I felt all eyes were on me and Justin because of Ron. They wanted a miracle or something, but that wasn't going to happen. That kid wasn't all that bad off, either. I knew his daddy had hit him in the head with a whiskey bottle because he was gay, and that was pretty damn bad, but I didn't think there was any deep stuff, like there was with Justin or Denny. I mean, those two boys had had the lick when they were young, and they were both managing to cope real good. Hell, Justin was a totally normal guy, as far as I knew. Denny was a little bit withdrawn, but he was coming along good. We skipped church on Sunday. I knew if Doc had been with us, we'd have all been paraded up that cathedral aisle, but he and Sonya were off on their honeymoon. No Doc, no church. Kevin's parents were pretty religious, especially his mother, but even they knew we had to be out there early on Sunday. That was a sort of religious thing, anyway. "You came in mighty late last night. Where the hell were you? Huh?" Justin was giving Brian a hard time, playing with him. "Grandpa took us out to some gay clubs. Did you know he was gay?" Brian said. "Yeah, right," Justin said. "We were at the hospital. Where'd you think we were?" Brian said. "I knew where you were. I was just teasing you, Little Buddy. Don't get mad at me," Jus said. "Come here, chump," Brian said. He grabbed up ole Justin and laid a heavy kiss on him right there on the street. Ron's eyes got as big as saucers. "Ron, we don't usually do that in public," Justin said. "But that was mighty good." There were some guys across the street watching every bit of what was going on. It looked like trouble to me. It was four white guys and two black guys, and they all had the same school letter jacket on. They started moving over toward us. "Here comes trouble," I said. Now, you have to understand that we had us a crowd on that street. Besides me, Tim, Justin, Brian, Denny, and Ron, we had Kevin, Rick, Seth, Curt, Jeff, Tyler, Craig, and my dad. Grandpa was there, too, but I didn't think he'd fight, if it came to that. The rest would, though, and I knew it. And here they came. "Hey," this big ole black boy said, coming up to us. "Hey, what's up, man?" I asked. "Not a thing. What's up with you?" "Just doing a little Mardi Gras, you know?" I said. "Yeah, same as us. Are these two boys queer?" "What makes you think that?" I asked. I knew damn good and well what made him think that, and he knew I knew. "Well, sort of the lip lock this one put on that one just now, I guess," he said. "You know what I'm saying?" I put my fingers up to my lips and whistled loud. "Circle up," I shouted. My boys all came around. "What the hell you doing, man?" the black guy asked. "I want to know what the hell you're doing," I said. "We came over to make friends. We're your brothers, dude. We're queer, too. Don't get hot," he said. I relaxed a good bit when he said that. I knew they weren't going to be trying to bash us, so the only thing I knew to do then was to introduce myself to them. They had a Justin, too, and a Tyrone. I had assumed the two black boys were a couple, but they weren't. It was two mixed couples and a white couple. Cool. We had us quite a table set up in that building, and we invited them in to eat. We had king cake; doughnuts; sausage, ham, steak, and chicken biscuits; a big bowl of fruit; frozen pancakes, waffles, and French toast to heat up on a Foreman grill; butter and syrup; two or three kinds of juice. Milk. Coffee. Bottles of water. We had everything. "Come inside and get some breakfast," Kevin said. They didn't want to at first because they were too polite, but they eventually got them each a good breakfast. I had bought way more food than we needed, and those boys helped me get rid of that stuff. They ended up joining us for the rest of the day, and we ended up making us some good new friends. Four of those boys went to UNO, one went to Loyola, and one was taking a year off to work before going to college. They had all been friends in high school, a Catholic school, but a different one from the one Seth went to. We told them we were planning to come to New Orleans for college, and they seemed pretty glad about that. Our circle of New Orleans friends was growing, and I was glad of that. We told them if they came to Emerald Beach for Spring Break to look us up, and they said they would. We'll see. * * * When we went out on the street on Sunday morning, it was cool enough to need a jacket. Not only that, all the big buildings around there turned that street into a wind tunnel, and the shadows of the buildings kept it cool. By the middle of the day, though, the sun was more or less over head, and it started heating up. I'm not talking summer hot, but it was hot enough for us to take shirts off and get some sun. While we were standing there watching the Mid City parade, this guy on a float threw a pair of beads at me. That's what he was supposed to do, and that's what I wanted him to do. There