Date: Tue, 22 May 2012 02:35:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tyler Adams <tyleradamsbooks@yahoo.com>
Subject: Almost Straight ch 24

   Chapter 24


   I was all set. My bag was packed, and for the second time in two days, I
was sitting in the terminal at University Park Airport awaiting my boarding
call. Yesterday's violent weather had caused my commuter flight to be
cancelled, and now everything had to go perfectly just to make it to Alex's
wedding before it started.
   I still had a hard time comprehending he was marrying a woman. I prayed
that he wasn't doing it just because he was going to be a dad. I hadn't
seen him since Christmas break two years ago, and that had only been for a
brief time. But it had been long enough for him to tell me about an illicit
affair he and a housemate had fallen into. We had prayed together that God
would help him put an end to it. I guess The Man Upstairs answered that
prayer emphatically when he nudged Alex to move back into the dorms.
   I had always tried to counsel him that there were choices he had to make
when he was faced with temptation. Even though I wasn't speaking from
experience, I told him I truly believed that if he made a conscious choice
to do it, God would help him to stop having a desire for guys in that
way. I know now how naïve and presumptuous that thinking was, so I said a
little prayer before boarding my plane, asking God to do something to stop
the wedding if Alex and Beth Ann were getting married because of what I
told him three years ago. The last thing I wanted on my conscience was
guilt for messing up their lives because of misinformation.
   It must have been God's will, because they did it. Beth Ann was
beautiful in her satin white wedding gown. And Alex... I never saw Alex
smile like he did when he saw her enter the church. It was obvious to me
that he truly did adore her. It also made me think about what Shelly told
me about love being more than just a commitment. I'm sure that what Shelly
must have seen on my face when she looked at me was something less than
what I saw on Alex's face when he looked at Beth Ann. My thoughts changed
to Elijah, and for maybe the first time, it actually registered with my
brain that that's what she noticed when she saw me watching Elijah all
those times.

   "Phillip, what's wrong," Elijah asked shortly after answering my phone
call that evening. As beautiful as the ceremony had been, I had been
devastated when I entered the dressing room shortly after I had arrived and
found Alex with what appeared to be a veritable drug store set out on the
table before him.
   "Alex has HIV," I numbly deadpanned into my end of the phone.
   A palpable silence filled my ear as the impact of what I told my
boyfriend settled into his brain.
   "I walked in on him while he was taking his meds."
   "Oh, hon," Elijah consoled. "You must have felt awful."
   "He said it happened one night before he and Beth Ann made love to each
other. Elijah, they don't know if the baby's infected or not. ...there's no
way to tell until after it's born."
   "Did he tell you how it happened?"
   "He told me he ran into his old boyfriend from high school on campus who
thought maybe they could get back together again. Eddie was always so
reckless when they were dating. It's why they eventually broke up. He sent
Alex to the clinic to get treated more than once. Now he's given him a life
sentence.
   "He's so young. It's not fair. He made a mistake and now he's got to pay
for it with his life, and maybe his child's life."
   "Does his wife have it?" Elijah asked tenderly.
   "She's tested negative so far, but the doctor told him they wouldn't
know for sure until after six months."
   "Phil?" His words hung in the air as I failed to answer.
   "Thank you."
   Too bewildered to ask what he was thanking me for, I remained silent.
   "Thanks for waiting, Phil."
   "I don't understand."
   "When we finally... well, if God would ever lead us to... Phil, what I
want to say is whoever your life's partner ends up being, because you
waited, they won't have to worry about those things."

   That night was the first time we ever prayed together. It seemed the
crisis at hand was far greater than the technicalities that separated our
faiths. Through our prayers, we bared our souls to each other like we never
before had. ...at times crying, and at other times pleading with God to
intervene in other's lives. Not just for Alex and Beth Ann and their yet to
be born child, but for all who battled against the hideous killer of mostly
young people.
   After we told each other goodnight, I continued holding the phone to my
ear for a moment, thinking Elijah had disconnected.
   "You still there, Sunshine?"
   "Uh-huh"
   "I pray and thank God every day for you, Phillip. I just want you to
know that."
   "Thanks. I pray for you too..." My voice trailed away, and I stood
silently once more.
   "Whatcha thinkin', Phil?"
   "I guess I was just thinking about the things Alex and Beth Ann can do
now that they're married. Elijah? I'm kind of embarrassed to say it, but
sometimes I think about that stuff and worry that I'll never get to
experience it. Sometimes it's really hard for me to not feel like I want to
shove God out of the room when I'm with you, so we can be together
...completely together."
   "Aaaaah-ooooouuu..." Elijah wailed into the phone like a bloodhound on
the trail. "So you're admitting you're a horndog then?"
   I never expected such irreverent verbiage from him at such a somber
moment. He had never been other than a perfect gentleman before, but I
realized he must have the same thoughts about me to have reacted so
spontaneously to my rue.
   "Woof!" I saucily barked into the phone.
   "Thought so"
   "Someday..." I whispered into the phone after I realized our
conversation had digressed sufficiently that if someone had overheard us,
they might think we were on a 900 line.
   "I 'll see you tomorrow at the airport."

