Descending Change: Evan

Part of a four piece story I did. The other's were not as good as this one. Posted before...

Evan

 

I grew up without a father and with a devout Christian mother. I went to church and we gave our offerings. We said our prayers and we asked for forgiveness of our sins. I believe in God and I believe in the Word. This became a dilemma for me after I hit puberty and noticed I wasn’t having feelings for girls, but for boys instead. I did things like other boys did. I played shortstop in little league, I played field hockey, and I loved skate boarding.

 

One thing I learned while growing up in my mother’s house was you never did anything that God did not want you to do. In my case my mother’s wants, and God’s wants were one and the same. I accepted this easily, since I knew as long as I stayed under the radar she wouldn’t hassle me too much.

 

It would be easy to sit and say my mother had been awful to live with. It’s not true. She was actually an incredibly caring, forthright, and dependable woman. I never wanted for much and when I did she made sure I got it.

 

A pinnacle moment for me was when I was fourteen years old and it was the summer before I was to attend my first year of highschool. A few of my skating friends and I decided to attend a football game the school was hosting a small game as a kick off for the season to start. There was nothing else to do and my friends were hoping to scope out some of the highschool girls, and comment later on how they differed from the girls we were used to from middle school. During these conversations I always agreed with what they said and rarely gave an opinion of my own. When I had put a poster of Tom Cruise from when he starred in Top Gun on my wall, they simply thought I liked the movie. They also knew my mother would never have stood for the kind of pictures they hung on their walls, and chalked up my inability to commiserate with their longings as part of my upbringing. I felt no need to change their minds.

 

That night we got front row seats, and as the others were scoping out the cheerleaders and the girls in the stands, I was watching the players. Before long I realized I was feeling something I hadn’t felt before, and was chagrined to find I wasn’t going to be standing up to the do the wave anytime soon, baggy pants and all. I tried to focus on something else, and that is when I saw him looking at me.

 

His name was Perry Lewis, and he was a new kid from Chicago. He mostly kept to himself, and at this time had dyed his dark hair a very striking shade of Indigo. He was laid out against the bleachers sitting alone. I waved tentatively uncomfortable with his gaze. I had never seen anyone look at me that way before.

 

He was my first. I didn’t know if what I was doing was right, or if it was wrong but never had I felt so free. He taught me how to keep a secret, big secrets as far as we were concerned. His family was just as homophobic as my mother, and we knew they would never understand us. We also knew the kids at school wouldn’t get it either.

 

A few months before this a girl had been suspected of being a lesbian and had been teased mercifully. At one point a group of kids had followed her home, and threw stones at her, breaking her nose. Her parents were more understanding of their daughter, and switched her to a more liberal school. They even drove her, and picked her up after that. I had a feeling my mother if ever found out about me she would have been handing the kids the better stones to throw saying “Get in a good one for me, won’t ya”.

 

Perry also showed me a hang out we could frequent a few miles out of town by bus called “The End of the Rainbow”. Most of the kids that went there just called it The Bow. It was a place where kids like Perry and me could go without feeling self-conscious about who we were. After Perry I broke up I still went to The Bow on the weekends when my mother thought I was going to a movie or hanging out with my friends. I still did stuff with my other friends but when I went to The Bow I made up some story to them I was with a girl. They would look at one another knowingly while lascivious smiles embraced their faces.

 

This went on for a year or more with no glitches. A couple of times I thought my mother may be suspecting something but I knew it were nothing close to the truth. Then the thunder came to rain on my parade. I was at The Bow and a group of guys came in that went to the school I did. None of them were anyone I ran around with, but I knew who they were and they knew who I was. They all played for the football team, and were wearing their letterman jackets when they walked in.

 

As they sauntered over to the bar they sniggered and jockeyed at the couples on the dance floor, and the ones sitting at the table. I panicked when I saw them and tried to blend into the background. The bartender asked them what they wanted and they all tried to order beers. Any night when Manny wasn’t working and this might have worked. He was the only bartender that carded and he stuck to the rules like glue.

 

After they were refused their favored beverage they grabbed their cokes and started walking around. One of them even yelled out to a guy they thought was looking at them, “What you starin’ at f****t?”  I knew this was going to be bad. The only exit was the one they had come through and I would have to pass them to get out. My heart was pounding like crazy.

 

“Hey Clarke what the hell you doin’ in this fairy house?”

 

His name was Brian Callahan, and he was the star quarterback. We had English Lit third period together.

 

“Hey guys what’s up,” I tried to show off my bravado.

 

“Seriously,” Brian demanded walking up to me. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

 

“I heard they would serve you beer here and I tried to get me one. A*s hole bartender wouldn’t do it though,” I said trying to act brave.

 

“Us either.” His name was Jason Thompkins. He was basically the second in command to Brian. Brian said jump and Jason did his best to jump the highest. His eyes roved back and forth from me to the crowd around us. I suspected he didn’t believe me. S**t!

 

The other guys were Randall Kramer and Billy Sanders. Both weren’t blessed with the smarts but you didn’t need to be to be the running back and front-end tackle. My chances of getting out of here alive were becoming slimmer by the minute.

