‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ I get up and pace back and forth. ‘I only go to church because my family makes me. Don’t hold that against me, please! I don’t even believe in God, and it sucks that I have to keep going to church for the sole purpose of keeping my fucking parents happy.’
‘You don’t believe in God?’
‘Of course I don’t. You should know that. How long have we been friends?’
‘Stanley Kelly doesn’t believe in God! And here I was, thinking you were a happy little churchgoer.’ Mike laughs raucously and it grates on my ears.
‘Well, I’m not. And you can stop talking like that. I don’t believe in God and I never will ever again!’
‘So prove it.’
‘Prove it? How?’
‘There’s only one way of telling whether you’re a true non-believer.’
‘What’s that, then?’
‘Burn the Bible.’
‘Burn the Bible? That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?’
‘Oh! Too scared to burn the Bible, are we? I knew it! You’re a brainwashed Christian!’
‘Look, Mike, don’t speak to me like that! I’m happy to burn the goddamn Bible for you. I just think it’s extreme, that’s all. Burning books. It’s something the Nazis liked doing, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, don’t go turning this into a Nazi thing. I’m asking you to burn a particular book to prove to me that you’re a non-believer.’
‘Well, you’re obviously not willing to take my word for it.’
‘I’ve got a Bible in my room. You know, I was … curious. I picked one up from the flea market. I’ve been reading it and I’ve gotta tell ya, that book is full of crap. You should have no concern about burning it. I’ll go get it and then we can be done with this.’
‘Go on, then! If you insist!’
Mike disappears inside. I feel so resentful. Why is he behaving like such a cocksucker? It’s not like him. The alcohol must be bringing out the inner arsehole in him.
‘Why are you acting like such a pussy?’
I turn around and Bruce is standing there sneering at me. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
‘I’m always here for you when you need a hand, Stan. You’re shaking in your boots over this piss-weak request and I’m here to see that you go through with it.’
‘Oh, you only show up when I need a hand? Is that right? So what were you doing sitting on Father Ryan’s fence when I was on my way to the chemist? AND WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DONG ACTING LIKE A FUNKING IDIOT ON THE MONKEY BARS WHEN I WAS WITH RHONDA IN THE PARK?’
‘You needed to get pissed off with that priest, Stan! And I made sure it happened! But everything’s always like water off a duck’s back for you, isn’t it? Do you ever feel
anything
, Stan?’
‘Yes!’
‘Really? And now you can’t even burn a Bible? Piss fucking weak!’
‘I don’t understand why it’s so important. Anyway, it’s a bit childish.’
‘“It’s a bit childish”!’ Bruce mimics me cruelly. ‘You don’t understand much at all, do you? You should be glad to burn the fucking Bible, given that your mother, the whore, is shagging a priest!’
‘She’s not shagging him.’
‘“She’s not shagging him”!’ Again, the nasty impersonation. ‘I thought you were coming to your senses. I thought that, finally, things were becoming clear to you. I was impressed with the dog shit in the church. But that was Rhonda’s idea, wasn’t it? You see, I can’t leave you to your own devices for very long. It seems I have to be around to keep you on track.’
I hear the sliding door open and I quickly turn around. Mike has his Bible in one hand, a lighter in the other.
‘Were you talking to someone? I thought I heard voices.’
I quickly spin around but Bruce has gone. Thank God for that. ‘I wasn’t talking to anyone. I was … er … singing along to the music.’
‘Oh. Well, here it is.’ Mike holds the Bible up in the air. ‘And here’s your instrument of destruction.’ Mike hands me the Bible and the lighter. ‘I can’t believe you’re going to do this! This is going to be awesome!’ Mike laughs a little hysterically.
I decide to go through with the deed just to keep both Mike and Bruce at bay. Especially Bruce. He was being a real fucking wanker. I squat down and place the book on the brick paving. ‘Will here do?’
‘That will do just nicely. Oh, wait, wait! We need something to mark the occasion.’ Mike dashes inside and comes back with two shots of Scotch. ‘Here’s to atheism!’
‘Cheers.’ I chink glasses with Mike, with less glee than he does, and down the Scotch. ‘OK. Here goes.’
