Page 7 of Broken Halos
“Henry, HIV isn’t a plague God has placed on gay men, and he most certainly doesn’t hate you.”
“My mother doesn’t agree, Pastor Ollie.”
“Forgive my boldness, but your mother sounds like an ignorant woman. Does your mother have the direct phone number to dial up God in heaven?”
“Uh, she believes her Bible is her direct line to God.”
“Perhaps she’s not interpreting the scripture correctly, or perhaps some ignoramus has done his or her part to guide your mother in the wrong direction. To me, misrepresenting God’s love is the biggest sin of all.”
“How do you know God loves me?”
“Let’s pretend the scripture doesn’t spell it out, even though it does. I know God loves you, a gay man, because he loves me. I feel his love in my life; it uplifts me and gives me hope. If God hadn’t wanted gay people, then there wouldn’t be gay people.”
“So, he wants war and cancer and serial killers too?”
“Are you honestly comparing healthy, loving relationships between consenting adults to war, cancer, and serial killers? Do you think that’s an apple-to-apple comparison, Henry? I sure don’t.”
“Okay, you make a good point, but you didn’t necessarily answer my question.”
“Well, it’s not an easy question to answer.”
“So, you don’t have an answer then. You’re like my mom who spouts her beliefs without anything to back them up.”
“No, I do have answers, Henry. Its just not something I can surmise in a few sentences. Are you willing to sit down and talk to me in person?” I felt Henry needed more than just a phone conversation. It felt like he was on the verge of…giving up. “I can meet you anywhere, and I’ll bring coffee, tea, or anything you’d like to drink.”
“Um, I don’t know,” Henry answered after a long pause. “I feel silly.”
“Were you recently diagnosed with HIV or did you just recently inform your mother?”
“New diagnosis and I came out to her because of it,” he said softly.
“Henry, it’s very possible she’ll come around once the news has time to settle.”
“Not likely, Pastor Ollie. Her preacher advised her to throw me out so she wouldn’t catch it too. Do you believe people are still so ignorant?”
“Unfortunately. I’m also aware of how ignorant many clergymen are when it comes to homosexuality and HIV. Listen, Henry, I don’t want you to feel like I’m going to pressure you into believing something you don’t want to, and I don’t have a prepared sermon to share with you. I will, however, offer you friendship and an ear to bend. I’m a great listener. I also know of some excellent support groups which can help you. I know receiving an HIV diagnosis is scary, but it is not a death sentence, Henry. You can live a long, happy life as long as you do what your doctors tell you to.”
“Wow, you sound a lot like Dr. Kent.”
“Dr. Kent probably wants you to live your best life, and I know I do.”
“Why? You don’t even know me?”
“I would like to know you if you’ll let me.”
“I don’t own a car, but I have a few dollars left to take a cab or hire a Lyft.”
“I’ll come to you,” I assured him. “Save your money. All I need from you is the location you’d like to meet and what you’d like to drink. It doesn’t have to be a warm beverage. I’m sure there’s a coffee house near you, and I can bring you an iced coffee or one of those frozen, flavored numbers.”
“Claire’s is around the corner from where I’m staying. She makes the best white chocolate mocha and banana nut muffins.” I heard the wistfulness in his voice and decided to add the muffins to the order. Henry rattled off his address, and I jotted it down on a sticky note pad I found hidden under the open Bible on my desk.
“I’ll be there within the hour, Henry. I’m just wrapping up the sermon I’m planning for Sunday.”
“Okay.” I detected a note of uncertainty like maybe he thought I wouldn’t show up. I’d prove him wrong and show him some people could be counted on.
I set my phone aside and finished my sermon notes within thirty minutes then started out the door to meet Henry. I looked at my reflection in the mirror as I passed it by and worried the stark black shirt and clergy collar might put Henry off and make him feel uncomfortable. I changed out of my church clothes and put on a pair of soft, weathered jeans and a cream flannel shirt with various shades of blue crisscrossing with thin lines of deep purple and pale aqua. It was the softest shirt I owned and my favorite. My outfit said I was a man like any other rather than an uptight clergyman sent from heaven to be judge, jury, and executioner. I wanted to put Henry at ease, not make him feel worse than he already did. I hoped to find out the name of his mother’s preacher by the end of our conversation so I could send the impostor a scathing letter.
Claire’s wasn’t too busy at two o’clock in the afternoon; I was in and out in fifteen minutes or less with a salted caramel mocha for me, a white chocolate mocha for Henry, and a dozen mixed muffins for us to nibble on. I’d leave the extras for Henry because the last thing I needed was to wolf down half a dozen muffins or more. I didn’t google the property owner of the address Henry gave me, but I recognized it as a residential area. I wished I’d done my homework when I parked my car in front of the large, two-story structure and saw the wooden sign in the yard that said: Ryan’s Place.