aterovis_bm_reapthewhirlwind.p65 (11 page)

My mind froze.

I’d just said I was gay. Not out loud granted, but in my head. That still counted for something, right? Was I? If I thought I was gay, then I must be. I mean, I should know, right? The room was spinning again. This time I didn’t resist the urge to stick my head between my knees and take deep breaths. Once I had regained some mo-dicum of control, my course of action suddenly seemed crystal clear. I switched on my computer and quickly typed up a letter of resignation. I left it on my desk, picked up the anonymous letter Dad had left, and left the church without another word.

I was sitting in the recliner at home, staring at the TV

when Aidan got home.

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“Hey, Will,” he called as he came in. “How come the TV’s not on?”

I turned my head slowly to face him. “I quit my job today.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m gay.”

“You’re—but—I mean—” he took a breath and collapsed onto the couch. “Okay. What does that have to do with quitting your job?”

“Someone wrote a letter to my dad and told him I was gay.”

“What? Who? What did your dad do?”

“I don’t know who wrote it. It wasn’t signed. Dad asked me if it was true.”

“And you told him…”

“I didn’t tell him anything. I couldn’t even talk. But he knows.”

Aidan stood up and began to pace in an agitated manner. “I’m moving out. I can’t let this happen. I won’t ruin your life, too.”

“You’re not going anywhere. This isn’t your fault. Sit down, you’re making me dizzy.”

He sat down heavily. “I mean this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t moved in with me.”

“Oh please, I was in love with Joey long before I met you. It was just a matter of time. By the way, you don’t seem surprised that I’m gay.”

“I’m not. Well, I mean—I figured. I thought it would take you longer to deal with it though, you know, with all your religious stuff to work through.”

“I don’t know if I have dealt with it yet.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

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The phone rang, saving me from trying to answer a question for which I didn’t have an answer. Aidan picked it up quickly.

“It’s for you,” he said with an unreadable expression as he handed me the phone.

“Yes?” I said woodenly into the handset.

“Will?” It was my mom. She sounded like she’d been crying.

“Yes.”

“Will, your father said you quit today.”

“Yes.”

“Will, why?”

“It was either that or get fired.”

“He said it was because you think you’re gay.”

“Yes.”

“Oh Will! You can’t be!” she cried.

“Mom, I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“There’s counseling, I heard about it on the radio—”

“I don’t think so, Mom.”

A strangled sob filled my ear, “You know we can’t accept this; we can’t condone it.”

“I know,” I said quietly. I felt a tear escape the corner of my eye and slide down my cheek.

“I’ll always love you, Willie.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Your father says you’re not welcome back here unless you get counseling.” She burst into sobs. “He says to read Hosea 8:7,” she managed to choke out before I heard the click of the phone as she hung up. The line went dead, but I held the phone numbly in my hand until a recorded voice came on and informed me that if I wanted to make a call I needed to hang up and try again.

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I stood up and handed the phone back to Aidan who was watching me with a worried expression. I walked down the hall to my room and picked up my worn Bible.

I turned to Hosea and found the indicated verse. “For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.”

***

Even Laura’s commands fell on deaf ears.

For the first time in my life, I found myself thinking about suicide, but worse, the idea wasn’t at all as re-pugnant as I’d always imagined it would be. It held a certain alluring charm, a promise of escape, of no more pain and confusion. I didn’t dare mention it to anyone, but as each day passed, I grew more and more obsessed with the idea of killing myself. I’d never asked to be gay and I damn well didn’t want to be gay. My family hated me, my best friend hated me, I didn’t have a job—

what did I have to live for? It seemed like the perfect solution.

I even drew pictures of the various methods I was considering. One showed me seemingly asleep on the bed—until you noticed the empty pill bottles lying next to me. Another showed me hanging from a noose from the fire escape. My personal favorite though was of me in a pool of blood with my wrists laid open.

