Authors: J.P. Barnaby
His eyes lit up when he saw me, and it warmed me.
Without a word, he stood and carried his plate to the sink. As he passed me to head upstairs, I felt his hand brush against mine in a gesture of comfort, of promise. Sitting down at the table, I watched Jamie climb the stairs. Once he was out of sight, I waited for his mother to confront me. I expected her to tell me that I was endangering her son’s soul, or that I was going to ruin his life, or even that she hated me.
She said nothing. She just set a plate of pancakes in front of me with a soft smile and went back to the stove.
Briefly, I wondered if they had been poisoned.
Her strangely upbeat mood lasted through the ride and all the way into the church. Mrs. Mayfield left us to speak to the preacher while we sat with Mr. Mayfield, who looked tired and upset. That’s when I realized why she had put on such a happy face. She had wanted to get me there, so the preacher could talk some sense into us, try to scare us out of being gay.
Nothing, not even God, was going to take Jamie from me.
I didn’t listen to the sermon that the man was giving; the most I got was the yelling and gesticulating while I waited for our judgment to be rained down on us once we were forced into the preacher’s office. I could feel Jamie next to me, and knowing that he loved me got me through the remainder of the service. We never spoke, and we never looked at each other. It would have been too hard not to comfort him if I’d seen the fear and resignation in his eyes.
It amazed me how much my attitude had changed since that first sermon that had scared me so badly. Over the last few months, Jamie’s love had become like a talisman inside my heart, protecting me from the fear and the anxiety. Since the crushing weight of hiding from the Schreibers and from Jamie’s parents had been lifted, and they all knew the true nature of our relationship, I felt almost free. I could face anything with him beside me, even the wrath of God.
As I had assumed, Mrs. Mayfield led Mr. Mayfield, Jamie, and me back to the preacher’s office after the service was over. I didn’t even try to resist. It was something that we were going to have to do at some point; we might as well get it over with. The door closed behind us with the finality of a coffin lid being closed over a corpse, and with just as much optimism.
Without being told, Jamie and I took our places in front of the preacher’s large worn desk. We were flanked by Jamie’s parents; Mr. Mayfield sat closest to me, though he didn’t speak. He just sat stoically, waiting for the preacher to speak, as we were all doing. Mrs. Mayfield sat on the very front of her wooden chair, like a star pupil looking for praise from her favorite teacher. I wondered why that praise would mean so much when it would come at the expense of her son.
“Jamie, your mother tells me that you were caught committing an egregious sin this morning. Is that true?” The preacher sat back in his opulent leather chair, tenting his fingers, waiting for a confirmation. The haughty, self-righteous note in his voice made me angry. He had made it sound like we had killed someone.
“No, Pastor Moore,” Jamie said confidently, looking up at the preacher with absolutely no fear. My shock gave in to pride in that moment. Just like Jamie, I held my head high because there was nothing wrong with my love for Jamie, and I wasn’t going to let him tell me that there was. Apparently, neither was Jamie. He could have just gone along with what they expected him to say, but he admirably refused.
“You weren’t caught laying in sin with another boy? This boy?” he demanded, waving at me, astounded to be contradicted. Sitting forward in his chair, he put both palms down on the desk. His moral superiority was going to be tested, and he knew it.
“Yes, sir, I was,” Jamie admitted with no hint of shame. “However, I don’t believe that my love for Brian is a sin. I believe that God made me the way that I am.”
None of us expected the resounding slap that came next. Jamie’s mother had hit him across his face, leaving a red palm print on his cheek. I stood, outraged that she would strike him. Jamie held his hand up, cautioning me to hold my temper. My hands balled into fists at my sides.
“How dare you say such a thing, here in front of Pastor Moore, in God’s house? How dare you say that God made something that is clearly unnatural?” Mrs. Mayfield raged at her son. Mr. Mayfield, I noticed, remained strangely quiet. “What you were doing was evil, James. It was against God, and you two will not see each other again.”
She turned to me. “Boy, I have tried for years to help you. It was a shame what happened to your parents, but maybe it was God’s retribution for your nature. I know that this was your doing. You drew him in to your Godless ways, but I won’t let you destroy his soul. He was a good boy before he met you, and he will be one again.”
Grabbing Jamie’s arm, she pulled him from the room, ignoring the preacher’s protests. Mr. Mayfield followed, and I stood there, feeling like she’d taken everything that was good about my life with her as she walked out the door.
Chapter 12
“
B
RIAN
, it will just be a few more days until you’re back at school,” Carolyn said as we sat at the kitchen table. She was peeling potatoes for dinner while I sat staring at the table, picking apart a paper napkin. As she dumped the peeled and cut potatoes into the pan, I started on another napkin. She got up, carrying the pan to the sink.
It had been nearly three weeks since I’d seen Jamie, and the pain in my chest had grown worse with each passing day. I missed him so much. She was right, though; it would be better when I could at least see him every day, even if I couldn’t express my love for him, even if we couldn’t be alone. The thought gave me some comfort, but not much.
Just one more year, and we could leave, together.
We just had to survive until the end of the school year.
I recited those two lines over and over in my head, holding on to them in my heart.
