Consider this the second edition of my story. I looked back at my early works and saw how much I have improved as a writer and thought it only behooved me to polish up what I had written. So, I went through and edited the story stylistically and structurally. The story is still the same, just shinier.
Disclaimer: This is a homoerotic story I have written, so if you aren't allowed legally, morally or ethically to read it, then don't. And don't post this anywhere else without my expressed permission. Feedback is very much encouraged, so hit me up at
bluedragon314@gmail.com
Ch. 3
I arrived later than usual to global politics the next day. (I stopped to talk to Lidia about an assignment I had dropped off.) The rest of the students were going on with business as usual. But, over at my table, Peter and William looked like they wanted to strangle the life out of each other. Both were sitting at opposite sides of the table, trying hard to ignore each other and looking incensed. The tension around them was palpable. I went over to Chris and asked him what was going on.
"You don't want to get involved," he said.
"I have to sit between the two of them for the rest of class," I said. "I'll be involved if I want to or not."
"If you say so," he said, taking me aside. "Here's what happened: since you weren't here, Peter was bugging me to let him copy my answers. I told him not to, but he stole my work sheet anyway and started copying them. William got out his work sheet and called Moony over to check on a problem. Peter wasn't paying attention and Moony saw him cheating and took him aside and had a little chat with him about ethics in the classroom."
"Ouch," I said. When Moony takes someone aside for a chat like that, it's torture because he makes you feel so guilty about what you did. Not because he demands it like some over-bearing mother, but because he is kind and caring and you know he's right. You feel worse that you did it to him--whatever it was--than that you did it.
"Yeah," said Chris. "So, when Peter got back, he was mad at William for calling Moony over, saying that William did it just so he would get caught. William denied it, of course. But that wasn't good enough for Peter. He tore into William about how he just liked making other people suffer because he was some goth-loner and didn't have any friends. That shut William up and they've been like that ever since."
"Don't you think that was a little harsh?" I said. "I mean, I'm sure Peter was mad, but it's just plain unethical to go after someone for not having friends."
"You're concerned about he ethics of a guy who has copied your homework almost every day of class?" said Chris. "Besides, I'm glad he got caught. And after the talk he had with Moony, he won't be cheating in this class again. No more arguing about worksheets. No more hiding test answers."
"You know, he actually never cheated on tests," I said.
"Is that what he told you?" asked Chris.
"Yeah," I said. "He said he doesn't do homework because it's a waste of time. But he has no problem with tests."
"I don't buy it," said Chris.
Moony went up to the front of the classroom and Chris and I took our seats, being careful not to disturb William or Peter.
"Alright, class," said Moony. "Lets begin with the first order of business. Next Tuesday, there will be a lecture at noon in room 168 about the history of capitalism. Anyone who goes and writes a one-page review will get extra credit. And I strongly advise some of you to take advantage of this opportunity. Your GPA could depend on it.
"Next, I'd like to introduce the topic of our next chapter. For those of you who read ahead, can you tell me what it is about?"
Chris' hand shot into the air.
"Yes, Mr. Richards," said Moony.
"The next chapter is about the history of economic development vs. the history of government and how each affects the other," recited Chris.
"Very good," said Moony. "Straight from the text book. But what does all that mean to us as students of politics?"
"I, um," said Chris. "I guess it's talking about how the way we handle money effects the way we handle our government."
"A little catchier, but still not quite what I'm looking for," said Moony. "Yes, Mr. Brewer."
"Politics deals with the flow of power," said William. "Since most people get power from money, the flow of money is the flow of power. So, a nation's governing structure is a reflection of its economic structure."
"A very philosophical approach, and a tad bit cynical," said Moony. "I like it, but it's still not what I'm looking for. Yes, Ms. Piers."
"I think the chapter is talking about the way that governments and economies evolve together," said Jenny Piers. "It asks, 'Which effects policy more? The economy or the government?'"
