In the Direction of Happiness

The following is property of the author. Permission is granted to Nifty Archives to post one copy.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is pure coincidence. Do not read this story if you are offended by man-to-man romance or sex. Do not read if you are underage according to the laws in the country, state/province, county, city/town/village or township where you live.

This is a love story. As in all good love stories, there will be sex. But, before we get there, you will read considerable plot and character development. I hope you enjoy the story.

I enjoy receiving e-mail and will attempt to answer all messages. Mail to: rustynail920@yahoo.com

In The Direction of Happiness

Chapter 1 - A Chance Meeting

My early morning drive to LAX was a nightmare. Blinding rain obscured the southbound 405 and traffic was backed up from the Santa Monica freeway north to Victory Blvd. some 15 miles behind me. Why I booked a flight out of L.A. at 9:00 A.M. on a Monday morning is beyond comprehension. Having lived in the San Fernando Valley most of my life I should have known better. Every commuter in Los Angeles County was on the road and, of course, in a hurry.

Without warning a myriad of red lights warned of danger ahead. Realizing that there was precious little I could do, I braked and hoped for the best. Fortunately my front bumper stopped just inches behind the beige Nissan Pathfinder ahead of me. My rear bumper was not so lucky. The sudden jolt was alarming but I knew immediately that I was fine. As I looked in the rear view mirror I could barely distinguish, through the rain, the figure of what looked to be a young woman slumped over the steering wheel of a new Ford Ranger truck. Jumping from my car into the cold rain I quickly approached the driver. Oh please let her be ok, I silently petitioned whatever gods might be listening.

Looking through the closed driver's side window I didn't detect any movement. I began knocking and loudly asking if she were hurt. Slowly, as if coming out of a trance, she turned to look in my direction. I could tell that she was stunned but probably nothing worse.

"Are you ok? " I asked as she rolled down her window and gave me a weak smile.

"I think so, everything happened so fast," she replied. "But, how are you and what have I done to your car and, oh my God, to Miguel's truck?"

I didn't have any idea who Miguel was, probably her boyfriend, but looking over at my car all I could see was a hefty dent in my bumper. Driving a six year old Toyota Tercel, I wasn't too concerned. The damage to Miguel's truck wasn't much worse.

"It doesn't look too bad," I said with my most assuring smile. I hate to see anybody cry and by now silent tears were finding paths down her cheeks.

"Step outside and take a look for yourself, I encouraged.

My name is Steven Houston," I said as I extended my hand.

She returned my greeting and told me her name was Sarah Ortiz. Standing about 5' 4" tall, Sarah had long black hair and the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. Her eyes were sad yet they radiated warmth that somehow captured my heart. I'm rarely at a loss for words yet here I stood, dripping wet in the middle of a crowded Southern California freeway, and all I could do was stare. Now I was the one in a trance. Brought back to reality by the incessant honking of horns I suggested that we get the vehicles off of the freeway as quickly as possible. Finding an opening in traffic we managed to navigate our way to the next off ramp and pull into the parking lot of a small donut shop. I knew there was no way I was going to make my flight so I invited Sarah into the shop for coffee.

We entered the shop wringing wet and stood fascinated as we watched two puddles of water forming at our feet. A young and exceedingly handsome Hispanic man told us not to be concerned as he retreated to the rear of the store, moments later returning with a mop. We ordered coffee and donuts and took a seat near the window. Once settled I used my cell phone to call the airport to check on the flight schedule. To my delight I learned that my flight had been delayed, not due to the heavy rain, but oddly enough, thick fog. It's amazing how weather conditions in the Los Angeles area can vary, even over short distances. California's unique geography accounts for this phenomenon. Within a couple hours drive you can visit the coast, mountains and desert.

Over coffee I learned that Miguel was Sarah's older brother and that they had recently moved to Los Angeles from their home in New Mexico. The truck that Sarah had been driving belonged to Miguel and he had only owned it for two weeks. Sarah quietly wept as she thought how disappointed her brother would be when he learned of the dent in his new and much prized truck.

Their mother, Consuela, was born in Mexico City where she lived until she was twenty years old. Consuela met and married Pedro Ortiz, a lay worker in a Pentecostal denomination who was assisting in the construction of missionary chapels across the Mexican countryside. Pedro, an American citizen, completed his term of service with the church and quickly brought his new wife to his home near Santa Fe. Miguel and Sarah were both born at home and lived in the same house until their departure for L.A., six months ago. Their upbringing was strict and guided wholly by the dogma of their church. Evidently their father believed in a very literal interpretation of Scripture and there was no room for varying opinion or even discussion.

Miguel loved Sarah deeply and was very protective. Likewise, Sarah was devoted to her brother but implied that his over protection was more than a little stifling. Be that as it may, it was obvious that they were a team and were facing life's challenges together. With the little information offered I gleaned that their departure from New Mexico was sudden and not by choice. I had the distinct feeling that they left fearing violence and even here, in Los Angeles, did not feel totally safe. Looking into Sarah's eyes I could see emotion welling up and she had become noticeably uncomfortable. I changed the subject.

I told Sarah that I was heading to LAX to catch a flight to Spokane Washington. I was taking an overdue vacation and would be visiting a long time friend who had moved to the great Pacific Northwest. I had not seen Mark and his wife Barbara for over a year and was apprehensive about the visit. I explained that they had left California shortly after a disagreement that nearly ended our friendship. As I was talking I noticed Sarah carefully watching my eyes and somehow I felt she was looking deep within me. The intensity of her gaze became unnerving when suddenly, in mid sentence, she interrupted me.

"Steven, I don't think our meeting was by chance. I mean...the accident. I think there is a reason the collision occurred." Sarah's voice was hushed, almost as if she feared somebody was listening.

