The God Box (13 page)

For some reason, I recalled Manuel's story of coming out to his family and how "undramatic" it had been."It's good you came to see me," Pastor said reassuringly. "Now, Paul, I need you to be completely honest with me so that I can help you. Understand?""Yes, sir." I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose."Good." Pastor's face turned serious. "It's important for me to know: Have you ever had any sexual contact with another boy--or with any man?"I shook my head vigorously. "No, sir.""No kissing?" Pastor continued. "Or touching, or anything?"My mind flashed to the night at the movie theater, how I'd pressed my arm against Manuel's and nearly burst through my skin from lust and excitement. Should I mention that? I wanted to be fully truthful."Um, at the movies," I confessed, "I pressed my arm against another guy's."Pastor leaned forward with a quizzical look. "And . . . ? Did anything else happen?"His reaction surprised me. Wasn't that enough} Even now the mere memory of it made me lightheaded. "Um, nothing else.""That's good." Pastor sounded relieved, and I wondered: Did he think that maybe I wasn't gay?132"But I've thought about guys," I insisted. "And I've looked at-- you know--some websites. Do you think I'm gay?"Pastor ran a hand thoughtfully across his jowl. "Only you and God know what's in your heart. The important thing is for you not to fall prey to sin. If you stay chaste, I believe the Lord will forgive you."His words gave me a momentary reprieve. My minister, from a conservative church, was telling me that if I was gay, that in itself wasn't a sin."But," he added, and my anxiety returned, "you may have to deal with these feelings all your life."All my life? I cringed as though a church bus had just crashed into me. "Then you don't think I can change?"Pastor crossed his long thick legs and quoted Matthew: '"With God, all things are possible.' You're still young. You might become attracted to a woman."His reassurance reminded me of the Christian website's promise: With the Lord's help, anybody can become straight."But then again..." Pastor uncrossed his legs. "You might not. It's up to God."I was starting to feel confused again. Wasn't he saying two opposing things? "So, then, you don't think being gay is a choice?""I think..." Pastor drummed his bulky fingers on his armrest. "I think that these feelings are usually caused by trauma in early life. In your case, perhaps your mom's death."I sat up, even more confused. My ma's death had made me gay? How?"Whatever the cause"--Pastor waved a hand as though dismissing what he'd just said--"you have to choose what to do with your feelings--whether to follow Jesus or turn to sin."I tried hard to understand what Pastor was saying. But if my133gay feelings had been caused by some trauma I hadn't chosen, then how could they be sinful?"You're going to need help." Pastor walked to his cabinet and brought me several glossy pamphlets. One was titled No Longer Gay and another God's Love Won Out.Teen and adult faces smiled proudly from the shiny covers. Each brochure contained a testimonial from somebody who had successfully "walked away from homosexuality." Although that sounded good, I wasn't quite sure what it meant. If for whatever reason I truly was gay, then how could I walk away from myself?On the back of one pamphlet was the toll-free number of a national organization whose ministry was "to preach the Good News of the ex-gay community.""If you truly want God to change you," Pastor said firmly, "I want you to take the responsibility of calling them. Can you do that?"I nodded respectfully. "Um, yes, sir.""Good. They can arrange for someone to come and talk with you here at church. Okay?"Again I nodded obediently, and Pastor gave me a warm, kind smile. I felt like he really cared about me and understood my troubled heart."You've shown God your faith by coming to speak to me." Pastor reached across and patted my arm. His words made me feel closer to Jesus than I had all week. And when Pastor proceeded to pray with me, his voice rang with confidence."Lord Jesus, you told us that when two or more are gathered in your name, you are in our midst, and that if two of us agree about anything we ask, it will be done by our Father in heaven ..."As Pastor spoke those words, I wondered, was that why my prayers to change had gone unanswered? Because I hadn't opened up about my secret and prayed with another believer? Maybe Jesus had been waiting for me to reach out.134"We ask you now," Pastor continued, "to cleanse Paul of the lust in his heart, rid him of his sinful desires, heal him with the purity of your love, and set him free on your righteous path toward salvation and eternal life. We ask this in your name, Jesus. Amen."I emerged from Pastor's office into the sunny afternoon, brimming with new hope. Not only had I admitted my long-buried secret to my very own pastor, he had accepted me anyway, in spite of it.When I got home, I flipped eagerly through the brochures he'd given me. One testimonial, written under a pseudonym, told the success story of a man who'd rejected his choice of being a homosexual, married a beautiful, good-hearted Christian woman, had two wonderful children, and now lived a happy righteous life.That's exactly what I wanted. And the pamphlets promised that with God's help I could have it.135

DESPITE THE ENCOURAGEMENTOF PASTOR JOSE AND THE PAMPHLETS, I PUT OFF

PHONING THE EX-GAY ORGANIZATION --MAYBE BECAUSE THEY WERE

STRANGERS. BUT EACH DAY I PRAYED FOR COURAGE TO CALL. MEANWHILE,

THINGS AT SCHOOL GOT WORSE.Jude had begun making life hell for Manuel in any and everyway he could: spitting on his seat in class, body checking him in the hallway, or

"accidentally" squirting him with ketchup at lunchtime. Even though the teachers and lunch patrol saw what was happening (they'd have been blind not to), none of them did anything to stop it.

