told Joel good-bye. The
thought made him want to cry again. But he was too
empty to cry. Behind him was the Big Moon. In an
apartment six blocks away, his companion was sleeping
peacefully.