lab shorts - 6. Perceptions

The boy that sat across from me looked back with defiance in his eyes. There was no way anyone would change his mind.

I’d watched him and his buddy come in as I sat near the window with a cup of coffee in my hands. They’d been laughing and congratulating each other on a baseball game well played. Their boisterous attitude affected the other customers as they claimed a table near the kitchen. Smiles replaced frowns. Those that had been yawning earlier had come alive with the welcome exuberance of youth. The town wasn’t so large yet that an afternoon ballgame couldn’t grab the attention of the small crowd.

That had changed about midway through the boys early dinner.

With a shout of outrage, the larger of the two pushed away from the table. “Forget it, Toby. I won’t sit here another minute with a disgusting faggot. As far as I’m concerned, you are as good as dead.”

As he stalked toward the door, the patrons began to murmur. The sound grated on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. I heard the waitress shout his name, but he only shook his head and kept walking.

On the way to the door, he had to pass my table. I took the opportunity and grabbed hold of his arm before he could escape.

“Sit.”

I didn’t raise my voice but kept it at an even tone. Still, he knew not to go against my command. So he sat.

I took another sip of coffee then set the cup on the table. When I unclipped the handcuffs carried on my belt and set them on the table, fear was added to his defiance. I hoped to get through to the boy before having to use them. Probably not on him, but if he took his words outside…

A glance at the back table let me know that Toby was being taken care of and comforted. Still, the loss of his best friend had to feel like a sucker punch with a steel pole. I felt for the kid, even more since the words spoken had been from one of my own.

“Rick, I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you.”

I watched as a small flicker of emotion moved across his features before his face set in rigid indignation.

“Doesn’t matter”―the quaver in his voice belayed his rebellious look―”it’s disgusting and wrong.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

I took out a pen and set it, along with a small notebook, in front of him.

“Write out the reasons it’s wrong.”

When he started to take the pen, I slapped his hand. The nun at the next table gasped and I looked hard at her. “Would you rather I used a ruler?” She flushed and turned her attention back to her food.

Rick hadn’t made a noise but had pulled back his hand. I nodded at the pen and he reached for it again. Once more I slapped his hand.

“Ow! What’d you do that for?”

The back of his hand was red where it had been slapped and he rubbed it to try to take out the sting.

“Use the correct hand.”

“But this is the hand I write with.”

“It’s wrong.” I stared at him and picked up my coffee. “Use the hand everyone else uses.”

He picked up the pen with his right hand and fumbled as he tried to write. I knew he could if he concentrated hard enough. He’d had no choice when he’d fallen out of a tree a couple years prior and broken his left arm. But still, it was foreign to him.

The bible says so was his first reason.

I stopped him. “Exodus 21:17 - And he that curseth his father, or his mother, shall surely be put to death.”

Rick stared at me for a minute. “But―”

“No buts. When you yelled at your mother this morning, I should have taken you out back and stoned you to death according to the bible.”

I nodded at the pad of paper. “Continue.”

It goes against nature was his second reason.

He looked up at me, daring me to come up with something. I sat back and crossed my arms.

“Hershey will need to be put to sleep.”

His eyes opened wide in horror. “Why?”

“Nature did not produce her. She was produced by selective breeding, therefore, she goes against nature. And, have you noticed that she humps the neighbor dog when they play? She’s probably a lesbian. According to you, she’s disgusting and should be dead.”

I knew I hit a nerve, but evidently not hard enough to crack him.

Rick quickly transferred the pen to his left and got out the words he chose when I slapped his hand again.

“Stop hitting me!”

“Use the correct hand.”

“You know how hard it is to write with that hand. I’m left-handed.” Now the tears were spilling down his cheeks. “Dad, don’t you remember yelling at the teacher when I was six? You told her to let me use the hand I was born to use. Why are you doing this now?”

I clenched my jaw so hard it ached as I kept up the façade of stone.

“You said you loved me just as I was and that you always would. Why do you hate me now?”

Gently, I grasped Rick’s chin and turned his head toward the table where Toby sat sobbing into his mother’s blouse. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat and his clothes were filthy with the dirt of the field. His torn pants revealed scratches that no doubt came from sliding into home base for the winning run.

“What choice does Toby have but to be what he was born to be?”

“He could choose to be straight,” Rick mumbled through his tears.

“No more than you can choose not to be left-handed. Yes, it can be done. You go through the motions, but it is never right. It is never comfortable.” I turned his head to face me. “It is like forcing a square peg through a round hole. That is what is against nature.

“Toby hasn’t changed. He is still the boy that has been your best friend from the time you were born. The only thing changed is your perception. Do you really want to see him dead? Do you want what happened to your uncle to happen to Toby?”

Rick began to cry in earnest as he struggled to shake his head in my hands.

“Then do what is right, Rick. Love your best friend through the tough times.”

He nodded and stood. He took a couple steps toward the back but turned and jumped into my arms.

“Thanks, Dad. I’m sorry I was such a big jerk. I’ll try my hardest to do better.”

I hugged my first born and whispered in his ear. “Just be who you were born to be.”

By the time I left the café, leaving a dollar bill as tip for my coffee, the boys were laughing and all was right with my little spot of the world.