The usual disclaimers apply - ie. no reading this if you're not of age to read it, and no peeking at this if you can't stand gay people (which would bring to mind the question of what the hell you're doing reading this anyway).
A warning to the faint of heart: This chapter isn't all sugar-and-spice. No one gets hit, though.
All questions etc can be directed to dcross1@home.com
Shane mused about the incongruity of events on the way home; something didn't fit, but he couldn't put his finger on it... he decided to turn the problem over in his head as he drove home from school.
Shane parked the car in its usual spot, pulled his backpack from its spot on the front passenger seat, and stepped out of the car. He checked the mailbox; just the BC Tel bill. He tossed the envelope onto the kitchen table, and went straight to his bedroom. After tossing the backpack onto the bed, he sat down at his table and mused again about the events after school; suddenly he realized what didn't fit: Robin's reactions weren't entirely typical for that of a supposedly 100% straight teenager. He'd seemed oddly distracted after the battery boost, and he wasn't expecting Shane to yell out that question about jumper cables. Almost as though... as though Robin had been thinking about something important enough (to him, at any rate) that it momentarily overshadowed the immediate problem of getting his car started. Was Robin gay? Shane trembled at the thought. He'd always assumed the only gay person in the known universe (meaning: Campbell River) was himself. Dejected, he realized there would be no known way to test his theory, and turned to his homework...
"Shane! Dinner!" His mother's voice broke in upon his consciousness; he'd been so wrapped up in the first draft of his English essay on the character dynamics of Lord of the Flies that he didn't register at first what time it was. 5:30! Time flew when you were concentrating, all right.
Shane sighed, put his pen down, and reflected that he particularly didn't feel like eating with his parents that night. Nevertheless, family obligations being what they were...
Shane trudged into the kitchen, and saw that his father, Don Wilson, was already at his usual place, at the head of the table. His mother, Nancy, sat on Don's right and he sat on Don's left. After all three had put food on their plates, Don nodded slightly to his wife and son, and said grace.
After having said "Amen", a suitable interval passed upon which the three commenced to eat dinner in semi-silence. Shane noted his father seemed slightly irritated; odds were that Don had probably read something in the newspaper recently about the NDP government's intention to alter the provincial Human Rights Act to include homosexuality as a protected category, meaning you couldn't discriminate against gays or lesbians who were trying to get jobs or apartments. Sure enough, about halfway through the supper, his father began to pontificate.
"Nancy, I read in the paper today that those Godless socialists are going to allow those abominable people, those... gays and lesbians, to have equal rights with the rest of society! This is an outrage against God's will, and a victory for Satan's forces of darkness!" And he went on and on about that subject for some minutes as Shane abstractly noted the vein throbbing near his father's forehead. The words rattled in Shane's ear and out the other.
Nancy replied, "Honey, I'm sure that the government will stop when they realize what they are doing. AFter all, many other people are also telling the government what a bad idea they think it is." Shane idly realized that his mother always acted the part of the soothing, "reasonable" housewife, calming down the man of the house as a woman was supposed to dutifully do. Of course, if put to the test, his mother would probably gladly shriek out "faggot!" right along with his father's bass yell of that same coarse, disgusting word. It couldn't be helped, though; his parents were simply too imprisoned in their own inability to consider any point of view except that laid down by a book named the Bible.
Almost as though his own thoughts had been broadcasted... "Shane, you're not one of those fags, are you?" Shane, startled out of his reverie by this unusual question put directly to him, stammered, "Uh, no, Dad. Why would I be?"
"You better not be, because if you are, then you are not my son, because Satan will have your soul!" Shane had to stifle a gasp, and quickly noted that his mother did NOT look at all disapproving of his father's bald statement, but in fact seemed to reflect and reinforce it tenfold.
Shane spoke the words, but there was no feeling behind them. "May God protect us from all that is evil. May I be excused?" A curt nod from his father, who was obviously steaming over a decision the rest of civilized society seemed to take in stride, was the only answer.