were several other strands coming at me all at once, so I blocked that one against my chest so I could use my hands on the others. What must have happened is, one of the beads on the strand got caught in the little gold loop I had through my nipple. We had been playing around all afternoon, stealing beads from one another. Seth grabbed at the strand that was against my chest, and he pulled it. When he did that, he pulled the ring right out of my nipple. God Almighty! Did I see stars, or what? That hurt like a motherfucker! All of a sudden I'm bleeding. It wasn't a gushing bleeding like from an artery or anything, but there was a lot of blood. "Tim, help me," I said. He was standing right next to me, but he hadn't seen what happened. All of a sudden, all he sees is blood coming out of my chest, and he doesn't know if I've been shot, or what. There was a look of panic on his face. He grabbed me by the hand and sort of pulled me over to where Grandma and some of the others were standing. Her eyes got huge when she saw me. "What happened?" she asked. "The ring that was in my nipple got pulled out by some beads," I said. All of them looked like they relaxed a little when I said that. She quick sent Craig to her car to get her doctor kit. Tim ran inside the building and got a wad of paper towels for me to use to stop the bleeding. Grandma took them away from me and started dabbing at it to clean me up. "Does he need to get to an emergency room?" my dad asked. He sounded pretty nervous. "I don't know yet. Let me get this bleeding stopped," she said. She had a bottle of something in her kit, and she put some of it on a little ball of cotton. When she dabbed that on me, it burned like fire. It stopped the bleeding, though. "I don't think he needs stitches," she said. "It's not a very deep wound." The piercing wasn't very deep, so it didn't make that big of a tear when it came out. She cleaned it up good with some more stuff from her kit, and then she put some ointment on it. She put a bandage over that and taped it on. "Why don't you take out the other one, son," my dad said. At my age he didn't give me direct orders much anymore, but I knew he wanted me to do it. "I'm taking mine out," Tim said. "Me, too," I said, and I took the other one out. "The holes will grow back, guys," Grandma said. "Do you think I'll have a scar?" I asked. "I doubt it. It'll take it a week or so to heal, but I don't really think it will scar," she said. "Kyle, I thought you had been shot," Tim said. "I thought the same thing when I first saw the blood, Tim," Grandma said. "Kyle, I'm going to give you a tetanus shot. You don't have reactions to those, do you?" "No, ma'am," I said. I had had me plenty of those growing up. After she gave me the shot, I put my shirt back on to watch the rest of the parade. In just a minute, here comes Seth. "Kyle, can I talk to you?" he asked. I knew he was worried. "Sure, Bubba. What's on your mind?" "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Kyle. I would never do that on purpose. I love you," he said. "Oh, I know that. It was an accident. It just stung a little," I said. It stung a lot, I thought, but I didn't want to say that to him. "Are you mad at me?" he asked. "Hell, no, I'm not mad at you, Bubba. It was just a freak accident. I love you, too, you know. By the way, that Curt is a cutie," I said. I wanted to change the subject. "Thanks. I think he is, too," he said. "Let's get back to the parade," I said. The New Orleans boys we had met that morning left after Mid-City. They thanked us all for feeding them and for letting them hang out with us. They were really, really nice, and I hoped we would get to know them better in the future. We swapped emails, but you know how that is. We had a few hours before Bacchus, the night mega-parade, started. Some of them went inside to rest, but me and Tim, and Justin and Brian went walking. Ole Ron had borrowed the key to Cherie's office again, so I pretty much knew what he and Aaron were doing. I knew Denny really liked Jeff and Ty, and they really liked him, so they were hanging out together. There were still a whole lot of people on the street. Some little kids were scrounging around in the paper and debris that was in the gutter looking for beads that people missed. We were walking toward Canal Street on St. Charles, just taking in the sights. "Aren't those the guys we met at Christmas?" Brian asked. He was talking about two boys around our age in front of a building across the street. The sign on the front of the building said "Smyth and Associates." "I think they are, Babe," Tim said. "Grandma and Grandpa's neighbors. Remember? We even shot some pool with them one night." "Oh, yeah," I said. The street was still blocked off from traffic, so we strolled on over. They recognized us before we got there, so they were both wearing big smiles by the time we got to them. It was all handshakes and hugs and pats on the back. I was glad to see them, and they seemed