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But there was one subject Ford had always refused to talk to me about because he’d known the answer. It had been instilled in him from the time he’d been able to even understand the meaning of it and he’d been beyond horrified upon learning that, like me, he was afflicted with the same “impurity” that would destroy his entire life if he couldn’t get a handle on it.
Being gay was a sin and those who didn’t repent had a one-way ticket to hell.
I’d heard that argument dozens of times.
From Ford.
From my parents.
From my pastor and fellow parishioners.
There must have been something about the way I looked or behaved that had all those people reminding me on a nearly daily basis that God wouldn’t let me through those pearly gates if I even dared to look at someone of the same sex the wrong way, and yet not one of those people had explainedwhy. The basic response had become like a record stuck on the same track. God hates fags and you’ll burn in hell.
As fucked up in the head as I’d become from the moment Ford had betrayed me in that athletic shed when he’d slammed his fist into my jaw, I’d never once questioned the one thing everyone had been warning me would be my downfall.
Iwasgay.
I’d known it from the moment Ford had pinned me on the grass when we’d been fourteen and we’d been wrestling for control of the football that we’d been tossing back and forth to each other.
I’d still been gay when Ford and I had kissed for the first time and the dozens of times after.
I’d been gay when I’d dropped to my knees and pulled Ford’s hard dick from his pants so I could finally taste him.
His beating when his older brother Jimmy had caught us, the silence of my disappointed parents that had followed even as blood had been pouring from my broken nose, my tears of pain as I’d tried not to move my broken arm, the “therapy” I’d been sent to that I’d known was a pray the gay away camp…
Gay.
Gay.
Gay.
Not once had I questioned that fact, nor had I regretted it. It was a part of me just like the color of my eyes, the birthmark that looked kind of like a heart on my hip, and the fact that I snorted when I laughed.
God apparently didn’t have an issue with any of those things, so why the fuck would He care that guys turned me on and girls didn’t? Because the Bible said so? The Bible said a lot of things that people made excuses for, and I couldn’t even keep count of all the hypocritical things I’d seen and heard growing up. Hell, my own father had been cheating on my mom for years and yet he’d had no problem sitting next to her in those church pews every Sunday and nodding his head to whatever the guy behind the pulpit said. Even when the woman he’d been sleeping with had been brazen enough to sit in the pew behind us with her husband and three kids, my father had kept the solemn, stoic expression on his face.
So yeah, being gay had never been a problem for me. It had just been everyone else’s.
I could feel the anxiety building within me as I fought to keep a hold of my emotions. All the memories that had found their way into my head had me wishing I’d thought to bring my razor blade.
Thankfully, I heard the familiar sound of water trickling over rocks and I quickened my stride. Since the footing was tricky with exposed roots and large rocks, I didn’t see him until I was practically on top of him.
Even as my brain registered that it was Lincoln sitting at the edge of what I’d come to think of as my stream, I heard a loud rustling of leaves. I looked up just in time to see a medium-sized black dog take off from the other side of the stream and disappear into the woods.
“Shit, Lincoln… I’m sorry,” I began as I saw what looked like chunks of raw meat in a plastic baggie sitting on the ground between his long legs which were bent at the knee.
God, the man was gorgeous. I couldn’t even see his face, but I remembered every one of his features as if they’d been burned into my brain.
“It’s okay,” Lincoln responded. “Between the nachos and the raw meat, I think he got enough for today.”
Lincoln’s voice was flat and to my surprise, he didn’t even look at me. Nor did he move to get up. My heart twisted painfully in my chest even though I didn’t know why. Before I realized what I was doing, I was lowering myself to the ground next to him. Not enough that we were touching but enough that I could feel the warmth coming off his body. God, what I wouldn’t have given to lean into his side and feel his strong arm wrap around my shoulders.
“Nachos?” I asked because I didn’t know what to say.
“I guess they’re more like nacho chips,” he responded. “They were the only thing I had on me the day I first saw him, and he eats them before he eats the meat, but Nacho Chips seemed like a mouthful for a name.”
“He’s a stray?” I asked. Despite getting only a brief glimpse of the dog, his short coat had allowed me to see his ribs.
“Seems to be,” Lincoln said, though he had yet to look at me. His responses were polite, but they lacked… something. “Doesn’t look like he’s got a collar on, and he doesn’t let me close enough to even feel around his neck for a chip.”
