Next Time I Fall Page 7

  “Oh my fucking God.” Eric clenched his fists, resting them heavily on the table.

  “And Barry didn’t even want to be gay. He just was. I mean, he knew he had attractions, and he talked to his resident assistant about it. He reached out for help, but the RA turned him in.”

  “That’s got to be one of the worst things I’ve ever heard. How is that…Christian?”

  “I didn’t really think it was. I went to the dean of students, pleaded for Barry and asked them to reconsider their decision. They could have helped him. I know there are people who have overcome it, who have come out of homosexuality and put it behind them.”

  “Ex-gays, and most of them succeed only temporarily. Psychologists all agree that sexual orientation isn’t something that can be changed.”

  The waiter had returned, now carrying a huge tray of appetizers which he placed between them. He slid appetizer plates in front of each of them. “Careful, the tray is hot. Are you ready yet to order?”

  Steve nodded. “Could I have the whitefish?”

  “Excellent choice.”

  “Vegetarian lasagna,” Eric said. “No garlic bread.”

  When Aaron had gone, Steve debated how he should continue the conversation, whether or not he should respond to Eric’s assertion that gay people couldn’t change. He knew what his church taught, and they were insistent. They believed sexual orientation to be a behavioral choice. Nobody was born gay, in their view, and thus gay people chose their behavior in defiance of God’s word and of His explicit condemnation.

  He also knew he’d been struggling with his own attractions for years. He’d been begging God to change him, pleading in his prayers that he’d somehow become normal. God didn’t seem to be answering, though.

  He picked up his fork and transferred a mozzarella stick to his plate. “My church believes people can change. They don’t understand that people are born that way.”

  Eric seemed taken aback. He placed his fork on the table and leaned forward. “But you do. You understand.”

  He didn’t know why, but a wave of emotion swept over him. Perhaps it was the soft music in the background or maybe just the fact that it was the first time ever he’d acknowledged out loud that he did understand. He nodded. “I really do.” A single tear streamed down his cheek, and he quickly reached up to brush it away.

  “Steve…”

  He looked down at his plate, knowing if he looked into this other man’s eyes, he really would begin to cry. And he might never stop.

  “Steve…” Eric had reached across the table and placed his hand atop Steve’s. “It’s okay.”

  “I can’t believe what they did to him. I can’t believe…” He shook his head. “It wasn’t his fault!”

  “Of course it wasn’t. It’s just the way he was. The way God created him.”

  “If you’ll excuse me…” He pushed up from his seat, tossing his napkin into the booth and rushed quickly across the room to the restroom. Once inside, he stepped up to the sink and ran cold water into his hands, splashing it onto his face.

  Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he wanted to curse himself. How could he allow himself to start bawling like this in front of his friend? What must Eric think of him? Perhaps this dinner had been a mistake. He probably shouldn’t have even come at all. He took a few minutes to compose himself, and when at last he felt confident his eyes didn’t look red, he steeled himself and headed back to the table.

  His entrée awaited him, and as he slipped into the booth, he looked over to Eric and offered a meek smile. “Sorry. Forgive me for that…unwarranted display of emotion.”

  “I will not.”

  Steve stared at him, shocked.

  “I won’t forgive you because there’s nothing to forgive. I almost cried myself, and sometimes I do cry when I see the horrible ways young gay people are treated by their families, their churches, their schools.”

  Steve placed his napkin back on his lap, smoothing it out. He picked up his fork. “This looks so good.” He sampled a bite of the fish. “Mm.” As he reached for a lemon wedge, Eric continued.

  “I can see why you became a pastor. You have a heart for people. You really care.”

  “Thank you.” He wouldn’t look at Eric. He couldn’t yet. “But can I ask a favor? Can we please maybe not talk about this anymore? I just want to enjoy our dinner and the music. I just want to appreciate the moment, ya know…with you.”

  “Of course.”

  “This song that’s playing…” Steve motioned toward the upper level. “I love it.”

  “Roberta Flack.”

  Steve nodded. “Have you heard George Michael’s cover? Absolutely beautiful.”

  “I have. Are you a fan of George Michael?”

  “Huge.” Steve nodded then laughed. “Speaking of gay people. But I was a fan before I even knew that.”

  “Of course. His talent has nothing to do with his sexual orientation…well, maybe.”

  Steve raised his eyebrows. “I can’t argue. There certainly are a lot of musicians who are gay. I also love Elton John…and a lot of the newer artists who are that way—um, I mean who are gay.”

  From that point their conversation took a turn and they began talking about music. Though Steve listened to a lot of inspirational music and contemporary Christian artists, he’d grown up surrounded by secular influences. His mom was a diehard fan of country, the old, traditional style like Tammy Wynette and Jim Reeves. His two oldest brothers loved rock and the youngest of the three, Sean, listened to southern style country-rock like Hank Williams Jr. His friends in high school liked pop and rap, and Steve loved show tunes. But he had an appreciation of all music, his taste being quite eclectic.

  Eric seemed much in agreement with him. “I’d love to hear you sing sometime, even if it means coming to your church when you’re performing a solo.”