   Sunday, Elijah met me at the Philadelphia International airport so we
could travel together to my parent's home some fifty miles to the north. I
had just collected my bag and made my way to the sidewalk as he pulled to
the curb in his freshly washed Crossfire. Once more I marveled as I watched
the top retract into the boot, dropped my bag behind the seat, and climbed
over the door without opening it.
   As soon as I was seated, I looked over and noticed my boyfriend's eyes
darting up from looking at something well below my shoulders.
   "Woof!"
   He looked so cute, as he snapped his head around to stare straight
forward into nothingness, having been caught in the act of checking me
out. Out of character for me, but feeling bold, I twisted myself around and
pulled his face toward me and planted my open mouth over his for a brief
moment.
   "Hi to you too," he finally said, and gently kissed my lips.
   "I guess I should have waited until after I greeted you to fold the top
back," he said meekly after a passerby mumbled "damn queers."
   "He's just jealous because I get to kiss you and he does't," I said
loudly enough to be heard by the man who was now several steps away from
the car. I then leaned in for another taste.
   "m-m-m-m... I've been in a fog ever since my Rising Sun set in
California," he said as he ruffed my hair.

   We talked about the wedding and about our pending summer occupations
some, but mostly we just sat and held each other's hand.
   As we neared the Walmart in the town before the one where I lived, I
asked, "Do you think we should stop and get some gel, so you can put my
hair in points? ...just for shock value."
   "Phil, be serious. Your parents are probably shocked enough as it
is. They don't need you to look like you really have joined the other
side."
   "Oh-h? ...and what other side is that?"
   "The rebellious college kid side."
   "True, but I've always been their fuzzy-haired little boy. Maybe
changing my hairstyle would be a way to get them to see me differently; to
see that I've grown up."
   "We could dye it jet black, and paint your fingernails. You might look
interesting in goth."
   "Will you be serious?"
   "God, we really must be gay. We're sitting here discussing hair styles,"
I said out loud as I directed Elijah to turn into the parking lot.
   I just about melted into my seat as we sat in a remote corner of the lot
and my boyfriend, gosh it felt good to finally allow myself to admit that,
worked the gel through my still orange hair. We had decided that instead of
twisting my hair into peaks, it might look good just to pull the sides
back, and work the entire top upward into a sort of expanded Mohawk.

   "You nervous?" Elijah asked as we pulled back onto the road to drive the
final five miles to Stirling Heights, where both my families lived.
   I reached over and grabbed the hand that was resting on the gearshift
knob, and smiled.
   "You are definitely nervous," he said pulling his hand away from my icy
cold grip.
   "I'll be alright. Mom tried to make it sound like she was really looking
forward to meeting you, when I called her last night. ...Yeah, a little
nervous, I guess."

