Page 32 of Gay for Pray (Arport Sacred Sacrament University #1)

Theodore

Six years later...

A CLAMOR OF VOICES jockey for prominence in the choir room. I make a circling motion with both hands, signaling for silence.

“Not bad,” I say, “but really try listening to the people around you. You can feel it when you’re in harmony, and when you’re not. Let’s take it from the top one more time.”

I lead the kids through the song once more, though I’m cutting it close in terms of timing. They finish just before the bell rings to end the class period, giving me only a moment to shout, “And don’t forget about the spring dance coming up!” as they hurry off to their next class.

Their voices and their bodies are in constant chaos at this age, right on the edge of being a “big kid,” but I love it.

They really are improving, especially the handful of kids who joined the choir because they genuinely love it and not just to fill an empty class period in their schedules.

Catching those tiny sparks of future greatness and nurturing them has become the joy of my life in the couple years I’ve been teaching since graduating from A.S.S.

Uni. It isn’t the path I—or my father—expected, but once I started making my own choices and not simply following a pre-planned path through life, I found that I wanted to work with kids and music, giving them the guidance and opportunities I never had.

The world is a different place than when I was ten or twelve, but many of the challenges remain the same.

And as Jude and I both know, queer kids are sometimes drawn to theater and music before they even realize they’re queer.

I want to be that adult in their life who not only teaches them how to hone their art, but also how to love themself exactly the way they are.

I sigh into the silence that follows the cacophony of class.

As much as I love my job, it can be draining, and I still have one more class period to teach today.

I expect to get a short break in between classes, but when I turn to head to my desk and sit for a moment, I find a student lingering in the choir room.

The girl swallows when I notice her, twisting the cord of her hoodie between her fingers.

“Um, Mr. Walsh?” she says shyly.

Despite my exhaustion, I put on a smile. “What’s up, Chelsea? Everything okay?” I don’t assign homework or projects like the teachers of other subjects, so it’s rare for my students to linger after class with questions.

“Yeah, I just, um…” Chelsea shifts from foot to foot, tugging on the string in her hands so her hood cinches in around her face. “I had a question about the spring dance.”

“I’m not on the planning committee,” I say. In fact, I have no association with the dance at all, though I may volunteer to chaperon if we’re short-staffed.

“I know, it was more that…” Chelsea squirms, but I wait patiently for her to gather her words and speak. “I think I might ask Allison Kim to go to the dance with me.”

She doesn’t elaborate, just looks up at me from under her hood. I wonder if my eyes ever shone this way, bright with hope and fear and confusion and doubt. Jude would know.

I crouch down to get closer to the girl’s eye level. “Do you think Allison Kim would like to go to the dance with you?”

Chelsea nods. “One time we went behind the swings and she kissed me on the cheek. That’s why…”

I smile. “Then I think you should ask her to the dance. It sounds like the two of you would have a good time, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but…”

There is so much contained in the silence that follows, so much doubt, so much fear, so much of my own childhood reflected back at me. But this is exactly why I became a teacher, so I could be the person I needed when I was Chelsea’s age, the person who wasn’t there for me.

“Is it safe for you to ask?” I say.

Even these days, it’s an unfortunate reality.

Chelsea’s cheeks heat. “I think so. I don’t know. What if she says no? What if someone says something?”

I want to hug this scared little girl and tell her one day it’ll be better.

One day she’ll get to be herself without fear or hesitation.

To a ten-year-old, that day will feel impossibly far away, so instead I take her by the arms and say, “The people who love you love you exactly the way you are. If you encounter any bullies, please come tell me, okay? We aren’t going to accept that kind of behavior here.

You can always come talk to me if you need to. ”

Something shimmers in Chelsea’s eyes, but she nods, then surges forward to hug me. I hug her back, but only briefly, as students start filing in for the next class period. Chelsea waves over her shoulder as she heads out the door against the flow of traffic.

I can’t stop thinking about her for the rest of the day.

I hope I did the right thing, said the right thing.

I don’t know her or Allison Kim’s parents; I have no idea how their families might react, let alone their friend groups.

I hope encouraging her to go for it won’t inadvertently cause her pain.

It’s what I would have wanted to hear as a kid, but everyone’s circumstances are different, and I just hope I didn’t set this girl down a path that might hurt her.

It’s on my mind as I park in the driveway of the home I share with Jude.

