Intermission
an excerpt

It had only been two days since I had pulled my sister out of what I had thought of at the time as a terrorist attack. She had been shaken, and the security that had been outside when we escaped had only wanted routine questioning. Shaken and scared, that’s what she had been.
Of course, our parents had their input, as many of the parents did. They wanted answers, and the preacher wanted answers the most. He had been right in the middle of his talk.
His speech. It had gotten to me a little bit. I was expecting to sit through another sermon about safe sex and not doing drugs, but I had never expected him to bring up homosexuality. The word struck fear into my heart.
I remembered the boys in middle school walking down the hallway, pulling my hair or pushing me against the wall. “Faggot!” They screamed. “You gonna suck my dick, you little faggot?” I had been confused. I did not present myself that way. Maybe I couldn’t help it. I mean, most of the boys that tortured me through middle school were attractive to me. I couldn’t help but to hope for a kiss or maybe his posse and him could gang bang me, one at a time. I would hope they would throw me against the wall and lean far enough in to where their pelvic area would touch me. Caress every time that they pushed their elbow further into my throat.
I got up from my desk and shook off my retrospective grief. I could not be gay. I could not tell my parents that I would like to get it on with Brad Pitt or James Marsden. It would be familial suicide, and I would have no way to pay for college or a place to live.
I wanted to tell Reese so bad, but I was so afraid that she would reject me and tell Mom and Dad. I wanted to believe that I could trust her to keep this secret. It was probably just a phase anyways. I had heard about a lot of people assuming that they were gay and then realizing that it was just a phase.
Plus, gay people were prone to AIDS, and they were also known to be pedophiles, recruiters, and promiscuous, unfaithful. That is what I was told back home. My hometown preacher made it very clear that homosexual were not accepted in the Christian community.
Sometimes I wanted to argue, play devil’s advocate, just to see what the preacher would say. I thought God loved everyone? Since when did one sentence in the Bible become so forcibly interpreted? Questions soared around, but I never had the gall to ask. I did not want to end up being sent to a psychologist or put into any type of therapy for something that was just a phase.
I sighed and finished my coffee. Then, I went into my bedroom and grabbed my hat to throw over my unsightly do. Keys, wallet, phone, gum. Check on all four.
It was nice outside today. The breeze was calm, and the trees appeared to have started gaining a little flash of red here or a sprinkle of yellow there. I always loved Georgia in the fall. Sometimes I would get into my car back home near Fort Mountain and just drive down the two-lane backroads, groveling in picture perfect nature and how the trees surrounded both sides, hugging the road’s curves. It comforted me, surpassing the car doors and windows, surrounding me in streaming tri-colors. The skies back home during the Fall were always bright with a baby blue background. This background was accented by groups of clouds, floating around the sun as if it contained a countermagnetism. I neared the entrance of the Student Center, where the College Fair was being held, and felt a little better about the school already.
The Student Center was designed as a resource for the serious student, my friend Carisa had explained. The first four of the five floors contained computer labs, the third story had a Zapper’s Coffee & Deli, and every floor save one had a minimum of 20 private or group study areas that were about 75% soundproof. The group study rooms provided a standard size marker board for easier studying.
I worked my way to the elevator and reached the fifth floor. When the silver doors opened, I stepped out into a room with a plethora of college students. Other kids in the elevator pushed out around me, some running for the Fraternity and Sorority rush week signups while others scrambled to be first at the FPRA (Future Public Relations of America) table.
I decided to start at the left end, first kiosk, and work my way around. Since I didn’t know exactly what my dream job was, it only made sense to view all options.
The first kiosk consisted of the History Department, who was giving presentations about World War II and the Wright Brothers and showing the different types of jobs you could do, including being an historian or leading archaeological studies in Egypt or Japan. I moved only, not looking to be an Egyptologist. The second kiosk was surprisingly different.
The Baptist Department was headed by Philip Trump, the preacher who opened the ceremony the night before. He was behind the kiosk.
“If you join the Baptist Department today, you will have a chance at being by God and Jesus’ side in holy worship! By joining the Baptist Department today, you will live your life for God and do what he has sent you down here to do. By joining today, you will not stray off track into this Agnoticism, this Darwinism, this Evolutionism. You will live by the word of the Heavenly Father and learn how to venture out into this world and live your live through Christ, our Lord!”
I could not help but to notice some of the professors in the History Department’s kiosk throwing crude glances at Professor Trump. It surely had to do with the one-sided approach Trump was taking. Which seemed to be a staple of his beliefs. If you were to live your life as a fundamental Christian, there was only one side: against homosexuality, for celibacy until marriage, against piercings, tattoos, parties, dancing, going somewhere “un-Christian”. The list was endless.