"Yeah, there are too many damn cars on L.A. freeways and when it rains Angelenos don't know how to drive," I answered flippantly.

"No, no, that's not what I mean. Miguel says I'm a Bruja. I know he's only teasing but Steven, he may be right. I know things people cannot know. Even as a little girl I knew I had a special gift. Some say it's intuition, others, like my father, say it's a curse. That is part of the reason why we had to leave our home." Sarah's eyes again filled with tears.

"What the hell is a Bruja," I asked.

"A Mexican witch," she tentatively answered.

"A witch," I exclaimed loudly. "Well, you're the prettiest witch I've ever seen."

By now my senses were reeling. A participant in a traffic accident on route to one of the busiest airports in the world, while driving through Los Angles during a torrential downpour, heading for a vacation that I was more than apprehensive to take, was a little more than my mind could fathom.

"Sarah, what are you talking about," I said rather harshly.

"All I'm saying is that I'm intuitive and I know with certainty that we were meant to meet. Unfortunately it took an auto accident for the meeting to happen, but we are both OK, and I don't believe this is the end of the story. I feel so strongly that we are going to help each other."

I could tell that Sarah totally believed what she was saying and perhaps she was right. I was drawn to her the moment I saw her in the truck. We were already speaking like we'd known each other for years and, I liked her. I felt as if I'd made a good friend.

"Steven, I can prove it to you," she said with a grin.

"Ok, shoot," I answered.

"You're gay." Her proclamation was delivered tenderly but with authority. "You're gay, aren't you?"

To put it mildly, I was stunned. As I regained my composure my first reaction was anger. Who the hell does she think she is? For God's sake, we just met. She 'rear ends' me because she was driving too damn fast and now she tells me she's a witch and has the gall to say that I'm gay. And, as if to make matters worse, she's smiling at me. My head was swimming.

Sarah slowly reached across the table and placed her hand over mine. "Steven, it's OK. Please, just listen to me for a minute. I know you're angry and I don't blame you. Miguel always says I speak without thinking. But just take a moment and think about what I'm saying. I've known you for less than one hour yet I already trust you completely and, unless I'm very mistaken, you trust me too. I need somebody that I can trust, somebody to laugh and cry with, and Steven, so do you. Let me tell you something else. You are standing at a major crossroads and the decisions you are about to make will direct a course of events that will determine your future happiness, or perhaps, loneliness. You need to come to terms with who you are and it's important that you do it now. Steven, I want to be your friend."

As she continued to speak I could feel my anger slipping away. How could she know so much about me? At 35 years old I'd still not come to terms with my own sexuality. How could she know that I was more confused today then at any other time in my life? Until my fight with Mark I had always had a clear sense of who I was and where my life was heading. I was optimistic, a bit idealistic and always cheerful. But lately I'd felt lost and without direction. Adrift in a sea of doubt and plagued with low self-esteem. What has happened to me, I wondered, and how could she know?

"Sarah, how can you know these things about me? You're right, I do trust you. I have no idea why".

I was desperate to understand my sexuality. Perhaps she could help me. Now I was the one with tears in my eyes. The last time I cried, Mark was driving away from my house and I feared our friendship was over. That time I cried all night.

Sarah's eyes were alive with compassion and warmth. The sorrow that I had seen earlier was gone, at least for now. I marveled at her beauty. I wanted her friendship.

"Sarah, how do you know that I'm gay? I honestly don't know myself what team I'm playing on. Tell me, please, how do you know this?"

I could hear the desperation in my own voice. Until this very moment I hadn't realized just how troubled I was about my sexuality. I knew that unless I came to terms with this, the happiness I so longed for would continue to elude me.

"I don't know how to explain it to you Steven, I don't understand it myself. I trust my intuition; it has never failed me. I like to think it's the voice of God speaking to my heart. You believe me, don't you?"

"Yes, I don't know why but yes, I do believe you."

As I answered I felt a strange assurance that indeed God was speaking to me. Now that was probably the strangest thing to happen on this already bizarre day. I had once been an avid churchgoer. As a child I thought that I wanted to be a minister. As I grew older I taught Sunday School. This all changed as I began to see how the church, or at least the churches I attended, used and manipulated people. Worse, I began to chafe at the hypocrisy that was being passed off as faith.

Chapter 2 - 'And Upon Her Forehead A Name Was Written'

I remember clearly the last evening I attended a worship service. It was ten years ago. I was part of a Pentecostal group that stressed the use of God's miraculous gifts. Speaking in tongues, healing, prophecy, the whole nine yards. I was totally in awe of the leader of the group. Her name was Connie Latham and she claimed to have served in the ministry of the late Katherine Kuhlman. Connie was in her fifties and very attractive. Slender and graceful with flowing blond hair. Hair that was obviously bleached that color but nonetheless elegant. She wore long white flowing dresses and was the image most of us have of what an angel looks like. The trademark of her ministry was the spiritual phenomenon called, 'being slain in the spirit'. Simply put, the Spirit of God would come upon you and you would fall to the ground, 'rapt in glory'. Of course this usually happened when Connie was praying for you or when she lightly touched your forehead or neck. I must admit that it happened to me on several occasions. Whether it was a genuine epiphany or my own personal spiritual hysteria, I'm not sure. All I know is that I believed it to be God working through his servant, Connie.

There were twelve of us at the core of Connie's ministry. We would meet regularly for prayer and to receive counsel from Connie. I felt so honored to be part of this group. I was enthusiastic and dogmatic.