And when Manuel reported the incidents, Mr. Arbuthnot blamed Manuel for having "provoked"

Jude with his "disruptive announcements" about being gay.It infuriated me, but Manuel seemed almost resigned: "I shouldn't have teased him that time about flirting with me. Sometimes I wish I could keep my mouth shut. I think I set something off in him.""That doesn't excuse his attacks," I argued."Well, what can I do besides turn the other cheek? I already pray for him."136Manuel's words stopped me cold. I had never thought to include Jude in my prayers. I hadn't wanted to think about him. Instead, I steered clear, blocking him from my thoughts. Obviously, Manuel couldn't do that.One day, in the cafeteria serving line, I found myself stuck behind Jude as he complained about the food to the cafeteria ladies. To make his point, he burped loud enough for the entire line to hear. Ignore him, I told myself.I was trailing behind him into the lunchroom when I noticed Manuel walking from the ketchup counter in our direction. As if watching two approaching cars set to collide, I sensed what was about to happen. Next thing I knew, Jude body-slammed Manuel.Manuel lost his balance, stumbling. His tray sailed into the air. Dishes clattered to the floor. Chicken nuggets, French fries, ketchup, and Jell-O flew in all directions. And Manuel crashed onto the tile.At the commotion the entire lunchroom went silent. Then Jude sneered,

"Why'd you bump me, faggot?"Unable to ignore the incident, cafeteria monitors rushed over, but incredibly, they did nothing to stop Jude as he started away."You jerk!" I shouted after him, without thinking.He whirled around. "What are you, like, his boyfriend}" The question was loud enough for the entire lunchroom to hear.I cringed, as blood surged into my head from anger--and embarrassment.Jude swaggered away, and I glanced down at Manuel, sprawled on the floor. I couldn't just leave him. I set my tray down and helped him up.People resumed their conversations. Manuel stood, his shirt smeared with food and his mouth cut from the fall. "Your lip is bleeding," I mumbled."Crap." Manuel glared across the lunchroom at Jude. "You137think I should keep trying to turn the other cheek?""I don't know," I replied. And for the first time

/prayed for Jude, asking Jesus, Please soften his heart.... And also mine--toward him.I helped Manuel collect his scattered dishes. He didn't feel like getting anything else to eat. I wasn't hungry either. As I got to my table, I wondered if Angie had heard Jude's question to me. If she had, she didn't say anything. But all afternoon I thought about it.After school I took my homework over to Manuel's house, still worried about him. When he answered the door, his lip was swollen."Did you put something on that?" I asked."Like what?" He gave me a suggestive grin, glancing at my own lips. Apparently he wasn't so hurt that he had forgotten how to annoy me."Like ointment" I brushed past him."Oh." On the way to his room he stopped by the bathroom and got some antibiotic. "Can you put it on for me?"I dropped my backpack onto his bedroom carpet and glanced between the tube and his mouth. "You're not helpless.""Please?" He puckered his lips into a pout, making him look like a little boy.I don't know why I gave in. "Stand still." I took the tube and squeezed some ointment onto my finger. As I dabbed it across the cut, the tenderness of his lips surprised me. I guess I assumed that a guy's lips would somehow feel different from a girl's.Manuel stood only inches away, staring at me. "You're really cute," he said softly. "You know that?"Although Angie had often told me I was cute, I'd never really liked how I looked."Shut up," I grumbled, and avoided Manuel's eyes."Yeah." His lips stretched into a smile beneath my fingertip. "You are."138I capped the ointment and shoved the tube into his hand. "I think your mouth is back to normal now."I plunked down onto the carpet and pulled my homework out of my backpack. When Manuel sat down beside me, his knee grazed mine. The touch set off a spark in my body. I wanted to move away, and yet I couldn't. It felt as if Manuel was pulling at me again."What's the matter?" he asked."Nothing." I flipped through my math book."Yeah, there is." Manuel nodded. "You've been acting weird lately. I mean, even more so than usual."I frowned at him. Then I thought about the porn sites and my talk with Pastor. Should I tell Manuel about all that? I gazed down at my math book and confided in a low voice, "I, um, looked at some--you know--some websites ..."Manuel's voice shot up. "You mean porn}""Um, yeah." I shrugged like it was no big deal."And...?" Manuel asked hopefully--at least that's how I interpreted it."And..." My throat clenched as I tried to swallow. Was I really ready to be fully honest with Manuel? "I think, um, maybe, I might be ... bi."I knew that in truth I had failed the bi test. The "Horny Babes" page had proven that. But Pastor Jose and the ex-gay brochures had renewed my hope that I might possibly become attracted to women."Bi, huh?" Manuel scratched his chin. "Well, at least that's a step." "A step toward what?" "Toward accepting yourself."I glanced up at Manuel's wavy, good-smelling hair and recalled my idea about a close relationship with another guy without sex. Manuel was a Christian. He'd told me that he and his family had139joined a church across town. Could he and I both eventually get married to women and still have a special friendship, bonded by our righteous desire to not fall prey to sin?"I, um, talked to my pastor about--you know--stuff.""That's good." Manuel sounded sincere. "What did he say?""Um, he said that so long as a person stays chaste, it's not a sin. He told me to call this group and meet with someone."I pulled from my backpack the pamphlet about the man who had kicked the gay habit.Manuel looked it over. "Why did the guy write it under a fake name?""Um, I don't know. To protect his privacy, I guess.""You mean like the witness protection program? If the guy believes what he's written, why not be open about it?"Manuel's skepticism annoyed me. "You just don't believe people can change.""I believe people can change some things." Manuel tossed the pamphlet back to me. "But not how you're sexually hardwired. Maybe you can avoid sex with guys, and maybe you can even perform with a girl, but that won't change the fact that you're gay.