Friday morning dawned gray and miserable. I decided it was a perfect day to bring one of those sketches to life. Who would even miss me? I pulled the sketches out from under my bed where I’d been hiding them 97

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and tried to decide which I liked the most. I immediately discarded the hanging one for purely practical reasons. I didn’t know how to tie a noose. Besides, I’d heard it was a horrible way to die. After checking the medicine cabinet, I had to forget the OD method too.

The strongest thing we had was two cough drops and some mouthwash. I somehow doubted they could pull it off. On the other hand, I would have nice breath when they found me. Ah, gallows humor—gotta love it.

That left me with slashing my wrists. I was morbidly pleased since a bloody death appealed to that dark romantic side of me. I waited until Aidan was gone before slipping out of bed and into the kitchen. I sorted through our knives, disappointed to realize we didn’t have many to choose from and what we did have wouldn’t cut through hot butter. I needed a sharp knife so it would be quick, before I lost my nerve. I finally chose one that was marginally sharper than the rest.

Now, where to do the deed? I went through several ideas before deciding the kitchen was as good a place as any; definitely the easiest place to clean up.

The thought of a note went through my head but considering the circumstances, I didn’t think one was necessary. Those involved would know why and no one else needed to know. Besides who would I address it to? To whom it may concern? Then I thought about writing up a will, but I didn’t have anything worth leaving to anyone and I wasn’t at all sure I was of sound mind and body at the moment and I was pretty sure that was a requirement.

Finally, I ran out of stall tactics. It was now or never.

I took a deep breath, placed the edge of the blade against my wrist, and froze. I couldn’t seem to make myself do 98

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it. Just then, I heard a fumbling at the door and before my befuddled mind could react, Aidan walked in.

“Hey,” he said as he appeared in the kitchen door.

“It’s good to see you up. I forgot my—” he stopped suddenly when he saw the knife in my hand. “Oh my God, Will—what are you doing?”

I gripped the knife harder and pressed so hard against my skin that a thin cut sliced through and a small trickle of blood ran down my wrist. I gasped from the pain and Aidan’s eyes bulged. “Don’t!” he shouted.

“Why?” I asked in a barely audible voice. “Why shouldn’t I kill myself? What do I have to live for?”

“Will, you have your whole life ahead of you. You’re only eighteen. I know things are hard right now, but this isn’t the answer.” As he spoke, he inched slowly closer to me.

“Then what is the answer?”

“I don’t know, Will, but I promise this isn’t it. I’ll help you find it though; I know someone who can help. He’s my professor, a really nice guy. I want you to talk to him.”

“A shrink?”

“He’s a psychiatrist; a good one. I think he can help.”

“You think I need to be fixed too.”

“No, I just think—”

“No!”

“Please, think of all the people you would be hurting.”

“Like who? My parents? I’m not even welcome in their home anymore. My best friend? He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“How about Laura? And Asher? And what about me?

I care about you, Will.” He had gradually crept closer 99

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until he was now within arm’s reach. He stretched out his hand and looked at me pleadingly. “Please Will, don’t do this. Give me the knife. Right now, all you can see is the darkness but there is light, I promise. I promise you, Will.”

Suddenly it was as if everything drained out of me.

The knife slipped from my fingers with a clatter as it struck the tiles. I crumpled slowly after it, my body wracked with enormous sobs that seemed to originate from the depths of my soul and shudder their way through my whole being. Aidan was at my side with his arms around me before I even hit the floor. We sat on the kitchen floor with his arms around me while he gently rocked me and I sobbed into his shoulder. I felt his tears mixing with my own and I knew he was hurting with me, sharing my pain. It somehow made the pain that much more bearable.

“I’m getting blood on your shirt,” I blubbered.

“I don’t care,” he said gently, then lifted me up like a small child and carried me to the sofa where he carefully laid me down. He ducked into the kitchen long enough to grab a dishtowel which he wrapped tightly around my wrist.

“It’s not deep. I’ll get a bandage and you’ll be fine,”

he said.

