The God Box (21 page)

DURING SUNDAY LUNCH AT RAQUEL'S PA DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING TO HER ABOUT

THE INCIDENT AT CHURCH, THOUGH I SUSPECTED HE MIGHT MENTION IT LATER.

SHE HAD A WAY OF GENTLY GETTING HIM TO TALK. I DIDN'T MENTION IT

EITHER, BUT I KEPT THINKING ABOUT IT. During my drive to Abilene, Angie phoned.

"Wow! Your dad's my new hero. Wasn't he amazing?""Yeah," I replied, though not quite as enthusiastically. To me, there still seemed so much that Pa and I needed to sort out."My mom and I," Angie continued, "had a long talk about the GSA--what it is and what it isn't. When I explained to her the truth about it, she was totally annoyed with Pastor."While I drove, Angie and I talked about whether or not we would return to church--at least to that one. Angie suggested,

"We should try Manuel's church." But after this morning I wasn't sure I wanted to go to any church. Maybe I'd just talk to God on my own, like Abuelita did.When I arrived at the medical center, Mr. and Mrs. Cordero were sitting at Manuel's bedside. As we talked, I asked about their224church and learned that on several mornings, while I was at school, their minister had come to pray for Manuel.I wondered if Pastor Jose had ever even considered praying for him.

Instead of preaching against the GSA and the sinful lifestyle of homosexuals, why didn't he preach about the destructive lifestyle of homophobia? Surely he knew that Jude and Terry had been charged with attempted murder.After chatting some more with Manuel's parents, I pulled out my books to try to do some homework. I had begun falling behind in school. But as I glanced across the room at Manuel, it suddenly seemed like he shifted a little."Did he just move?" I said to Manuel's parents, and tossed my books down. It was the first time since he'd been hospitalized that I'd seen him move more than a twitch.His parents and I crowded around the bed as Manuel groaned softly. My pulse quickened as his eyelids fluttered. I grabbed the call button, ringing for the nurse.For an instant Manuel's un patched eye flickered open and he gazed at us. My heart nearly zoomed from my chest. But then his eye closed, and he was gone again.The nurse hurried into the room. "What happened?""He opened his eye!""That's good." She checked his IV and pulse. "A real good sign. I'll let the doctor know."For the rest of the day Manuel's parents and I stayed glued to his bedside--well into dinnertime, till his dad offered to get us food from the snack bar."Um, I'll go," I volunteered, not really wanting to leave Manuel, but I figured Mr.

Cordero didn't want to either. When I returned to the room, I nearly dropped the tray. Manuel was stirring again.I set the food down and rushed over as he blinked his left eye open.225He stared blankly at his parents and me. Could he recall who we were? I waited, breathless, remembering the possibility of brain damage."Manuel?" his mom said, as a hopeful smile worked its way onto her face."Yeah?" His voice was scratchy after days of not speaking.Then his gaze moved over to me, as though he wasn't sure who I was and was straining to remember.I got a hollow feeling in my stomach. All this time I had been thinking only of him, and he couldn't recall me. I clenched my jaw, trying to hide my disappointment.But he kept his eye fixed on me, and in a clear voice he asked, "So, now will you kiss me?"My jaw dropped slightly, and my face warmed with embarrassment. His question was the last thing I expected. Was he delirious? Why was he asking that? Then I recalled the movie theater and our near-kiss. But if he had brain damage, how on earth could he remember that?I stared at him open-mouthed, not sure how to respond, especially with his parents there, staring at me."Well?" Manuel insisted.There was no doubt from his tone that he was sincere. But could I actually do what I wanted?Bracing myself on the silver bed rail, I leaned over and touched my lips to his. It wasn't a hard kiss, or very long, but it held my whole heart. And with that gentle kiss, all my doubts, guilt, and uncertainties vanished for a moment, replaced by a million possibilities. This was how it was supposed to feel: natural and real. It was how I was supposed to feel--to have life and have it more abundantly.When I leaned back up, Manuel's one good eye was twinkling at me with mischief. And all I could think was, Thank you, God.226