He'd grabbed his plate and put it in the dishwasher along with the knife and fork. Shane thought to himself, "I'd have lost my appetite if Dad had asked me that rude question in the middle of dinner!"
By now, it was 6:30, and Shane didn't feel like going back to his homework. He closed his bedroom door, lay down on his bed, and asked himself why his father's bluntly prejudiced opinions and questions seemed to bother him more today than usual; didn't the usual pattern work so you became "immune" to these things over time? It had to be the fact that he'd touched Robin's hand (albeit by accident) earlier that day. It was awakening something within him he didn't realize existed; the concrete feeling of sexual and emotional attraction for another man, as opposed to the concept only.
He raged inside at the unfairness of a world that wouldn't allow him to openly state that he wanted to get to know other gay guys, and begin the long process of understanding what love between two men was. Instead he was trapped inside the household of a father whose love for his son was conditional on his fitting a certain mold, and a mother who would forever remain her husband's unseen shadow.
Faggot. Queer. Cocksucker. Those words and others battered at Shane's mind as he tried not to let the loathsome words define who and what he was. He'd thought he'd done so well for himself - allowing his father's words to slide off him as they had so many times before, and affirming within himself the unshakable conviction that he was right and his father was wrong, and that he would get to prove it the day he graduated from high school and went on to university. Yet one question, put directly to him, crudely asking him if he was a homosexual, almost totally undid the careful groundwork Shane had laid for preserving his own self-esteem. He felt a tear begin to run down his cheek as self-pity began to take over.
Maybe he was just a good-for-nothing faggot, or else why would his father harp on it so? Maybe his father could pick up on those clues and stoked the fires of his self-righteous anger with that evidence he had. Shane had a momentary vision of himself whoring on the street to whoever would pay him money, and being told "Fucking cocksucker. Take this money and get outta here," and dying before the age of 30, ravaged by the years spent on the streets, denied the ability to turn the tables on all those who would see him on the street and think "He knows his place, just like the rest of those filthy queers."
By this time the tears were flowing freely, but ironically, amidst the dark thoughts and ocean of self-pity, Shane realized that it was not truly his mind speaking to itself, but rather his unpreparedness for an attack at his blind spot that spoke. He'd always assumed that his father would never question his sexuality, because it wouldn't be within his father's compass to conceive of such a thing. Yet he'd been proven wrong that night, and that had shaken him more than he'd realized.
Shane wiped his face, sat up on the bed, and resolved there and then that he would never allow such a blind spot to exist again. Something burned within him that had never been there before; years later, he would look back and realize what it was - it was a deep anger; anger that he had been nearly caught without an adequate defence, and that he wouldn't have had the presence of mind to stand his ground had the scene turned ugly. If he had seen his face in the mirror, it would have appeared to be set in stone, showing his anger to the world forever had that been his death mask. That night, he examined and re-examined everything that remotely touched his sexuality and his plans for escape, starting with the most fundamental assumptions he'd made about the way people close to him would behave, and ending up on how he would stay under his father's radar...
10:00 PM
Having spent an hour before bedtime putting the finishing touches on his homework as well as his thought processes, Shane turned off his bedroom light, and quickly changed into pajamas and went to bed.
September 10, 1992
7:00 AM
Shane woke up, again, to his alarm clock's insistent ring. He decided to make short work of this morning and just get to school as soon as possible, even though it would mean killing time doing nothing while waiting for classes to begin; better that than have to stay more than necessary in that house. He knew he was still somewhat upset and that this was a reaction to his father's question. Eventually, maybe he could forgive his father. "Forgive him, for he knows not what he does." Ironic that a line from the Bible should run through his mind at that moment.
