When we got back to the beginning of the path leading into the woods, Terry told John to stop and rest while he went to get the wheelchair. He brought it back and then pushed John over by the bench, where both Terry and I sat down to rest also.
We sat there quietly for a couple moments. The park was still warm even though the sun was beginning to drop. A few people were now scattered about in the park, wandering around or sitting on blankets out on the lawn. This was a good time for young couples to get together, to walk hand in hand or sit in private, and the bridge was a favorite meeting place, so we were no longer alone.
We’d been on the bench for a few minutes when I noticed two men, probably in their early twenties and so not all that much older than we were, walking together up to the path leading to the bridge. The way they were walking, something about it struck me, and I watched them. Then I was surprised, because when they reached the bridge and stood at the railing looking out at the slowly passing water just as we’d all done earlier, one of the men reached over and grasped the hand of the other. It was not really all that noticeable, and only the fact that I’d been watching them before it happened allowed me to see it. I immediately wondered if Terry and John had noticed, and I glanced at them.
They were both looking at the men, too. None of us said anything, and it was the first time all afternoon since we’d all been standing where the couple was now standing that we were so silent.
The men stood watching the water, holding hands and obviously enjoying a moment together, oblivious to anyone else around them. They stood together for several minutes, their focus entirely on the stream and being together, then turned and started back the way they’d come. They couldn’t avoid seeing us staring at them when they turned around. One of them, the taller of the two, got a startled look on his face which then almost immediately became blank. I saw him quickly try to pull his hand away. His partner, however, gripped him more firmly and wouldn’t let go. The partner looked up at his friend, smiled reassuringly at him, then looked back at us and smiled at us, too.
Our bench was several yards off the path. They stayed on the path and passed by us. Neither of them said a word. The smiling one nodded very slightly at us. None of us said a word either; I don’t really know why we didn’t. But Terry returned the smile and gave it back to them with a nod.
John looked at me, and a very faint blush formed on his cheeks. I was surprised he didn’t speak, but his assertive personality seemed to be missing at the moment; he almost seemed like a small boy who had witnessed something outside his experience and didn’t quite know what to say. What about me, though? I didn’t know how to express my feelings either.
Terry didn’t have that problem. I’m not sure there was a social situation Terry didn’t know how to handle. What he said surprised me: “Good for them.”
“Huh?” I didn’t understand his meaning.
“I like to see two guys being able to hold hands out in public if that’s what they want to do. I don’t think it’s fair that a guy and girl can hold hands and two guys can’t. I think it shows those two have some courage, they aren’t ashamed of who they are, they aren’t embarrassed and they have some confidence that they’re safe here in this park and don’t have to hide. That says a lot about them and about all of us who use this park. It makes me happy to see it. I like to see them having the courage to express themselves.”
For some reason, I needed to look at John, to assess how he felt about what Terry had said, and he must have felt the same thing because he looked up at me at the same moment. Should I say something? I didn’t want to do that. This was one of the areas where even thinking about it felt threatening. But I was curious about what John was thinking.
John seemed uncomfortable, too. But he was able to avoid freezing up the way I had. He also knew Terry much better than I did, and he addressed him.
“Terry, you’re thinking about Gary, aren’t you?”
Terry, for one of the first times I’d been around him, seemed slightly taken aback by the question, or maybe just by John’s perception. He actually looked down for a second before answering. His answer was very matter of fact, however.
“Yeah, a little, I guess. I hadn’t realized it, but, yeah, I am. It’s just that I hate unfairness, whatever form it takes, and the way gay guys are treated so often—especially young gay guys—it just pisses me off. And then there is Gary, too. I’m sure he’s a big part of why I feel what I do.”
I was putting two and two together. “Is Gary the brother you said was at college?” I broke in to ask. I felt sort of out of the loop here.
Terry answered me. “Yeah, that’s right. He’s gay. He had a lot of problems growing up, a lot of problems most kids don’t have to deal with, and it really bothered me because he was always so nice to me. I mean, sometimes older brothers can be hard on their younger sibs, real assholes, you know? Or they simply ignore them. You look up to them, you even worship the ground they walk on, you make a conscious effort to copy what they do, and they ignore you. He wasn’t that way at all. He looked out for me and was a great friend and we spent time together and talked a lot.”
Terry was getting into this and his voice was rising. “So when I saw what he had to go through, how unfairly he was treated and all, it ticked me off. People have all these stereotypes of gays, and most of them are ridiculous. Some people hate them, but don’t even know them. They’re taught that, I guess, or they just like being able to get away with being mean to some people and have that behavior excused because, after all, it’s only gay kids they’re mean to, and what’s wrong with that? That’s so sick! I think it’s getting better around here, in general, but it’s still so much harder for gay kids than straight kids, and that isn’t fair.”
Terry had a gay brother? I suddenly realized I didn’t know much of anything about him. I had to ask. “What happened to him? He’s okay, isn’t he? You said he was at college.”
“Yeah, he is. But while he was in high school, it was tough. He was on the football team, and then he got outed in his junior year. He wasn’t a star, just one of the kids that played. He went from being a player and part of the team with a load of friends and an active social life to an outcast, and it happened in a matter of a few days. His whole life was turned upside down. The quarterback was a homophobe and he turned against Gary, and when he did that he let everyone know that anyone remaining friendly to Gary was a faggot too, in his mind. He had a lot of power at their school and life went from fun for Gary to pretty awful. Kids he’d been friends with for years suddenly looked right through him, or even said things to him you couldn’t believe.”
