A Tale as Old as Time

"Do you recommend I avoid the CSA?"

"No, not at all. I think you should find out for yourself whether they're for you or not. They just weren't for me."

"What is for you?"

"That's a loaded question."

"I've heard rumors about you."

"They're probably true."

"My mother would be so disappointed."

"Are you going to tell her?"

"No. She adores and trusts you. She'd feel like she got suckered into forcing me to Rice."

"She didn't. Everything I told her was true. And, there are gay people at UT, too."

"I know. I'm not a rube."

"I didn't say you were."

"You implied it. It may have been subtle, but there was definite implication."

"I hope you don't feel like you got suckered."

"I don't. I feel like I got forced, but not suckered."

"You'll have a great career here. And, you'll get a great education in the process."

Luke took my hands in his and asked me to pray with him. We kneeled, still holding hands. While he prayed, I noticed that his nails were perfectly manicured. I have no idea what prayer he offered. For all I know, he prayed that I turn from the devil, marry a woman, and have children. I heard Charlie Brown's teacher as I inspected his hands. Wah wah wah wah wah.

I answered his "Amen" with one of my own. I then asked if he got manicures. "Sure," he said. "My parents don't trust them to me. An ingrown nail is as dangerous as a pulled muscle."

Wow, I thought to myself. This boy had been coddled.

We left after the prayer. All seemed good.

So, I was surprised - to say the least - when Coach Grantham called me to his office the next day.

"What's going on with Jet?" he asked.

"Nothing. Why?"

"He asked for a new Sammy."

"Seriously?" I asked, angry and hurt.

"Yes, seriously. I don't know what you did, but you have to undo it. We need that boy to be happy here. If he is, others'll follow him here."

"I can't undo it," I said, explaining that I thought the issue was that Luke had figured out I'm gay.

"Did you hit on him?" Coach Grantham asked.

"No, I didn't hit on him," I responded, incredulous. "He heard rumors. He asked about them. I confirmed them. That's it."

"Well, if that's all it is, I'll take care of it. Stay on him."

"I will, Sir."

*****

Luke was not surprised when I showed up for our daily meeting. Apparently, Coach Grantham had told him he could not have a new Sammy.

I tried not to let on that I knew he had asked for a different one. Luke raised it.

"Look, I know Coach talked to you about my request. I'm sorry, but I didn't think I should be fraternizing with a known homosexual. I thought people might get the wrong idea."

"Like what, that you're not an intolerant bigot."

"No, like there was something going on between us."

"Are you serious? It's 2009. People understand gay people and straight people can be friends without 'something going on'."

"I've never been friends with a gay person."

"Well, I've never been friends with a pitcher. I guess there's a first time for everything. God forbid you'd open your closed mind just a little."

"It wasn't personal, you know. I like you, Evangel. A lot. You seem like a great guy."

"I am a great guy."

"I just don't want innuendo and rumors to tarnish my reputation. I have a lot to protect."

"No one wants innuendo and rumors to tarnish their reputation. You're not unique in that. Everyone has a lot to protect."

"You know what I mean," he answered, defensively. I decided to press.

"I don't. You think you're singular, but you're not. You can throw a ball. Big deal. I can solve quadratic equations. We all have talent. We all have fears. None of us are singular. And, we can't control what people say about us. We can only control what we say about others. And what we think about ourselves."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Apology accepted."

"Are we good?"

"Sure, we're good. So, let's get to work."

After we studied for awhile, Luke asked "Does it worry you, being gay?"

"No, why would it worry me?"

"You're a Christian, and the Bible's clear that homosexuality is sinful. Christians can't lead sinful lives."

I had been carrying a copy of The Children Are Free for just this moment. I pulled it out, and handed it to Luke. "It's not as clear as you think. Read this. Then we can talk about it."

I didn't expect Luke to read the book. But, I wanted the onus to be on him.

The next time we got together, Luke announced "I read your book."

"It's not my book. It's Reverend Miner's book. But, what did you think?"

"I don't know. It was pretty compelling, but I wondered whether it was manipulated. It seemed like it was trying to muddy some pretty clear water."

