Page 48

“Well,” Ben says as he pulls into a gas station, “you don’t grow up where I did without appreciating at least alittlecountry. The good stuff, anyway. You two need anything from inside?”

I shake my head, but Annoth seems eager to go in with him, and she hops out of the car smiling. Ever so patiently, Ben shows her how to pump gas, then they go in and I pull my own phone out.

The curiosity has been eating away at me, so I type in several variations of Ben’s name until I find something. It’s a clip from a local news station, posted last June, so almost a year and a half ago. I glance at the gas station entrance, then click on it. It appears to be some kind of interview, and Ben looks very different. Clean-cut, with no stubble, shorter hair, and no silver hoop in his ear. He’s wearing a bright purple button-down shirt covered in pink and blue flamingos, but no clerical collar. Behind him are a group of young people, maybe teenagers, working on some kind of large project involving a lot of rainbows.

The newscaster standing beside him in the shot says, “Ben de la Cruz, who has volunteered here at the Found Family Shelter for three years as a counselor and mentor, says that he is thrilled for the city’s homeless LGBTQ+ youth to be able to participate in their very first Pride Parade.”

“Yeah, thrilled, absolutely,” Ben says into the microphone, his dimples on full display as he grins. “These kids deserve to be celebrated and to know that their community is out there to support them no matter what they’re going through.”

“And for anyone who can’t be at the parade, but wants to show their support,” the newscaster says, “what can they do?”

“Well, donations to the shelter are always appreciated,” Ben says, “but honestly, just being visible and being proud. I’m here, as a bisexual man, so these kids can see that being in a difficult place now doesn’t mean they’ll always be there, and that they all have great futures ahead of them. Seeing queer adults thrive and be happy as themselves, that’s a great way to support them. So, if you can, come on down to the parade this afternoon and show these kids some love!” Before the newscaster can reply, I close the video and put a hand over my mouth.

“Goddamnit. I can’t believe I did that. I’m such a fucking idiot.” How do I even approach him about this? Does he want to talk about it, or is it one of those things where he knows that I know but I don’t need to tell him I know? Before I can make a decision, he and Annoth come out of the gas station. She’s carrying one of those horrible roller-cooked hot dogs and a bag of Skittles, looking at Ben like he’s a knight in shining armor. They get into the car, and I suddenly feel awkward. All I can think about is the video, about how earnest and relaxed he was before his life got turned upside down.

“Theo,” says Annoth as she scoots across the back seat, “have you ever eaten one of these?” She shows me the shriveled, overcooked hot dog and I pretend to gag.

“No, I’ve never been that desperate for food.”

“I told her it tastes like the charred flesh of sinners, and you’d think she was a kid on Christmas morning,” Ben jokes as he picks a song from the Hillbilly Bullshit playlist and starts the car. We pull out of the gas station and get back on the road, but I don’t speak. I don’t know if I trust myself not to say something stupid. Annoth quickly scarfs down the entire hot dog, then pours half the bag of Skittles directly into her mouth and lets out a loud, delighted groan. After a few minutes of Ben singing off-key and playing drums on the steering wheel, I can’t stand it anymore. I need to talk to him before we get to the soccer game.

“I watched the video,” I say loudly, and he glances at me, then slowly turns the music down. I just keep talking like an idiot. “The news interview, of you…about the Pride Parade, and I’m so sorry, Ben. I can’t believe they laicized you just for coming out publicly like that. It’s insane and–”

“That interview isn’t why they made me leave,” Ben says, running a hand through his hair.

“If you don’t want to talk about–”

“No, it’s fine,” he sighs. “Since you’ve seen the video now, I guess I should explain. Just…promise you won’t think badly of me, alright?” Myheart clenches and I have to fight the urge to reach over and grab his hand.

“I don’t think I could if I tried,” I tell him softly. He doesn’t look at me, but I see the corner of his mouth twitch as he starts to speak.

“I volunteered at Found Family for a couple years before that, but it was always on my own time. It had nothing to do with the church, and only a few people there even knew I was a priest. But last year, it was their first time doing the parade. The news station came around to interview people and kinda caught me off guard. I didn’t want them to think I was being cagey about volunteering with kids, and I didn’t think anyone would see it, or that anyone would really care, as long as I was still doing my job. But…I fucked up. The next day, my bishop came to talk to me about it, and he showed up at my front door first thing in the morning…right as Niko was leaving.”

“Niko?”

“The director of Found Family. He and I had been friends for a long time, but that day…it was the first time I’d really beenout, you know, in public. It was emotional for me, and for the kids, and it was a good day. But then afterwards, Niko and I went out and had some drinks, and…well…”

“Oh…” I say quietly.

“It was so stupid,” Ben says. “Iwas so stupid. I made promises to the church and I broke them, and that will always be on me. They asked me to resign because, if they laicized me so soon after I came out on TV, it would look bad for them. But they also didn’t want to publicly ‘shame’ me by telling everyone that the interview wasn’t the real reason. It was supposed to be a win-win…especially for my family.”

He stops talking, and I look back at Annoth, who has finally managed to swallow the mouthful of Skittles. I swear, she looks like she’s about to cry.

“What did your family do?” she asks in a whisper, reaching up and gripping Ben’s shoulder.

“We don’t have to talk about that part,” he says stiffly.

“We can if you want to,” says Annoth, her voice gentle. “I-I may not understand, but Theo–”

“I don’t want to,” Ben says, and I shake my head at her. She sits back in the seat and pours a few more Skittles into her palm, then lights each one on fire and pops them in her mouth, glaring out the window as we pull into the clean-cut, brand-new suburban soccer complex.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I should’ve waited until later…”

“Well, at least now you know I’m safe to bring around your family,” he snaps, then gets out of the car and goes into the men’s restroom building nearby.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” I groan, dropping my head back and covering my face with my hands.

“I will not disagree,” Annoth says lightly, “but…Ben will forgive you. If he can see past my shadows, he can see past your stupidity.”