I feel like I’m doing something really wrong. My Catholic guilt grips me like a vice. I tell myself that all I’m going to do is burn something made of paper and it really doesn’t matter. And then I realise that it really
doesn’t
matter. Why should I be so concerned about it? The burning of this book is just a demonstration of the free thought that my friend and I share. If I don’t believe in God, what possible harm could I be doing? It’s not as if I’m making a statement in public and putting others down for what they believe. This is just for us, to solidify our friendship and unite us in our non-belief. People carry out ceremonies all over the world to celebrate their beliefs, so why can’t Mike and I have our own?
I flick the lighter with purpose and set the book alight. Mike and I stand arm in arm as we watch the book burn. I feel a weight lifting from me and a tear falls down my face. I’m a person with my own thoughts and feelings, and I shall question everything as I see fit. I’m an atheist and I will no longer be controlled. I will no longer trouble myself about the expectations of some outdated institutionalised belief system.
As the flames dwindle, Mike, in a quiet but steady voice, reveals the secret that has been killing him, the secret that led him to drink himself stupid at the school social. For some reason, I’m not surprised to hear that he’s gay.
Mike cries a bit. I sense that these are tears of relief, and that this first step of sharing the truth with me will make him stronger. I tell him that of course we’ll still be best friends; I sincerely feel this. And I realise that a truth that has been buried deep down because of social or religious constraints feels like a drug when it’s unleashed. It’s like a high.
After we’ve been sitting in silence for some time, I make him promise he’ll tell me about anyone he’s got the hots for, even if it’s just a passing crush. Well, you’ve got to make some demands of your friends, don’t you? And besides, I’m curious about his type. I hope he’s not into shallow sportsmen or pretty-boys. I don’t know how I’d feel if he had the hots for someone like Brenton! Surely he wouldn’t be won over by a toned, manly body. Surely not.
Mike and I have a big fry up the next morning to alleviate our hangovers. I make sure there are no runny bits in the whites of the eggs. I’ve never understood how people can eat eggs that haven’t been cooked properly. And if I see someone eating eggs that have the runny white bits in them, I feel like puking up all over the place. Mia likes her eggs like that. It’s disgusting.
‘So, what are you gonna do today, Stan?’
‘Well, if I can manage it, I’m gonna ride home and try to have as short a conversation as possible with Mum and Dad and then hide in my bedroom for the rest of the day. Blinds closed. What about you?’
‘I dunno. I might go for a swim later up at the weir. Would you be keen?’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘It’s a good place to check out guys.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
This is going to take some getting used to. But I give Mike a big hug before I leave and reassure him that he’s my best buddy and his secret is safe with me.
I jump on my bike and pedal home at a leisurely pace. I wouldn’t be able to handle anything more than that. My head is throbbing and, behind one of my temples, a drill is gradually increasing the frequency and intensity of its boring. I close my eyes and lift my face to the sun, hoping that its warmth will sooth my fragile head. Images of Rhonda come to me and before I know it I have the urge to masturbate. I pedal home at a faster pace; my head protests but my dick wins the battle. I ride into the backyard and, in a well-practised movement, dismount my bike as I swing it to the ground. I jog to the sliding back door and pull it open. I ready myself for a quick greeting in the hopes that I can dash off to the shower straight away.
As I enter, my eyes adjust to the light and I realise that my family is sitting around the living room table. That’s not normal. I blink. Something is wrong. Something is
very
wrong. Dad is sitting back with his arms folded, staring at me. Mia and Rose look up at me and then quickly look back down at their hands, which they are nursing in their laps. My eyes meet Mum’s; she goes bright red and I can tell that she’s furious. I also notice that she’s been crying.
I want to run out of there, jump back on my bike and ride to the weir. I want to lose myself in the water, float on my back and drift away with my eyes closed. I want to wake up somewhere entirely different. Perhaps an alien spaceship could land in my backyard and whisk me away. They could even perform their rectal probing on me if they like. Anything would be better than standing here right now! But I know that neither of these scenarios is possible. The look on Mum’s face alone tells me that I’m dreaming.
‘We had a visitor this morning, Stanley.’ Mum leans towards me, quivering slightly. She looks like a volcano on the verge of eruption. I can tell that fiery language is yearning to escape and pour forth from her red, glowing head, and it will all be directed at me. I hear David Attenborough narrating the event inside my mind, and, for a millisecond, I consider going to grab my camera to capture this moment in history.
