"Honey!" My mother's voice bounded up the stairs and alerted me to the fact that I had already slept well past the time I had planned to get up. "Hurry up! You're father and I are going to drop you off today. We're so proud of you, you know that, right?" she stood in my door frame and cleaned her fragile hands on a dish rag.
"Thanks" she smiled that smile that only mothers have and left me sitting up in my bed. I didn't want to get up; I didn't want to move from that peace that my covers encased me in. But I knew I had to. I stayed lying in bed silently for a couple of minutes, until I realized it was impossible to avoid the inevitable. At that point I reluctantly threw the comforter off of my body and I began lethargically moving towards the bathroom.
I stripped off my pajamas and climbed into the shower. In there was the only place where I felt normal; I was cleaned from all crimes. The steaming water would rush over my sinful body and I scrubbed until my skin became red and raw. My mother would quizzically look at me whenever I returned from my hour long shower sessions, I would simply tell her "I lost track of time," she would smile and pat me on the head. That first day of school was one of those days.
"Are you ready honey, is everything packed?" she waltzed gorgeously over to me and wrapped one slender arm around my shoulder.
"Yes Mom" I stared down at her short stature and gave one of my best grins. "I'm ready when you are" at that time I couldn't figure out why my mother—the mother who always babied her son—would want to ship her son off to boarding school. But it wasn't long after my first week that I realized that she knew, she had always known.
The drop off was the worse part. She looked into my eyes and began to cry, she quickly embraced me in a hug and whispered into my ear "I will always love you—understand this is for the better"
"I love you too" and before I knew where my room was, she had already gone.
Although we had always been a strong Catholic family, nothing would have prepared me for the first sermon I heard at school. Everything was amplified to the umpteenth degree. I stared shocked and confused as the priest's voice shouted through the cathedral. It bounced off every wall and shattered my ears as his words ricocheted through out the crowd. I turned to my roommate and asked, "Do you suppose he's always like this?" he laughed, and that got us both a weeks worth of detention.
That was the most amazing and the most frightening week of my life. He made me think about the thoughts I constantly tried to rid my mind of. He made me care about how I looked. He made me laugh real laughs during the day. He made me cry real tears at night. He made me think about everything I didn't want to, but most of all, he made me love him.
I never wanted to confront the issue, the reason why my mom sent me to a Catholic school. I knew that it wasn't something I could be—so why waste time worrying about it.
One day while serving out our detention he grabbed my hand and placed it in his. It felt so right, but that night I spent throwing up and praying for forgiveness. I wasn't going to judge him, he was confused and his soul needed saving, but I knew better and it wasn't okay for me.
That entire year I would sit in bed reciting bible passages, whispering loud enough for God to hear me, but not loud enough for him to hear me. For an entire year we never mentioned what happened. We talked, but never about that first week of school.
The next year began similar to the previous one. We once again found ourselves serving a week long detention together. Once again all of my dreams were plagued with images of the two of us. We would be in detention, I would blink, we would be naked, he would kiss me—I would wake up in a sticky cold sweat.
It was a mirror of what happened the year before. Every thought I had was about him. And once again, he would make me think about the ideas I tried to forget. He made me splash on cologne before I went to detention. He made me remember all of thing I didn't want to and once again he made care about him more than I should have.
On our last day he walked up to me and put my hand in his once again. Our fingers intertwined, but I didn't pull away this time, "I think I'm falling in love with you," as I said this he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it.
"I already fell in love"
For the next two and a half years we slept in he same bed, we showered at three in the morning—just so we could be alone together, we whispered about love and our future together, and we partook in some of the most deadliest sins in his bed.
"Why don't we ever do this in your bed?"
"I couldn't sleep in it if we did" he didn't question my reasoning, but I don't think he really thought about what I was saying either. As we lay silently cuddling, he turned toward me and brushed a string of hair from my eyes.
"We need to tell someone" I remember so vividly what happened when his words reached my brain. I jumped out of that bed and stood stone still until his voice brought me back to reality.
"No, we can't" I paced around the room "I can't" my voice was cracking and I could feel my eyes swell with tears. He stopped me mid stride and placed two loving hands on my shoulders, there was no doubt he was crying too.
"Yes, we have to. Please, I need to. I can't live this lie any longer. I love you, and I want the world to know about it. I want everyone to know about it." His words sent me into a hysteric break down and I knelt down on the ground and began to sob even louder and stronger than ever before "You can't hide forever, you can't change who you are, we can't change what we are"
"I have to go. I can't stay here right now, I have to go" I stood up and ran out faster than I ever have since. I ran straight to confession.
"Forgive me Father for I have sinned" I paused, I couldn't think of what to say, looking back I know the outcome would have been different if I had rehearsed everything.
"Continue" the voice on the other side of the screen encouraged me.
"I've tried to hold my own for so long, and I've been trying to get over all of these…feelings…but I can't let go of them. Father, I'm…" I can't say the word "Father, I'm…I can't even say it"
"I know what you're saying"
"Oh God, please, I need your help, what should I do?"
"I needn't remind you that these feelings are sins and that you need to curve these thoughts. Turn to God in your hours of need and he will be there for you. Life has only just begun for you, you can change. You can still mold your future"
When I returned to our room he was sitting at his desk, there was a piece of blank lined paper in front of him. This symbolized an obvious failed attempt to begin his homework.
"We're graduating in less than a week" he looked up from his desk.
"I know" I said as I remained standing.
"We can runaway together, we can runaway right now. You'll see the light, you will know that this lie is no life to live" he stood up and I backed away.
"I can't. I have a good Catholic life ahead of me. What we're doing it's wrong—" That night I was yelling loud but he yelled louder.
"It's love" he fired back.
"It's love—but it's still wrong. Have you ever read the bible? Do you even know what happens to people who are…" the words was impossible for me to say
"Gay?" He said as if he was offended. As if he thought my love for him was fraud, what he couldn't see was I had put everything on the line for him.
"Yes. Do you know what happens to people who are that? They are condemned; I won't be condemned for loving someone."
"What will you do? Are you going to pretend to be straight? Are you going to just choose not to be with anyone again for the rest of your life? "
"Yes. If I can't hide from these feelings, I'll make it impossible for me to act on them"
All of these memories rush back to my mind, it's all I can think about and when he finishes talking all I can say is "I'm sorry Peter"