Setting the pan on the stove, she turned the burner on and came back to the table. “It won’t be too much longer before you boys are eighteen, and then no one will be able to keep you apart. Whether you go off to college or get a job somewhere, you’ll be together. It will be all right, Brian, you’ll see.” I agreed, but when you’re seventeen, a year feels like forever. I was impatient, and I wanted Jamie.
Richard came in the back door then, shaking off the rain, but rather than taking off his shoes or setting down his briefcase, he came straight to the table where we were sitting. He was uncharacteristically hesitant when he looked down at me. A strong feeling of unease began to grow in my stomach the longer he didn’t speak. Finally, he set his bag down on the table and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Brian, on my way home today, I saw….” He sighed. “I saw a moving truck at the Mayfields’. There was a For Sale sign in their front yard.”
No!
I screamed the word in my head, trying hard not to let it escape from my lips.
It wasn’t possible. There had to be an explanation.
My hands started to shake, and that uneasy feeling in my stomach turned to nausea.
They couldn’t take him away from me, they just couldn’t. It wasn’t possible. He was the only one on earth who loved me. Without his love, I was nothing. I’d already lost my parents, the ones who were supposed to always be there.
My chest ached, and I found it hard to breathe.
How could God take him too?
Didn’t fucking karma owe me one?
I tore out of the kitchen through the back door, barely leaving it on its hinges, and I ran faster than I had ever thought possible. I vaulted over low hedges and scaled fences rather than detouring down alleys. My only thought was getting to Jamie. I didn’t know what I thought I could do to stop them, but I had to see him. The shocked looks of people who I nearly knocked to the ground as I ran right past held no interest for me.
As I rounded the corner onto Jamie’s street, I saw the moving truck pull away from the curb. It was a huge blue semi truck, big enough to hold the contents of their entire house.
Oh God, it was true.
I screamed, unable to stop the wounded sound from being torn from me. I didn’t care who could hear me; I didn’t care who else was on the street watching them leave with sick fascination.
It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be gone.
The front door of the Mayfield house banged open, and Jamie came running out, no doubt having heard my scream. He threw his arms around me and just kept saying over and over, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” Both of his hands were fisted in the back of my hair, holding my face against his shoulder. I couldn’t bring myself to pull back to look at his face; the heartbreak in his voice was staggering. He was shaking with the sobs he was trying hard to contain. I closed my eyes and just held him, trying to memorize his scent, the feeling of him in my arms, the sound of his low breathing. Soon, too soon, I would have nothing.
His father came down the steps, and I watched him walk toward us with a slow and heavy gait. It was evident that he didn’t want to leave, but as he passed us on the walk, he said, “You have five minutes, son, and then we need to be on our way. We have a very long drive ahead of us.” The fear and pain ripped through me, and I gripped him tighter.
“Where?” I asked, nearly choking on the word.
“San Diego,” he whispered. “My father requested a transfer, and it came through last week. They wouldn’t let me see you to tell you. I tried to get out, but I couldn’t.” The emotion finally broke through, and his voice was soon heavy with sobs. I held him tighter, trying to find some measure of comfort for us, but the effort was wasted.
“Jamie, it’s time to go,” Mrs. Mayfield called from the car, obviously trying to avoid a scene. Two boys holding each other on the front lawn was attracting attention that she apparently didn’t want. I didn’t know what the fucking difference was if she was moving halfway across the country. She could wait.
“I’ll find you,” I told him, my breath catching on the last word. He nodded, even though we both knew how difficult it would be to keep my word. My hands clutched at his shirt as my hair became plastered to my forehead. He pushed it away and then, to my surprise, kissed me right there on his front lawn. Desperately our lips met over and over before he pulled away.
I was terrified now. It was all I could do to keep from screaming. Their house was packed, and they were taking him and leaving. They may as well tear open my chest, which may actually have hurt less than them taking my Jamie. I wanted to run, to take him and hide. My panic swelled as he pulled back a little further.
“Never forget that I love you,” he said softly, just above the sound of the rain, before he turned and walked to the car. My knees gave out before he had reached the sidewalk, and I landed heavily on the grass. Climbing into the back seat, he turned and watched me as his father pulled away from the curb.
Then a horrible thought came to me, one that burned the hole in my chest caused by his departure. I hadn’t told him I loved him. He told me never to forget, and I didn’t tell him. I screamed his name into the rain, begging the car to stop, for him to come back. But he was gone.
I sat with my back against the hastily erected For Sale sign, feeling the rain mingle with the tears as he left me, taking every bit of my hope, my joy, and my life with him.
Epilogue
E
MMA
M
OSELY
stood rooted to the sidewalk, just two houses away from her boyfriend’s house. The note declaring her love for him was clutched tightly in her right hand. When her mother had told her at the beginning of the week that Jamie’s family was moving to California, she had been devastated. Running out of her house, she had ended up on Jamie’s front porch sobbing to an equally upset Mrs. Mayfield. Jamie’s mother told her that she was sorry they had to move, but that his father had been transferred. There was nothing they could do. After several minutes, Emma was able to get a hold of herself, and she asked to see Jamie. Mrs. Mayfield went up to get him, but he refused to come down.
They only had days left to be together, and he refused to see her?