It's like wanting to change from being left-handed." Manuel grabbed hold of my hand, sending a tingle up my arm. "You can avoid using your left hand and learn to use your right, but you'll still be left-handed. So what's the point? To please other people?""Because ..." I pulled my hand away. "Being gay is wrong.""No," Manuel said firmly. "Gay isn't wrong or right. It just is. What's wrong is hating yourself because of it. You're going to spend more time with yourself than with anyone else in your life. You want to spend that whole time fighting who you are? Do you really think that's what God wants? If she didn't want140people to be gay, then why were we born that way?"Manuel was messing with my mind again."Being gay is usually caused by some childhood trauma," I argued."Is that what your preacher told you?" Manuel shook his head in obvious dismay. "Why do some people always try to find something to blame being gay on? I suggest you do a little Web search on the so-called ex-gay thing. See if you can find any scientific evidence that it works or locate even one legit professional organization that believes in it. Why can't you just stop buying into the story that God condemns gay people?"I clamped my jaw, not knowing what to answer. Once again I wanted to get up and leave Manuel. But why bother? I knew I'd come back."Can we change the subject? Please?"Manuel sighed and stared at me, as if considering what he wanted to say, before he spoke again. "I think you should meet with an ex-gay. I'll be curious what he tells you. And that's the last I'll say about it."True to his word, Manuel pulled out his government book and rested it on his lap. In the process his knee once again bumped mine. Even though it was only for an instant, I nearly melted at his touch. And although I knew I should move my knee away, I let it rest there.When Manuel's parents arrived home, they were pretty upset about his cut lip. During dinner they said they were going to talk with Mr.

Arbuthnot. But I doubted it would do any good.Later that evening, when I went home, my pa and his girlfriend were in the living room, watching TV."Mijo! " Pa waved me over, and Raquel smiled. "Come sit with us a while."They were watching Will Grace, the show about the gay guy141and his chick friend. My stomach wobbled as my pa and Raquel laughed at Will's effeminate friend swishing his hips and flailing his wrists.When the show switched to a commercial, Raquel told Pa, "You know Harold at my office? Last week his daughter told him she's a lesbian."My pa shook his head. "Poor guy."Suddenly I felt like I might be sick again, and I excused myself. Upon reaching my room, I took a deep breath, and my stomach settled. Was the whole world turning gay? I dropped my backpack and pulled my jacket off, catching my reflection in the mirror.For a long moment I stared at myself. How could Manuel possibly think I was cute? My eyes were too dark, my nose too flat, my lips too big. Was he just teasing? Or could he be feeling the same for me as I was for him?I turned away from the mirror, quickly changed my clothes, and went for a run.Later that week, after Pastor Jose asked me at church if I'd called the ex-gay group, I finally dialed the toll-free number--and immediately tossed my cell phone back down, unable to go through with it."Jesus," I prayed in a trembling voice, "you know how confused and scared I am. Please give me courage." Once more I dialed, and this time I was able to stay on the line. It rang about a million times. I was about to hang up when an old lady answered--not at all what I expected."Thank you for calling New Life Ministries ..." She sounded warm and friendly, like Mrs. Tilly. "Spreading the Good News of the ex-gay community. How may I help you?""Um ..." My voice quavered. "My pastor said to call you ...""Well, I'm glad he did," the lady said cheerily.142Still a little uneasy, I had to force my words out: "He asked me to, um, set up a meeting at my church with--you know--somebody from your group?"The lady asked what part of the country I lived in and told me they had a group in Abilene. "We'd be happy to send someone from that fellowship to meet with you.""Um, okay."She said she'd call me back to confirm a date and time. After hanging up, I collapsed into bed and whispered, "Thank you, Jesus."143