Inclination (22 page)

“I think Our Way
is a lot more of a bible study group than most Catholic youth groups are. I
mean, we volunteered and we sang songs about God and went on an occasional
field trip, but most meetings were discussions of Bible verses and the sermon
of the previous weekend. It was like we were trying to better understand the
Bible, but all of our conclusions had to be Vatican-approved rather than
conscience-approved.” I’m indescribably happy to be sitting with David at his
cluttered kitchen table, setting up shop to do another “Discussion of
Christianity as it pertains to David and Anthony”, that I don’t want to come
off sounding bitter,
or even feel bitter
,
about our experiences with Catholicism.

“I wonder if
Christian churches that condemn homosexual acts, have ever, or will ever, sit
down and take a long look at the Biblical “clobber” passages—you know, the ones
that I showed you—and try to figure out what God truly intended,” David says as
he pulls out his pad of paper and red Sharpie marker. “But then maybe they
have, and their conclusion is different than ours, you know?”

“I guess. Pope
Francis seems to be a little bit more open-minded, don’t you think? He seems to
want to get the focus of Catholicism back on love and off of gay issues.”

“I read that he
said something like ‘who am I to judge?’ in regard to gay priests.” At David’s
words, I’m reminded how much I’ve loved that particular question, ever since
Mom asked it of me on the morning after I was
outed
by Mrs. Martine. “Maybe the Catholic Church will stop obsessing over sexuality,
you know, if the person is searching for God in his life and is a good person.”
David seems hopeful. “I respect Pope Francis. He seems like a very humble and
compassionate guy.”

“And a whole
bunch of Protestant Churches and non-denominational churches have taken some
huge steps forward in accepting same-sex relationships, so that is good,” I
add. Our conversation flows, as if the weeks of separation hadn’t even
happened.

“Maybe there’s
hope, after all. And we have Journeys Worship Center, and Pastor Sutton knows
that God loves us just the way He made us.” I love the way David’s eyes sparkle
when we sit close to each other and talk about religion. “Besides, don’t
ya
think Jesus would be hanging with the outcasts like us,
in any case? He isn’t the kind of dude
to be influenced by all the powerful institutions.”

“So we have
Jesus…and I have you, to show me the way.” Cheesy, maybe, but ask me if I care.

David reaches
over and takes my hand from the table. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“What are we
going to focus on today? I’m ready for my Bible lesson, Professor Gandy.” I
squeeze his hand back. Flirting is a two-way street.

“Well, Tony, glad
you asked.” He pats my hand and then pulls out his Bible. “I was thinking that
today we could have a chat about love.”

“That’s a good
topic.”

“I’m not talking
about romantic love, dude.”

“I still like the
subject.” Yeah, more flirting.

“Okay, then.”
David may have started to blush, but before I can size him up, he drops his
head and his hair falls in front of his face, so I can’t be sure. “I searched
out a whole bunch of Bible verses about love, but what I’m looking for, and
what I think we can look for together, is what God expects of us in terms of
love.”

“Well, I know
that the first two commandments deal with love—love God and love your
neighbor.” I remember more. “Jesus
says these are the greatest commandments and they both involve love.”

“And that’s what
we as Christians should focus on—living a life of serving love. We shouldn’t be
all distracted by other technicalities that take us away from this goal. And as
for me loving you, Tony, it harms nobody, right? So, let’s move on to loving
our neighbor and loving and serving God.” I like the way he sums it all up.

But there isn’t
much about this guy I don’t like.

We take a few
minutes to reflect on loving our enemies, which makes me think of
Rinaldo
and Lazarus.
Rinaldo
,
who’s no longer even close to an enemy, told me that in the fall he’s going to
switch youth groups, from Our Way at St. Mark’s to His Way at Journeys Worship
Center, even though he’s still a practicing Catholic. He isn’t happy with some
of the things that he participated in when he was a member of Our Way, the
interventions, in particular, and he wants a change.