glad to see us. "You guys having a good time?" Kevin Smyth asked. "The best," Jus said, "but Kyle got his tit ripped off this afternoon." "What?" Matt Smyth asked. "I got some beads caught in my nipple ring, and my brother ripped it out," I said. "No biggie. It was just a freak accident." "We thought he had been shot in the chest," Tim said. "Are you okay?" Kevin Smyth asked. "Oh, yeah. It's a little sore, but it's not going to slow me down," I said. "I think you could probably use a little anesthesia," Kevin said. He pulled a silver flask out of the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to me. I opened it. "What is this?" I asked. "Bourbon," Kevin said. I took a pull on that flask, and that liked to have burned my throat out. I coughed. I hadn't ever had straight whiskey before. "Just take little sips," Kevin said. Now you tell me, I thought. He was tickled with what I had done, though. Kevin and Matt lit up smokes, so Justin hauled his out. He got one for himself and fired it up. "Let me have one, too," I said. He used to offer them to me every time he had one, but now he never did because I would always tell him "no, thanks." Almost always. "Give Justin some whiskey," Kevin said. I handed the flask to Justin, and he did better than I had. He just took a sip, but I could tell even that little bit burned. "Our dads are in the next parade," Matt said. "We're going to have to go across the street to be on their side, though." "Oh, yeah? Cool," I said. "That's the side we're on. Do they throw you a lot of stuff?" "Not really," Kevin said. "They would if we wanted them to, but I think it's more fun to catch 'em strand by strand than in a big bag, or something." "That's true," Justin said. "I thought you guys were traveling," Tim said. "We are. We just came in for Mardi Gras. We drove here from Denver," Kevin said. "We're going to Florida--Key West, actually--next Monday." We talked some more, and then we walked back to our headquarters. They came with us to get something to eat. They knew just about everybody. They didn't know Matt and Cathy Adams, but Matt and Cathy knew their dads. It was almost like Emerald Beach where everybody knew you, or at least knew your parents. It might have just been the lawyer connection, though. "Kevin, let's refill your flask," I said to Kevin Smyth. That one was a devil, I could tell. Takes one to know one, I guess. He and I got the flask up to full, and he tucked it away. If anybody saw what we were doing, they didn't care. "I'm getting me one of those tomorrow," I said. He laughed. "They come in handy. You guys ever go camping?" "As often as we can," I said. "We do more boat stuff, though. There's this great island about twenty minutes by boat from where we live, and we like to camp there. Naked." He laughed. "I'm serious, man. We strip the second we make landfall, and we stay that way till we leave," I said. "That sounds like fun," he said. "It is. When are you and Matt going to come see us? We've come to see you all twice now, and you ain't once come to see us," I said. "We will. Don't worry," he said. We really liked those two boys, and we could tell they really liked us, too. Kevin and Matt stayed with us to watch the parade. Afterwards, we went down to the French Quarter to walk around. There were a bunch of drunk people down there, and we passed the flask around several times to try to catch up. None of us got drunk though, but I tell you what. My nipple wasn't bothering me.
Mardi Gras is a wonderful experience, especially if you do it the way we did, but it's pretty much the same thing, year after year. I mean, there are new sights, new parades sometimes, new little bars to discover, but we had done it big the first year we had taken the boys. The second year was sort of a repeat, and there wasn't the sense of wonder in them that we had seen the first time. It's like going to Disney World. The first time is unbelievable. After that, it's still wonderful fun, but you know what to expect. What we had no way to expect was the news that awaited us in Emerald Beach. We got home around noon on Wednesday, and there were a ton of messages on our answering machine. Most of them were for Denny, and the news was bad. His debate partner, Josh Stanton, had killed himself. The first two messages were just girls crying. It wasn't until the third message that the debate coach, who sounded pretty weepy herself, said that he had done the deed. Tim and Brian had taken it upon themselves to get Ron situated in his new home, so it was just Kyle, Justin, Denny, Rick, and I who heard the message. Denny broke down right away. Kyle and Justin put their arms around their brother immediately. They walked him over to a sofa and sat him down. He was crying inconsolably, and Kyle and Justin were crying, too. Rick and I had tears in our eyes, as well. "He killed himself because he was gay. I know it," Denny said. "He wanted to be my boyfriend, but I just wanted to be his friend. I'm so bad. I