Proof that God was blessing the ministry could be seen at the monthly evangelistic and healing services that were held at a large Protestant church in Sherman Oaks. Connie would deliver a sermon and at some point she would begin to receive messages from God. In the time honored Pentecostal tradition she would announce that somebody in the congregation was receiving a healing from God. "Somebody is being healed of arthritis," she would proclaim. Or, "somebody is being delivered from the spirit of alcohol, come forward and receive your miracle," she would plead. And of course the aisles of the church would fill with the sick, weary and troubled. All looking for tangible proof that their faith was genuine and to witness the spectacular. One by one they would come to the stage to receive their miracle, dispensed through the hands of God's humble servant, Connie Latham.

You have to understand that, at least in our ministry, God worked with all the dramatic flair you'd expect to see in a carnival sideshow. When Connie prayed, she prayed loudly and within moments most recipients of God's favor would find themselves flat on their backs as the ga-loooo- ry of God washed over them. Some nights Connie would announce that God had opened the floodgates and the entire congregation would flock to the stage and drop like flies. It was deliverance at its finest.

I was a 'catcher'. It was my job to stand at the foot of the chancel area and greet the faithful as they waited for their turn to receive prayer. One by one I would ask their names and what they would like Connie to pray about. I would individually escort them to Connie and cheerfully make their introduction. As Connie began her prayerful supplication I would quickly position myself behind the person and prepare to catch him or her when the Spirit of God 'came upon them'. Generally this operation ran smooth enough, but on occasion, the Lord would act faster then I could move. All I could do was helplessly watch as the poor soul crashed to the floor with a thud. It was also my job to be sure that, when the ladies fell, that they did so modestly. On more than one occasion I found myself discreetly trying cover legs and thighs with dresses that had somehow hiked well above their waist. One evening a rather large middle aged woman hit the floor before I had a chance to even introduce her to Connie. To my horror, I realized that her skirt had completely lifted above her waist and she lie sprawled flat on her back, spread-eagle, and facing the congregation. Try as I may, she would not budge. Putting on my most pious face I sat down directly in front of her and pretended to pray.

I was part of the ministry for over a year when I began to question the validity of what was happening. I began to notice that the same people would come back month after month requesting prayer for the same malady, each time claiming victory over the illness. I became alarmed when I realized that Connie or her brother Joel, who acted as her manager, increasingly observed our personal lives. We were told how to behave, on and off the stage, and even our home life was open to scrutiny. It was an election year and we were counseled how, as "committed Christians," we should vote. Connie would continually exhort us to "live lives above reproach."

One Saturday morning I received a phone call at home. It was Connie and she asked if I could have coffee with her that afternoon. Her voice was quite serious and I asked her if something wrong. She assured me that there was not a problem but she really wanted to see me about an issue of some urgency. I agreed to meet her at her home in Studio City. I live in the Santa Susanna Mountains just north of the San Fernando Valley so it was a forty-minute drive to her home. Not exactly the way I wanted to spend my Saturday afternoon, but it was for the ministry so I obliged her. What else could I do? I arrived at her house and was greeted by her housekeeper who told me that I was expected. I was escorted into the family room where Connie and her brother were waiting for me. Joel stood up and walked across the room and extended his hand. "So glad you could join us today Steven, of course we would never ask you to take time away from your work if it wasn't of some importance," Joel said with a look of feigned piety.

It was more an inconvenience than anything else. I work at home and set my own hours. I own 25 acres of land and use it to grow trees and shrubs that I sell to retail nurseries. I have two employees that manage just fine when I'm away. Smiling at Joel, I walked over to greet Connie who remained seated.

"Hello Steven, thank you so much for coming, we have exciting news to share with you," Connie flashed a radiant smile as she spoke.

"Good afternoon Connie,"

I smiled nervously as I reached out to take her extended hand. For some reason I always became bashful when Connie spoke to me. I think in part she intimidated me. I was a relatively new convert to this brand of Christianity and in the presence of a beautiful woman who wielded the power of Almighty God. I thought she could look right into my heart and mind and see all of my sins and insecurities.

"Please sit down and relax. We have much to discuss so I'll get right to the point. Steven, we've been asked to become a regular part of the televised worship service at the Pentecostal Tabernacle in Westwood. Our ministry of healing and deliverance will be televised monthly throughout Los Angeles and much of Southern California. Do you understand what this means? This is the answer to our prayers. The anointing of Almighty God is upon us."

I sat there as if struck by lightning. As she spoke her eyes stared right into my soul and I felt as if I was about to suffocate. I tried to smile, I tried to look joyous, but I'm afraid I merely looked like I was getting sick. I could see, from the corner of my eye, that Joel was laughing.

"Steven," he spoke, "you look like you've seen a ghost. Don't worry son, I felt the same way when I heard the news. But Connie reminded me that this is a work begun by the Almighty, and if God is with us, who can be against us? This is all to His glory. Am I not right?"

"Well yes, of course, but... I don't know what to say. It's wonderful but I don't think I can do it." I realized I was making absolutely no sense.

"Of course you can. God has told me so," Connie spoke.

"He what." I gasped.

"His hand is upon you Steven." Connie's voice was clear and strong as she spoke to me.

"You are God's choice to lead my ministry. God always raises up a strong man in the time of need. Steven, you are that man. Joel's job is taking him to the East Coast. He and Mona will be leaving for New York in two weeks and I need you. Our ministry will move to the Tabernacle in two months and we don't have much time to get ready."

I sat there in silence for what seemed an eternity. I heard Connie tell Joel that God was dealing with my doubt and to give me a few minutes. I don't know why, I knew deep inside it was wrong, but I agreed to do it. Fear and doubt gripped me, but if Connie said God had spoken to her, then who was I to doubt his plan?

"Steven, you don't know what a weight you have taken off my shoulders," Joel said. "I need to make preparations to move but I couldn't, in clear conscience, leave my sister on her own. I've given this much thought and you are the one I want to replace me."

At that point I wondered who indeed had chosen me, Joel or God, but I didn't say anything.

"There is only one other item we need to discuss and it is, well, somewhat delicate."