Laz
and I still haven’t talked, and
I’m not very happy about that fact, but I realize he can’t reasonably disobey
his parents if they say he’s not allowed to hang around with me. My goal is to
focus on loving him, and not holding a grudge against his parents.

After our
discussion, David pours me a glass of lemonade and asks, “
Wanna
take our drinks upstairs to my room and listen to tunes? Got a homemade CD—Josh
Groban
live from online—you’ve probably already heard
a few of the songs, but I think you’ll be into it.”

My reaction to
his suggestion is to absolutely freeze up, deer in the headlights style.
“I-I…uh….” I haven’t been back up to his room since the night I basically threw
myself at him, and I’m a little freaked out about being up there alone with
him. My major concern is that he’ll
think I want more from him sexually than he’s willing to give.

David notices my
distress. “Don’t worry, Del
Vecchio
. I’m not
gonna
jump your bones.” He winks at me. “Not that I don’t
want to,
cuz
I do. You’re the picture of Asian
hotness.”

It takes me a
couple of seconds to find my voice after the compliment. “I was worried that
you’d
think
I
was
gonna
jump
you.”

David swipes my
drink from my hand and heads upstairs. I follow a couple of steps behind. Once we’re
in his room, he places our drinks on his bureau and spreads out the blue
comforter on the floor, and then he gestures for me to sit down on it, but still
I stand there.

I can tell he suspects
that I’m dwelling on the last time we stood in this very spot. He says, “That
one night we made a simple mistake—a mistake we’ve
already
been forgiven for. And you know what?”

I shake my head.
“No. What?”

“We’re
gonna
make
more
mistakes, Tony,
cuz
that’s what human beings do. And
we’re
gonna
keep on trying to be better for God.
Cuz
that’s all we can do.”

I study my
boyfriend—his long dark hair tumbles over his shoulders and his blue eyes shine
with that intensity I love. I lift my hands and placed them on either side of
his angular jaw. “I really love you, David. I
want
you, too. And not too long ago admitting that would’ve freaked
me out. But now it’s like, I can want you and celebrate it, knowing that if we
ever, you know, get married when we’re old enough, God will bless our love.”

“He’ll bless our
love in
every
way.” The piercing look
in his in his eyes intensifies, and then he leans forward and kisses me. “Now,
lie down and close your eyes. I want you to listen to something.”

“The Josh
Groban
thing you told me about?”

“You ask too many
questions, my friend—lie down and listen, ‘
kay
?”

He pushes me
gently backwards, and I do as he says. I stretch out on the blanket and close
my eyes, trying to relax. “This
sorta
goes with the
love topic that we were onto in the kitchen.”

I nod, my eyes
still closed.

And then David
recites a Bible verse I’ve heard many times over, but never actually thought
much about.
“
First Corinthians
13:4-7.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not
envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is
not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love
does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always
protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

I open my eyes
and see that David is gazing down on me, a gentle smile making his lips curve
up a little. “You memorized that?”

“Uh huh—wanted to
say it to you when we got to be alone.
Cuz
this is
the kind of love we’re building together, Tony.”

“I know.” And I
do know that, because I love him, and I trust him, and I’m going to try to
protect him from all things, even from us disrespecting each other. And if we
mess up, which we might do, I’ll apologize to God and to David, and then we’ll
keep on trying to do better. “Will you lie down beside me?” His eyes meet mine
and I see trust there.

“Now it’s time
for the tunes, Tony.” As soon as he stretches out beside me, he reaches under
his bed and grabs the remote.

Within a few
minutes, I’m listening to Josh
Groban
sing “Amazing
Grace”.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,



That saved a wretch like me.



I once was lost but now am found,



Was blind, but now I see.

“I
wanna
make the purple stripe on the bottom of the rainbow,
Tony!” Lulu grabs a paintbrush with one hand and swings the can of bright
purple paint with the other. We all cringe in anticipation of a downpour of
unwanted purple rain. “Purple is Lulu’s
bestest
color!”

