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to speak. Paul thought it might have belonged to Emily’s boyfriend, Bob: “I just want to say, I don’t think gay people should be discriminated against in any way. And intellectually, I don’t have a problem with it. But the fact of the matter is, it bothers me. It’s just the way I was raised. The idea of two men kissing makes my skin crawl. I’m not saying I’m proud of it, it’s just a fact. And so when I see him up there preaching, I can’t help thinking about it. I’m distracted by it. I should be thinking about Christ, and I’m thinking about men kissing. That’s a problem for me. If he stays, I think I would have to find another church.”
“And do you really want him around our kids?”
“Jesus Christ!” Ian said. He went back to chewing on his thumbnail.
“Come on, no one is accusing him of molesting children,” Julie said. “Let’s not even go there.”
“But what kind of role model is he for our boys?” This was another new male voice. “Are we saying it’s okay? This is just a perfectly fine lifestyle choice? That’s not what I want to teach my children. They get enough of that on television. They don’t need to see it in church on Sunday.”
“I have a question,” asked a woman. “Can we legally fire someone for being gay? I mean, I think that’s something we have to take into consideration. We don’t want to end up on the wrong end of a discrimination law suit.”
“The official council book says a ‘self-avowed practicing homosexual’ cannot be a minister,” Mike said. “So we’d be completely within our rights to fire him.”
“Is he a self-avowed practicing homosexual? He hasn’t said he was, has he?”
“Does that mean if he doesn’t say anything he can stay as long as he likes? Like ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’?”
“I’m just not comfortable voting the minister out when we have no real proof that this is even happening.” That voice was definitely Stuart Briggs. “If I was certain, I’d agree he has to go, but I don’t want to punish someone on the basis of gossip, and until he admits it, I am not going to assume it is true.”
The debate continued for another hour, sometimes descending into heated arguments, personal attacks, and shouting. Some threatened to cancel their memberships if Paul stayed; others threatened to cancel if he was fired. Eventually, Mike said, “I think we have all had an opportunity to express our opinions, and at this point we’re just going over the same territory. I think we should take a short break and then come back and vote on this.”
Paul sat hunched forward with his elbows on his knees. He felt as though he’d been pummeled repeatedly with a club. Ian was chewing on the nail of his index finger, and his legs bounced.
“I need to go out and have a cigarette,” he said.
“You can’t go out there now,” Paul said. “They’ll see you. Just wait a little longer.”
Ian stood up and took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He pulled one cigarette out and tapped it on the back of the pack, then put it in his mouth. He raised his eyebrows, then reached into his other pocket and produced a lighter.
“You can’t smoke in the building,” Paul said.
“Yeah,” Ian said, flicking the lighter. “Arrest me.” He lit the cigarette, took a long drag, blew out a trail of smoke, then walked over to the back office window, which overlooked the playground.
Paul thought he should say something, but he was too drained to think of what it could be. They waited in silence.
When the votes were all counted, 53 percent were in favor of keeping Paul as minister. He could stay, but it was a Pyrrhic victory. He knew things could never be the same again.
The Backpack and the
Fly-Eating Plant
In summer, Mount Rainier is alive with color; glacier lilies, pink and white heather, red paintbrush, and white anemones compete for the attention of the senses. The naturalist John Muir called Rainier’s Paradise Valley “the most extravagantly beautiful of all the alpine gardens I ever beheld in all my mountain-top wanderings.” Lummi Indian legend has it that this beauty was stolen. Back when mountains were people, Mount Rainier deserted her husband, Mount Baker, and took all the flowers and fruits with her.
Paul needed to cling to Ian for comfort and protection. He was the only other person in the eye of the hurricane with him, and Paul had never felt as connected to a human being. He was sure Ian felt the same way. That night Ian caressed him with so much tenderness that Paul thought he was trying to summon his soul to his skin. In the sanctuary of Ian’s embrace, Paul allowed all of the stress, the worry and shame, to drift away. They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.
Paul woke up alone in the bed. This was unusual. Ian liked to sleep in as late as he could. Paul went into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, shaved, and then headed for the kitchen, where he expected to find Ian at the table, sitting in his briefs, eating a bowl of Lucky Charms. Before he could get to the kitchen, though, he spotted Ian sitting, fully clothed, on the futon. He was staring in the direction of the dark television, smoking a cigarette.
“There you are!” Paul grinned broadly, sat down beside Ian, and leaned in to kiss him. Ian turned away. That was when Paul noticed the green backpack laying on the floor. The fly-eating plant, which normally lived on the kitchen windowsill, was sitting on the end table.
“Are you going somewhere?” Paul asked.
Ian took a long drag on his cigarette, then crushed it out in the saucer-ashtray. “This is hard,” he said.
Paul hadn’t seen it coming. He was shocked and dismayed, and yet he understood exactly what was happening. “You’re… leaving?”
Ian nodded. “Yeah.”
“What did I do?”