WHILE HIS MOM AND DAD TALKED WITH MANUEL, I PHONED ANGIE TO TELL

HER THE GREAT NEWS. SHE AND DAKOTA STARTED FOR THE HOSPITAL

IMMEDIATELY, ARRIVING AS FAST AS THEY COULD. Even though Manuel struggled to talk, he remained conscious-- and lucid. "So, did you guys start the GSA yet?""I bug Arbuthnot about it every day." Dakota smiled proudly. "He says he'll let us know by the end of the week.""Remind him that the ACLU says he's got to allow it." A smile crinkled at the corners of Manuel's mouth. "Or we'll sue."If that comment didn't prove Manuel had escaped brain damage, I didn't know what would.It was hard to leave him that night. I was scared he might slip back into a coma, but he didn't. He progressed quickly after that, and every day I gave thanks. Within a week he got released from the hospital and moved to a rehabilitation center, where I continued to visit him. Each afternoon I brought him schoolwork to catch up on. But although his mind was clear, he tired easily. So, oftentimes I merely sat beside him while he rested, and I caught up227on my own homework. At other times we just talked.One evening I asked out of curiosity, "Do you remember anything from being unconscious?""Yeah . . ." His forehead wrinkled, like he was thinking. "I remember hanging out with J. C.""Sure, right." It annoyed me when anyone called Jesus "J. C." It seemed sort of irreverent. But that was Manuel."It's true." Manuel nodded earnestly. "I felt a peace I can't express. He doesn't look anything like his pictures.""Shut up!""No, really." Manuel grinned, but his voice was serious. "He said he wanted me to go with him, but I argued I wasn't ready yet, that I still needed more time to work on you."My annoyance faded and I turned quiet, recalling the afternoon in the hospital when I had told Manuel I needed him and begged him not to die."So?" Manuel asked. "How's your battle going?""I've, um ..." I cleared my throat and tried to stay composed. "I've stopped fighting.""Praise Jesus." Manuel said, his tone sincere. "You know he loves you--no matter what."I was beginning to believe that, and I had to clench my throat to hold back my tears.One thing still weighed heavy on me. I drew in a long, deep breath so I could tell him: "I'm really sorry that I left you alone in the parking lot that night. If I hadn't, then maybe--"He quickly raised his hand to my lips, shaking his head and shutting me up. "Let that go, amigo. I was stupid to let you leave me."Then he reached for my hand, and my tears just flowed, no matter how hard I tried to stop them. I had never cried in front of228him before, and I grabbed his hand tight, whispering, "I need you to teach me how to love.""You already know that," he whispered back, tears running down his own cheeks. "You're born knowing that. You just needed to learn to let it out."I tried not to hold his hand too hard, though I wanted to never let go.229

WITHIN TWO WEEKS MANUEL HAD GOTTEN STRONG ENOUGH TO BE RELEASED

FROM THE REHAB CENTER. TO WELCOME HIM HOME, ANGIE, DAKOTA, AND I

WENT OVER AFTER SCHOOL, TOGETHER WITH STEPHEN, GERALD, MAGGIE, AND

RUFUS. THEN JANICE JOINED US WITH A SURPRISE -- NOT A WHOOPEE CUSHION, BUT HER LITTLE GIRL.Even though she apologized for having to bring the baby, it seemed like a perfect gesture. Manuel loved the kid, making faces and cooing as it giggled. Each time I hung out with his crew, the more I liked them.Now that Manuel was home, I drove him to physical therapy twice a week, and in between sessions I helped him with his exercises. His knee injury was the hardest, making it difficult for him to stand up or walk, and pretty much confining him to a wheelchair. But the PT exercises helped, and as the weeks passed, he kept getting stronger.The best news was that his right eye healed better than expected, recovering 95 percent of its vision. The doctor said that that was a miracle.230Meanwhile, the winter winds started letting up, and the spring days got warmer. Pa and I still weren't getting along exactly great, but we had begun talking more about Ma, and I told him how really hard it had been for me when he'd started getting drunk.It took a lot for me to tell him that. I think it was hard for him to hear it too, because he got really sad for several days afterward. But I'd needed to tell him, and I was glad I did.231

AS EASTER BREAK APPROACHED, I COULDN'T WAIT FOR ABUELITA TO COME

STAY WITH US AGAIN. EVER SINCE HER LAST VISIT I HAD KEPT HER POSTED

OVER THE PHONE ABOUT MANUEL. SHE WOULD ALWAYS TELL ME, "DON'T GIVE

UP ON HIM." AND SHE HAD BEEN RIGHT."I want to come out to her when she comes," I told Pa one night during dinner.He kept eating quietly, thinking to himself, until he said, "It's up to you, mijo. Let me know if you want my help."On Palm Sunday I drove to Abilene Airport, psyching myself up for my big announcement. But when I finally saw Abuelita, I wasn't sure how to tell her. Every morning during her stay I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "Okay, I'm going to tell her." But then I chickened out.I don't know why it was so scary for me, given all the tolerant things she had said about love, homosexuality, and being in love. But it was. Abuelita held such a special place in my world. And the possibility that she might reject me--even if it was all in my head-still petrified me.232"Just tell her!" Manuel encouraged me after I took her to visit him."She loves you more than anything," Angie reminded me.I felt like such a wuss. When Easter Sunday arrived, the last day of her visit, I still hadn't told her. I watched the minutes tick by all through lunch, while helping her to clean up afterward, and during the drive to the airport.

