I Say a Little Prayer (19 page)

“It was the most magical evening or time I’d had with Tank. He just kissed me so gently and rubbed on my thighs and it was the first and only time he told me he loved me. Nobody had ever told me that they loved me,” Skylar said softly.

“Not even your parents?” I asked.

“If they did I don’t remember. So the answer to that question would be no.”

“So on the day Tank told you he loved you he found out you weren’t a girl?”

Skylar didn’t answer right away. Instead he took the final sip of his drink, looked at me with sad eyes and said, “Yes.”

“I know this is painful for you but talking about it might help,” I said.

“I lost track of time and my parents came home sooner than I’d expected. I sent Tank out through the front door and he bumped into my mother. My parent’s usually parked the car in the back carport and came in through the kitchen door. To this day I don’t know why that woman was coming through the front door. When she came in and saw me slightly disheveled in my sister’s clothes and her best church wig, well, she just freaked. She screamed at me and called me all kinds of sissy boy and then told me to put on my clothes and then she dashed out of the door running like she was Flo Jo. About ten minutes later she returned with Tank in tow and demanded that I ‘tell em.’”

“What did you do?”

“What could I do? I just stood there embarrassed beyond my wildest dreams crying like a baby as Tank looked at me silent as a deaf mute. When I wouldn’t say anything my mother pulled down my undergarments and screamed at Tank, ‘Look he got the same thing as you!’”

“What did Tank do?”

“Even though he was a dark-skinned guy, it was as though all the color drained from his body and the look of love I had experienced earlier turned into pure disgust. He ran from my living room, and my mother and I never saw him again,” Skylar said sadly.

“Were you ever afraid he might try and hurt you?” I asked, thinking of the movie
Boys Don’t Cry.
Hilary Swank won an Academy Award for playing a girl who lived her life as a boy and who was killed when some other boys found out.

“No, I was never afraid he would hurt me. Despite everything I knew Tank loved me and would never hurt me.”

“Is that when your parents tried to put you in the hospital?”

“They did everything they could to make me feel like I was the lowest of the low. They took me to school and told the principal and teachers what I’d done.”

“Why did they do that?”

“Said they wanted to make sure I hadn’t pulled the same thing with any of my other male classmates. Of course the teachers told me everything would be kept in confidence and off of my permanent record, but somebody blabbed and a couple of days later the whispering and giggles started. Boys and girls started calling me Miss Skylar.”

“What did you do?”

“I took a knife to school and dared anybody to fuck with me. Of course that got me suspended. I went home, packed up my shit, including my Mama’s best wig and I booked for New York City.”

“So do you have any contact with your parents now?”

“Maybe once or twice a year when I send them a card or leave them a message. I do that to let them know that I’m still alive and that my spirit is stronger than ever,” Skylar said boldly.

“What happened to Tank?”

“He went to Ohio State on a wrestling scholarship, and I understand after he graduated he married and moved to Youngstown, Ohio, where his wife is from. I heard he has four kids. All boys.”

“That’s a sad, sad story,” I said as I touched the top of Skylar’s hand, which felt as warm as the sun.

He looked at me with tears hovering in the corner of his eyes and said, “But thank goodness a bitch like me can survive sad stories.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

I
t
was two days before the Day of Absence. I was doing a test run of an oyster pie I’d seen on Paula Deen’s home cooking show on the Food Network. I was preparing it for my family when they arrived, but the smell alone teased my taste buds so much that I had to try it out.

Just as I was getting ready to take a bite of the piping-hot concoction, the phone rang. I put the spoon down on the stove and picked up the receiver. I hoped it was Skylar, because I hadn’t spoken to him in a couple of days. I wanted to remind him of the service on Sunday and see if he would come by and sample my new dish.

“Hello,” I said, still thinking about the pie.

“Chauncey,” the familiar voice said. It wasn’t Skylar. I was shocked and surprised that it was Damien.

“Why are you calling me?” I demanded.

“We need to talk. Pastor Kenneth told me you weren’t going to sing at the revival. He told me what a great singer you are, but I already knew that. When he mentioned Reunion, I told him I was a fan of your music and I wanted to try and convince you to sing,” Damien replied.