7:45 AM
After having done his morning ritual in record time and getting to school early, Shane decided, for lack of anything better to do, that he would see what the library had to offer. He browsed the fiction rack along the far wall of the library; it stretched from the southwest corner along to the fire doors. His eyes, having almost glazed over at the rows upon rows of fiction, locked onto a book he hadn't seen before: Bad_Boy, by Diana Wieler. He pulled it out and looked at the back; hmm! The blurb on the back made a cryptic reference to "teenage sexuality". If that wasn't a code word for homosexuality, what was? He decided he'd be safe enough reading that book in public, since you couldn't tell from the cover that it was about a gay guy unless you knew what was in it.
Shane quickly signed the book out, and got to his locker to put away his backpack and get out the books he'd need for his first class of the day, which was... check the timetable... ah! Chemistry would be first, followed by Social Studies, English, French and Metalworking. Darn. Only one class with that dreamboat, Robin.
The would-be atom-smashers to his right broke in on his thoughts. The topic of discussion today seemed to be analyzing why creationism didn't work. This seemed to grab Shane's attention more than would be normal - he was just so sick of his dad's narrow-minded interpretation of religion that hearing a contrary viewpoint to a centerpiece of his theology felt almost like he was getting away with something, like other guys in his school would if they had snuck a beer without mom or dad knowing about it.
David C. cursed and said, "Damnit, don't these guys know the Second Law of Thermodynamics isn't violated? The Earth is an open system!"
David H. replied, "Yeah, and also what about the fact that those dumbasses don't even take into account nonrandom changes in molecular patterns over time?"
"What you really mean is the simple obvious fact that you do not get infinite chemical combinations of any element with any other element. Any grade 9 science student knows that!"
"You wouldn't know it listening to these guys."
Shane piped up, a little confused, "Um, what is the Second Law of Thermodynamics?"
The two Davids looked at him as though he'd said the sky was red. Shane instantly felt a little abashed - he didn't have anywhere near the esoteric knowledge these guys seemed to have; his energies were focussed on things far too practical, such as evading his father when he could, and trying not to let his father's narrow-mindedness infect him. Sure, he read a lot, but it was mostly fiction, as a way to fill his mind with stories to escape the drabness of living at home. It had simply never occurred to him that science could also be a fascinating area of interest for its own sake.
The two Davids looked at each other, and seemed to come to mutual agreement. David C. said, "The Second Law of Thermodynamics can be given in a variety of forms. One way of saying it is simply, 'entropy rises to a maximum in a closed system'. This is because a closed system can't have matter or energy go in or out of it. The Earth isn't closed, though; it's open."
David H. nodded in agreement and added, "Where creationists go wrong is they agree that entropy rises to a maximum, but leave out the part about a closed system. So they argue that evolution couldn't happen because it implies a decrease in entropy."
Shane said, "Oh, I see." He then locked his locker and quickly strode to Chemistry class, with Mr. Mitchell. Put simply, that guy was the BEST; he also taught Physics, which Shane had been in yesterday. He could teach the courses in a way that was entertaining, yet informative. He also radiated an aura that indicated from the get-go that he would tolerate no nonsense. But in return for giving no nonsense, he rewarded the fact that if given the right tools, students would be honestly curious and inquisitive; he didn't give a load of BS when answering questions - if he knew the answer, he'd explain clearly, but if not, he'd say so and say he would find out the answer.
As this was the first day of Chemistry class, Mr. Mitchell was mostly just going over what the lesson plan would be, and the ground rules. Since they were similar to what would be true for physics (except that he wouldn't be as strict about graphing, since chemistry didn't depend on graphs as much, at least initially), Shane's mind began to wander. Should he begin "coming out"? He'd read of the expression in the newspaper when reading a little article on gay youth. He didn't know who the hell he'd come out TO, though. This entire town seemed to be chock-full of people who would love to get in a few punches to his head or his body if he said he was gay, not to mention life at school could probably be measured in weeks, if not days. It was six years before the death of Matthew Shepard, yet somehow he presciently realized that he could, literally, get killed for being what he was if someone took a beating too far. Maybe those two Davids would be good to start with - he had no romantic interest in either of them and they seemed so wrapped up in the Promethean heights of theoretical science they wouldn't care about his sexuality. Yet he was still scared of the thought of even saying three words: "I am gay."