   Pulling into the drive at Ed and mom's house, we looked at each other. I
began chewing my lip when mom didn't burst through the kitchen door to
greet us. She never missed the sound of a car pulling in.
   "What's up," Elijah asked, looking at my face, his own radiant smile
clouded over with concern.
   "It's just that mom always comes out to greet people when she hears
them. Maybe I should've given them more time to get used to the idea of me
being queer."
   "You're anything but queer, Phillip Johnson. Maybe she just didn't hear
us."
   Just as I felt despair beginning to well up inside me, mom appeared
behind the screen door.
   Even through the darkened mesh, I could see she was anxious. Maybe more
than seeing it, I could sense her disappointment.
   The door opened slowly as I walked toward her.
   "Oh Phillip," she gushed when I finally reached her. She threw her arms
around me and just held on like she was afraid to let go of her little
boy. When she finally did let go of me, she straightened herself, trying to
be brave, and gave Elijah a rather stiff embrace.
   "Welcome to our home Elijah," she said in a rather strained voice,
inspecting him carefully.
   I prayed under my breath that somehow God would work things out between
us.
   She backed up and grabbed one of each of our hands in hers. "Look at
you, Phillip. What have you done to your hair? You look," her breath caught
for and instant. "...it looks like my little boy's grown up."
   "You like it?"
   "Well-l-l-l, I wouldn't exactly say I like it, but it does make you look
older.
   "Ed, boys," she called into the house. "Phil's here."
   Her words stung. She hadn't even acknowledged Elijah's presence to the
rest of the family. My boyfriend looked at me a forced a smile.
   Arn was the first one after mom to greet us. He literally took a flying
leap at me and nearly knocked me over.
   "Aar-o-on," I complained, "you're too big to be throwing yourself at
people."
   "Dad said I could try out for Midget League football next year, so I'm
just practicin'."
   "Practicing," I corrected
   "Mom tell you say that?"
   "Did mom," I again corrected.
   He just rolled his eyes, then he fastened his gaze on Elijah. "That him?
Is he your boyfriend? He's got a big nose."
   "Aar-o-on, That's rude!" I warned, waving my balled up fist in front of
his face, thinking for an instant that with one jab I could probably make
his nose match Elijah's. "I'm gonna bust you if you don't apologize."
   "It's `going to bust'," he chastised, "not `gonna bust'."
   Elijah was laughing as he made his may over to shake Arn's hand.
   "Where'd ya get the cool hat?' he asked Elijah, "Can I see it?"
   "Aaron you are such a pain."
   "I know. It's a good thing I'm so cute, or I'd probably get into more
trouble than I already do."
   "Who says you're cute? You're a brat."
   "What rock did you crawl out from under? Everyone says I'm cute."
   "I give up. ...and it's a yarmulke."
   "What is?"
   "What he has on his head – it's called a yarmulke. It's part of his
Jewish faith.
   By now Ed was in the room greeting us, and my brother Sammy was timidly
hanging at the edge of the room.
   "You must be Elijah," Ed said as he reached out to greet him.
   "Yes sir"
   "Sam, come over and say hi to Phil and his friend."
   Sam just turned and quietly slunk from the room.
   "Mo-om," I protested, "what's that all about? Sam," I called after him,
"dude, you are being so ignorant."
   "Phillip, please. You know how sensitive he is. Please don't force
things with him. He's young. He doesn't understand."
   I heard her words, but my mother's eyes said so much more. More than I
think she wanted them too.
   "You don't understand either.
    "Mom, Ed, until a few weeks ago, I didn't even understand. But a
pastor... Father Tim Wallace, who's interning at a church I've been going
to in State College, has helped me to work through the scriptures and see
that the passages in the bible that they always tell us forbid gay
relationships, aren't exactly like they seem. They're talking about more
specific things than just relationships in general.
   I was surprised how easily the "g-word" had rolled out of my mouth.
   The room went deathly quiet as I reached over and took Elijah's hand.
   "He's an intern?" mom asked, staring at our interlaced fingers. The
inference was hard to miss.
   "Can I show you one simple passage in the bible he showed to me that may
help you understand how we believe God sees relationships?" I asked. "It's
in Galatians chapter three, verse twenty-eight."
   Mom pulled her New International Version of the bible off the kitchen
table and opened it to the verse.
   "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female; for
you are all one in Christ," she read aloud, and then looked at me, trying
to figure out what I was getting at.
   "Either of you have a copy of the English Standard Version?" I asked."
   Ed walked into the next room and pulled his bible out of the end table
drawer beside the sofa.
   "I just bought a copy," he said, returning to the kitchen as he leafed
through the pages to find the passage. "Mark Kauffman told me it's a more
literal translation."
   He must have seen immediately the point I was going to make, and
hrmphed.
   "Look here Ellen, this one reads `... Greek nor Jew, slave nor free,'
but then it reads: `there is no male and female.' It's like Paul's
distinguishing between different religious and social groups, but not
necessarily gender. He's written this like he believes that maybe God sees
male and female as the same thing when he looks at us. ...like maybe we're
just people in His eyes."
   Elijah moved over beside Ed, who moved the bible to where he could see
the words. As a follower of Jewish Orthodoxy, he had likely never read any
of the New Testament. I could see the `wheels' turning in his head.
   "Are you a believer in Yeshua Hamashia, Elijah?" Ed asked rather easily.
   Ed's words seemed to impress him.
   "Ah, no sir. I believe... well I've always been taught that the Yeshua
you're referring to was a false prophet who tricked his followers into
believing a lie. That he actually staged his own... sorry sir, but I was
taught he faked his death by bribing the Romans. I... I'm sorry sir. I
don't mean to offend you, but that's what I've been taught since I can
remember."
   "You would see Phillip as an infidel then?"
   "We're goyim, Ed," I chuckled, remembering the time Elijah had called me
that.
   "That would be a gentile. Correct?"
   "Yes sir. But I don't really see Phillip as an infidel because I know he
worships Hashem1. I guess I don't understand much about his faith, but I
know in my heart that he loves the same one I do."
   Ed put his arm around Elijah's shoulder and guided him into the living
room, leaving mom and me standing there. I took her hand in mine and we
prayed together that Elijah would understand who we believed Jesus truly
was, and that he too would one day become a believer in who we understood
to be the messiah.
   We stood in silence and listened to their conversation for a few
moments. ...well it wasn't really a conversation. I wondered if Ed had
finally met his match. He was very persuasive when he shared his Christian
beliefs with someone, but Elijah, in keeping with his training, was not
overmatched and was literally arguing the meaning of scriptures with
him. They were both trying to mine understanding from the depths of their
own biases, as well as persuade the other to their own viewpoint.
   Mom smiled at me, and gave me a gentle nudge as I looked back the
hallway toward my brother's bedroom.