“So he didn’t remember you from the group?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“He doesn’t even know I know you,” I said. Where was this conversation going?

“I’m sorry about the other night, but I would like to talk to you,” Damien said.

“I’m listening.”

“In person,” he said.

“For what?” I asked. I didn’t think I could stand to be in Damien’s presence again. The scene in the parking lot left me disgusted, especially the part about him praying for me.

“There are just some things I’ve been wanting to say for so long. I don’t like this gulf between us. I want to be your friend.”

“So you can save my soul? I don’t need friends like that. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“So you’re still angry with me?”

“You mean after twenty years? Like I said the other night—”

Before I could finish Damien interrupted me. In a voice that was soft yet masculine, smooth but still deep, he said, “It was never my intention to hurt you.”

I listened as Damien told me how he was conflicted but knew what we were doing was wrong and that God had a better plan for him. He said a part of him wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, but he knew we’d never be totally happy together. His words made me feel just as I did twenty years ago when we would stay up talking late at night.

“How did you know then that we wouldn’t be happy?” I asked as I took a seat on the bar stool.

“Chauncey,” Damien continued, “what we had was special and it was love, but we would have faced so many obstacles. We were getting careless, and it would have ruined both of our futures.”

“So instead you decided to ruin mine,” I said.

“It looks like your life has been okay. You seem happy.”

“How would you know that?” I screamed. It always bothered me when people made assumptions about other people’s happiness.

“I don’t. Look, maybe our meeting isn’t such a good idea. I just wanted you to know that I never lied to you about the way I felt about you. The feelings we had were real.”

I stared out at my terrace in a heartsick silence. A strange sense of vindication surged through me. I hadn’t been wrong. There had been such a powerful connection between Damien and me, a time when I felt we would always be dreaming the same dream.

“Chauncey? Are you still there?”

I came out of my trance and said, “I’m here.”

“I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say,” Damien said. His voice was gentle and low.

My eyes were moist with regret, and I said, “I’m sorry, too.” I hung up the phone and tried to prevent what I knew would happen next.
Don’t start crying
, I told myself.
Don’t be a punk ass, too.
But I couldn’t, and tears began flooding down my cheeks. I didn’t know if they were tears of sorrow or simply relief to know finally that I hadn’t given my love in vain.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

T
he
lot was already full when I pulled up to the hotel where the Day of Absence service would take place. I stopped in front of the lobby to let Mama, Daddy, and Belinda get out. Jonathan stayed in the car with me as I drove slowly through the spaces trying to find an empty one.

The weekend had already gone better than I ever expected. My parents had arrived the previous afternoon. I knew Belinda was coming with them, but when Jonathan walked through the door, I’d been totally surprised. My little brother looked good—although I suspected he was still having problems. His recent calls for money troubled me. I was excited, though, when he told me he was thinking about going to community college.

Last night had been perfect. After I served my oyster pie for lunch, Mama kicked me out of my own kitchen and took over. When she was finished, the table was covered with fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, and a sweet potato pie. It almost felt like Thanksgiving and Christmas rolled into one.

We sat at my dining room table like the family we’d been so long ago. No spouses, no nieces and nephews—just the five Greers. We talked and laughed like we used to. But now we teased Mama and Daddy about turning into the Traveling Grands.

Throughout dinner, I looked for signs of disappointment from my parents. Not so much from Mama—I knew she’d love me no matter what. But I wasn’t so sure about how my father felt. When they arrived, I had told them why I wasn’t singing at the revival. Mama had said she understood, while my father remained quiet.

But last night, there were no signs of distress from my father, and that pleased me. It made me think that my entire family had finally accepted me the way I am.

I parked the car in the back of the hotel and then strolled to the front with Jonathan.

“So how are you doing, baby brother?” I asked as I put my arms around him.

“I’m doing okay. And yourself?”

“I’m a little nervous,” I said.

“You’ll be fine. Nobody can sing like you, dawg.”

I gave him a sly smile and said, “It’s not my singing I’m worried about.”