feel so bad." The answering machine was still spewing out messages. There was one from Sally Ortega, the principal of Beachside High School. "Kyle, when you get this message, please come to school immediately. I think you'll probably get it later this afternoon, Wednesday, so please come. We need you," she said. "Did you hear that?" Rick asked Kyle. "Yeah, I heard it. What the hell does she want?" "Kyle, a suicide is a major trauma to a school, son. Like it or not, you're the president. She needs you right now. The other kids need you. You're a strong man, Kyle. It's time to be strong, son," Rick said. "My brother needs me, too, don't you think?" "Your brother has us, Kyle. You need to go to school," I said. "I want Tim to go with me," he said. "And Brian and Justin, too." I trotted upstairs where Tim and Brian were getting Ron settled in. They were laughing and having a good time, and I hated to tell them what was going on. "Denny's debate partner killed himself, and they want Kyle at school. He wants you two guys to go with him," I said. "Oh, my God," Tim said. "Support Kyle, guys. He's never had to deal with this before, and this is serious stuff," I said. "You know we will, Kevin," Brian said. "Yeah, I do, Bubba. I do."
What a way to come back from Mardi Gras. It was Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent and one of the most solemn days in the Catholic Church. It was a day when we weren't supposed to eat any meat. In fact, we were supposed to fast all day long until dinner, and no meat at dinner, either. We had done that, too. The younger guys could eat fish or something like that for lunch, but the ones over eighteen, like me, had to fast. I had a parking place right in front of the school, next to the Teacher of the Year. When I went into the office, Miss Sally was right there, like she was waiting for me. "I'm so glad you're here. You know what happened, don't you?" "Yes, ma'am. I have the basic outline. I don't really have any details, though," I said. "The police found Josh last night at one of the ballparks. He had put a pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger," she said. "Oh, my God," I said. "Yeah, it's that bad," she said. "This is only the second student suicide we've had here, and, frankly, I'm not handling it well." "Did he leave a note or anything?" I asked. "Yes, he did. It was in his pocket, and it's addressed to you, Kyle." My stomach turned to water, and I wanted to run out of there. I was so glad my boys were with me. Tim and Justin each put a hand on one of my shoulders, and that settled me down some. "Can I see it?" "Yeah. Let's go into my office," she said. "Sit down, boys. He loved and admired you, Kyle. It's not an indictment of you, by any means. He wants you to be his spokesman." She handed me the letter, and I read it. Dear Kyle, Tonight I told my parents I'm gay, and they got mad. They said I wasn't their son, and I was not to expect any support from them. I didn't really expect them to act quite that bad about it, but I had made plans, just in case they did. I had one of my dad's pistols, and I knew how to use it. If they didn't want me, I didn't want myself anymore, either. If you're reading this, then you know I went through with it. I want you to tell my parents, and the students and teachers at Beachside, that I was a good boy. I tried to follow all the rules, and, most of all, I tired so hard not to be gay. I didn't want to be gay, but I couldn't help it. I tried hard, Kyle. Please believe me. Everybody knows you're gay, and they all like you. Well, they didn't like me that much. Denny and Chip did, but that wasn't enough. You don't have to do this if you don't want to, but I want them to know I was a good boy, and I tried very, very hard. Your friend, Josh Stanton By the time I finished that letter, I was a basket case. I had started crying when he said he had told his parents he was gay and they got mad. By the time I finished reading it, I was sobbing. I couldn't even talk. He was a good boy. He wasn't a good boy. He was a fabulous boy, a wonderful boy. And he was gone. Dead at fifteen. When I pulled myself together, I said, "I want to read this on the announcements tomorrow morning." "I was hoping you'd say that. Do you think you can get through it?" "Yes, ma'am," I said. "This boy was one of my brother's best friends, Miss Sally. That Denny he talked about in that letter is my brother." "Oh, my God. I didn't know that, Kyle," she said. "One of the foster boys?" "Yes, ma'am, he is. Denny Morgan. They were debate partners. Chip Rooney is their other best friend. Does Chip know about this?" I asked. "No. At least I don't think so. How would you feel about having an assembly about it this afternoon?" "It's going to be on the news tonight. They might as well hear it here first, don't you think?" I said. "Yeah, I think you're right. The teachers are going to hate me for doing this. We'll have an emergency assembly at two o'clock. In the