Matt felt the cold chill of fear. These people had to realize this Michael guy was a big ole queen, and yet they cheered. They just wanted to see fags tossed to the lions.
Michael launched into the story behind the shoes he was carrying. Fourteen years earlier he’d been “heavily in the Lifestyle.” One night he hooked up with a guy, who drove him to the riverbank, where they had sex in the back seat of the hookup’s car.
Gasps from an audience of virgins (or proclaimed ones), as if the backseat sex was all the punchline they needed.
“It gets worse,” Michael assured them and then went on to relate that afterwards, the hookup had become abusive and demanded he hand over his shoes as trophies.
More gasps.
The hookup had kicked Michael out of his car and made him walk home.
That night, walking home barefoot in the mud, Michael had given his heart to the Lord, and was reborn a straight man.
The moral of the tale was that Satan lured kids into the “Gay Lifestyle” like the anonymous hookup had enticed Michael. Then, once Satan got what he wanted, he’d strip you of your dignity, kick you out of his “car,” leaving you alone and metaphorically barefoot. Blah. Blah. Blah.
Matt quit listening and just stared at Michael in disgust, trying to decide if the man was delusional or just a garden variety snake oil salesman pedaling a cure that clearly hadn’t worked on himself.
This self-proclaimed straight man was as freakish as any two-headed calf at the state fair. And just like those oddities, Michael didn’t belong in this world other than as a side-show curiosity. He certainly didn’t belong in the hetero-world. And if he truly wasn’t attracted to men, despite his mannerisms, he didn’t belong in the gay one either.
Matt felt a tiny speck of sympathy for Michael. He must be a very lonely man standing on his soap box at the fair, looking out at all the people staring back at him.
Michael finished his stemwinder and did a sort of altar call, asking for people to come forward if they were struggling with same sex attraction.
Two did. One blubbering guy and a stony-faced girl walked the plank.
“I know that guy,” Paul whispered. “He’s in one of my classes.”
“Was,” Matt corrected him. “That kid was in one of your classes.”
Michael ushered his two recruits to a side room to pray.
Dean Smith motioned for the students to quiet down. He had something to tell them. Adam Maxwell was no longer a student at MCU. According to the dean, Adam had voluntarily withdrawn so that he could focus on fixing his same sex attraction. And, yes, the dean continued, Adam had then attempted suicide.
Matt heard a couple of muffled sobs. Mostly heavy silence. Gay Adam Maxwell didn’t merit anyone’s concern. A straight kid with a paper cut would make everyone’s prayer list.
Dean Smith continued. “There’s someone who deserves special recognition. Someone who recognized the face of evil and did the right thing!”
The dean scanned the pews. “Colton Langley, where are you? Come up here, son.”
Loud applause. Commotion in one of the pews as kids stood, making room for a preppy kid to climb around them.
Colton joined the dean on stage. Cuffed khaki pants. Leather belt. Tasseled loafers. Polo shirt tucked into his pants.
Matt stared at Colton, studying every detail about him, burning the guy’s face into his memory so that the next time he saw him he could exact revenge for Adam.
Dean Smith draped an arm around Colton’s shoulder, continued addressing the student body. “Colton loves God and hates sin. I want to personally thank him for alerting us to the grave sins of Adam Maxwell!”
Colton gave an aww, shucks shrug, beaming in pride, basking in the praise.
Dean Smith released Colton’s shoulder, reached for his hand to shake it. “Thank you, Colton. Keep up the great work! I’m excited to see what you do this year as president of the SGA!”
Chapter 11: Stamina
Wednesday, August 23, 1995
Matt huddled over Evan, his face buried in Evan’s crotch, his mouth bobbing on Evan’s cock. Matt thought of Greek mythology, specifically the Ouroboros: a coiled snake consuming its own tail, a symbol for the eternal cycle of life. Death and rebirth. Unity with nature. And here they were, Matt and Evan, connected, each consuming the other’s cock. Each inside the other. One ending where the other began.
It was beautiful, symbolic, and cathartic, and was exactly what Matt needed to recenter himself.