  “You don’t even have to do that. I can hear people singing upstairs.”

  “Yeah, at the piano bar.”

  “We could maybe go up there…I mean, when we’re done eating.”

  “To the bar?”

  “Oh, so it’s like an actual bar where people are drinking?”

  “We could take our Diet Cokes with us.” Eric laughed.

  Steve thought for a second. “Okay.” He grinned. “I just hope no one from my church happens to be here. I might not be able to explain.”

  “I guess they’d also have some explaining to do themselves.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  For a moment, right after Eric had come out to Steve, he regretted the entire evening. The way Steve kept saying “one of them,” as if gay people were space aliens, grated on his nerves. And then when he’d hesitated in his answer about his friend Barry, whether it was his dismissal or merely the fact that he was gay that horrified Steve, that too kind of pissed Eric off.

  But then everything changed so suddenly. When Steve became overcome by emotion and said he genuinely understood that Barry hadn’t chosen to be gay, Eric believed him. Then when Steve returned from the restroom and they began talking about music, he actually got excited and became animated and unguarded, almost like he was back in the car. And at last as they headed up the stairs to the piano bar, they were laughing together, and Steve had already begun to sing along with the music.

  And he truly did have an amazing voice.

  They took their seats at the U-shaped bar on one side of the pianos right as a new song was starting. When Steve began to belt out the lyric’s to Beyonce’s “All the Single Ladies,” Eric tossed back his head and laughed, then began to sing along. They started to clap in time with the music as others rushed out to the dancefloor.

  Then, seemingly out of nowhere, one of the pianists rose from his bench and headed straight for him. Holding a mic, he stepped around the bar and held it up to Steve, who confidently belted out the words. Everyone began to cheer, and the pianist took Steve by the hand and pulled him off his stool, walking him out toward the piano.

&nbs
p; The dueling pianist on the other side continued to play as the one accompanying Steve took his seat back on his own bench. He too began to play as Steve held the mic and continued to sing. Then to the performers shock, Steve set the mic down and slid beside him on the bench and began to play alongside him. The audience, including Eric, went wild.

  He was really good, and Eric watched in awe as he tinkled the ivories. The song came to a close, and both pianists stood, applauding Steve. He stood and bowed slightly then scurried back over to the bar and took his place beside Eric.

  The performers wasted no time before starting the next song, this time something slower by Elton John, “The Blues.” As the music started Steve turned to Eric and smiled, then began to sing. He knew every word.

  And that’s how it went for the next ninety minutes. Steve seemed to know all the songs, every single word, and at one point leaned over and wrapped his arm around Eric’s shoulder, as if singing directly to him.

  Eric, truly not much of a singer, was having the time of his life. He participated and sang the easy parts, mainly the refrains, but just watching Steve, the way his face lit up, stirred something in Eric. It was a warmth he hadn’t felt since long before Max left.

  When the pianists finally announced a short break, Steve grabbed Eric’s wrist and looked him directly in the eye. “Oh my gosh. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun, but…”

  “It’s getting late.”

  “Don’t you work in the morning?”

  Eric nodded. It was almost eleven o’clock, and though the pianists would likely come back for a final encore, their show had pretty much winded down. “Yeah, we probably should get going.”

  Steve turned to the patrons beside them and said goodbye. Everyone had pretty much gotten chummy over the course of the last couple hours. The drinks certainly helped, although Steve and Eric had merely been sipping Diet Cokes.

  As they made their way outside, Eric had to comment. “I didn’t know it was possible to have that great a time without alcohol.”

  Steve stopped and turned to him. “I didn’t know I could have so much fun in a gay bar.”

  Eric smiled, staring directly into Steve’s face, and as they looked at one another their smiles gradually faded. “I wish neither of us had to work tomorrow. We could walk the bridges.”

  “It’s quite a view,” Steve said, his voice now sultry, a tad huskier than before, probably from singing so loudly. “The architecture down here is awesome, and all the lights at night, reflecting off the water.” The downtown district had been built around the Grand River, and two walking bridges allowed pedestrians to cross and take in an amazing view of the entire area.

  “We’ll come back,” Eric promised.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Really?” Eric took hold of each of Steve’s wrists, not confident enough to take his hands. “Will you see me again…even though I’m gay?”

  Steve nodded, ever so slightly. “I’m not going to make the same mistake twice. I won’t abandon you because of who you are.”

  Eric gulped. “Thank you.”

  Steve smiled, then turned, forcing Eric to release his wrists. “And it’ll give us an excuse to come back. I love this place.”

  They headed back to the car, and during the drive to Eric’s house, didn’t talk much. “If you want to run in and get Felix, I can drive you home.”

  “Oh, no. We can walk. We live just a block away.”

  “You sure?”

  Steve nodded.

  Eric pulled the car into the garage, and they headed inside. The dogs went crazy, acting like they always did, as if they hadn’t seen their masters in years. Once the dogs were calmed, Eric walked Steve to the front door. He picked up Felix’s leash from the stand where he’d left it.

  “Thanks again,” Eric said, his voice barely a whisper.

