After Christian’s suspension, I tried to carry on as though nothing had happened, but it was clear that the whole school knew something had happened. They just didn’t know quite what.
In the afternoon, as I was walking down the hall, I encountered Carl Walsh. “So, I hear your queer friend has been suspended. He should have been expelled.”
I tried to walk past him, but he stopped me, grabbing my arm. “What’s the matter, don’t you have any thing to say?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to pull away from him. “You’re a bully with the guts of a worm. You have no business even being on the same planet with Christian.” He was so surprised he let me go and I walked away. “Wow” I thought, “that felt pretty good.”
But that was to be the only good feeling I had either that day or the next two.
I arrived home at the usual time on the second full day after Christian had been suspended. I thought it was strange that I had begun to count time that way. I hadn’t heard from him, but since I was forbidden to talk to him and I was quite sure he was also forbidden to talk to me, I wasn’t surprised. I just wished I knew what was going on at his house.
Of course, my parents and I had had a long session about what we boys had been doing, although I didn’t have to deal with the question of being a Nigger. They were horrified by what Christian and I had done, and despite the fact that I tried to tell them that we really did love one another, they would have none of it. They asked if we had done anything in our house. When I told them yes, my mother cried, “Oh, Peter. And we trusted you two alone in the house.” I felt ashamed and embarrassed even though I didn’t think we had actually been doing anything wrong.
The call came about 5:00 pm that day. My mother took the phone, and I knew immediately that she was talking to Christian’s mother.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “Is he…is he dead?”
I went cold. Had something happened to Christian? What? Why would he be dead? He couldn’t be!
“Oh, thank heavens,” my mother said, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “Will he be OK?” She listened for a minute and said, “Yes, hang on. He’s right here.”
I took the phone from her. “Peter?” Mrs. Walker asked. She sounded distant and sad.
“Yes, Mrs. Walker. Is Christian alright?”
“He is now, but last night, he tried to kill himself.” I heard her sob.
“Oh my God. Why?”
“We don’t really know much yet. He’s in the hospital. He won’t talk to either me or his father. He only wants to talk to you. Could you possibly come and see him tomorrow? Tonight won’t work, because he’s quite drugged up and visiting hours end at 8:00.”
“Of course I’ll go. I’m sure my mother will take me.” I looked at her and she nodded. “Are you still at the hospital?
“Yes. We’ll stay as long as we can.”
“Then would you tell him I love him and I’ll be there in the morning?”
“Of course I will, Peter. I’m so sorry that all this has happened.”
“So am I. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And I hung up.
I tossed and turned all night, sleeping very little. Questions kept tumbling around in my head. Was Christian really going to be OK? Why had he tried to kill himself? Had we really done something that terrible?
The next morning, my mother and I arrived at the hospital about 9:00. Mr. and Mrs. Walker were waiting in the lobby. They looked as though neither one of them had slept and they seemed so sad. Mrs. Walker came up to us, gave Mom a big, long hug and said, ”Thank you so much for coming, Deborah. And you too Peter.” She hugged me too. “This has all been so hard. Paul is devastated. He slapped Christian the other day, and now he feels totally responsible for what has happened.”
Mom asked, “Why did he slap Christian?”
“Because he felt that Christian had talked back to Reverend Braithwaite. Let’s go sit with Paul. Visiting hours don’t start until 10:00, and they’re very strict here. Right now the worst thing is that Christian won’t even speak to either of us. He just turns away from us.
We sat together with Mr. Walker, who had gotten up briefly to say hello to Mom and to give me a hug, before he sank back into his chair.
“So tell us what happened when you found Christian,” my mom said.
“I woke up much earlier than usual, about 5:00 o’clock,” Mrs. Walker said. “I felt I just had to talk to Christian, even if he wouldn’t talk to me. I went to his room but it was empty. Then I looked across the hall and saw that his bathroom door was shut. Fortunately, there is no lock on that door. I knocked and asked Christian if he was alright, but I didn’t hear a sound, so I opened the door and looked in. Christian was lying in a tub of pink water. I didn’t realize for an instant that he had slashed his wrists. I screamed for Paul to call the police, and then I tried to hold Christian’s hands up and put some pressure on his wrists. I didn’t really know until the ambulance men arrived whether Christian was alive or dead, but they told me that they were still getting a heartbeat, although it was weak.
