Kickass Anthology (34 page)

“Uh… no, Dad. I never forget that, not even for a minute.”

After a brief silence, where Dad tried to figure out what was wrong with me based on nothing but the depressed tone of my voice, he asked, “What’s up, son? You sound like… like you have something on your mind.”

“Nah, it’s not a big deal and…” My big confession wasn’t going well at this point. I just hated to disappoint him. I always had, and telling him I’d lost my job because of my interactions on Facebook, of all places, was going to do just that.

“Is it Sergio? Is everything okay? You two didn’t break up, did you?” He actually sounded bummed at the possibility that we’d gone our separate ways.

Such an amazing dad.

“Hello? Are you still there, Evan?”

“Uh, yeah Dad. I’m still here, and everything’s fine with Sergio.  Things with him are great, even.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with what I was about to say.

“Then what’s got your voice trembling like that?”

Time to spit it out.

“Dad, I lost my job for this summer.”

I was treated to another one of those awkward silences.

“You what?” Yeah, he sounded pissed.

“I didn’t get rehired for my BLA job, but really, I got fired.”

“What? They… they loved you… at camp… last year.” His voice sounded breathless, like someone had kicked him in the gut. “What happened?”

And so I proceeded to inform him of the letter I’d received and unfortunate Facebook comments. By the end of my explanation, I was as breathless as my father had been.

“Did you contact them to ask why this happened?”

“Yeah, and got a form letter response.” I sighed heavily. “The BLA has a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy about homosexuality. As long as I stayed in the closet I was ‘just one of the guys’. But as soon as those comments went up, I was outed, and fired.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He sounded even slightly angrier than before. I winced.

“I knew the rules, Dad. I set myself up. Changing my status to ‘in a relationship’ on Facebook was just asking for trouble, but I wanted to show Sergio that I wasn’t hiding him. I guess I didn’t think it through.”

I knew that my father was pacing, simply by the way he was breathing. Also, I knew that he always paced when he was pissed-off and at a loss for words. Eventually, he spoke. “Evan… listen, you’re still the same person you were last summer. And Boy Leaders has no right to fire you based on what other people wrote on your wall.”

That was true, but the fact was, those comments were true.

“Dad, I
am
gay. I really don’t belong working for the BLA.” It seemed I was resigned to my fate.

My defeatist words were followed by more silence, and pacing, I was certain. Finally, I heard him say, “No, son. The BLA is wrong. You’re still capable and qualified and compassionate and kind, and the best role model those younger boys could ever hope for.”

I was speechless.

“You, Evan, are an outstanding leader. There’s no reason on earth that, just because you’re gay, you should be fired.”

I sighed, loud enough for my father to hear. “But it comes down to the money, Dad. Pre-med keeps me way too busy to work during the school year. You know that.”

“No son, it comes down to right and wrong, and this is just plain wrong.  For reasons that are stupid, you’ve been fired from an organization that has been part of your life for most of your life.”

“But Dad,
I’m
the one who screwed up.”

“You did nothing of the sort. Their policy is wrong.”

He exhaled loudly, and the anguished sound made my knees weak. I dropped down onto the bed. I was not a fighter - I never had been.

Dad is going to have to fight this battle alone, because
…

My thoughts trailed off into an image of Sergio. I knew that he would expect me to stand up for myself—for him—and for all people who were being discriminated against in this way.

“What can we do, Dad?”

“Well, you have final exams this week. Your job is to study and ace ’em. Turn to Sergio if you feel overwhelmed by this whole thing.  He’s a great kid and he’ll help you stay positive.”

One more of those long empty blank spots encroached upon our phone conversation, but at this point, I knew Dad was just thinking on his feet.

“Listen, son, I’m going to put in a call to Marcus Brent. I’m sure we’ll be able to work this out. Don’t look for another summer job.”

Relieved, I fell back on the bed. “Thanks, Dad. I feel better.”

“When do you want me to pick you up?”

“You don’t need to come get me. Sergio has his dad’s truck and he offered to drive me home next Saturday.”

“Good. I’ll finally get to meet him in person. Don’t worry, Evan. I love you, son. Just the way you are.”

I choked up with emotion for a split second. “Love you too, Dad.”

I ended the call feeling much more optimistic than when I’d began it.

I WAS sweating profusely and having trouble figuring out how Serg had managed to keep his cool as we packed all of our stuff into the bed of his dad’s truck in the midday Arizona heat.

“Shit—I’m sweltering, man. How about we hit the KFC drive-thru. I
need
Mountain Dew. One of those 64-ouncers.”

“That shit’ll kill ya—and if it doesn’t kill ya, it’ll rot out all your teeth.”

I sent Sergio what he called my ‘Chihuahua face,’ and he relented.

“You know I can’t say no to that look. It’s friggin’ irresistible.” He reached across the center console and grabbed my hand off my lap and squeezed. “But, drinking 64-ounces of anything but water should be outlawed.”

I chuckled as we swung into the KFC drive through, and soon after hit the highway in the direction of Cottonhead.  Normally, when Dad would drive me home, I’d stare out at the towering cacti and gigantic mesas that looked like footstools for God himself. But as I sucked down my sixty-four ouncer, my mind turned to Dad’s call that morning. I guess I must’ve been brooding, because Sergio noticed.

“You’re quiet, Ev. What’s up, man?”

I turned in the passenger seat so I could look at him directly. “My dad put in a call to Marcus Brent, the president of the local BLA chapter.”

His dark eyes didn’t stray from the highway that stretched out in front of us.

“And?”

“Not good news.”

“Yeah?” This time he glanced over with raised eyebrows.

