“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
He stood at the table. His mother denied him the pleasures of a friendship outside the church. What was he going to tell Bernard?
I better call him now, before it’s too late.
“Hello?” came Bernard’s voice.
“Hey, Bernard. I’m sorry. Something came up and I’m not going to make it tomorrow.”
“It’s okay. I understand. It was last-minute,” Bernard said. “What about next Saturday?”
I can’t keep avoiding him. It’s not fair to him. He hasn’t done anything wrong. I can go and not tell my mother. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt, right?
“Yes, next Saturday works great. We can meet at ten? Then make a day of it.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you next Saturday.”
Rory hung up. His heart sank. He’d let his friend down.
He got into bed and read his Bible. He read the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. How Lot attempted to save the angels. He’d been taught it was a cautionary tale against sodomy and homosexuality.
I don’t see it the way the church taught it. This story is about greed and hatred. Is homosexuality actually a sin?
Rory knew there were more passages, but he didn’t care to read them again right now. Pressing the Bible against his heart, he prayed for strength against the temptations of the flesh.
I must resist these urges. I must resist these urges.He let the phrase play over in his head like a mantra.
*
THE NEXT MORNINGat mass, Rory found himself sandwiched between his mother and father in the pews. His younger brother, Duncan, sat on the other side of their father with his wife, Catherine, and their four-year-old daughter, Penelope. The pews weren’t comfortable for a man of Rory’s size. While his father was taller than him, Rory had more bulk. His dad’s family had always been large, but Rory was at the extreme end of the family.
Everyone around was dressed in their best suits and dresses. Pearls and watches adorned their bodies. They all attempted to one-up one another. His mother was no different, but his father had worn the same suit for twenty years.
Rory went through the motions of the service. Sit, kneel, stand, sing, repeat. He didn’t follow the service. His mind wandered to Bernard. How wonderful it was to spend time with him. Bernard never judged him. Bernard joked with him and cared about him. He had invited him to the park with his dog to hang out. He cared about Bernard and there was no reason they couldn’t be friends.
At the end of the service, Rory’s mother walked over to a couple two pews behind them.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins. So lovely to see you again,” his mother said.
“Hello, Mrs. Sinclair, it’s a pleasure to see you too. How’s your family?” The woman had a thick Southern accent. Rory had heard this accent on television but hadn’t heard anyone talk like this. She was lean and wore a full-length flowery dress.
“They are well, thank you,” his mother said.
“You remember my husband, Andrew.”
Andrew was lean and muscular. His black handlebar mustache shimmered with oil. His hair was slicked back with a large amount of grease. A single strand stuck out to the side.
“Yes, of course. Nice to see you, Andrew,” his mother said. “And you remember my husband, Ronan.”
Andrew and Rory’s father shook hands. They shifted their feet. This meeting wasn’t accidental.
“You remember my son, Rory.” His mother moved Rory in front of her with surprising strength.
“Maeve, what are you doing?” his father cut in.
Rory’s dad was built strong and muscular. A few inches over six feet tall, he intimidated most men, but not his wife. She was the polar opposite. Short and petite, but a fire burned inside her. When she wanted something, she got it.