Shane's other classes flashed by quickly, except for English; Robin sat directly beside him on his right. All through the class, Shane kept sneaking looks over at Robin's beautiful face. His heart broke at the sad reality that Robin, like the rest of the world, seemed to be straight as an arrow. He was wearing another great outfit - a medium-blue shirt and dark blue pants, with a shiny black leather belt. "How does he manage to look so great in those CLOTHES?" Shane wondered. Once or twice, it seemed that Robin was looking at Shane as well, but the looks were so furtive it could easily just have been his overactive imagination.
Was there a way to test the assumption that Robin was gay? The riskiest way would be to directly ask him, which didn't seem all that appetizing; what if Shane was wrong? An anonymous note might work, but it would have to leave enough hints and yet not give the game away entirely... Shane rapidly began getting wrapped up in possible avenues of indirectly letting Robin know he had a secret admirer.
All too soon, it was the end of the day, and Shane was at his locker again, grabbing his books and wondering if he should take about a half hour to use the weight machines near the gym.
As it happened, the two gurus were once again running off, this time about quantum mechanics. How the HELL did they manage to carry on so volubly day in and day out?
Shane suddenly felt a strange compulsion; it was like he was on a freight train, accelerating to ever-higher velocities. He had to tell someone today what he was! Maybe his father had let loose a bigger can of worms than he would ever know; he hadn't just caused his son to re-evaluate himself, he'd also caused his son to decide to take a stand and not be intimidated into hiding himself.
Shane looked over at the two Davids, and tapped David C. on the shoulder, knowing the other would be interrupted as well.
David C. looked at him and said, "Yes?"
Shane suddenly found his body trembling and he had to take a deep breath to settle his nerves. "Um... I'm... I'm gay."
"Oh. Ya hear that, Dave? He's gay, he says."
David H. said, "Oh. cool."
Shane just boggled at the two of them and said, "You're OK with this? I mean, I just blurted this out to you here, after classes are done for the day. You don't care?"
The two Davids just looked at Shane and shrugged simultaneously. Without missing a beat, they resumed their heated discussion about Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle.
"You can violate conservation of energy!"
"Are you on crack?!"
"Can too! Read this, Delta-E times..."
Shane just tuned out at that point and grinned like a fool, realizing that the two soon-to-be theoretical physicists really didn't give a damn. They probably would have hated his guts if he'd popped off with some inane scientific theory instead. He looked up once more and realized he needed to know the answer to one more question.
"So, you see, you can transform the energy-time uncertainty into the momentum-position... Uh, yeah?!"
Shane had tapped David C. on the shoulder again and hesitantly said, "Look, can I count on you guys to let me talk to one or both of you if I ever just need to get something off my chest?"
Both of them looked at him like he'd stated the absolutely obvious. He felt foolish for having to ask, and just waved goodbye.
They were still arguing as he left: "Planck's constant over two pi means that there is a fundamental limit..."
Shane, still shaking in the aftermath of saying he was gay, quickly walked to the weight room. Relieved at the lack of anyone else in the room, he stripped off his pants to reveal gym shorts underneath, and began warming up in preparation for the 30-minute workout he'd planned...
That ends part 3. Let me know if you like the scientific vignettes. ;) I'm a chemical engineer by education, with a lot of self-education in the more abstract theories of physics, if you're wondering where I get all the fancyass language from. If part 4 isn't already up, it'll be up shortly and you can see how Robin's evening and day go =)
For those who are wondering, the book Bad_Boy by Diana Wieler does exist; it's real. The short version is that it's set in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan and is from the perspective of a straight teenager who finds out his oddball friend is gay.