"I didn't know what they were going to say but I felt as if a cloud had just passed between me and the sun. A feeling of foreboding seemed to fill my senses. "What is it?" I said.

"Steven, you are a man possessed of many talents, not the least of which is leadership," Connie spoke softly. "As a leader in God's army you will be watched by many. Some will view you with respect, some with jealousy and some with the intent of bringing you down. Satan will do all he can to destroy this work of God and we must be prepared for his assaults. Steven, please don't take this the wrong way. Everything I say is with love and respect for you as a coworker and as a friend. You have one flaw in your otherwise sterling armor." Connie paused as if waiting for me to speak.

"What is that," I managed to say.

"You are without a wife or even a girlfriend," she said.

"Is that a flaw?" I was more confused than ever.

"You really don't know how handsome you are, do you? Aren't you aware that the single women on our team, to say nothing of the women in the congregation, all have their sights set on you? None of us have ever seen you with a date and you never speak of anybody special in your life. Steven, this can cause many complications for you and for the ministry. Some have wondered, and please forgive me, but some have questioned whether you might be a homosexual."

"This creates two problems Steven," Joel was quick to add. "The lesser of the two is the potential for competition and jealousy between your female coworkers in the ministry. It's obvious that both Darlene and Brenda are just dying to get you in the sack," Joel said with a wry smile. "I guess you haven't noticed that most of the young women who come forward for prayer always stand in your line. Good Lord Steven, they all want you to catch them when they fall."

"My heart tells me that you are oblivious to the problem. But that doesn't alter the fact that a problem exists. With you as the head of my team the problem will only escalate if it is not corrected. We cannot have strife within our ranks and during the healing services all hearts, minds and eyes must be focused on the glory of God," Connie added.

Before I could say anything Joel looked me straight in eye and asked, "are you a homosexual?"

Once again I was thunderstruck. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to hide. I suddenly felt dirty or perhaps shameful is a better word. I answered as honestly as I could.

"I've never had sex with a man. I've only had sex with one woman in my entire life and that relationship ended three years ago."

I spoke a slightly stretched version of the truth and it was painful to do so. I had always felt embarrassed that I had not had more sexual experience. Most of my friends bragged about how many women they had screwed. Somehow it made me question my manliness.

"We are so relieved to hear you say that," Joel said while looking over at Connie. "We can work with the girlfriend problem, but if you were a Sodomite, there would be no place for you in God's ministry."

"So it's settled," Connie said as she stood up and walked over to where I was sitting. "Let's thank God for the wonderful things he is doing and ask for his guidance."

Connie led us in a prayer that I don't remember a word of. When she finished she told me that she would like me to meet with her again the following Saturday to begin making plans for both our move to the Tabernacle and my promotion to head of the ministry. In the meantime I was told to pray for guidance and admonished not to say anything about our conversation to anybody. Our last service at the Sherman Oaks church would be Wednesday evening and at that time she would make a public announcement. I left for home, dazed and wondering what the hell had happened.

The last healing service held in Sherman Oaks began as usual. The ministry team assembled one hour early for prayer and last minute instructions from Joel and Connie. After prayer Connie announced to the group that God was opening new and wonderful doors for the ministry and she explained, with much joy and excitement, that the ministry would be moving to the Pentecostal Tabernacle and that I would be taking over Joel's responsibilities. The reaction was much as I expected and amidst the many exclamations of "praise God," I was congratulated and hugged.

Connie's sermon that evening was, "living the victorious life in Christ." Connie is a very good public speaker and she knows how to 'work' a crowd. She can deliver the gospel message with both fervor and tenderness. She also has a keen understanding of both Scripture and human nature. Her delivery that night was exceptional and by the time she began calling out 'healings', the level of expectation was higher than I'd ever seen it. I took my position at the base of the chancel on Connie's left side. I glanced at the long lines forming on either side of the sanctuary and realized it would be a long evening.

About thirty minutes into the ministry I turned to greet the next person in line and I looked into the eyes of a very nervous young man. He was probably 18 or 19 years old and I could tell immediately that this was his first service. His name was Eric and he told me that he had recently accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior. I welcomed him into the family of believers and asked him what he would like Connie to pray for. He was reluctant to say anything and his anxiety was growing. I took him aside and encouraged him not to be afraid. I remember saying something like, "God knows what is in your heart and he knows exactly what you need."

After a few minutes Eric told me that he was gay. The friends that had led him to the Lord told him that being gay is a sin and that he needed to repent and seek God's forgiveness.

"Is that why you're here Eric?" I asked.

"Yes sir," he softly replied. "I've asked God to forgive me but I still feel the same inside, you know, the same desires. I don't know what to do and I'm hoping the minister will pray for me."

"Of course she will pray for you Eric." I could tell that Eric was extremely nervous and I asked him if something else was troubling him.

"My family and some of my friends are here tonight and they don't know that I'm gay. I'm so afraid of how they will react when they find out. Will the minister pray for me without saying anything out loud?"

"Yes, she will. Nobody wants to humiliate or embarrass you. When we go forward I will whisper your request to Connie and she will lay her hands on you and pray silently. You can expect the Spirit of God to touch you in a very special way Eric." I put my arm around his shoulders in a gesture of friendship.

As I spoke I could visibly see him start to relax. We talked softly for another few minutes. I liked him instantly. I felt his apprehension and realized that I shared his feelings. Never comfortable with my own sexuality I often wondered if I too should ask for prayer and guidance. I knew that I was attracted to men but still could not bring myself to consider the possibility that I might be gay. After all, I'd had a two-year relationship with a woman that involved sex. Not necessarily satisfying sex but I had nothing to compare it to.

I led Eric to Connie when she turned and looked in our direction. "Whom do we have here?" she said.

