Chapter 1
I see the flags flying around and flapping in the wind. My bible tells me they mean hope. My religion says it means the devil. And my heart tells me I belong with them.
My parents raised me to think that being gay was wrong. That it was the devil warping people’s minds. But doesn’t gay mean happy? And if this is the devil warping me, why does it feel so right? He is just giving me a different way to love, a way that feels right to me.
We shouldn’t feel this way, my mind tells me. But my heart just beats faster in love at the idea of it. At the idea of falling in love with someone, even if they are the same gender as I am.
Why should people care if I have the same body parts as the person I love? Isn’t it the soul we are supposed to love anyway? Is that not what my religion has taught me my entire life?
“Thomas! What are you doing just standing there? Hold up that sign and show these disgusting things what God truly thinks of them!” And just like that, my thoughts are squashed and my mother forcefully raises my arms higher with the sign in them. This hateful and disgusting sign that I just want to burn. But I can’t. Because if I did, then my family would know how I feel and I would either be exorcized or exiled. But standing here, looking at all of the people in the parade walking with smiles and rainbows coloring them, I feel disgusted. I feel hatred for myself rising and I feel like I may throw up.
I shove my poster into my mother’s arms and rush to stand on the side of the building where my family would not see me.
I can’t breathe.
My breathing is short and quiet pants as I feel tears brimming my eyes.
Why do I feel this way? Why me, out every other person do I have to be attracted to men?
And I collapse, my back scraping the brick wall, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything but this gaping feeling of being lost. I am torn. Do I stay with my family and preach against the very thing I know I am? Or do I follow my heart, and risk everything I have?
I’m pulled from my thoughts once again by a hand on my shoulder. I lift my head slowly from the security of my arms, praying that it is not my parents. I look at the hand on me and follow it to the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.
“Hi,” He says with the slightest smile gracing his lips, and sympathy and understanding coating his eyes. My eyes scrunch a little until I look down at his shirt. A rainbow.
“My name is Charlie.” His smile warms and comforts me. And I have to swallow the lump in my throat before being able to reply.
“To-Thomas,” I say, not able to speak properly. His smile widens and warms me even more. He shifts to sit next to me, too close than should have been comfortable. But I can’t bring myself to feel any discomfort with his shoulder touching mine.
“Nice to meet you Thomas,” He grabs the hand that had been tucked under my arm and shakes it, looking me in the eyes the entire time. God, those eyes. “So, Tommy, want to talk about it?”
I hate being called Tommy, or more my parents hated my being called that. They said it sounds too feminine and that if God wanted Thomas to be called that, He would have named him Tommy. But when Charlie says it, it just feels natural; it feels right.
But then his question registers and I stiffen. My euphoria of the simple nickname gone replaced with dread. He is a stranger, do I really want to talk to him about how I feel? But one look in his eyes and I know the answer: I want to talk to him about everything.
“My, uh, my family... they are protesting th-the parade.” I stumble over my words, struggling to get it out. I hate what my family is doing, but they are my family and I have to love them first right? ‘Honor thy father and mother,’ love your parents, your family before any other human. I look up at Charlie and see his eyes filling with sympathy, and he smiles softly before placing his head on my shoulder. I can feel my heart beat just a little faster.
“Ah, I see. Your parents think being gay is a sin, that anyone who embraces their sexuality is going to hell, and all that other nonsensical bull?” He speaks softly, a knowing look in his eyes. I chuckle at his wording and feel myself relax enough to lower my legs from my chest and cross them in front of me.
“Yeah, basically, I just…” I stop, wondering if I should continue. I suck in a breath when he grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers and placing them on my lap. He gives me an encouraging squeeze and I clutch his hand like a lifeline before I start talking again. “I’m torn. I feel like… Like I shouldn’t feel this way. But then at the same time, I don’t see what’s wrong with it? It’s love but it’s not natural and I-I-”
“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” He turns and pulls me to him for a hug. He wraps his arms around me and places my head on his shoulder while I struggle to hold back my tears. What is wrong with me? Why am I acting like such a girl? “It’s okay to feel this way, hell it’s normal. But I’ll tell you this right here, right now. There is nothing unnatural about it. You were right, it is love and that’s all that matters. It’s the souls that are made to fit together, not the bodies.”
I don’t say anything after that and neither does he. Instead, we just sit here holding each other. I have never felt so welcomed and comfortable than I feel right now wrapped up in Charlie’s arms. He is like a blanket or an angel sent here to comfort and protect me from my own thoughts. I relax further into his embrace to the point that I can not only hear, but I can feel his heart beating against his chest. It’s beating almost as quickly as mine. Almost.