"That's what I was looking for," said Moony. "Kind of like what William said, but more to the point of asking, 'Who is really in control? Government officials or their money?'"
"We all know it's the money that has the power," said Peter.
"Hold on, Dawkins," said Moony. "You're getting ahead of me. I was about to pair you up for your first big project of the year. I want you and your partner to write a report and give a short presentation on a country of your choice, past or present, and write how you think their economy and their government affect each other and which has more power."
"Can I be with Bethany?" asked Jenny.
"I have taken the liberty of pairing you up myself," said Moony. There was a unanimous groan from the class. "Don't worry. I didn't pair you up with anyone you can't stand. But since it is still the beginning of the year and everyone is getting to know everyone else, such a decision should be arbitrary. Your partners are as follows: Mallory and Jensen, Piers and Dawkins, Richards and Fuller, Brewer and Wilson..."
I looked over at William and he was glaring back at me.
'Great' I thought. 'Out of all the people in the room, I got stuck with the ass who tries to sleep all class?'
"Don't look at me like that," said William. "You think I want to be your partner either?"
"Just as long as I don't have to write your report for you," I said.
"Hey, pretty boy. I can write just fine," he said. "And I can write better than that dollar bill crap you tried to push on Lidia."
"Wait a minute," I said. "Did you just call me 'pretty boy?'" Sure, he had just impugned my ability to write. But I knew I sucked at writing. That's why I was taking a class; to get better. But "pretty boy" was a new one for me.
"Ok, class," said Moony. "I need you all to settle down so I can explain the requirements of the project." The rest of class I took notes on the project and tried to get used to the fact that I was going to be closer to William Brewer than I wanted. I sure hoped he would carry his own weight. I hated having to do the work of two or three people just to give them and me a good grade.
At then end of the day, I didn't have to take the bus home. James came and picked me up in his Tacoma. We all had to get ready for the funeral.
When I got home, Brian was already in a black suit and so was Aaron, holding a tray of apple tarts. (He must have been a little edgy.) It didn't take long for James and me to get ready, though it took a while for me to find some nice clothes that weren't too happy. I hadn't been to a funeral since I was little so I wasn't sure what to expect. But from the impression James gave me, it would be very boring.
"Wait a minute, what's that?" asked James, pointing to a square bump in my pocket as I got out of the truck in the church parking lot.
"It's my Gameboy," I said. "You did say this was going to be boring."
"It's a funeral, dipstick!" he said. "You don't go to be entertained."
"Why do we have to go, anyway?" I asked.
"We have to go because Brian has to go," said James. "And he has to go because it's his mom's funeral and that's just what you do when your parents die."
"Did you like going to our parent's funeral?" I asked.
"No, I hated it," he said. "It was boring, all the people were overly-nice and my suit itched. But I had to go because our parents brought us into this world and the least we can do is see them out of it. Now, leave your Gameboy in the truck and lets go inside."
I had been thinking about why Brian would want to go to this funeral the whole ride over there. His mom was the one who called her friends to warn them of the danger her son posed to their families when she found out he as gay. And she seemed really up-tight. Why would he want to go and honor the life of such a woman?
Inside the church, there were a bunch of people milling around in the lobby with a long line in front of a guest book and two ushers escorting people into the sanctuary. From inside the sanctuary, you would hear an old lady playing slow, somber organ music. A group of people was standing around Brian shaking his hand and offering condolences. Aaron was standing in front of a rack of gospel tracts looking intently at them as if willing them to spontaneously combust. James walked in behind me, surveying the scene and trying to keep a low profile.
It didn't work.
A bald man in a suit that was far too tight for his round gut walked up to James and said, "Good afternoon, my name is Hugh Lambert."
"Hi, James Wilson," James said, reluctantly shaking the man's hand.
"Were you a friend of Lara's?" Hugh asked.
"No," said James. "We didn't know her. We're here with Brian."