“We followed the ambulance here and waited for hours in the Emergency Room. We still didn’t really know whether Christian would pull through or not. Finally a doctor came out and took us to a conference room where he told us that he thought Christian was going to live but that it had been a close call. If I hadn’t gotten up early, we would have lost him.” At this she burst into tears. “We stayed here all day yesterday. In the afternoon, Christian finally regained consciousness. When he saw us, he turned as far away from us as he could. He’s only said two things to us. When he first saw us, he said, ‘Why didn’t you just let me die? That’s what I wanted.’ The second thing he said was, ‘Can I see Peter?’ That’s when I called you.”
“Besides the slap,” I said, not looking at Mr. Walker, “why was Christian so upset?”
“Well, when he told us that you both were homosexual we didn’t react very well. At first, I didn’t believe he could be serious, but when I realized he was, I felt as if my life was falling apart. I’m afraid we were very harsh with him. We told him that what you boys were doing was sinful and dirty, and I’m afraid I used the word ‘disgusting’. He spent the rest of the day and the night in his room. We took him to see Reverend Braithwaite, in the hopes that he could talk some sense into Christian. I think,” she said with a tentative little smile, “that Christian persuaded the Reverend more than the Reverend persuaded Christian. Anyway, he recommended a psychiatrist who specializes in curing homosexuals. Christian argued that he wouldn’t go because he wasn’t sick and there was nothing to cure. That’s when his father slapped him. He swore at his father and ran out of the church and far down Maple Street. By the time we caught up with him he was walking and crying. I coaxed him into the car and we went home. Again he went straight up to his room without a word and slammed the door. His father tried to talk with Christian but he wouldn’t even let his father into the room. Later, I tried to take him some supper, but he had locked his door and wouldn’t let me in. I never was able to talk with him before he tried to kill himself.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “You know, all summer Christian was feeling guilty about what we were doing even though he wanted to continue. He said he knew it was against his religion but he didn’t understand what was wrong with it. Then Rodney’s death really hit him hard. And finally there was this blowup, and I suppose it was all too much for him.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she answered. “Now I don’t know what we’re going to do. Do you have any ideas, Paul?”
Mr. Walker just shook his head sadly and said nothing.
Mrs. Walker looked at the clock and suggested that we go up to Christian’s room. When we got there, I was almost scared to go in because I didn’t know what I would see or hear. Did he look terrible? Would he talk to me? What could I possibly say that would help him? But I pulled the door open and walked in.
Christian was lying on his back propped up a little. If you can say that a Negro looks pale, he did. There was no color at all in his lips. His eyes were half-opened, and both lower arms were heavily bandaged. He had an IV in his arm that was dripping something into him.
Christian looked up, saw me, and tried to smile. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said. His voice was weak and unsteady. “Can you come and sit on the bed?”
“Is that allowed?” I asked, looking at Mrs. Walker. She nodded, so I sat very gently on the edge of his bed.
“Hold me,” he said. “Please, Peter, just hold me.”
I reached over carefully and gave him a gentle hug. He tried to hug me back but the bandages wouldn’t let him.
Mrs. Walker said, “Why don’t we adults go down the hall to the solar and let the boys have a little time together?” They all left.
“Christian,” I began, “I don’t think I could have stood it if you had died. I think I probably would have had to follow you.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Peter. I wasn’t thinking about you and I should have been. Did you know that my father slapped me?”
“Yes, your mom told us this morning.”