As we approached the security gate, I knew it was my last chance."Um, there's something I want to tell you."She cocked her head and peered at me, her eyes huge and bright behind her glasses.

"Then tell me."My nerves were a wreck and my knees wobbled beneath me, but--who knows how--my words came out clear and steady: "I'm in love ... with Manuel."Abuelita nodded slowly, showing no surprise. She reached out with her frail arms and hugged me. "Mi amor, I'm so happy for you." Then with her finger she gently poked at my heart. "Now let yourself be happy too."She kissed my cheek. And as she waddled away, I had this odd thought, about how Manuel sometimes called God "she."Maybe he was right.233

DURING THE WEEKS THAT FOLLOWED PASTOR JOSE'S SERMON ABOUT OUR GSA,

HE HAD RALLIED OTHER CHURCHES TO OPPOSE THE CLUB. THE

SUPERINTENDENT TOOK THE ISSUE TO THE SCHOOL BOARD FOR THEIR NEXT

MEETING. LETTERS TO THE EDITOR APPEARED IN THE abilene reporter-news,

DECRYING THE CLUB AS "AN INSTRUMENT OF THE HOMOSEXUAL AGENDA," "A THREAT TO FAMILY VALUES," AND "A CHALLENGE TO CHRISTIAN FAITH."I had to agree on the last point. This whole experience had definitely challenged my faith--and made it stronger.Dakota downloaded a letter from the ACLU website and presented it to the school board at the meeting, informing them that under federal law they had to allow the GSA or ban all non-curricular clubs. Only after that did the board finally approve the group.That evening, Angie, Dakota, Manuel's crew, and I gathered at his house to celebrate. His mom had made a rainbow-icing cake. The only bad part was that Manuel still wasn't strong enough to come to school and attend the GSA's first meeting.234On that day my arteries pumped hard with anticipation-- and anxiety. I still hadn't come out to anyone at school besides Angie, and, more recently, Dakota.

(That had been a nonevent. I was beginning to think the entire planet had suspected me.) Nevertheless, when the lunch bell rang, I shuffled apprehensively toward the library, where the GSA would meet. Mrs. Ramirez had said we could bring food, but my stomach felt too knotted-up to eat."Are you excited?" Angie asked, catching up to me in the hall."Um, a little." My voice quavered. "Or a lot."She patted my shoulder gently, as though reassuring some frightened pup, and we walked together.In the hallway outside the library a crowd of students had gathered. On one side of the door Cliff and Elizabeth were leading a group in prayer against the GSA.On the other side, Dakota, Stephen, and Gerald were chanting, "Pray, pray, pray, pray! It won't change people being gay. Jesus loves them anyway!"The sight was both comical and unnerving. "Who's going to walk through that?" I asked."We are." Angie took hold of my hand and led me toward the door.Fortunately, Mr. Arbuthnot arrived on our heels, yelling at both sides, "That's enough!

Either get inside or go to lunch. Now!" I exhaled relief as the crowd disbanded, and Angie and I stepped into the library.Maggie, Janice, and Rufus were already there, dragging chairs across the carpet to form a circle. "How many do you think we'll need?" Maggie asked me."Um, I don't know. Maybe ten?"Mr. Arbuthnot strode in, eyeing us like he expected some sort235of satanic ritual. Behind him trailed Dr. Lamar, the superintendent, and Mrs. Driscoll, the president of the PTA.Then two girls shuffled in, giggling. One of them, wearing a T-shirt with a sequin heart, whispered to Angie, "Is this the you-know-what group?""Yeah, hi. Help yourself to some cookies."The girls slinked over to the soft drinks and snacks Mrs. Ramirez had set up, looking ready to sneak out if no one else showed up. But then another girl strode in, followed by a jock-looking boy who mumbled hi to Janice and veered nervously toward the refreshments.Gerald and Rufus scrambled for more chairs, widening the circle, as six more students came in. I'd never imagined so many people would be interested.When we reached twenty-three, Mrs. Ramirez told us, "You'd better get started."Dakota led the meeting in a discussion about homophobia and things the club could do to help create more tolerance and understanding."We should invite teachers," Maggie suggested. "We need to tell them how much name-calling hurts and to not just look away.""I heard about this thing called the Day of Silence," Stephen said. "Students spend the entire day being silent and draw attention to how we can't talk about who we really are 'cause we risk being bullied.""Can't we do something fun?" Rufus proposed. "Maybe sponsor a movie night? Like with Dead Poets Society! I mean, I know that's not about being gay, but it's about being yourself. I mean, I'm not gay, but dude--I got so much crap just for coming here. It's, like, homophobia hurts everybody."That was the most I had ever heard him say.236Dr. Lamar and Mrs. Driscoll both took notes, and with each passing minute they seemed to relax a little more.