“I follow my heart and soul. My faith in God is that He’ll show me the way. I don’t think any one man or church or doctrine has all the answers. Definitely, no one on Earth has all the answers. Anyone who says they do is full of shit.”
That draws a smile from him.
I love his smile.
“What about…sins?”
Knowing I must tread carefully, I think about my answer before responding. “It’s not my position to judge anyone. I was raised to believe the Bible isn’t the literal word of God. That it was a product of its time, and it’s been revised by human men over the two thousand years since Jesus walked the Earth, and diluted and changed by translations that were frequently faulty through accidental or deliberate rewriting. I also believe I shouldn’t question God’s reasoning.”
He looks at me. “At all?”
I shrug and decide to take a risk. “God created gay people. God created trans people. Who are men to doubt the will of the Devine? Marriage is a social construct. God existed before writing. I am willing to risk that living my life as best I can as a gay man isn’t going to automatically damn me to Hell. God knows my heart. Jesus didn’t say gay people were evil. He hung out with prostitutes and untouchables.”
Ward’s gaze widens as he stares into my eyes. When he finally speaks, it’s a whisper I struggle to hear. “You’re gay?”
I slowly nod and reach out, halfway across the table, and let my hand lay there. “I am. My family knows and loves and accepts me. My pastor at our family church supports me. Most everyone in high school was cool. But do you think less of me now?”
He blinks several times and I see the way his eyes look too bright, how he struggles not to break down crying. “All my life, I’ve heard how being gay is wrong and evil.”
“Yeah, well, some churches are more about power and money than they are tending the hearts and souls of their parishioners. About inflating egos and feeding narcissism instead of nourishing people’s spirits. How many politicians are rabidly anti-LGBTQ and then get outed as being gay later?”
He slowly slides one hand across the table, until his fingertips brush the ends of mine. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he whispers.
Technically, he still hasn’t told me anything, but the inference is clear. “Whatever you tell me, I promise, I’ll always hold it in confidence. Unless you’ve hurt kids or animals, or something like that. I will always keep your secrets.”
He stares at our fingertips, where they’re touching. To me it feels like tingles of electricity flowing between us but I don’t dare move or try to rush this.
“I went to a private school.” He sniffles. “An evangelical school. We weren’t supposed to look things up that challenged what they taught us. That it was all lies and Satan trying to tempt us away from Heaven. That we’re supposed to be warriors for Christ.”
His gaze swivels up and focuses on me. “But I started reading. I couldn’t watch certain channels on TV at home, because Dad blocked them on the cable box, so I found shows on websites, or YouTube. I could watch stuff on my phone or tablet because Dad’s a technological idiot. I read news online. I bought pre-paid debit cards to get subscriptions to streaming services.” He takes a deep breath. “I finally got to see gay people being happy and out. I didn’t know if that was real or just Hollywood. I wanted it to be true because everyone I knew seemed so angry when talking about gay people.”
“It is real, and their anger is because they’re bigots. You’re living in the exception, not the rule. Not saying life’s perfect all over the world for us, but it’s getting better all the time in many places.”
Yes, saying “us” is deliberate on my part.
He doesn’t pull his hand away. “I was raised to expect the Rapture. That it was okay to support sometimes morally questionable politicians, because we were looking at the end result.” He softly snorts. “I always knew there was something wrong, but I really couldn’t put my finger on the hypocrisy until I was able to start researching stuff on my own. And all my the kids I knew were from school, or church, or both, so I couldn’t ask them about it. I knew they’d tell their parents, who’d tell my dad.”
“There can be a lot of hypocrisy out there. That’s why I like to experience other churches, to give me a well-rounded view.”
He slowly nods. “My dad’s a freaking racist hypocrite. I overhear him talking with his friends and business associates, but then in church he pretends he’s pious and righteous.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you manage to get your dad to let you attend NYU instead of a Christian university?”
He smiles. “I did my research and told him it’d look darned good on a resume. Plus, I made sure I only applied to secular schools, or schools that weren’t evangelical. I might have stacked the deck to getting in a school far away from home by not submitting applications to other schools, or sabotaging my applications so I knew I’d be rejected.”
I laugh and, without thinking, I wrap my fingers around his and squeeze. “Look at you, standing up for yourself!”
“Sort of, I guess.” His gaze returns to our hands, but he’s making no move to pull his fingers free.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone your secrets.”
“Thanks.” A weighty sigh escapes him. “I’ve never had someone I can trust to talk to like this. Everyone’s always been friends with or beholden to my father in some way. Or wanting to ingratiate themselves with him.”
“That must really suck.” Man, I feel like a shit for how I thought about him before I met him.
