“Jeez,” Jem said.“But that’s not even what he’s selling, you know?”
“I’m not sure about that.I imagine like a lot of these pseudo-businesses in Utah, he does most of his marketing word-of-mouth.So, people tell friends and family about someone they know—he’s been a bishop, he’s been a stake president, he’s been a mission president, he received a special blessing from one of the apostles, they know someone in their ward who struggled with same-sex attraction, and now he or she is happily married.”
Jem was making a face.“That’s, like, the grossest way of saying faggy I’ve ever heard.”
Tean put a hand under the water to test it.“Besides, putting something like conversion therapy on his website would raise a lot of liability issues.I’m not even sure conversion therapy is legal in Utah, and Gerald certainly isn’t a licensed therapist.”
“No, he’s a ‘coach.’”
“Coaching is a big business in Utah,” Tean said.“I read an article about it a few weeks ago.They’re totally unlicensed, and although I’m sure there are some genuinely decent people in the mix, there are also a lot of scammers, and there aren’t many ways for people to get legal redress if they think they’ve been cheated.”
“I told you I should be a coach,” Jem said.“I should teach people how tobegay.”
Tean tried washing his face, but he couldn’t stop laughing.
“Step one,” Jem said.“Cute underwear.”
“Get out of here so I can finish getting ready for bed.”
“Step two, insert cock in mouth.”
Tean very gently—very sweetly—shoved him out of the bathroom and shut the door.
Instead of washing his face, he decided to rinse off, so he started up the shower.He was quick, and the water was wonderfully warm, and the body wash and shampoo smelled like grapefruit.When he stepped out of the bathroom, Jem was on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, phone forgotten at his side.
“I’m sorry,” Tean said.
Jem rolled onto his side.His eyes were usually the blue-gray of storm clouds, but tonight they looked darker.
“About Brigitte and Gerald,” Tean said.And when Jem still didn’t say anything, he continued, “About the conversion therapy.That’s awful.They should love you for who you are.”
Jem scratched one eyebrow.“A thief?”
“You’re not a thief.And you know what I mean.”
“So they’re raging homophobes.Who cares?”
“Well, I do.And it was wrong to invite you up here and then spring that on you.”
“Tean, it’s fine.Honestly, I’m more annoyed we wasted a whole night driving up here.And now we’re stuck.And God, I didn’t even ask you how much dinner cost.”
“If you want to talk about it,” Tean said, “or if you want to tell me how you’re feeling, it’s totally fine.Whatever you’re feeling, it’s valid.”
“It’s not a big deal, babe.”But then Jem said, “She didn’t even come back to the bar like she promised.”
“Something must have happened.”
“I’m just saying, if she keeps disappearing on me, I’m going to grow up to have some serious fucking issues.”
The words were light.Like a joke.
Tean pulled on a pair of black briefs and sat on the bed.He put his hand on Jem’s thigh.He moved it slowly back and forth.
“Anyway.”Jem cleared his throat.“No more family dinners.And I mean it—you need to make sure I don’t cave.She’ll have some bogus explanation.Something came up.She got sick.It’s all bullshit.She could have called.”
“We didn’t have any service.”
“She could have tried the bar.Or the front desk.She could have sent Gerald with a fucking message.”