auditorium," she said. "That's a better place than the gym." We had about a half hour to get that organized. I wanted to talk to Chip before the assembly. "Hey, Kyle. What's up, dude?" he asked. He was all smiles. "Something bad, man. Josh killed himself." It was like I had dumped a ton of wet cement on Chip. He was stunned. "What?" he asked. "Josh committed suicide, man," I said. It took him a second or two to process that. Then he started crying. "It's because he was gay, isn't it?" Chip asked. "Yeah." "Jesus Christ, Kyle. Why would being gay kill somebody? He had friends, man. He knew that. I was his friend, and Denny was his friend. Why would he do that, Kyle?" "It wasn't you guys. It was the way his parents reacted when he came out to them," I said. "I hate them, Kyle. I want to kill them because they killed my friend," he said. "Come on, Bubba. You know that's bullshit talking. You ain't killing anybody," I said. "Maybe not, but I want to," he said. "Well, you're not going to do it, so you might as well stop the big talk. We're fixing to have an assembly about it, and I'm going to read his letter to me. It made me cry," I said, and I cried again, just thinking about it. "It's going to make me cry too, isn't it?" he asked. "It's going to make you blubber your head off. Really big time," I said. "You sit with Tim and Brian and Justin. I don't want you sitting by yourself in there." At ten minutes to two, Miss Sally went on TV. "There will be a brief, but extremely important, assembly at two o'clock in the Fine Arts Auditorium. Attendance is mandatory. Wait until after the assembly to go to your lockers. Teachers, please bear with us and accompany your classes to the auditorium when the bell rings," she said. "We will dismiss from the assembly." The bell rang at five minutes to two, and they all went to the auditorium. It was 2:10 before everybody was in there and settled down. "Ladies and gentlemen, last night our school family took a terrible hit. One of our freshmen, Joshua Stanton, took his own life," Miss Sally said. A few people screamed out when she said that, but otherwise you could have heard a pin drop. "Josh was fifteen, he was an outstanding student, and he was a member of our debate team. He had many friends who loved him dearly. He asked Kyle Goodson, president of our Student Government Association, to act as his spokesman. I'd like to ask Kyle to come forward at this time." That was the quietest I had ever heard a school full of kids be in a place like that. Nobody was talking, and nobody was even moving around. I heard a couple of coughs, but that was all. "Last year when I was running for SGA President," I said, "I based my election speech on the idea of tolerance. Tolerance for racial minorities, tolerance for ethnic minorities, and tolerance for sexual minorities, like gays, lesbians, and bisexuals. When I made that speech, I went out of my way to try to be funny, and I got some good laughs. I'm standing here before you today in total seriousness, though, but the issue is the same. Tolerance, or what the lack of tolerance can cause. "All of you see me every day on TV making the announcements. If you went to any of the Homecoming activities, you saw me talking there. You hear me at every pep rally. I always try to put humor in what I tell you, but there's no humor in what I have to say today. Fellow students, one of our own is dead right now because of a lack of tolerance. Let me read to you the letter Josh Stanton left. I'm probably going to cry, so please bear with me." I read Josh's letter, and I'll bet you half the kids in that auditorium were crying. "I didn't know Josh very well, but he was my brother's debate partner. They were best friends, and my brother is at home right now crying and grieving. "There is a much higher rate of suicide among gay kids than there is in the rest of the population, and it all goes back to the fact that people can't accept them for who they are. I'm sure those of you who knew Josh had no idea he was gay. Hell, I didn't know it, and he was my brother's best friend. But coming out is a pretty important thing for a gay guy, and Josh wanted his parents to know that about him and to accept him anyway. They couldn't, and he couldn't accept himself because they couldn't accept him. "What Josh did makes no sense. He had friends who would have looked after him, and the state of Florida would have found a good place for him to live, if his parents wouldn't have him at home. Josh was confused, though, and scared and rejected. The very people who were supposed to love him the most, and look out for him no matter what, let him down. They were intolerant. They wouldn't accept his gayness, and, therefore, they wouldn't accept him. "The part of his letter that got me the worst was when he said, If they didn't want me, I didn't want myself anymore, either. Josh was a very good boy, a wonderful boy. He didn't want to be gay, and he didn't have any control over the fact that he was