“I was so hurt. I loved him and I thought he loved me. That slap told me I was wrong. And then my mother didn’t back me up. They both had said that we were dirty and disgusting and they couldn’t trust us any more. By the time we got home I felt as if neither one of them loved me and that I was a terrible problem for them. I felt so alone. I thought about it all night. I thought about feeling guilty all summer, and I thought about poor Rodney, and I thought about everything that had happened since I got sent home from school. I finally decided I just couldn’t take it any more. Maybe, in some way, I thought it would punish my parents, but mostly, I just wanted to get away forever.”
“Christian, I told you before that you’re never alone. You’ll always have me no matter what you do or say.”
“I know. I remember that now, but I was just so overwhelmed by despair. Besides, there was no way I could even talk to you. They wouldn’t let me.”
“You weren’t wrong about your father loving you, Christian. He did love you and he does love you. I can see it in his face. He’s terribly upset and feeling so guilty about what he did he can’t even talk. And I know your mom loves you too. She’s heartbroken about what happened.”
“But if they love me, why did they treat me that way?”
“Well, your mom said that when she learned what had been going on, she felt as though her life was falling apart. My mom agreed. She said that one minute everything was fine, and the next minute she got the phone call from your mom and she felt shattered. I know we feel as though our worlds have shattered, but I think we need to remember that, right now, they feel the same way.”
“But if this is how life is going to be, I don’t think I could stand it.”
I was shocked. “Christian, are you thinking of trying again?”
“Not right now, no. But I don’t know what to do to make things any better. Do you think they’ll ever accept us for what we are? I’m not sure I can ever forgive them.”
“I don’t know if you can or not. I’m sure it’ll take a lot of talking, but we’ll have to remember that we have to listen as well as talk. After all, they do have their own point of view, and it won’t change overnight.”
The door opened and in walked Mr. Bennett, of all people. “Hello, Christian and Peter. Christian, I heard that you were here. What happened?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Christian answered.
“OK,” said Mr. Bennett, pulling up a chair, “you don’t have to. I called your house this morning and your cleaning lady told me that all your family was here, so I decided to come over, because I think I owe you a big apology, Christian.”
“Why?”
“Well, I made a very bad mistake. Call it a tactical error. When I talked with Carl and his two buddies, I talked with them together. Yesterday morning, I decided to talk with each of his friends alone. Each of them began telling the same story again, almost as though they had rehearsed it. But the more questions I asked, the weaker their stories got. Finally each of them confessed that he had lied. You see, they were both afraid of Carl. Just for your information, I have suspended both boys for a week for lying to me, and I have suspended Carl until after the New Year. Of course, his mother is furious and is now trying to get me in trouble with the Superintendent, but I think I can handle that. So, as soon as you’re ready, I want you to come back and we can try to put this behind us. OK?”
“It may be too late for Christian to put it behind him, or me either for that matter,” I said.
“Why? Has something happened that I don’t know about?” He looked at both of us, but neither of us spoke.
“Does it have anything to do with the bandages on your arm, Christian?” Again, neither of us spoke.
“Do you think it would help if I talked with your parents?”
Finally I nodded and said, “It might. I’m sorry, Mr. Bennett. I don’t think either of us means to be rude. It’s just that so much has happened since we were in your office that we’re not thinking very straight right now. Christian’s parents and my mother are in the solar at the end of the hall if you want to see them.”
“Thank you Peter. By the way, if you want to take a few days off from school to be with Christian, I don’t think there will be any problem.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
After he left, I asked Christian, “Well, what did you think of that?”
“I suppose it was good of him to come all the way here to tell me, but I’m not sure if I ever want to go back to that school or any school. I’m so confused, and I still feel hurt and miserable. You’re the only one I can talk to and the only one who I know loves me. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Well, nothing good can possibly come out of this if you won’t even talk to your parents. You know, I think they’re as hurt and miserable as you are. It’s going to take a long time for that hurt to heal for any of you, if it’s even possible.”
“So you think I should just talk to them as though nothing happened?”
“No, but maybe, if you want to know whether they still love you, you’ll have to ask them. Maybe you’ll have to ask your dad why he slapped you. Maybe you’ll have to tell them that you really do love them, because I know you do. You’re very angry, but you do love them.”