"Ah, Brian," said Hugh. "Poor soul. Ever since his mother took ill, he has had a rough road to travel. The Lord seems to be testing him greatly. But he is holding up rather well, I'd say."
"He certainly is," said James. "Well, we'd better go sign the guest book before the service starts. It was nice talking to you."
"It was good to meet you, George," said Hugh as James grabbed my arm and walked over to Aaron.
"I hate funerals," said James. "Everybody acts like they're your best friend."
"I think I've discovered a trick," said Aaron. "If you hold a hymnal, people think you are supposed to be here and don't bother to introduce themselves to you."
"Hey, guys," said Brian, as he walked over to us. "Pastor Meyers said the service will begin in a few minutes."
"Don't call him that," said Aaron.
"Don't start, Aaron," said Brian. "We'll be here for ten more minutes and then we can leave and you can complain about the church all you want. Anyway, he said that I can go up and talk about my mom after the first song."
"Song?" said Aaron and me, incredulously. I looked forward to singing as much as Aaron looked forward to praising God.
"Come on, guys," said Brian. "You don't have to sing or anything. Just sit in the back and we can leave as soon as I'm done."
"Brian, I'm so sorry about your mom," said a girl from behind him. She was blond and wearing a simple, black dress and looked awful perky for someone at a funeral.
"Uh, thanks, Lucy," said Brian, turning a little pink.
"I mean, it's so sad what happened to her after the accident, losing her memory and all," she said. "And then she totally forgot who you were. It must have been sad not having that caring, womanly influence in your life."
"Excuse me," said an usher. "The service is about to begin, so we need everyone to go into the sanctuary."
"I have to go sit by my sister and her fiance front, but I'll save you a seat, Brian," said Lucy.
"Uh, thanks, Lucy," said Brian.
As the usher escorted her into the sanctuary, Aaron was looking at her with the same intensity he used on the gospel tracts. Brian, put his arm around Aaron and said, "Don't worry, she's been trying to hook up with ever since middle school."
"The nerve of that skank," Aaron said. "Hitting on you at your mom's funeral. Hitting on you at all!"
"But she didn't know that the one who has stolen my heart was standing right in front of her." said Brian.
"No, she didn't," said Aaron as he smiled proudly.
We walked into the sanctuary and, as instructed, took seats in the back pews. Pastor Meyers went up to the pulpit and instructed us to open our hymnals to number 365, Lara's favorite song, He Touched Me. The next two minutes were shear torture for Aaron. James held his arm around him as Aaron resisted the urge to stand up and start yelling at all the church people for being narrow-minded bigots and informing them they have more of a right to go to Hell than he does. I just sat back and laughed inside at the terrible singing coming from a gaggle of old ladies in front of us.
After the song ended, the pastor introduced Brian as he walked up to the pulpit, looking very nervous. He looked around at all the people, then, when he had fixed his gaze on us, he began:
"Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family. I thank you for coming today to honor my mother. You'll have to excuse me, I'm a bit nervous. But like Jerry Seinfeld said, most people fear public speaking more than they fear death. That means, at a funeral, most people would rather be in the casket than giving the eulogy."
I gave a suppressed snort, trying not to laugh out loud, but no one else seemed to think it was funny.
Brian cleared his throat nervously and continued. "My mother was a kind and generous woman. She always was willing to give her time and money to the church and the community. She helped in the preschool and sang in the choir. And it is sad that she spent the rest of her days not knowing who she really was. A lifetime of commitment brought down by a single brick."
There was a swell of mummers in the room.
"It is ironic," said Brian, "how someone who's life was about love was ended in an act of hate."
The mummers grew louder. Brian was looking uneasy. He turned to the pastor and asked, "Is something wrong?"
The pastor said, "I think they are confused. What do you mean by bricks and hate? Is it some kind of metaphor?"
"What do you mean 'metaphor?'" Brian said. "I'm talking about when my mom was hit by a brick last spring."