gay. When you leave here today, I hope you'll think about that. I hope you'll pray for Josh, but I also hope you'll pray for his family and for the other boys and girls in this school, and in schools all over America and the whole world, who are going through the same thing Josh went through. And I hope you'll pray for tolerance. Thank you." It was quiet for a few seconds. Dead quiet. Then the whole auditorium busted out in applause. They ended up standing up to clap, and I took that to mean they believed and understood what I had said. That was the second time in my life I had gotten a standing ovation, and I wished I had never had to say what I had to say to get it. Miss Sally said the school counselors would be there as late as they needed to be to talk to anybody who wanted to talk about what had happened. She also said thirty additional psychologists and counselors from the school district would be on call that afternoon and all day the next day. She said no funeral plans had been made but that friends of Josh would be allowed to miss school to attend his funeral when it happened. All my people had come to school for that assembly. My parents, Kevin and Rick, Tim, Justin, and Brian, and Denny. Jeff and Tyler had stayed home with Ron, who really didn't need to be there. They all told me I had done a good job with my speech, but I didn't care about that. I felt numb. I just wanted to go home and sit quietly with my brothers in the den. "Thank you, Kyle," Miss Sally said. "I knew I could count on you. I think what you said sunk in, at least for some of them." "Yes, ma'am," I said. What else do you say to something like that? * * * Everybody went back to North Lagoon Drive. We were all tired from our trip, but everybody wanted to be together. I sat on the sofa with Tim on one side of me and my mom on the other. They took turns holding me and petting me. Kevin and Rick took Denny somewhere. That poor little boy was really upset, and I knew they were trying to convince him it wasn't his fault about what happened. Jeff and Tyler looked after Ron. It was his first few hours in our family, and he didn't need to have to deal with the shit that was going on. Justin and Brian went to get the dogs. When they brought them home, that actually perked people up a little bit. It's hard to be sad around a puppy who hasn't seen you in a few days, and I think little Krewe helped us all feel better. Trixie wasn't much more than a puppy herself, and she helped us a lot, too. Around five o'clock the mourning in the den was coming to an end. My parents left to go home, and Denny was pretty well under control by then. Jeff and Ty went home, too, and it was just the six boys, Kevin, and Rick at their house. The phone rang, and it was for me. It was Josh's minister. "Kyle, I'd like to talk to you," he said. "Yes, sir," I said. "May I come over?" "Yes, sir, I guess so. When?" "As soon as possible, son," he said. "Now, even." "Yes, sir. That would be okay. Do you know where I am?" "Not exactly," he said. I gave him the address and some directions for how to get here. "Who was that?" Kevin asked. "He said he's John Winfield, Josh's minister. He wants to talk to me," I said. "We don't know what this is all about, but I think your dad should be here, Kyle," Kevin said. "Okay," I said. Winfield got there in about forty minutes, and my dad was already there when he showed up. He and mom had just gotten home when Kevin called him, and he must have turned right around and driven back to Emerald Beach. Mr. Winfield introduced himself as the pastor of the Emerald Beach Fellowship, a Southern Baptist congregation. We all introduced ourselves to him, and offered him a seat. Rick asked if anybody would like a cup of coffee, and he got busy getting it for us. I hadn't had anything to eat all day, and I was hungry as hell. Rick knew that, and he cut up one of the king cakes we had brought home with us to serve with the coffee. We entertained the Reverend in the living room, and not the den. "I really would like to speak with Kyle in private," Mr. Winfield said. "No. If you talk to my son at all, you talk to him with me and these men present," Dad said. The people there, besides me and Winfield, were Dad, Kevin, and Rick. I felt pretty secure with them there. "Very well. Kyle, Mr. and Mrs. Stanton are pretty devastated by what happened. Did you know Josh well?" "No, sir, not well. I knew him, though. He was my brother Denny's debate partner and best friend. Denny's only been here a short time, though," I said. "Did you know Josh was gay?" he asked. "No, sir," I said. "Kyle, in my church we take a pretty dim view of homosexuality, and more than once I've preached about the evils of that abomination. The gays in this country are doing everything in their power to lure innocent boys like Josh to their way of life, and you see the end result. A boy in the flower of youth brutally taking his own life." I could tell my dad was getting mad as hell, but he didn't