“That sounds like
a plan, Lulu. You are the official purple stripe painter!”

“Mary did red and
Frannie
did yellow and Daddy did orange and
Resa
did blue and Mama did green and I
wanna
do purple!”

Mom, who’s
standing on the bottom rung of the ladder that’s pushed up against my bedroom
wall, touching up
Frannie’s
sloppy yellow stripe,
soothes my baby sister, saying, “Lulu, Anthony already said you could paint the
purple stripe
three
times. Now calm
down and ask Daddy to help you with the purple paint can.”

As Dad moves
across the crowded room that has been almost entirely covered in old sheets to
set up the purple paint for Lulu, he mutters under his breath, “This is one
messy-looking rainbow…and it is only going to get messier with Lulu’s purple
stripe.”

I laugh and
reply, “My coming out has been a family affair, with changing churches and all.
So, the rainbow painting on my bedroom wall is going to be a family affair,
too.” I study my cloudy sky blue walls and the kites my mother and I painted
when I was twelve. Then I check out the crude-looking rainbow that my family
has created for me, and it makes me probably a bit too happy for a normal
teenage guy, but I’m not going to dwell on that now. And who’s to say what
normal
is, anyway? “The rainbow, itself, is a symbol of gay
pride, and to have my family paint it for me means way more than if it was
painted perfectly by professionals.”

“Who’s that
little Asian man up there that you painted, bro? He looks
kinda
like you.” Mary actually left her paperback book in the living room for this
event.

Resa
, who rarely says a word, pipes
up with, “Why’s he in an airplane?”

I glance at the
tiny airplane carrying the miniature Anthony Duck-Young Del
Vecchio
that I painted high above the rainbow. “That
is
me, Mary. Good call! And
Resa
, I’m through
with flying low under the radar, I mean,
the
rainbow
, for me!” I mean that, although the very concept of being visible
nauseates me. For years, I’ve flown low so nobody would notice me. And although
I still don’t relish the idea of being in the spotlight, I think maybe the time
is approaching when I should stand up for the things I believe in, and if that
means flying high, then so be it.

“What I’m doing
up there in that airplane is searching for the rainbow’s pot of gold. And if I
find it, the Del
Vecchio’s
will be rich!” We all
laugh as if I’m being silly, but deep inside I know that I’ve already found the
pot of gold.

That night, I
leave the little lamp that’s attached to my headboard on, and I aim it at my
bedroom wall—it looks like the still-wet-hand-painted rainbow is in a
spotlight. I don’t put any music on to help me relax and fall asleep because
the memories of my family’s happy chatter as they decorated my bedroom are
still ringing in my head.

Things are much
better in my life than they have been for a long time, and I’m thankful. I
focus my prayers on thankfulness. And once again, as I drift off to sleep, my
heart peaceful and certain of God’s love and acceptance, I experience a moment
of a different kind of awareness. It’s hard to describe, other than to say that
I feel like my heart and soul are both wide open to Jesus’s intentions for my
life.

And suddenly it
hits me—I know what it is!

“Anthony, my son,
you must discover your true cross. And then you must carry it.”

I know what my
true cross is…

It seems I’ve
been mistaken about what my true cross is. I’d thought it was the burden of my
homosexuality, but it’s actually nowhere near that simple. My true cross is my
obligation to step up and speak out, to act where I would normally react, to be
seen when I would prefer to hide—all to help other gay Christians find their
way back to God, like I had to do.

Carrying this
cross will probably require me to go public with my sexual orientation. I’ll
need to share my story under my true name—to tell of my convictions, of my love
relationship, of my deep passion for God—none of which has changed, but instead
has truly deepened as I’ve learned of His acceptance.

This is what I’m
called to do.

Beneath cloudy
skies and a perfectly imperfect rainbow, I fall asleep.