"Hit with a brick?" said a woman in the front row. "Was this before her car accident?"
"Car accident?" said another. "She was never in a car accident. But she did fall down the stairs."
The room erupted in rumors and talk about what had happened to Brian's mother and how she obtained a head injury.
"Wait a minute," said Brian. "Everyone, please be quiet!"
The room quieted down and everyone's attention was on Brian.
"Don't you know how she hurt her head?" he said. "Don't you know about the brick that got thrown through the window?"
"Why would anyone throw a brick at Lara?" asked the pastor.
"They didn't," said Brian. "The brick was for me."
"Then why would anyone throw a brick at you?" the pastor asked.
Brian looked around the room, a great swell of fear and panic in his eyes. "You mean, none of you know?"
"Know what?" asked Lucy.
Brian looked like he was about to pass out. "That...well...that I'm gay," he said.
The room fell dead silent, and all the color drained out of Brian's face.
"This is not a very funny joke," said the pastor.
"I'm not joking," said Brian. "L-last spring I told my parents I was gay. When word got out, one of the guys on the football team threw a brick through our window and it hit her in the head."
Again, the room was dead silent. My ears were ringing. You could even hear the buzz of the lights in the lobby. I wanted to help Brian out, but I didn't know how. I felt the same static tension engulf the room that I had felt between William and Peter that morning. Except this time, it was between Brian and a sanctuary full of people.
Some sanctuary.
The deafening silence was broken by a piercing cry.
"You're gay?!" shrieked Lucy. "I've been throwing myself at you for seven years and you're gay?"
"That's right, bitch!" shouted Aaron.
The timing of Aaron's queer outburst and the cumulative effect of the tension made me start laughing uncontrollably. I tried to stop by thinking of something serious, so I thought of dead babies. That made it worse. (Don't ask me why.)
A tall old man feeblely got out of his pew, walked up to the pulpit, looked Brian dead in the eye and said, "Get out of our church."
"Wait a minute, Chuck" said Pastor Meyers. "There's no reason to react this way."
"No reason?" cried an old lady. "There's every reason! It's people like him that make the world such a terrible place."
"Now hold on," said the pastor.
"Get out," said Chuck. "You're not welcome here."
"You can't just tell me to leave," said Brian. "I've gone to this church my whole life."
"So have I!" said Lucy, who was now reduced to tears. "And all this time you were a fucking faggot!"
The whole church gasped as all attention was drawn from Brian to Lucy. That was enough to make me stop laughing.
This wasn't right. I couldn't just leave Brian out to dry like this. I had to do something, so I stood up and said, "I don't go to church, but is this what usually happens? Are people usually mean and hateful and tell others to leave? I mean, that's what Jesus did, right?"
"How dare you take the Lord's name in vain!" said some old lady in front of me.
"You know what makes me sick?" I said. "The fact outside on the street corner is a man who is begging for change. I see him out there all the time, and I'm sure you do too. You're so concerned that I said 'Jesus.' But you don't look concerned at all that no one is going out to help that man. You could at least invite him in."
"You don't know what you are talking about, boy," said Chuck. "The Bible says we need to flee from evil. That panhandler is a drunk. We can't have him in here."
"Wanna know something? I recognize that man," I said, pointing to a middle-aged man by the isle. "I recognize him because I see him going into the adult section at the Movie Dome all the time. And that old lady over there is a lunch lady at my high school. She loves to take ten-minute smoking breaks and hits on the greasy old janitor. And one of the ushers outside likes to go sell pot to kids at all the dances. So, if it's sinners you don't want, then there's a lot more here than you think."
The usher took one look inside the sanctuary and made a break for the door, the lunch lady looked very embarrassed and the man was trying to explain to a crying wife that I was mistaken (which was a lie).
"The boy is right," said Pastor Meyers. "Jesus said that he who is without sin can cast the first stone. And he never told us to reject those in need. He said that he came to the world to save it, not to condemn it."