The house isn’t large or luxurious, and we live out in a small town, but this place is ours, both our names on the mortgage and everything, and that fills my chest with warmth as I take in the single story rancher fronted by the riot of plants Jude swears he’s going to take better care of.

He probably won’t, but I don’t mind. The tangle of mismatched plants all vying for growing space are a reminder of him that I get to enjoy every day when I come home from school.

His voice drones from inside the spare bedroom we converted into an office.

He often works in an actual office as well, but some of his clients prefer virtual appointments.

I quietly set down my bag, putting away the dishes he must have washed this afternoon as silently as possible so I don’t disturb his session.

When he emerges from the office, a surprised smile brightens his face, so I suppose I succeeded in my stealth tidying. Any exhaustion from the work day disappears in a flash as he strides up to me and kisses me while I’ve still got a pot dangling from one hand.

“Finishing up a session?” I say.

“Last appointment of the day, and right on time. Just got home from school?”

“Yeah, it was a crazy day.”

“Wanna tell me about it while we chop up some veggies for dinner?”

I nod and we set up the cutting boards and start washing bell peppers and carrots and broccoli.

A package of chicken is already thawing beside the stove, and my stomach grumbles at the thought of the stir-fry Jude will whip up for us tonight.

We try to split household chores as equitably as we can, but when it comes to cooking, he’s definitely more proficient.

I start speaking as I cut open a bright orange bell pepper.

“So there’s this little girl in one of my classes…”

I tell him about Chelsea, about her shy question, about her doubts and fears—and about how I answered.

“I just hope I did the right thing,” I say.

“Who knows what either of their families are like. Maybe encouraging her to go for it was wrong. I don’t want her to get estranged from her family or anything.

Sometimes it’s safer in the closet, you know?

At least until you can get out on your own and establish a community around you and all that. What if I…”

I trail off when Jude takes me by the shoulders. I’ve been cutting the same bit of bell pepper for far too long. I set my knife aside, letting him turn me toward him. He grasps my shoulders, looking me right in the eyes, the blue of his gaze as striking as when we were college students.

“What would you have wanted to hear when you were her age?” he says.

I suddenly understand what it must be like to be one of his therapy clients. He doesn’t force or push, but as he looks into my eyes, the only possible response I can offer is the truth. Then again, I’ve never been able to hide my true feelings from him, not from the first day we met.

“I’d want to hear that I should go for it,” I say, “and that there was an adult who had my back.”

“And that’s exactly what you told this girl, right?

So it sounds like you did the right thing.

You were the person she needed in that moment, the person you needed when you were her age.

She’s damn lucky to have you there supporting her, no matter what happens.

Maybe she won’t ask this girl to the dance, but she’ll always know she could have, and that means a lot.

I’m glad you’re there for her in a way no one was there for you. ”

“It’s all I can do,” I say, my voice constricted by emotion.

“It’s a lot,” Jude says. “It’s going to mean everything to that kid.”

“I know.”

Because it would have meant everything to me.

Even with this wonderful life I share with my partner, the man I love, the man I intend to marry some day, the past has a way of hanging around.

I try to use it for good, as in moments like this.

I want to be there for the kids like me who need someone the way I needed someone.

Jude pulls me toward him to kiss me in our kitchen, in our house, amid our wonderful, happy, blessed life together.

He’s still not as religious as me, but our differences have only ever made me love him more through the years.

Besides, he goes to Christmas and Easter Mass at Dad’s church with me every year, joining in on the family traditions in a way I never would have imagined possible.

Dad has opened up to him a lot since that awkward first meeting.

We’re truly a family, him, me, my parents, Lucy, his mom, all of us together no matter what our differences.

It fills me so full of love that I get choked up as Jude kisses me in the kitchen.

I have to clear my throat when we part, but Jude smiles and goes back to cutting up broccoli for dinner. I stand beside him, our shoulders bumping as we prepare the veggies, then move on to the chicken.

When I was Chelsea’s age, this life would have sounded impossible. It would have sounded downright evil . But even in the Bible itself, evil can sometimes be a matter of perception. I know what’s in my heart, and what’s in Jude’s, and not a drop of it is anything but pure love.

It took me most of my life to finally accept myself, and what I found when I did was love on a Biblical scale.

If that’s not blessed, I don’t know what is.