Then, keeping a concerned eye on me, he flipped through his address book and made a phone call. He spoke in low tones that I couldn’t quite make out, not that I tried all that hard. After he hung up, he picked me up again and carried me down the hall.

In the bathroom, he began pulling my clothes off. I didn’t even protest I was so wiped out. I felt as if I had been turned inside out, beaten, and then turned right 100

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side in again. When he had me stripped to my boxers, he turned the shower on and placed me under the spray.

The cold water hit me like a slap in the face. Even with the bracing coolness, Aidan still had to practically hold me up and by the time the water was turned off, he was as soaked as I was.

He wrapped a thick, fluffy towel around my shiver-ing body and once more lifted me up and carried me into the bedroom. He set me on the bed then turned to pull some clothes out of the dresser. He laid them next to me.

“Think you can get dressed while I change?” he asked gently.

I nodded and he left. I obediently started pulling on the clothes he had set out, feeling like a little kid, but not minding all that much. He was back much quicker than I would have thought possible and helped me finish getting dressed.

“Let’s go,” he said when I was once more clothed.

“Go where?” I asked meekly.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Then let’s go.”

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Aidan’s car pulled to a stop in an area clearly marked no parking in front of one of the less prominent buildings on his campus. The university was a small but respected liberal arts school, built in a historic district of town around the turn of the century as an alternative to the stuffier, business-oriented college on the other side of town. Most of the buildings were red brick with white trim and this one was no different, but it was obviously an afterthought and not part of the original layout.

Aidan jumped out of the car and came around to open my door. “Come on,” he said.

“Why are we here?” I protested weakly.

“Follow me” was all he said. I climbed out and followed through the front door and down a short hall to a door marked with the name Dr. E. H. Wohler in simple gold lettering. We entered a room so small that if you sat on the provided sofa your knees almost touched the wall in front of you. It looked like they had comman-deered a supply closet for their waiting room. A pleasant looking, slightly plump middle-aged woman sat at a desk behind a half-wall that served as a counter. She looked up as we entered.

“I’m Aidan Scott,” Aidan said. “I called Dr. Wohler 102

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earlier; he’s expecting us.”

“Yes, go right in,” she said. She had a pleasant voice to match her pleasant look.

I balked slightly at that point, but Aidan took me gently but firmly by the arm and pulled me along. When we stepped into the office, it actually took me by surprise, even in the shape I was in. The difference between the sad, cramped lobby and this large but cozy room was like night and day. The harsh fluorescent lighting had been replaced with warm incandescent lamps.

Thick oriental rugs had covered up the industrial grade carpet, and instead of a worn institutional couch, there were two inviting armchairs facing a large wooden desk.

A man was standing behind the desk waiting expectantly for us. He was on the short side, not much taller than I was, with a receding hairline and glasses. He was wearing a tailored gray suit that spoke his success as clearly as if he’d hung a sign around his neck that read,

“I’m rich.”

“Hello, Aidan, it’s good to see you,” the man, I pre-sumed him to be Dr. Wohler, said. “And you must be Will?”

I looked uncertainly at Aidan. What exactly had he told Wohler? Aidan and the doctor shook hands.

“Thanks for seeing us on such short notice, Doc,”

Aidan said as he gently pushed me into one of the two chairs. He sat down in the other and the doctor settled into his plush executive chair.

“No problem, I always try to make time for my most promising student, and besides I just happened to have a cancellation on my schedule,” he said the last with a small smile that showed he was kidding. “I just hope I can be of assistance. You said on the phone that it was 103

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an emergency?”

I turned a glare on Aidan, but he didn’t even glance in my direction. “Dr. Wohler, can we have your complete confidentiality about what we are going to say?”

For a moment, the doctor looked somewhat insulted, then he looked at me, and an unspoken message seemed to pass between him and Aidan. He nodded, “Of course, as you know, any information that should come out while we are talking is held in complete confidence.”