“Yes, I guess I do, really, but that’s why I’m so hurt.”
The door opened and our parents came back in.
Christian said, “I think maybe I need to rest for awhile. Could you come back a little later, Peter?”
I looked at my mother, who nodded, and I said, “Of course. I won’t be far away.” I leaned over and gave him another hug. Then I kissed him, very gently on the mouth. I heard a little gasp behind me, and so did Christian. I gave him a big wink, and walked out of the room with our parents.
In the afternoon, we had been back in Christian’s room for awhile, and Christian had begun to talk, very cautiously, but mostly to me and my mother. A man came into the room, introduced himself as Dr. Cushing, and asked if he could have a few minutes alone with Christian.
Mrs. Walker said, “Of course,” and told him we would be in the coffee shop if he wanted to see us.
By the time Dr. Cushing came into the shop, the grownups had all had at least two cups of coffee, and I had had two Cokes, even though I don’t like them. Mrs. Walker said at one point that it seemed as though having somebody in the hospital involved a lot of waiting. Mr. Walker had still said nothing the whole day. He just stared off into space.
Dr. Cushing invited us back up to Christian’s room, because, he said, he wanted to meet with all five of us. We went into the room and I noticed right away that Christian was sitting up a little more and that he looked a bit more cheerful.
I sat on the edge of his bed and held the tips of his fingers which were all that were uncovered on his hands. Our parents found chairs or stools to sit on, while Dr. Cushing stood.
“I should start by telling you that I’m a child psychiatrist on the staff of the hospital. I usually get called in on cases like this one. Christian and I have had a good first talk, and I want to suggest something. I think it would help if all of us in this room and Mr. Bradley met a few times together to try to understand what has happened and where you might go from here. Would you be willing to try that?”
I thought it a wonderful idea. The adults, even Mr. Walker, nodded.
“Christian has told me, Peter, that you and he are having a sexual relationship and that you are both homosexuals. Is that accurate?”
I nodded.
“OK. Everybody here needs to understand that I’m not going to try to ‘cure’ the boys. I have done a great deal of reading about homosexuality, and I’m convinced that, regardless of how we feel about the morality of it, it is not a sickness. I thoroughly believe that it is usually something that a person is born with, and that the person knows very early on that he or she is different. Can we agree that, at least for now, the hospital will not treat the boys as being sick?”
Christian and I nodded enthusiastically; the adults gave reluctant nods. I’m sure they had real reservations, but right now they were willing to try almost anything.
“If you want to do some reading, I could bring some things to our next meeting which you could share.”
“What about the Kinsey Report?” asked Mom.
“That’s something you might want to look at, but understand it doesn’t really take a position on whether homosexuality is good or bad. It does give you some statistics on the percentage of males who have had at least some homosexual experience, including boys the ages of your sons. There is something called the ‘Kinsey Scale,’ which might interest you, because there is a whole range of behavior between extremely homosexual and extremely heterosexual. Most people fall some place in between.”
“Where would we find a copy?” Mom asked.
“I know!” I chimed in. They all looked at me, surprised. They probably didn’t think I even knew what it was. “The library has a copy which the librarian keeps in her office. All you have to do is ask for it.” They were staring at me. “No, I’ve never actually seen it and I certainly haven’t read it, although I would like to hear what it has to say about us.”
There was a nervous little laugh in the room, and then we all burst out laughing, even Christian and me. I’m sure it was the first time any of us had laughed for days.
“All right, said Dr. Cushing, still chuckling. If all goes well, Christian will be released in three days. Why don’t we all meet together the day after tomorrow in my office, which is on the second floor. Agreed?”
We all nodded again and he left us with Christian.
“Maybe we should leave you all and let you get some rest,” My mother suggested.
Christian looked like he didn’t want me to leave, but I thought it might be good for him to have some time to try to start talking to his parents again, so I agreed. I gave Christian another hug and another kiss, and my mother and I left. We both had a lot to think about on the way home.