  “I should be thanking you.” He took a step closer to Eric, and they held each other’s gaze. “I…uh…”

  Eric leaned forward, placing his hands gently against Steve’s shoulders and tenderly pressed his lips to Steve’s. Eric’s heart pounded like a bongo as he slowly pulled back. Steve kept looking at him, his eyes wide. “Is that okay?” Eric whispered.

  Without a word, Steve nodded, then reached up and cupped his palms on either side of Eric’s face and delivered a passionate, searing kiss. Eric responded in kind, sliding his arms around Steve, and then as abruptly as it had begun, it ended. Steve pulled back, looking away.

  “Uh…um…come on Felix. Time to go.”

  “Steve…wait.”

  He already had the leash clipped to Felix’s collar and had pushed the door open. “I’m…uh…I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say right now. We’ve got to go.”

  “I liked it!” Eric said as he stood in the threshold of the door. Steve and Felix were already halfway down the walk. “I hope you did too!”

  Steve didn’t reply. He didn’t even turn in Eric’s direction or wave. He just made his way quickly down the sidewalk, poor little Felix rushing to catch up behind him.

  Chapter Ten

  Steve lay in his bed, Felix curled up beside him, and stared straight up at the ceiling. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and all he wanted to do was pray. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t say the words, He couldn’t manage to bring himself to beg God for forgiveness once again.

  To do so would be to say what he’d done was wrong.

  How could something so beautiful be wrong? How could something so naturally-occurring be sinful?

  Another man had kissed him, and he’d kissed him back—willfully and passionately.

  He should pull out his Bible. He should read through the passages in Leviticus and Romans. He should heed God’s condemnation and humble himself before the Lord and beg Him to heal his soul with the cleansing, purifying blood of Jesus Christ his Savior.

  But he couldn’t.

  Three words would change his life forever—words he’d never had the courage to speak. He’d been frightened of these words for so long, going all the way back to his childhood. By refusing to utter them, he’d built a wall around his heart. He’d tried to protect himself and simply trust that the Lord would deliver him from the never-ending onslaught of temptation.

  But did any of that make a lick of sense? Why did he need to protect himself from love? Why did he need God to forgive him for experiencing feelings he’d never asked for? But if he’d been wrong about this issue—if his church had been wrong in their interpretation of the scriptures—what else might they be wrong about? How could he pick and choose what to believe?

  And suppose he did decide to reject the church’s teachings about this matter, what would happen? Pastor Mathers had already made his feelings known loud and clear. Steve would surely face expulsion not only from his job, but also from his denomination. He’d worked hard preparing for the ministry. It was the only real skill set he possessed.

  And what about his family? What would he tell his mother? What would he say to his pastor back home and to the church family there? They’d supported him, believed in him so long. There would be so much disappointment, so much devastation.

  His kids! What about his kids, the young people he loved so much? How would they handle it? How would they cope with discovering their youth leader had turned out to be a…?

  He still couldn’t say those words. Not only would they shatter the wall around his heart, but they’d explode into the lives of so many other people he loved.

  But what if he didn’t say them? What if he never said them? At twenty-three it was still fairly easy to feign disinterest in dating. People believed he was just dedicated to his job and to the Lord. He hadn’t met the right girl yet, but it would happen eventually, according to God’s divine timeline.

  If he continued to deny the truth about who he was, would he eventually just marry someone—a girl, any girl—in order to please his church and his family? Would his feelings toward men then go away? Or would he find himself in a situation
where he was living a lie every day of his life? How would that be fair to a wife, to a family?

  Perhaps he could go to Pastor Mathers and tell him the truth. He could tell him how he’d prayed all these years for healing. He could stress how he wanted to be normal, wanted to be the man God had created him to be. The reverend could help him. He could get him into a program to cure his sinful proclivities.

  But wasn’t that what Barry had tried to do? He’d gone to his superior asking for such help and was cast out. And what about the statistics Eric had mentioned? Most psychologists don’t believe you can ever change sexual orientation.

  Eric.

  And what about Eric? If Steve did go to the pastor, he knew the very first thing he’d do would be to order Steve to immediately cease all contact with Eric. Steve couldn’t let that happen. He’d never do that, because no one—NO ONE—had ever made him feel the way Eric had tonight.

  No matter what they said, Steve’s feelings toward Eric were not a perversion. What he’d experienced earlier was indescribable joy. He’d met someone who connected with him, who understood him, and who made him feel warm and tingly all over. When he thought of Eric, Steve smiled. He couldn’t remember any time when he’d smiled more. He’d smiled and laughed so much, his cheeks hurt.

  And…and…and…he just wanted to touch him. He’d wanted so many times to reach out and pull Eric into his arms. He wanted to caress him, feel his hand inside his own, feel his lips…

  The tears began to flow again, and Steve closed his eyes and simply let himself cry. When at last the deluge stopped, he opened his eyes and again stared up at the ceiling. He opened his mouth to pray, but the words didn’t come out. Instead he heard himself whisper:

  “I am gay.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Eric rolled out of bed at seven, as usual, and reached for his phone. He’d received a text message sometime while he slept, and when he saw it was from Steve, he quickly pulled it up.