As soon as we walked into the lobby, I could feel it. The air was charged—electric with excitement. I shook hands with many of the members I recognized from church and a few I’d met at the planning meetings.

I was looking around for the rest of my family when my eyes landed on a familiar sight. From the look on his face he was just as surprised to see me as I was him. It was Phillip Hicks, the handsome brother who’d caused us a good amount of aggravation when his printer failed and he couldn’t deliver our cards on time.

“How’re you doing, Chauncey?” he asked.

“I’m doing great,” I said. Jonathan had spotted my parents and went to get them.

“I’m a little surprised to see you here,” Phillip said.

“I could say the same thing about you,” I said.

Phillip put his hands in front of his chest like he was defending himself and said, “Oh no, I’m not gay or bi. I’m strictly clitty but I’m here supporting my younger brother. He’s gay and he asked me to come, and I didn’t see any harm. Feel me?”

“I feel you. How’s business?”

“Better.”

“Sorry we couldn’t work things out. I owe you an apology. I was pretty tough on you,” I said.

“That’s all right. I needed somebody to tell me to get my stuff together. It’s funny, but I was going to call Celia and ask if you were still upset with me. I wanted to tell you I would be dropping off a check for half of what I owe you,” Phillip said.

“That would’ve been a nice surprise, but I’ll tell you what I’d like you to do,” I said.

“What?”

“Why don’t you make a check out to an AIDS charity?” I said. I didn’t understand why I suddenly trusted Phillip but something about him told me he’d come through.

“I’ll do that. Thank you, Chauncey, and maybe we’ll get to do business again in the future,” Phillip said as he extended his hand.

I shook his hand and wished him well as I finally made eye contact with my parents.

Right before I reached my family I bumped into Vincent.

“Are you ready?” Vincent asked.

“I think so. Hey, come meet my parents.”

“Sure.”

Before we stepped into the ballroom, I introduced my family to Vincent.

“Your son can really sing,” Vincent said to my beaming parents.

“We’re very proud of him” was all Mama said.

I turned around and spotted Skylar, who was wearing a church-inappropriate short red jacket and white pants so tight you could see the brand of underwear he was wearing.

“Skylar, you made it,” I said as I gave him a hug.

He whispered, “I had to hear you sing again and to see if Jesus was going to blow up this place with all these sissies up in here trying to praise Him. I guess we’ll soon find out if He hates us or not.”

“You’re crazy. Come on and say hello to my mama and them,” I said. I smiled to myself as I thought, you could take the gay boy out of the club, but it didn’t mean he would change his style just because he was going to worship.

After Skylar and my family exchanged pleasantries, we walked into the ballroom, which was already filled with church members and their guests. I led my parents, siblings, and Skylar to their reserved seats in the first row and sat down with them.

I couldn’t believe the turnout. There had to be over a thousand people in the ballroom. I thought back to when we’d come up with the idea for the Day of Absence service at Bruce Maxwell’s house. It felt good to know that no matter how many people spoke out against us, there was still enough support and agreement that Damien’s and his wife’s messages were dangerous. Now tears felt close, but I held them at bay.

The service started. There were several speakers before the guest minister took the podium. Someone read a message from noted minister and professor Michael Eric Dyson, who sent his heartfelt regrets that he had a previous engagement but he wished us a wonderful service and commended us for speaking out against homophobia in the black church. Professor Dyson was heterosexual and was the first choice of the committee as the featured speaker, mostly because of his stance in support of gay and lesbian Christians in many of his popular books.

The committee had invited Keith Boykin, a handsome, openly gay writer and lecturer from New York. Boykin spoke eloquently about having the courage to speak out against people like Bishop Damien. He talked about formerly gay ministers and the self-loathing of gay men who go to these churches and support them by tithing. He closed by reminding the packed audience that “the bigger the saint, the greater the sin.” He left the stage to thunderous applause.

Following Keith, several people offered personal testimonies about how important their faith was to them and how they still took pride in being gay. I was surprised when Vincent stood up and talked about once being sent to an ex–gay clinic by one of his music directors at a former church. It sounded like they’d admitted him into some type of asylum where he would be released only after he renounced his homosexuality.