say anything. "What do I, as God's minister and spokesperson, say to the family? How do I help them realize that Joshua's death is part of His plan for them? How do I console people whose son has heaped the sin of suicide onto the sin of homosexuality?" "That's enough," my dad said. "You have to leave." "I beg your pardon?" Winfield said. "I was under the impression I was in these gentlemen's home, not yours, sir." "This is my gay son you're talking to, and these are two of my best friends, who are a happily married gay couple. I don't know what your agenda is, Reverend, but I won't let you castigate and intimidate three of the finest men I know. Come on, Kyle. We're going home," Dad said. I stood up to leave. "No. Stay put Gene and Kyle," Rick said. "You're right, Mr. Winfield, this is mine and my husband's home, and we want you out of here right now." Rick and Kevin both stood up, and they towered over that guy. Those two boys weren't really all that big, but I'm sure they looked big to the Reverend from his position in that chair he was in. "Very well," he said. "I'll go, but the evil of your lives will return to haunt you and destroy you. God have pity on you and bring you around to Him." "Get out of here," Rick said. The man got up and left without anybody showing him to the door. I could see that my dad was so mad he was shaking. "Kyle, give me a cigarette," he said. He used to smoke when he was young, but he had quit years ago. What was that all about, I wondered. "I don't have any, Daddy," I said. "Here, Gene," Kevin said, handing him his pack and his lighter. My dad took one and handed the pack to me. I took one out, too. I didn't really feel like smoking, but I guess he wanted me to, or something. He took about two puffs on his and stubbed it out. "I don't even want this damn thing," he said. "I haven't smoked in ten years, but that was the first thing I thought of. That's how rattled I am." So what the hell do I do now, I wondered. I put mine out, too. "Son, you know everything that jerk said is bullshit, don't you?" Dad asked me. "Yes, sir," I said. "Have his parents seen the letter, Kyle?" Kevin asked. "I don't know," I said. "I don't even know if they were at the assembly. Probably not, though." "They need to see it, son. They need to know how their boy felt right at his last," Daddy said. "I agree with your dad, Kyle. How do we get it to them, I wonder," Kevin said. "I guess we could take it by there. Denny knows where he lives," I said. "Denny!" Rick called out. "Yes, sir," Denny said when he came into the living room. "You know where Josh lives, don't you?" Rick asked. "Yes, sir," Denny said, and he rattled off an address. "Thanks, son. Tell Justin to get some food together for everybody, Denny," Rick said. "We'll be back in a little while." "Okay," Denny said. Me, my dad, Kevin, and Rick all went to Josh's house. We stopped at a convenience store and made a photocopy of the letter, though. There was a bunch of cars at the house, and we saw Reverend Winfield get out of his car as we pulled up. Kevin and Rick stayed in the car, and me and Dad went to the door. A guy answered it when we rang the bell. "Mr. Stanton?" Dad asked. "No. I'll get him," the guy said. Mr. Stanton came to the door. He was real pale looking, and you could tell he had been crying a lot. "What can I do for you?" he asked. "I'm Gene Goodson, and this is my son, Kyle. Josh left a letter for Kyle, and I think you and your wife need to see it," he said. "Would you like to come in?" Mr. Stanton asked. "No, sir," Daddy said. "This is a time for you to be with your closest friends and relatives. I've lost a young son, and I know what it's like. My wife and I, and Kyle, too, of course, offer our deepest condolences. By the way, you might want to wait to read that letter in private." "Thank you for your concern," he said. That was it. We went back to the car and went home. Everybody was pretty subdued. "I feel for that man," Dad finally said. "I know what it's like to lose a son, and it's about the worst thing you can go through. But to have to face what he'll have to face when he reads that letter would be more than I could bear." "Why did y'all think they should see it?" I asked. "You read it at the assembly, son," Dad said. "I think you did the right thing in reading it, don't get me wrong, but it's going to be all over the community in no time, if it isn't already. They have a right to read it for themselves, instead of depending on rumors and gossip to find out what it says." "Is Denny okay?" I asked. "He's pretty upset, but he'll get over it," Rick said. "He's not thinking real clear right now. He thinks that somehow it was his fault because he didn't want to be Josh's boyfriend." "That doesn't make any sense," I said. "I know, but he's fifteen, Kyle. I told you he's not thinking very clearly," Rick said. "What a way to end Mardi Gras," I said. "I know. This has turned out to be Ash Wednesday in more ways than one," Kevin said. |