Chapter 3 – Someone to Listen

Jennifer became my only friend and helped me make it through my sophomore and junior years. Without her, I don’t think I’d have ever made it. Without her, I was alone. My parents drug me to church every Sunday, hoping they might save my soul. I’m kind of a meek kid and went, not just because they made me, but because I believe in God and believe God loves me, gay or not. Too bad my parents or the members of our church don’t believe it. During church services, adults and kids would look over at me. Sometimes, I’d see the younger ones pointing at me, and their parents telling them to stop it. Occasionally, the minister would talk about the evils of sex and homosexuality. And he always managed to take a quick glance at me.

Besides Jennifer and God, one other thing saved me, my smartphone. I bought it with my own money from a summer job I no longer had. Some of it was in my savings account. I opened a checking account and put the money in there so I could pay my phone bill every month. At least my parents continued to feed and clothe me. Otherwise, I don’t know what I’d have done.

My phone gave me contact with another world where I spent my free time looking at porn and reading gay stories. After all, I am gay. What else can a lonely gay boy do? The amount of gay stories on the Internet really surprised me. Living in the mountains, I often went fishing by myself or took walks with Max, my golden lab. I almost forgot about Max. (Sorry Max) He was my closest and best friend. He stood by me. He didn’t care if I was gay. I talked to him and cried with him. Max listened to me and didn’t care about the tears on his back or on his neck as I hugged him close. If you took all my tears from the time I came out until the spring of my junior year, they would have filled buckets.

Jennifer and I talked every day. If I didn’t see her at school, we’d talk on the phone at night. She didn’t care if I cried. She didn’t say only gay boys cry. She just let me cry as I tried my best to talk to her while wiping my runny nose and the tears from my cheeks.

“Don’t worry Willy.” She liked to call me Willy. “Everything will get better. Just hang in there.”

“I think I’m going in the Army after I graduate.”

“Don’t do that. You could get killed.”

“I know. I just as well be dead anyway. But what can I do. My parents aren’t going to help with college. At least in the Army I can get some training, and they’ll pay for college when I’m done.”

“Maybe so, but there have to be other ways.”

“Tell me!”

She stopped to think. “Well, you could go to community college.”

“Yeah, but I’d still be here with the same people who hate me.”

She giggled. “You gotta point.”

“So the Army it is, and if I die, maybe it will finally put me out of my misery.”

“Don’t talk like that. You’re special. You’re smart. You’ll make it. Believe in yourself. You’re my gay best friend. And yes, if you weren’t gay, maybe more than that.”

“Sorry, Jennifer. But I’m gay and we’ll just have to be friends.”

“You’re so cute. You’re going to make me cry.”

*****

Jennifer didn’t come to my house because of my parents, so I went to hers. We spent a lot of time in her bedroom talking. Most other guys would have killed to be in a girl’s bedroom on a regular basis, but not me.

Her parents didn’t mind me being The Gay Boy. That’s probably why Jennifer didn’t care either. They often fed me and were probably glad I was gay and not trying to seduce their daughter, who was a year younger than me. Jennifer’s nice looking and has an enticing smile. Not beautiful, but nice on the eyes. She has a good figure. It didn’t mean anything to me because I was far more interested in a guy’s figure than a girl’s.

We were in her bedroom lying next to each other on her bed one afternoon, when I turned my head to her. “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I’ve been reading this gay story called Knots. It’s about two boys and the knots they tie in their lives. You know. We all tie them. I tied a big one when I came out of the closet. Anyway, the idea of tying knots intrigued me. The image stuck in my head. There’s some sex in it, but it’s not the sex. It’s the story. I love it when either of the boys, Matt or Andy, reflect on what they’ve done and how it affects them. It’s like they’re letting me in on their biggest secrets. I wrote the author a short email. I was a little afraid at first since I’m only seventeen and maybe too young to be reading these stories, so didn’t tell him my age. He’s older. I think in his seventies.”

Jennifer gave me a look of surprise. “And he writes young adult gay porn?”

“Yep.”

“Did he write you back?”

She rolled on her side to look at me. I rolled toward her. “Yeah, the next day. That was way back in April. He said thanks for following and told me he appreciated my nice comments. I kept reading and wrote him another email again telling him how much I liked his story. He wrote back right away with another thank you. It was then I started wondering if he’d be willing to be my mentor. I’m miserable and don’t have an adult to talk too. I’ve been thinking maybe I could talk to him.”

Jennifer rolled on her back as I did the same. She grabbed my hand and held it. “Do you think that’s a good idea? Why don’t you go online to well-known safe chat rooms and talk to other gay teens?”

“I made the mistake of listening to all that bullshit on YouTube and look where it got me. No other gay guys came out of the closet. I’m thrown against the lockers almost every day, and I’m a leper to everyone but you. Those YouTube videos made it sound like it was the right thing to do. The people on those chat lines will tell me to hang in there and be honest about who I am. They’ll tell me how hard it was for them, but they’re making it. And as you know, misery loves company, so I’d be hanging out with a lot of other miserable gay guys. Coming out sounds good when you see and hear them say it, but the reality in my life has given me nothing but despair. It might have been different if we didn’t live in the boonies and went to a big high school. Why couldn’t I be like everyone else instead of The Gay Kid?”

Jennifer squeezed my hand. “And you think this old guy is going to be able to help?”

I squeezed back. “I don’t know, but it’s worth a try. Things couldn’t get worse. Maybe he’s a wise old man. It seems like it from his writing.”