Terry’s voice had grown emotional and it was clear this was an issue he still had some problems talking about. He obviously cared a great deal. He stopped and looked into the distance, thinking, and his expression became sad, which was entirely atypical of Terry.
When he continued, his voice was more reflective. “He changed, you know? It changed him. His whole personality changed. He went from bright and happy and outgoing to quiet and withdrawn and tentative in social situations. It was a complete reversal for him. His entire senior year, he was isolated and when not merely left alone, often ridiculed or worse. It was awful. No one his age had the courage to help him, to even talk to him. I watched, and it hurt. I tried to be supportive, but it was the reactions of his former friends that devastated him, and there wasn’t anything I could do about that. I spent more time with him, but it wasn’t what he needed most. He needed acceptance from his peers, he needed people acknowledging with their words or actions that he was still an okay guy. He didn’t receive that.”
Neither John nor I said anything.
I felt I should speak up, just to break the silence and darkening mood, but I was on very shaky ground here and more than anything else simply wanted to avoid the topic entirely. I wisely kept quiet, thinking John might say something, and I might not only be able to maintain my silence but also learn his views on this, just to satisfy my curiosity.
After a couple minutes, it was actually Terry who spoke first. “I’m sorry to kill the mood, guys. This is just something that upsets me and probably always will. But I didn’t mean to bring us all down.”
“Don’t worry about it, Terry. Believe me, I know what it’s like to have people look at you as something different. Being stuck in this damn chair, most people seem to think I’m contagious. Some of them feel sorry for me. That’s bad enough. Having them go out of their way to be nasty… I don’t know how I’d manage that.”
John was looking at Terry with compassion, which I found a little disconcerting as the tables were definitely turned in this instance. Also, it occurred to me that John, while being sympathetic and understanding, had moved past the point in the discussion where I could learn anything of his own views about gay kids.
As for myself, this whole topic had been poking into areas I avoided with a passion, and I wasn’t feeling so comfortable any longer.
However, I did have a plausible reason for legitimately excusing myself this time. It was about time for me to get home. This had been a special afternoon for me. I’d been with friends, everything had been restful and gentle, and I’d been able to loosen a few of the bricks that were mortared in the solid wall I’d built around myself. That was quite a change for me and I’d enjoyed myself. I was getting a warm feeling toward both Terry and John, getting to feel they were my friends, which was both exciting and scary. I was able to relax around them, and that was very meaningful to me.
I told them it was time for me to head out. We made plans to eat lunch together tomorrow, and I left.
~ ~
At lunch the next day, Terry had some news.
“Guys, I’ve got a situation here. The coach has changed our football practice from this evening to this afternoon. We usually practice at night because it’s so much cooler, but there’s a soccer match being played on our field tonight. We’re going to practice right after school because of that. This means I can’t take you home, John. Now what I was wondering was, Tim, could you take him home? If you can, great, but otherwise he’ll have to call his mother or find someone else.”
John got a little red in the face, his slightly cocky, slightly sarcastic, always assertive personality coming to the fore. “I wish you wouldn’t talk as if I’m some sort of retarded ten-year-old. Damn, Terry, I’m right here and can take care of myself, and you’re talking around me like I can’t even hear you. You don’t have to run my life for me.” He glared at Terry.
Terry had the good sense to look a little embarrassed.
I spoke up, and having been listening, I spoke to John, not Terry. “I’d be happy to take you home after school. I’m not doing anything. If you’d like me to do that, just say so. I don’t want to jump in where I’m not wanted, though; you know, like interfering with any plans you might have.”
John looked at me with a slight grin on his face. “Hey, that’d be great.” Then, looking at Terry, he said, “See, he asks! He treats me like a person. Wise up, you dumb jock.”
Terry rolled his eyes and very pointedly thanked me for helping John and didn’t respond to John’s rebuke at all. I thought the interplay between them was funny and couldn’t refrain from laughing.
That immediately made me think of Eliot. Was he watching and getting mad again? I glanced at his table. It was empty. Its emptiness was disquieting. It was strange, not seeing him there, and the sight of the lonely table made me feel defensive, though I didn’t think there was any reason I should be. I hadn’t seen him since he’d run out. Now he wasn’t where he always ate lunch. I looked around the room but didn’t see him anywhere. Was he absent from school? Or was he simply eating his lunch somewhere else?
But, more importantly, if the answer to either of those questions was ‘yes’, then why? Was I responsible for that?
“Terry,” I asked, “did you ever catch up with Eliot?”
“No, I haven’t seen him at all today. I was looking, too. I see he isn’t eating where he usually does.”
“I’m sure we’ll see him sooner or later,” said John, “but it does make you wonder.”
With that, we left the subject of the missing Eliot and talked of other things. At the end of lunch period, this time I took the trays and Terry attended to John after telling me where to meet him after school let out.
I was looking forward to going to John’s house after school. It was funny to think about it, because, originally, I’d been dreading being alone with John. It hadn’t been very many days since I’d even had words with Terry about it, and told him in no circumstances was he to leave us alone together. So why was I now looking forward to this?
I guess I’d spent more time with John now and understood him better. I thought about him and surprised myself by realizing that, while it would be the easiest thing in the world to feel sorry for him, I didn’t. Not at all. His attitude sort of precluded that. No, I didn’t feel sorry for him, but I did look forward to spending more time with him and getting to know him better, to learning more about him. For some reason, I wanted to do that. And now I’d be getting my opportunity.