Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Rayne squeezes my hand. “Go on.”
I swallow and force myself to do that. “I guess I see…someone at the church. Pissed off at me. Yelling me down somewhere that’s public…like where other people can hear. And what I hate the most about it is—” I lick my lips and laugh and look at my lap. “Hell,” I mutter. “This is awful.”
Vanny laughs. “I know. Feelings are fucking awful. Even I think they are.”
“The problem is” —I rush it out— “I don’t know what to say back.”
It hangs heavy in the air around me. V knows what I mean, and I can tell he does just from how he takes his next breath. We’re so in sync; I love that.
“I don’t know if it’s okay. With God,” I whisper. “I know that it’s okay like in my own conscience. But I spent my whole life acting like it wasn’t. It’s…a congruence issue.”
When I don’t say more, he murmurs, “Explain more?”
“If it’s okay to be gay, if it’s natural and even normal, why have people believed for so long that it’s not? And the answer is, that’s not true. There is evidence that in ancient civilizations, men who loved men, women who loved women, or even people in poly relationships were treated with respect,” I tell Vance.
“In some tribes and small groups, it was thought of as more holy. So it’s just this religion that dislikes it. But…that’s not true either. It’s more than one religion. Things in America picked up steam in the 1940s, when the RSV New Testament published with a translation in which ‘homosexuals’ were rebuked specifically. Before that time, most widely circulating translations focused more on condemning the so-called ‘sexually impure’. But around World War Two, it started shifting. From that point on, anti-gay sentiments within American churches just kept gaining traction, and then it became political—so we know what that’s like. I know all this, that it’s just…societal fluctuations or whatever. So why does it bother me?”
Rayne’s fingers stroke mine.
“It’s just…my head’s messed up.” I rub my forehead, which is throbbing like it agrees. “I don’t know. It’s all emotional. Not logical.”
“So here’s something,” V says. “Just a thought.”
“Please.” I bring his hand to my mouth, brush my lips over his knuckles.
“I read this book once—I wish I could remember the name of it. It was about…child abuse, I think. And love. Some therapist rec’d it because of my dad,” he says, his low voice going raspy.
I press his hand against my cheek and nod.
“So what it basically said is love isn’t something that can be learned in a vacuum. People who are never shown love don’t know how to love most of the time. I think maybe it could be learned from TV or movies. Books. But without any relationship where someone in it loves you—really feels affection for you, shows you warmth—it’s hard to feel love. And feel like you’re worth love. Love is not a one-way street,” Vance says. “So I know your parents loved you. A lot. That’s not my point here. But…” He shakes his head, and I laugh. “C’mon, Rayne. Hit me.”
“I was just thinking, who loved gay Luke? Right? Who loved the gay kid who knew he was gonna grow up to be a gay man deep down, even if he never came out? Who told him that he was worthy of the whole damn world, and perfect how he was? And if the answer’s no one…then maybe that’s the root of how you feel now.”
I nod slowly. “Go on,” I manage.
“I don’t know. Like my mom, she would say basically how it’s normal to be bi. How lots of people have been, and how differences make the world better. When she said she loved me, I believed she loved the whole me. Like, she was good with me, deep down. Who I was. Fully. I feel like maybe no one did that for you. Even though your mom is awesome. I’m not blaming your parents. I’m just saying I think maybe no one did it. So while you have an identity as Luke, and you’re a scholar and a teacher—you’re a pastor—there’s this secret part of you that no one’s ever known. I guess I’m the one who’s known it longest. Even Pearl, one of your best friends, just found out. And…I don’t know. I don’t know how you feel, but I think that would make me feel less than secure. You know what I mean? Like, how does Pearl really feel? She feels fine.” He shakes his head. But…he’s right.
“I know,” I whisper. “Vance…that is how I feel.” I blow a breath out. Suck another one in. “No one really knows me. And I don’t know how they feel about me. Every time I go into the church, I’m seeing strangers. Or they really might as well be. They, no doubt, see me somewhat different. Now that they know the one thing I kept hidden for my whole life. Everything—it feels like everything—there is to know about me is now known by everyone. I gave them so much of myself before this, as a speaker. As a pastor. I put everything out there for anyone to grab a hold of. I thought that’s what I should do. Give them everything I could of myself. So they know me so well, so they’d trust me when I preached. And now—”