We did no work that night. We talked about the Bible, including my questions about the selection of books to be included, the rejection of other books, and the agenda behind those who wrote the books that were included. I challenged Luke to tell me what Jesus preached about homosexuality. I knew he couldn't, because Jesus never once mentioned it. This issue that modern Christians treated as the most salient issue of the day and the biggest threat to their piety didn't even register for Jesus, even though there were clearly homosexuals during His time.

We talked about Occam's razor and my concern that I was on the wrong side of it. But, I also explained why I couldn't be on the other side of it, and what it would mean for me if I was.

We talked about my personal struggle, and how it left me choosing between God not loving me and me accepting that I was created in His image. I explained how easy that had made my choice.

We talked about whether being gay was a choice. He said he had always assumed it was, and I challenged him to explain why someone would choose to be different than everyone else, especially when that choice had the potential to tear a family apart. Or, in his world, consign them to a life of celibacy.

We talked long past our session was supposed to end. We talked as we walked to his dorm. We talked as we stood in front of his dorm.

"I should go," I finally said.

"Yeah, me too. I have work to do."

"Good night, Luke."

"Good night, Evangel," Luke said, giving me a bro hug. "I enjoyed the discussion. Thank you for being so honest and open with me."

"It's who I am."

"I'm glad."

Chapter Four

We went on like that, working together and talking. Luke was no convert. He read a lot, and he brought arguments to our conversations that I had never considered before. He wasn't going to convince me, and I wasn't going to convince him. But, the discussions were good for our souls. It's valuable to question what you think you know to be true. It's even more valuable to understand you may be completely wrong about what you think you know to be true.

Luke did not last in the CSA. He agreed with me. They were too judgmental. They wanted Rice to be Liberty. If they wanted to go to Liberty, they should have gone to Liberty. Most of the students at Rice wouldn't want to go to Liberty, and they certainly didn't want Rice to become Liberty. The CSA walled itself off from the rest of the student body, an island of judgment unto themselves.

By Thanksgiving break, I had given in and had started using "Jet." In return, he called me "Ev." I hated Evangel, he said Evan was "too gay."

Jet had also started to intrude on my solitude. For my Sophomore year, I had insisted on a single room. I had missed being alone as a Freshman, and I didn't want to share a room with anyone as a Sophomore, even if he was a friend.

Jet now routinely stopped by, unannounced. If I was out, he waited against my door or left a note. If I was in, he plopped down on my bed or in my chair and started talking, no matter what I was doing.

I asked that he at least text first. He refused.

During one of his visits, he asked when I had first realized I was gay.

"I don't really know, actually. It's such a different story when you grow up in a house like mine. Gay was so out of the question, there was no way I was. And, it was nothing anyone talked about. Everything went unsaid. So, I didn't know every other boy wasn't feeling exactly what I was feeling. I assumed they all were. I was stunned and troubled when I found out in high school they weren't. So, I guess I was in high school when I first realized what my feelings meant. But, I'd had them all my life."

"Did you date girls?"

"No. I have never been attracted to girls. But, I was enough of a recluse no one noticed."

"I've never dated anyone," Jet admitted. "It wasn't allowed. My mother's motto was that 'temptation leads to trouble.' So, it's better not to put yourself in the position to be tempted."

It's no wonder she had forced him to Rice. My email to her about Austin had hit a sweet spot, echoing her motto.

"How is she controlling you while you're here?"

"I think she thinks you are."

"Oh, boy."

"Exactly."

When it was time for Jet to leave, he gave me another bro hug. "I'm glad we're friends."

"Me, too. But, Jet, you need to start texting before you stop by. You can't just show up announced."

"Sure I can. It's worked so far. And, I like surprising you."

******

When we got back from Christmas break, baseball began in earnest. It was all Jet talked about. He tried to interest me in it, but he failed. I couldn't have cared less about how he was strengthening his arm or about any of the other baseball things he was so excited about.

When the season started, Jet insisted I go to Reckling Park for the home games. When I demurred, he reminded me I was his Sammy and I was supposed to owl him. He also pandered, suggesting there was a lot of math in baseball. He had researched it, so he was armed with facts about angles of incident and refraction, force and velocity, and the calculations required to hit a first baseman in the chest with a throw or to track a fly ball and be camped under it when it fell.