 

It was then my friend Kelly Wood, came out of the bathroom. Not realizing the danger I was in he grabbed ahold of me and kissed me right in front of them. Kelly was out of the closet and didn’t care who knew. That day he had on a pair of pink Converse, black stretch pants, and a black and white striped tank top he stole from his sister. His perfectly spiked hair was encircled with a glittery pink scarf that flew out to the side when he spun me around.

 

I jerked away from him and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. The gruesome foursome in front of me stared at me with wide eyes and wide mouths. The jig was up and there wasn’t anything I could do to save myself.

 

“What’s wrong with you,” Kelly whined. “Don’t you like me anymore?”

 

Then Brian said, “I thought you were in here for beer Evan. Turns out we were wrong you’re just a stinkin’ queer!” Then they turned the other way and walked out.

 

“What was all that about?” Kelly asked.

 

“Nothin’,” I mumbled. “Nothin’ at all.”

 

I stayed for another hour hoping they were on their way from where ever they came from. When I stepped out of the club and started walking to the bus stop I realized I was wrong. There they were standing in a hulking near the bus station and one had a baseball bat. I tuned and ran in the other direction but Jason caught up to me first. Swinging me to the ground he started kicking me in the gut while the others caught up. Then they all started kicking at me. By the time it was over my nose was broke, I had two black eyes, and four cracked ribs.

 

A patrolling police car found me lying in a pool of my own blood and called in an ambulance. The hospital contacted my mother when they found my wallet still in my back pocket. They knew I hadn’t been attacked in a mugging but did not want to be the ones to tell my mother I had been beaten outside a gay club.

 

When I came to, my abdomen was bandaged up and my eyes were swollen. I couldn’t open them much more than a slit. I heard my mother softly reciting the Lord’s Prayer until it was almost a litany of hushed tones. I cleared my throat and she looked up from her vigil and sat the Bible on her lap.

 

“How are you my son,” she said in her warm yet direct way, her eyes never breaking contact with mine. She seemed to think if she did this she could sense the very moment I would utter a lie.

 

“I’ll be all right I rasped,” then I passed out again.

 

Over the next few days I healed and slept. My mother never left my side and we did not talk about what happened. When I got home she helped me upstairs and asked when I felt I would be ready to go to school again.

 

I had dreaded this moment. I never wanted to go again as long as I lived. I knew what would happen. It was no mystery to me. My life was never going to be same and in some ways I didn’t want to go back to hiding who I was. I could not help how I felt. I didn’t ask for this. My biggest question was if this was against God why did He make me this way? There was only one thing left to do.

 

I walked down the stairs and made my unsteady way towards my mother as she made dinner in the kitchen. I shakily sat down at the table and waited for her to notice me.

 

“Evan,” she said surprised. “What are you doing down here? Why aren’t you upstairs resting?”

 

“Mom,” I said as sure as I felt I would ever be. “I have something to tell you about what happened the other night.”

 

“Okay,” she said pulling out the chair opposite me. “What is it?” She clutched the cross at her neck knowing I was about to drop a bomb.

 

“I wasn’t mugged like the police told you. I was at a club called the End of the Rainbow.”

 

“You don’t mean that hedonistic place do you?” she said grasping her cross all the more tightly. I thought for sure the chain was going to snap.

 

“Yes, that one. I was there because I wanted to be there, because that is who I am. I can’t help it and I have tried to change.”

 

“Evan,” she said her voice grave. “Homosexuality is against God. We cannot go against our Lord.”

“Mom, God made this way. I don’t see how I am going against him if He makes me feel the way I do.”

 

“I can’t hear this,” she said jumping from the table knocking her chair backwards. She walked over to the sink and braced herself against it. “We need to pray about this Evan. We need to pray really hard and exorcise these demons from you. We cannot go against the Lord. We must atone for our sins.”

 

“Mom I don’t want to pray about it. I don’t think I am sinning against God when he made me this way.”

 

“No,” she shrieked. “God would not do that. Homosexuality is a sin! If you will not pray for your sins then you are not welcome here!” She smoothed the front of her shirt and pressed her hair back from her face. “You have until the morning to leave.” Then she walked out of the room.

 

I felt the tears fall down my face before I realized I was crying. My spine became steel and I walked a little easier up the stairs. It was a relief to be open however I wondered if the price was too big.

 

I didn’t know where I was going to go but I packed my bags anyway. I had a little money from working during the summer and birthdays. I waited until dark and then I left without saying a word.

 

Author's Note

I once had a review on this that said it was trite and simple. Maybe it is but it is one of my earlier peices and all I can say is I did the best I could. I hope you enjoy it.

Reviews

[Mj]

Wow, this piece was very powerful, and unfortunatly very accurate to the story of many of my kind who have religious parents. I find it unnerving that there seems to be a pattern between religion and unacceptance. Ironic actually. Humans have loved using that book as their weapon since the crusades. Unfortunatly, my anger has jaded me from reading its words any more than I have been forced down my throat. It is hard sometimes to remember that, if there is a God, he would never be like the hateful people this earth is plagued with. My friend once said that God is in each of us, he is our conscience. When we feel good come from our actions, we know its him. Unfortunatly, God gave us anger for a reason; it serves its purpose in times of need. Times like when Evan was attacked. I have learned well to use my anger to survive, as many homosexuals have learned to do. No longer can we allow predators to unleash their fury on us, it is time we take the fight to them, and show them we will not back down! In memory of people like Evan...