   Knocking softly, first, I pushed open the door to Sammy's, room.
   He was lying on his back in the middle of his bed, staring at the
ceiling.
   "Mom's been crying a lot," he softly spoke without looking at me.
   I sat down on the edge of his bed.
   "What's it like when you go on a date? Do people stare at you and make
fun of you all the time?"
   "Sometimes," I gently whispered, recalling a few of the more poignant
remarks that had been hurled our way in the past few weeks. "It's not easy
for a lot of people to understand why you want to hold another guy's hand."
   "You really liked Michelle too, didn't you?"
   "We're still good friends. She has another boyfriend. It was really hard
for a while when I'd see them together."
   "Do you think she would've married you if it weren't for Elijah?"
   "I try not to think about it, Sam. She loves God, and I want her to be
happy. I just try to be happy for her."
   Sammy's brown eyes latched onto my own green ones, his gaze searching, I
supposed, for the role model a big brother should be. "Do you remember when
that guy came to our youth group and spoke about waiting until marriage?"
   "Justin Thompson?"
   "Yeah. You remember how you told mom and dad you signed the pledge to
wait?"
   At that moment, I was glad Elijah and I hadn't given in to our desires
for each other. "Almost the entire youth group took that pledge," I said
softly, wondering to myself how many of my peers had actually kept their
promise.
   "Do you think God ever forgets about stuff like that because you didn't
know what you were really saying?"
   "Not likely, bro. Why?"
   "Why didn't you keep your promise, Phil?"
   "The pledge?" I asked, beginning to understand why he was so sullen.
   "Yeah."
   "What makes you think I haven't?"
   "Come on, Phil. Everyone knows that's what gay guys do."
   "You mean have sex?"
   "There's this guy in my class at school, Leroy. He's always bragging to
everyone at school about being gay. He's always trying to get guys to come
over to his house so he can show them what it's like. My friend Conner
...well he told some of the guys not to get the wrong idea about him, but
that he wanted to teach Leroy a lesson and was going to go to his
house. The next day he admitted he'd been thinking about letting Leroy do
what he said he would do to him just to see what it was like. He said when
he got there Leroy was... well he was kind of busy with someone else.
   "So you kinda figured that's how all gay people are?"
   Sammy looked at me resignedly.
   "Look, you like girls don't you?"
   "You mean instead of guys?"
   "Yeah"
   I watched my brother's cheeks turn red.
   "Do you think you'll ever invite some random girl over here when mom and
Ed are away so you can do something like that with her?"
   "Why would I do that?"
   "My point exactly. Do you know any straight guys at school that would do
that?"
   "A couple... There's this one guy in my gym class that brags about all
the girls he's done."
   "So you know a few sluts in your school, then ...one gay and the rest
straight?"
   I could see Sammy wasn't making the connection.
   "Listen, little bro, my point is that some people think the world
revolves around sex. It doesn't matter if they're straight or gay. Not
everyone's like that."
   "Does that mean you've kept your promise?"
   "Except for kissing... Does that count?"
   "That's gross."
   "I don't think the pledge included kissing, so the answer to your
question is yes."
   "So you're never gonna do anything?"
   "Why do you say that?"
   "Du-uh, two guys can't get married."
   "Says who?" I asked as I lunged at him and started tickling his ribs.
   "Phil, stop. Stop it." Sam shouted through his giggling. "Please!"
   "I don't see in the bible where God ever said that two guys can't get
married to each other."

   Sam and I spent the next hour looking at and discussing what I
understood the scriptures to actually say about same sex relationships, and
as I got off his bed to go see what Elijah was up to, my brother jumped off
the bed and pulled me into a hug.
   "Thanks, Phil, I kind of think that's what mom's been crying about. I
think she's worried that you guys are like Leroy."
   "Thanks for the heads up, bud. I'll talk to her about it."
   "Phil?"
   I paused at the door and looked back to Sammy, again sprawled across his
bed, looking at the ceiling.
   "You're not... well like, you guys aren't gonna kiss each other when
we're watching are you?"
   "Would that be a problem for you if we did?"
   Sammy paused to think. "I guess not. It'd be kinda little weird, but I
guess if you really like him like that, I'll try to get used to it. Just
try not to be too gross if you do it, okay?"
   "Gotcha"

1 Hashem: "the name" (in Judaism, it is commanded to never write the name
of God. Many out of respect, do not speak his name either)

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