Jet had wanted to be a starter, but Rice was stacked, and Jet was a Freshman. He became the Owls' closer.

As asked, I was at Reckling Park for every home game, rain or shine. Baseball cemented our friendship. Jet taught me to keep score, so I would learn the game and understand his fascination with the game.

By the time the NCAA tournament started, I understood the basics of the game. I also got a little chill every time Jet entered a game. He walked in to the sound of a jet engine revving. Rice always had the lead when he did, and he generally overwhelmed the other team. I was thrilled for him.

Rice played its way to the championship of the CWS, and it seemed like the entire university was in Omaha with them. I certainly was, sitting with Jet's parents in Rosenblatt, which was hosting its penultimate series.

In the deciding game, Rice led by one as the teams headed to the bottom of the ninth. A jet engine roared over the loudspeaker as Jet took the mound. He threw six consecutive fastballs, none of which the LSU hitters touched. After two more fastballs, Rice was one strike away from a National Championship. Jet's ninth pitch sailed, hitting the LSU batter in the wrist. The tying run was on, but no one fretted. Jet had been almost perfect all year. The HBP appeared harmless.

Jet's tenth pitch was a 100 mph fastball. Unfortunately, it was down and in, and LSU's hitter - a stocky lefty - dropped the bat on it. The sound the ball made hitting the bat was terrible, and the trajectory of the ball was worse. It landed well into the right field stands, just fair and breaking every Owl heart. To my surprise, I cried as I watched LSU celebrate its miracle win.

Jet's post-game interview went viral. In it, he seemed nonplussed by the failure. He spoke of his relationship with his Lord and Savior and his family. He explained that the rest was just noise, that the winning home run could have curled foul and been nothing more than a long strike, and that the next two pitches could have resulted in a third strikeout. The outcome would have been different, but he would not have been. His faith and his family defined him, not what happened on the field.

The questions then turned personal, as reporters wondered whether Jet had "someone special" to console him. No, he said. He had never dated. He was waiting until he was out of college to marry, and he saw no reason to tempt himself before he was ready to take that final step. He'd date then, not now.

The Religious Right ate it up. Luke Black followed that Florida quarterback into the pantheon. Pat Robertson lauded him. Mike Huckabee cited him. He was an overnight sensation. He was the stunningly handsome star in waiting, chaste and grounded and proving that, with discipline and faith, you could live the life of Christ, even in the modern world.

He was also a liar. When he saw me after the game, he burst into tears and buried his face in my shoulder. He cried all the way back to Houston, riding with me and his parents to avoid being seen. He had been dominating hitters since he could remember. He had never failed. He couldn't believe he had failed when it mattered most. His aura of invincibility was shattered.

The media was not around to see that. It had its story, and it was not going to let the truth get in the way. They didn't see him break. They weren't there to comfort the broken boy. I was.

Jet basically moved into my room. He told me I was the only person who could see him like this. He cried himself to sleep in my bed (I slept on the floor). He ate little. He listened when I talked, but he didn't hear anything I said. I stopped talking. He'd lie on my bed, and I'd sit next to him, holding his hand or stroking his hair.

After about a week, I'd had enough. It was, after all, just a game. I understood it was an important game, to the extent there was such a thing, but it was still just a game.

I tried to convince Jet to buck up, but he was wallowing. I couldn't pull him free, and I was worried the CWS failure had unleashed things that had been bottled up and that I was ill-equipped to handle. I wanted to know what, but I was afraid to inquire. I wouldn't have to.

Chapter Five

Jet was in my bed, and I was again trying to sleep on my floor. I knew from Jet's breath he was not asleep. I had learned the rhythms of his breathing and what they meant.

"Ev. You asleep?"

"No."

"Will you come up here?"

"Why?"

"I need you to."

"Okay."

I stood up and sat on the edge of my lost bed. I was wearing an undershirt and shorts.

"Will you hold me?"

"Sure," I answered. Jet rolled toward the wall, and I curled up behind him. I put my left arm around him.

"Jet," I whispered. "You really need to let this go. You have great successes ahead of you. But, you also have great failures. You need to learn to deal with both."

"This isn't about the game, Ev. It's about me. I've been holding a lot in, and it all seems to be flooding out. I feel like I'm drowning."