I sighed because the details sucked. “Dad started the conversation by telling the guy how much the Boy Leaders organization has meant to me over the past… well, since I was a kid.”

Sergio mumbled something about ‘complete assholes’ and ‘disregarding ten friggin’ years of involvement.’

“And then he asked about why I’d been fired.”

“I’ll bet that scum-sucker lied…”

I shook my head and then ran my fingers through my light brown curls that stuck to my head by my own perspiration. “You’d lose that bet, Martinez. Mr. Brent just told my father that I’d gone against the policy by being ‘outed’ on Facebook.”

“How did
you
do anything?” Sergio’s brown cheeks morphed into an unnatural shade of magenta. “Your old homies commented on your relationship status—you did nothin’, Ev!”

“Well, that minor detail meant nothing to Mr. Brent. Basically he said to my dad that I went against the BLA’s policy of not hiding my
homosexuality
well enough.”

Sergio was speechless. His mouth hung open.

“So Dad asked Mr. Brent if he’d challenge the policy, since he knew first-hand what kind of a responsible leader and excellent role model I was. And Mr. Brent said no; that he agreed with the policy.”

At those words, Sergio snapped on the truck’s blinker and pulled quickly to the shoulder of the highway. Once we had come to a stop, he unbuckled his seat belt, turned to stare at me, and pretty much shouted, “You mean to tell me that loser said he fuckin’ agreed with that policy, even when he’s known you your entire life?”

I nodded, and my stupid eyes started filling up with tears, completely against my will.

“So what did your father say to that asshole?”

Before I had a chance to answer, Sergio had already leaned forward and pulled me into his arms. He knew me well enough to realize that I’d rather not break down into a sobbing mess in the front seat of his father’s truck, if at all possible.

My voice sounded a bit choked, but I managed to utter, “Dad said he was glad that he fully understood Mr. Brent’s position on the issue, and he said that he would be in touch with him again soon.”

“I’m just so pissed off right now, Ev…” Now Sergio was as sweaty from anger as I’d been right after we finished lugging all of our bags to the truck.

“All I know is that I need a summer job, and fast.”

“It’s not fair… not even slightly, man. I wanna call the asshole and tell his ass what’s what!”

“It wouldn’t do any good.” I had to pee. By now I had downed all 64 sugary-sweet-ounces of Mountain Dew. “Let’s get back on the road. Gotta get home sooner, rather than later.”

Before he put the truck back in drive, Sergio loosened his hold on me a bit so that he could look into my eyes. I hoped he would miss the lingering tears there, but I highly doubted it.

“Evan, I haven’t got a summer job yet either. Maybe we can both work as waiters in Phoenix. That way, we could meet up after work and hang out in the city.”

That sounded fun, but I refused to lie to myself. I still had my heart set on being a troop leader to those kids. I promised them last year that I’d see them this summer. Despite the fact that my heart still felt heavy, I replied.

“Sounds like a plan, Serg.”

As he was pulling back out into traffic, Sergio remarked very casually.

“Or we can fight back. That’s what I’d do.”

He hesitated for a few seconds and added, “And if you wanna fight, man, I’m in.”

I nodded in appreciation of his support, knowing he was right - the situation was wrong. “I’m not much of a fighter, Sergio,” I mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t be mad.

He grunted and kept his eyes on the road ahead. But his tight grip on the steering wheel spoke volumes about the anger within.

I felt defeated, I had to pee, and, I was worried about money.

It was not a fun ride home.

SERGIO ulled the truck into my driveway and killed the engine. My house was one of the older ones in this part of town, and it was a pretty simple layout.

One story, beige, clay-tiled roof to help fight the brutal Arizona sun, not much in the way of landscaping since neither me nor dad liked doing that stuff. An old, broken wagon wheel adorned the wall near the front door. I’d found it when I was on a hike with the BLA my first year, back when I was eight.

Ordinarily, the memory suffused me with good feelings. Today, it just made me feel numb.

I didn’t even glance at the wooden wheel with its broken spokes as I leapt from the car and bounded through the front door. Naturally, it was unlocked and I bee-lined down the hall to the bathroom.

Man, did I have to go!

As soon as every drop of that Mountain Dew evacuated itself, which I swear took about ten minutes, I washed up and returned to the front hall where I found my dad talking to the boyfriend he’d never met except over the phone. I felt like a jerk and offered the Chihuahua face as I joined them. Serg smiled as he always did, and then my dad, who towered over me by three inches, turned to envelop me in a crushing hug.

“Welcome home, son,” he gushed warmly. “God, I miss you when you’re gone so long.”

I almost teared up again and, not wanting Serg to think me a water fountain every time something emotional occurred, I pulled back and grinned sheepishly. “I missed you, too, Dad.”

Since mom had passed when I was seven, it had always just been Dad and me at home, and we’d done everything together. When I realized in middle school I was gay, I was terrified Dad might reject me. But he didn’t even bat an eye. He sat me down and wanted to know everything – how I knew, what I felt, did it make me feel ashamed?

When I told him I was kind of embarrassed because I might have let him down, Dad grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into a hug, much like the one we’d just shared. 

“I doubt you’ll ever let me down, Evan,” he’d said into my ear. “But if you did it would be for doing something wrong, not for being who you are. I love you, son, and always will.”

Dad’s intense gaze brought me back to the moment and I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Dad, this is Sergio.”

Serg guffawed, and Dad grinned.

“Yes, son, we met.”

“While you were pissing like Austin Powers in there,” Sergio added with a laugh.

I must’ve turned several shades of red, because I felt my ears burning. 

“Sorry, Dad. Really had to go.”