"Connie, I'd like you to meet Eric. He has only recently joined the family of God and this is his first visit to our ministry".

"Welcome Eric," she said as she took his hands in hers. "What would you have me pray about?"

I leaned close to Connie's ear and whispered, "Eric is gay and he would like you to pray for him. His family and friends are here tonight and they don't know that he is gay. He has requested that you pray silently for him because he is concerned about their reaction."

Without warning Connie dropped Eric's hands and jumped backward while yelling into the microphone, "In the name of Jesus Christ I command the spirit of homosexuality to release this man. Unclean spirit you must leave and never return to this child of God."

It was one of those moments when time momentarily stood still. The congregation became silent as they watched the spectacle unfold. Connie dramatically thrust her right hand forward, stopping only inches from Eric's chest. "I plead the blood of Jesus over this entire room," she roared while beginning to sway from side to side. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as I tried to comprehend what was happening.

There was a look of abject terror on Eric's face. I will never forget his eyes as he turned to look at me. Fear, sorrow, bewilderment, it was all there and I felt my own heart break. I wanted to take him in my arms and tell him how sorry I was. I wished I could switch places with him. I wanted to protect him from this woman and the horrible deed she had committed in Jesus' name. I started to reach out to Eric when he suddenly bolted down the center isle of the sanctuary, through the narthex and out the side door.

A very real epiphany occurred for me at that moment. There were no angelic voices to be heard nor did the heavens open to display the wonders of God. Yet, probably for the first time, the truth of the gospel was clear to me. True humility and vile self-righteousness was displayed for the entire congregation to witness and I wondered how many had the eyes to see. I knew beyond doubt that I had no place in the Connie Latham ministry.

I looked over at Connie and her face was contorted into a shape that made her look haughty. Her eyes were closed in what I imagine was prayer and I doubted that she even realized that the man she was praying for had left the building, and possibly the faith.

I followed Eric's steps down the center isle, stopped in the narthex to retrieve my jacket, and walked out of the church. Other than a handful of weddings and funerals, I have not been back in a church since that night.

I tried in vain to locate Eric. I so wanted to tell him that what happened was not of God. Who knows what he has endured since that fateful night when he asked the body of believers for prayer? I pray that God in some way has touched Eric's life with amazing grace. I pray the he has found peace with himself, his family and his sexuality. I pray he has one hunk of a boyfriend.

"Steven, where did you go?" I was brought back to the present by Sarah's voice.

"Sorry, I momentarily got lost in a memory," I answered her.

"Sarah, I don't know what is happening but I believe that you are right. We are meant to be friends and I don't want us to part company wondering if I'll ever see you again. You're right, there is unfinished business here."

"Steven, that is what I'm trying to tell you."

"Sarah, if I have any chance of making my flight I'm going to have to leave now, but I want to see you when I return from Washington."

"I want to see you too," she replied as she began writing her address and phone number on a napkin. She had a Los Angeles address. Over an hour from where I lived.

I asked her if she had auto insurance and she told me she did. As I mentioned earlier I wasn't overly concerned about my Toyota but felt badly for Miguel. I took out one of my business cards and wrote Mark's phone number on the back.

"If you or the insurance company need to speak with me before I return, you can call me at Mark's, he won't mind."

We stood together and hugged each other. It was a warm embrace and it somehow reinforced my feeling that something spiritual was happening. Sarah stretched up on her tiptoes and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Flashing a beautiful smile she simply said, "see you soon," and we walked to our newly dented cars.

Chapter 3 - A Lesson Learned

I arrived at the airport with time to spare. The fog had been dense enough to close all air traffic for over two hours. When my flight was finally called I was anxious to be underway. My morning seemed more like a dream yet I felt a strange excitement as if something important was unfolding.

I boarded Alaskan Airlines flight 205 at approximately 11:30 A.M. and expected to arrive in San Francisco in about one hour. Fortunately I didn't need to change flights and the hold over in the 'City By The Bay' would only be 35 minutes. From there it was nonstop to Spokane. I'm a tall man, 6'4" and flying in coach is difficult. I stowed my overhead luggage, wrapped my legs into pretzel and prepared for flight. As the plane taxied down the runway I closed my eyes and tried to make sense of the bizarre morning and prepare myself for my visit with Mark and Barbara.

Mark and I met when we were in college. I was 20 and he was 19. We had so much in common that our friendship developed quickly and we soon became roommates.

I had just started dating Kathy Williams a pretty girl that I met on a field trip to the Carizzo Plain, a rather desolate but fascinating valley about 45 minutes east the city of San Luis Obispo. At one time land developers tried to subdivide the area and touted it as the next great land opportunity in California. Some lots were sold but due to the lack of available water the scheme rapidly feel apart.

In the center of the valley is a large body of water called Soda Lake. The lake is home to many bird species including the Lesser Sandhill Crane. At one time the magnificent California Condor included this region in its limited range. It is still too early to tell but it appears that the bird may have been saved from extinction by capturing the last few wild birds and breeding them in captivity. In recent years, birds hatched in captivity were released. They have been observed from the Tehachapi Mountains to the east and south across the Los Padres National Forest. Ornithologists and environmentalists are hopeful that the birds will return to the La Panza range, just west of the Carizzo Plain. The area is also home to the endangered Burrowing San Joaquin Kit Fox.

Along the east side of the plain the Temblor Range rises dramatically from the valley floor. The field trip was part of a geology class I was taking and we were studying the San Andreas Fault. This section of the fault zone is particularly interesting because evidence of movement is obvious and often dramatic. Creek beds suddenly change direction and the surrounding Temblor, Elkhorn and Panorama mountain ranges are creased and scarred from immense pressure exerted over geologic time. The San Andreas Fault is the point where the Pacific and American plates collide.