"And the Bible also says that God hates homosexuals," said Chuck, a flicker of rage in his voice.
"Wrong!" shouted Aaron, as he stood up. "Proverbs says that there are only seven things the Lord hates: proud eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that plots evil, feet that run towards evil, a false witness and a man that divides brothers. Gay people are not on that list!"
I was quite surprised. Aaron had spent this whole time talking about how much he hated religion and now he started quoting Proverbs. But Chuck sure wasn't as impressed.
"Who here wants some dirty homosexual in our church?" he said.
"Look, I'll save you the trouble," said Brian as he hopped off the stage.
"Brian, wait," said Pastor Meyers.
"No, Mike," said Brian. "I can't stay here. This is no longer a house of God, anyway."
"Just leave, faggot!" shouted a man from the pews.
Brian made his way down the isle, towards the door and we got up to join him.
"God hates fags!" a man yelled as we walked out of the sanctuary.
Aaron spun around and yelled, "Well, we hate you, too!"
Brian and James grabbed his shoulders and led him back with us. The ride home was very somber. Aaron was too mad to say anything, Brian was trying not to cry and I was in shock at what I had just witnessed. I had always thought people from churches were meek, nice people like Pastor Meyers. I guess Christians are people, too. They can hate just like I can.
When we got home, Brian went upstairs and cried, softly. I wanted to try and console him, but I figured I should leave that job up to Aaron. But Aaron kept pacing around the house having soundless arguments with an imaginary opponent. James just went into the garage and started to tinker with his models.
It was late and nobody seemed in the mood for cooking, so I poured myself a bowl of cereal and sat down in the living room to watch TV. I really didn't care what was on, I just wanted to forget all about the terrible experience I just had at Brian's mom's funeral.
After some mind-numbing reruns of Orphen, I decided it was time to go to bed. As I walked upstairs, I could hear loud voices coming from Brian's room. When I got to the top of the stairs, I could tell that I was listening to the sounds of an argument.
"I can't believe you just stood there and took that," said Aaron.
"What was I supposed to do? Punch an old man?" said Brian.
"I don't know. Anything but what you did," said Aaron.
I couldn't believe they were arguing after all that had just happened, and over something as petty as Brian's fearful response at the funeral.
"Brian, you can't let people walk over you like that," said Aaron.
"And I can't just yell at them all the time, either," said Brian.
"Oh, so I yell all the time?"
"You're yelling at me right now."
"Is that what you think of me? That I just yell all the time?"
"Aaron, you're a very passionate person. You need to learn when to tone it down."
"And now I'm aggressive and I don't have any self-control."
"I didn't say that."
"You know, I don't have to take this, Brian Fleishman."
"Aaron, wait!"
The door to Brian's room flew open and Aaron stormed out, pushing me aside as he stomped down the stairs. Brian walked out and looked down the stairs at Aaron as he rounded the corner to the living room and made himself comfortable on the couch. Brian had tears streaming down his red face and looked like he was about to say something, but he decided to just leave Aaron alone.
He looked so crestfallen, and I instinctively went over and put my arms around him. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close to him.
"Does that happen a lot?" I asked.
"Not really," sniffed Brian. "I know he's mad about what happened at the funeral, but I don't know what made him decide to take it out on me."
No words came to mind that could ease his pain, so I kept silent and just held him.
When James came out of the garage, he tried to get Aaron off of the couch, but Aaron wasn't going anywhere. Knowing how lonely he got, I volunteered to stay with Brian through the night, like I had so many nights before. Lying there, nestled in his arms, I wondered if his relationship with Aaron had just reached a breaking point. I wondered if this would be the argument that ended it all. Then I felt instantly ashamed for having such a thought. They had been so happy together for so long and any break-up would leave Brian devastated. I wanted them to stay together, but something deep inside me hoped they would break up, so I could have Brian all to myself again.
Remember to tell me what you think at bluedragon314@gmail.com