I swallow loudly. ‘Really? Who came round?’
‘We had a visit from Mrs Parker.’
I look back at Mum blankly. It couldn’t be. There’s no way Mrs Parker would know. Rhonda wouldn’t…
‘She had some interesting news to tell us.’
‘Did she?’
‘Yes, she did. Is there something
you
want to tell us, Stanley? Something that
you
feel we ought to know?’
‘Not really.’
‘Not really! Not really!’ The first eruption.
‘Mum, please, just cut to the chase.’
Mum slaps me hard across the face. The second eruption. It’s a powerful one. I go pink. ‘I’ll cut to the bloody chase when I’m good and ready!’
‘Peggy, don’t be so hard on the boy!’
I’m relieved that Dad has stepped in, but I can see that he isn’t going to have any effect.
The volcano that is my mother turns its fury towards Dad. ‘You can stay out of this, Trevor! If you’d been a better father, none of this would have happened!’
‘You’re telling
him
to be a better parent?’ As soon as the words come out, I know I’ve made a grave mistake.
The volcano’s fury is once again turned upon me. Mum’s eyes narrow and for a second I can see that she’s worried about what I’ve implied. She continues, ‘Mrs Parker came over today and told us that you may have got her daughter pregnant! Can you imagine how we feel? What have you got to say for yourself?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know! You don’t know! Well, these things don’t just happen. You must have been acting inappropriately with this girl for some time, for something like this to happen.’
‘Her name is Rhonda.’
‘Don’t tell me what her name is! I’m well aware of what her name is! You’re a bloody disgrace to this family! Do you know what people are going to say about us? Do you have any idea? I guess that was the last bloody thing on your mind, wasn’t it? You disgust me!’
‘I’m sorry, Mum.’ I truly am sorry. For the first time, I have a glimpse of the gravity of my actions. Having sex is a big deal, a mammoth-big deal. The drill behind my temple increases in intensity again.
‘Sorry isn’t good enough! Sorry can’t change the fact that you’ve sinned and that you’re a disgrace to this family! You’re going to burn in hell, Stanley! You’re going to burn in hell for all eternity! And for what? For a measly moment’s pleasure?’
‘It’s none of your business!’ I’m angry again.
‘Are you bloody stupid? This is going to spread around town like wildfire and we’re going to be the laughing stock of Middleton!’
‘So what? I don’t give a shit. Rhonda and I are going to prove everyone wrong, anyway. We’re gonna stick together and get through this.’
Mum throws her head back and laughs maniacally. ‘You can’t be serious! How are you going to support a baby? She can have that bloody baby and put it up for adoption – that’s all there is to it! Now go to your room!’
‘You can’t decide what Rhonda does. Who do you think you are? She’ll do what
she
thinks is right. It’s got nothing to do with you!’
‘Go to your room! There’s no dinner for you tonight. You can just sit in there and think long and hard about what you’ve done to your family!’
Mum chases me out of the room with her hand raised, ready to slap me silly. I quickly duck into my bedroom, slam the door and lock it.
‘This is getting beyond a fucking joke! What a hypocritical bitch!’ I’m actually relieved to find that Bruce is in my room. All the anger I was feeling towards him is gone. I am now bloody furious at Mum. Boy, she could be a bitch!
Bruce paces back and forth, while I slump on to my bed and curl up in a ball. How could Rhonda have let this happen? I have the pregnancy test. We could have worked this out ourselves. Why did she tell her mother? Now my stupid family is involved. Why, why, why? So a teenager had sex? Big fucking deal! It happens all the fucking time. Why is my mother such a religious nutter? How could she tell me that I’m going to burn in hell? How could you say that to your own son? Does she actually believe that? Because that’s nuts! Isn’t being a good Christian about being understanding and forgiving? Whatever happened to parents providing support? I imagine the words I would have liked to hear: ‘Oh, son. I’m so sorry about what you’re going through. You must be so scared. Don’t worry, though. Now, everything is going to be all right. Your family is here to help. That’s what family is all about.’
How could Mum be so hypocritical? Does she think that her affair with Father Ryan is something to be proud of? What if the town found out about
that
? Surely it’s more disgraceful than my situation.
She’s
betrayed her husband.
I
had consenting sex with my girlfriend, who I’m madly in love with!