"I'm listening."

"I want to tell you something."

"You can."

"I've never told anyone this."

"You can tell me anything, Luke," I said, reverting back to the name I preferred. "You're my best friend. Nothing you say can or will change that."

"I think maybe I'm gay."

I had wondered if that was coming. There were so many signs, and I noticed most of them. Questions to me. No girlfriend. No apparent interest in girls. Unannounced visits to me.

"It doesn't matter to me if you are."

"I know that."

"But, what makes you think so?"

"Your story resonated with me. It was like I was listening to you talk about me. I've never dated a girl, and I don't really care that I haven't. I'm not really even attracted to them. I notice pretty girls. But, that's all I do, notice. I'm not sure I'm attracted to guys, but I may be oppressing myself to appease my God or my parents."

"Let's talk about this tomorrow. The sun burns the mist off. Light provides clarity. All may be different in the light of day."

"I don't think so."

"I know. But, let's sleep and see."

"Can we pray first?"

"Sure."

Luke rolled over, took my hands in his, and pressed his forehead to mine. When he didn't say anything, I prayed. "Lord, we love You with our hearts, our minds, and our bodies. Please reveal Your will for our lives to us. Open our eyes that we may see it, open our minds that we may understand it, and open our hearts that we may accept it. Please especially reveal Your will to Luke. Help him, guide him, and love him. We pray in the name of Your Son, Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with You, forever and ever. Amen."

"Amen."

I tried to let go of Luke and move back to the floor, but he wouldn't release me. We were hand in hand and forehead to forehead. Almost 13 feet of human, we were too big for a twin bed. It was all arms, elbows, legs, and knees trying to find sleep.

I waited for his breathing to change. I wanted him to sleep. I wanted him to find peace. I wanted the thoughts that were troubling him to recede. As I held his hands and pressed my forehead to his, I realized I was rooting for him to be straight, for him to wake up and dismiss his confusion as delusion, for him to know he was what I knew I was not. I was thinking selfless thoughts.

*****

The light of the morning woke me first. Luke was on his back, his face untroubled as he slept. He breathed through his nose, his mouth closed and his lips pursed. They were full and red and I wanted to kiss them. I knew I couldn't.

Luke had grown up loving the Chicago Cubs, which was odd for a Texas boy. When he was young, they had a flame throwing right hander named Kerry Wood, and Luke pretended to be him as he fired tennis balls at a strike zone his father had taped to the basement wall. As Luke slept, he was wearing a faded and tattered Cubs T-shirt. It was twisted up, and I could see the black trail of hair that led from his navel into his gym shorts. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.

I was taking him in when he woke up. "Good morning, Ev."

"Good morning, Luke."

"Can we pray?"

"Sure," I answered, again taking his hands in mine. "But, you should do it."

"I can't. You have to."

I started. "God, thank You for this day. Thank You for what You will give us today, thank You for what You will take from us today, and thank You for what You will leave us today. Please give us clarity of thought. Please do not let self-interest cloud our minds or impair Your will. Please give us the courage to act on Your will and to stand with You in all things. Please love us and guide us. We pray this in the name of Your Son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with You, and who saved the world from sin. Amen."

"Amen."

I let go of Luke's hands and laid back on the bed, next to him. We stared at the ceiling. Neither of us spoke.

Finally, Luke broke the silence. "Ev, thank you for staying with me last night."

"You're welcome, Luke. That's what friendship is for. Stability in the storm."

"The light of day has not brought clarity."

"Time will. Don't be rash. Go slow. Think and pray."

"I've spent a lifetime thinking and praying. It's what has led me to this place."

"Still, His answers are often elusive. You need to be patient."

"I have been patient. You got your answer. How do you know I haven't gotten mine?"

"I don't, Luke. I don't know anything. I don't even know that I've gotten my answer."

"You act like you know."

"Look, Luke. I'd like to help you through this. I really would. But, I don't think I can. I'm want you to be straight, so you don't have to go through the turmoil I've gone through, so you don't have to hide from and lie to your family, so you don't have to fear that one misstep may break your family. So, I think I have a conflict on this."

"I don't have anyone else."

"You could find someone."