After we had been dating for a few weeks Kathy wanted me to meet her mother and brother. She lived in Northridge not far from the college campus. Kathy's father deserted the family when she was only two years old. Neither child had any memories of their father. As a result the three were very close and totally supportive of each other.

Dinner was planned for a Sunday evening when her brother Mark could be there. As I mentioned, we became fast friends. Mark is intelligent and has a marvelous sense of humor. Because we have so many common interests we talked all evening. We are both amateur meteorologists and enjoy all aspects of nature and science.

At some point my relationship with Kathy became serious. That is, it became sexual. Kathy was my one and only woman. I had dated a few girls in high school but because of my timidity and apprehension the relationships never evolved beyond kissing and simple petting. Each of the girls soon tired of getting nowhere with me and moved on, usually to my great relief. Kathy was different. I really cared for her and although sex with her didn't fulfill me, I didn't want to lose her. We had so much in common and were very comfortable with each other, except for sex, and that was my hang-up, not hers.

Our relationship lasted two years and I'm amazed she stayed with me that long. I was a terrible lover. Partly due to childhood religious teaching about sex outside of marriage and partly because I was not being honest about my sexuality, each encounter was absolute anguish for me. I wasn't sure what to do and I usually didn't want to do it. It's a miracle that we were able to have intercourse because keeping an erection was not easy. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed certain aspects of our lovemaking, especially if I thought I was pleasing Kathy, but overall it was not a good experience for me. Oddly, I enjoyed her breasts. I loved feeling them and sucking on her nipples. They would always become hard and I could tell she enjoyed it very much. When it came to oral sex, well, I enjoyed receiving it but couldn't return the favor. Poor Kathy, I know she felt badly even though I tried to assure her that it was totally my problem and not hers. Kathy is a beautiful woman, inside and out, and she deserved better.

She must have known that it wouldn't work. Arriving at my apartment one evening, she asked if we could take a walk. By then Mark and I were roommates. Our apartment was only two blocks form the Cal State Campus so we decided to walk across the manicured grounds.

"Steven, I want to talk with you, about us," she said softly. "What I'm going to tell you is breaking my heart. I love you so much and I always will. In the two years we've been together I've learned what it means to have a friend. You are my friend, probably my only real friend. But I also understand that you are not, and will never be, my lover." She paused and I knew she was quietly crying.

"For a long time I thought there was something wrong with me. Maybe you didn't find me attractive or perhaps I was doing something wrong. But I know now that it isn't me. Steven, it's you. You tried to assure me all along but I still thought it was me. I'm not angry Steven. You've been so good to me and I cherish you beyond words, but I don't understand you. Maybe you don't understand it yourself. All I know is that we are both hurting badly. If we are going to have any hope of sustaining our friendship then we have to break up. I'm so sorry and I don't want to hurt you Steven."

Of course everything she said was true. I understood that our friendship was the real gem in the relationship and if I were ever going to come to terms with my sexuality it would have to be done honestly and alone. What I was doing was a charade and Kathy was paying an emotional price for it.

I walked Kathy back to her car and we parted tearfully, but as friends, good friends. She remains a dear friend to this day. Kathy married a year later and moved with her husband to Chicago. We talk regularly on the phone and get together whenever she visits her mother. I don't regret my time with Kathy. She taught me about honesty and was another stepping stone in my path toward self-realization.

Mark understood our breakup and was expecting it. He loved his sister deeply and I think he loved me too. He knew this was the best for both of us.

My friendship with Mark continued to grow and I began to realize just how much I loved him. Not just as a friend, although that certainly was true, but romantically as well. He appealed to me on all levels. We were intellectual equals, we laughed at the same things, and the same things made us cry. Physically I think Mark is just about perfect. He stands six feet tall and weighs 180 pounds. He is in great shape but not muscle bound. His hair is dark brown and his face is rugged yet strikingly handsome. His chest is moderately covered with brown hair, as are his legs. At home I'd seen him naked on a couple of occasions. His cock is cut and about four inches when soft. At that time I'd still not seen him with an erection. His balls are large and his pubic hair is thick and dark. His ass is covered with fine brown hair and nicely shaped. I wanted him badly yet I said nothing.

Although we had never talked about homosexuality I knew that Mark liked women. He dated frequently and often told me about his lovemaking. And, to further complicate matters, I was still not being honest with myself. I refused to consider myself gay. I had always been taught that it was wrong. A sin and morally reprehensible. I convinced myself that I was bisexual and if I tried hard enough I would learn to enjoy sex with women and forget about men. Maybe not Mark, but men in general. So I continued to live a lie and now this young attractive Bruja was calling me on it.

Flying high above the clouds, I thought about everything Sarah had said to me. Why couldn't I just admit it? Wouldn't my life be easier if I lived the truth? Sarah had stirred up memories and I continued to reminisce.

Chapter 4 - Red Rock Canyon

After graduation, Mark and I quickly found employment. I took a job working for a Pesticide Company in the small town of Arvin, located about 100 miles north of the San Fernando Valley. I was involved researching the impact various insect control treatments had on the microenvironments in the San Joaquin Valley. I loved the job. The company was progressive and environmentally sound.

Mark moved to Edwards Air force Base where he worked as a civilian aeronautical engineer. Edwards Air Force Base is located about 35 miles southeast of where I lived in the small mountain town of Tehachapi. Because we lived so close we still spent much of our time together. We hiked and camped throughout the Tehachapi and Paiute Mountains and the Mojave Desert. One of our favorite places is Red Rock Canyon, an incredible geologic feature in the high desert. If anything, we became closer.

In those days I grew a small amount of pot. Mark loved smoking "herb" and so did I. We made an agreement that we would only smoke when we were together so most of our hiking trips were enhanced by the use of weed. Those were joyous times for both of us.