“Well, you can see it didn’t take,” Vincent said as he snapped his fingers in the air. He went on to challenge the crowd to make our lives not about sex but about love. He shared that even though he still had carnal desires he’d decided to remain celibate until he found the right man.

After the entire congregation sang “The Center of My Joy,” Bishop Dale Thornton, the guest minister from Detroit, took his place at the makeshift pulpit with a huge smile on his face.

The bishop told us a little about his background. He had led one of the largest churches in Michigan and had his own television show and a series of bestselling inspirational DVDs.

Bishop Thornton had sparked a national debate in the battle between AIDS activists and the church when he started an AIDS ministry. Almost half of his congregation had left the church in protest.

But that didn’t stop the Bishop, and he’d appeared on several national talk shows admonishing the black church on its position on AIDS and gay people. His
Leave No Soul Behind
campaign became the mantra of black gay activists around the country.

The Bishop and his wife had recently moved their ministry to nearby Marietta, Georgia, and while I hadn’t visited his church, I’d heard great things about his passion and preaching.

I nodded along as I listened to Bishop Thornton. His words touched my heart. He talked about forgiveness and how God’s love never leaves us. In his message he used the words of nonjudgment he’d once heard in a sermon from Billy Graham. Billy Graham had been one of his heroes ever since he had refused to preach to a segregated audience in his boyhood town of Little Rock, Arkansas. To give us hope, the Bishop used the example of how much things had changed in terms of race relations not only in the South but all over the country. He prayed that he could live to see the day when our difference in sexual orientation would not be chastised but celebrated. He challenged the black church to stop acting like the KKK and to take their noses out of the sand when it came to admitting we had gay brothers and sisters who loved God as much as the grandmother who took care of everybody in the church. He said that all of us fell short of the perfection we thought God expected from us, but that He loved us and offered us forgiveness no matter who we were. I needed to hear that. That God loved me. I did love God. No matter what my orientation, no matter what sins I committed, God loved me.

My eyes looked to my parents, and my mother smiled. My father stayed stiff, without a smile on his face. I knew some of this had to make him uncomfortable, but still, I was thrilled that my father had gotten to that place where he could support me and my life.

“And now I’d like to introduce one of our very own.” I hadn’t even noticed that Vincent now stood at the podium. “You know, the first time we heard this brother sing,” Vincent said, “he turned the church out.”

A few amens rang out throughout the room.

Vincent continued, “And I know he’ll do the same for us today. Join me in welcoming Brother Chauncey Greer.”

The crowd applauded as I stood. I took slow steps to the microphone and then nodded my head slightly so the guy who was working the audio in the back knew I was ready for him to begin the track. I looked out into the crowd, but I couldn’t help looking at my family. They were all beaming at me—even my father, and that by itself was enough to make me cry. But there would be time for that later. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, waited for the prelude to end, and then opened my mouth. After the first verse, I could feel and hear the crowd stirring.

I looked at my family again and all I could see was my mother. Tears were already tracking down her cheeks, and I couldn’t look at her anymore. So I focused on people I didn’t know and sang on.

“
If God is dead, what makes life…”

The words flowed from the depths of my soul. I was singing with every inch of my heart and soul for this Day of Absence. I was singing for all the gay men and women who had been victimized. I was singing for my family. I was singing for Skylar. But most of all, I was singing for God. Letting Him know how much I loved Him. How much I wanted to please Him. How much I hoped that He was pleased with me.

“I can see Him moving through the trees…”

As I prepared to sing the last note, I leaned back slightly and let it all out.

For a few seconds after I finished, there was silence. And then a mighty applause filled the ballroom. Everyone stood to their feet, clapping, cheering, and shouting.

With my eyes closed, I raised my hands to the Lord and was no longer able to hold back my own tears. When I opened my eyes, I looked at my family—and every single one of them, Skylar, too, was standing, and clapping, and cheering, and crying.

Minutes passed before I was able to move. My legs were shaky as I walked back to my seat. I slumped into the pew and into my mother’s arms as our tears of joy flowed uncontrollably.