The details of one particular weekend camping trip will be forever etched in my mind. Mark and I had been very busy with our jobs and hadn't seen each other for about a month. We were so excited when we realized that we both had the coming weekend off. We planned to camp at our favorite Red Rock Canyon campground. Red Rock Canyon State Park is located about 40 minutes north of Edwards Air Force Base on highway 14. For Mark it was an easy drive, due north on 14. Coming from Tehachapi I would take highway 58 east to the town of Mojave where 58 intersects with 14. The plan was to meet in Mojave at 8 A.M. at the Denny's restaurant for breakfast. We would then take both cars to Red Rock Canyon.

The always punctual Mark beat me to the coffee shop by a few minutes and I found him at a table drinking coffee. As I approached the table he stood up and held me in a strong hug. "I've missed you so much Steven," he said.

"I've missed you too Mark. I'm so excited for this weekend," I replied.

Mark was in an incredibly good mood. He talked constantly, not about anything in particular, just talked. Mark has the sexiest grin. He would flash his best smile at me every few minutes and I became totally lost in the beauty of his face. I remember very little of what we talked about but that sexy grin will always remain in my memory. Mark ordered something called, Moons Over My Hammy', and I ordered a Grand Slam'. We laughed at the names of the dishes on the menu.

Finishing our breakfast we drove to Stater Brother's to pickup food for the weekend. Mark loves beef so we bought a couple of Porterhouse steaks, corn on the cob, baking potatoes, apples, large slabs of beef jerky, milk and cereal for breakfast, aluminum foil, spray butter, paper plates, plastic utensils, ice and charcoal. Our last stop was the liquor aisle. We bought our usual camping potables, twelve bottles of Lowenbrau Special Reserve and a bottle of Jack Daniel's Whiskey.

As we turned off of the highway into the State Park the stark beauty of the desert struck me. Tall, eroding cliffs, that display every shade of red and orange imaginable, rise upward from the desert floor. The cliffs provide nesting sites to many local raptors including Prairie Falcons and Golden Eagles. Contrasting dramatically against the cerulean blue sky, the cliffs, as always, held me in wonder.

Driving the one-way dirt road to our campsite I noticed a Roadrunner ambling slowly across the bottom of a small, dry streambed. Life abounds in the desert if you take the time to look for it. Numerous ancient mesquite bushes grow here, as do groves of Joshua trees. Walking through dry ravines you will see an occasional Opuntia cactus flourishing in the arid soil. The endangered desert tortoise may make a rare appearance. Many species of snakes and lizards can be seen but not usually during the heat of the day.

Summer temperatures can soar to 115 degrees or higher while evenings generally cool off rapidly and can, on occasion, be chilly. If you are lucky you will be treated to a spectacular summer thunderstorm. They generally begin building early in the afternoon and by evening will fill the sky with exciting electrical displays. Flash flooding is common here so it is important that you stay clear of dry streambeds during the summer monsoon season.

We arrived at our favorite campsite and immediately set up camp. It didn't take long. Mark had a small two-man tent and I a Coleman stove and lantern. I also brought a collapsible table and two chairs. Mark brought a large ice chest. Once set up, we decided to take a hike.

We have a favorite spot that is a moderate distance from the campground and accessible only by foot. Wearing small backpacks we headed in a southeasterly direction and followed a trail that ascends a rather steep cliff. The left side of the trail is barren igneous rock, a testimony to the volcanic activity that shaped this region eons ago. Reaching the summit we stood silently enjoying the vast 360-degree panorama.

"I never tire of this bud," Mark said to me.

"We live in a remarkable part of the country. All of this and so much more right in our own backyard," I replied.

"Steven, let's sit and talk for a minute,"

"Sure, whatever you like."

We sat down in the shadow provided by a large boulder. "Did you bring any pot with you Steve?" Mark asked rather sheepishly.

"Don't I always," I answered.

"I'm glad you did but I want to tell you something before we light up."

Mark's handsome face had turned serious and I felt a momentary sense of concern. It must have shown on my face because Mark smiled and said, "no, nothing at all wrong, but I want to tell you something I should have said a long time ago. I want to tell you now, before we smoke. I don't want you thinking that it's the weed talking."

I looked into Mark's eyes and could see they were full of sincerity and possibly a tear. "What is it Mark?"

"Not seeing you this past month has been very hard for me. I miss the days when we lived together. I miss coming home to our apartment and finding you there, waiting for me. Somehow you always made me feel good about myself. I felt complete and safe knowing you were there. Steven, I've come to realize something about myself and I want you to know what it is.

He paused for a minute and then reached over and took both of my hands and held them tight. I could tell he was nervous. "Mark, it's ok, please tell me," I said very softly.

"Steven, I love you. I've loved you for a long time. I don't know what it means, I don't know what the implications might be, I just know that I love you and I would be a very unhappy person if you weren't in my life."

The tear that I had seen in his eye found its way out. I leaned over and caught it with my finger as it silently rolled down his cheek. I didn't know what to say. I had hoped that Mark loved me. I was certain that I loved him. At that moment sex didn't enter my mind. I was content just to hear him tell me those simple yet profound words.

"Mark, I love you too. I've wanted to tell you for so long but was afraid what it might do to our friendship."

"We have so much more than friendship Steve. I don't know what paths our lives will take but please promise me that you will always love me."

With those words he leaned over and kissed me tenderly on the lips. He lingered a moment then looked into my eyes and smiled.

I completely melted. I had died and gone to heaven. "Mark, I will always love you. Wherever life takes us, I will be there for you," I said as I returned his smile.

We sat, side by side, for a long time. We held each other and said very little. Words weren't necessary. Eventually we got up and continued on to our special place. We descended the opposite side of the ridge into a very wide streambed. Walking south through deep dry sand we came to large craggy rocks that took some caution to navigate. Without warning we arrived at the very edge of a precipice where, when water is flowing in the stream, transforms into a spectacular waterfall. We sat down in a small cave that overlooks the valley far below. This was our place. This is where we would smoke the 'herb'.

Mark packed a small amount into a pipe that he had made and I produced a flame from a lighter I carried in my pocket. Then we inhaled. Almost at once we were taken to a place where our senses became acute, and reality changed. The slightest brush of wind against my cheek became significant. I thought I could actually see the wind as it moved across the arroyo beneath me. A Red-tailed hawk soaring above us moved with the grace and majesty of an angel. Even the sand, as I let it slip through my fingers, moved with a deliberate purpose. All was well with the universe that glorious afternoon as we sat, side by side, in a small cave overlooking the vast California desert.

We probably sat there for an hour, not talking, just being. Smoking pot always produces a Zen like awareness for me. Something I wished I could do without smoking but without much success. At one point I looked over at Mark and I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh. That was all it took. For no apparent reason we became hysterical with laughter. Everything was funny and I have no idea why. Mark began seeing shapes in the rocks and he would point them out to me. He pointed at a large piling of huge rocks that had evidently slid down the mountainside long ago.

"Steven, those rocks look like an enormous elephant. Do you see it?"

I did, but before I could say anything Marks says, "look at the size of his cock!" Sure enough, positioned in just the right spot there was large rock formation that resembled a huge penis. We laughed until our sides ached.

Eventually the effects of the weed began to wear off and we were ready to head back to camp. As we walked Mark took my hand and he held it until we were back. We always chose a campsite that is reasonably close to the showers and toilets. Not too close mind you but close enough to be convenient should we need them during the night. Tired but feeling wonderful we decided to shower and then fix dinner. I started the charcoal while Mark showered. He wrapped the corn and potatoes in foil while I took my turn cleaning up. By the time I was finished the coals were hot and Mark buried the corn and potatoes in their fiery bowels. I opened a bottle of beer for each of us and prepared the steaks for grilling. Mark walked to his car and returned with his boom box and CD's. Some of the sites have electrical hookups and this was one of them. We both love all kinds of music but Mark is passionate about Aerosmith. So with Steven Tyler wailing in the background we sat side by side, drinking beer, totally content with our world.

A spectacular sunset blazed in the western sky as we ate our dinner. The large portions of food we ate helped temper the buzz we felt from all of the beer we had been drinking. "Are you up for some Jack?" Mark asked as he reached for the bottle of whiskey.

"You bet," I said. Mark took a long swig from the bottle and passed it over to me. I followed suit.

By 9 P.M. we were both tired and pleasantly buzzed. "I'm ready to turn in," Mark said. "How about you buddy?"

I agreed and after brushing our teeth we slipped into the tent. It was a warm evening so we slept in our underwear on top of the sleeping bags. After I extinguished our lantern we both became comfortable. Softly Mark said to me, "Steven, I really meant what I said earlier. I love you with all of my heart." He then leaned over and gave me another tender kiss on my lips and said, "good night my love."

"I love you too Mark, so very much. Goodnight."

We were very tired and we both fell asleep quickly. Sometime in the early hours of the morning I awakened and was cold. The night, as is so common in the desert, became chilly. I stood up and quietly unzipped my sleeping bag and covered both of us with it. Mark, at that moment, put his arm around me and pulled me to himself. He quickly fell back asleep while I nuzzled my face against his hairy, beautiful chest. We slept peacefully the rest of the night.

I was wide-awake by 6 A.M. I had been so content sleeping against Mark's warm body that I was apprehensive to change positions. As a result I was pretty stiff. Not wanting to wake Mark, I quietly got up and walked to the showers. The whole time I showered I worried that Mark might feel differently today. After all, we slept in each other's arms and straight men don't normally do that. My fears were all in vain however. As I returned to camp Mark was up, sitting at the entry to the tent, and watching me return. "How long have you been up honey?" he asked.

"About 20 minutes is all, I couldn't sleep any longer."

"Come over here Steven," he said.

I walked over to him and he pulled me down to himself and kissed me passionately. "Don't ever leave me without a good morning kiss," he said with that killer grin on his face.

"Mark, I want you to know that yesterday was the best day of my life. I still can't believe what happened."

"Why not sweetheart? You must have had some idea of how I felt about you."

"Let's just say that I hoped and prayed that you felt the same way about me as I have about you. And by the way, I love it when you call me sweetheart."

"Steven, if you had a cunt I'd fuck you."

I didn't know what to make of that remark. I could see mirth written all over that gorgeous face but still I was confused. I wondered if sex would ever be part of our love. I hoped so, but for the time being I was very, very happy with the situation, just as it was.

Sunday was spent exploring the area. Mark was in a silly mood and it seemed like he just wanted to be close to me and laugh a lot. That was fine with me. We broke camp around 3:00 P.M. and said goodbye. Mark needed to be back at the Base by 5:00. We kissed, hugged and got into our cars. Mark rolled down his window and called to me, "Good bye sweetheart, I love you." and drove off.

We continued our camping trips every opportunity we had. If we couldn't get away for the weekend we would meet for dinner or go to a movie. The closest movie theater was in Lancaster about 30 minutes south of Edwards, which meant I usually got home late. It didn't matter to me. Just being with Mark was all I needed. He would hold my hand whenever he could without making a public scene. Neither of us said anything about taking our relationship any further. The thought of having sex with Mark was thrilling but I didn't want to do or say anything that might frighten him. He probably felt much the same. I could live without sex as long as Mark continued to love me. Life was good for us, absolutely perfect, but change was on the horizon.

A sincere thanks for your support and ideas. I enjoy receiving e-mail and can be reached at rustynail920@yahoo.com