5. Sometimes I Wish I Had Faith

I finished the song and looked up at Ryan nervously, like when I first performed for him and didn’t faint. His blue eyes were filled with love, happiness and surprise. The opposite of the way my parents and siblings always looked at me. They rolled their eyes frequently, responded with “Whatever” a good amount of times and never showed an interest in my guitar skills.

Maxine had tried to sell my guitar once.

“It’s not like you know how to play it. It’s just wasting away like your bed,” she countered.

“I can play,” I muttered and pulled it out of her grasp, it made her acrylic nails pluck a thick wire string and break off. She looked at me in shock.

“Look what you’ve done to my manicure,” she hisses.

“Don’t touch things that don’t belong to you than,” I counter.

She stormed off holding her hand as if I’d physically hurt her and left me holding the guitar in the middle of the hall.

“That was good,” he said giddy like a five-year-old on Christmas morning.

He slid closer to me.

“I wish I could play, it’s probably too late for me to learn. You pick things like that up easier when you’re younger,” he continues.

“You can be the singer in our two-man band,” I joke.

“But you write them. I wouldn’t have the same passion because they’re not my thoughts or words and I didn’t experience them,” he replies.

“You could write your own, if you tried. I’m sure you could,” I reply.

“What would our band name be? So many things are already taken,” he continues.

“Maybe that’s what it should be, ‘So Many Things Already Taken’” I answer.

“It’s kind of long but I like it,” Ryan admits.

“Can you do “Shelter from the Storm” next?” he asks.

This one of the songs I was glad he liked, old but classic and by Bob Dylan. I had liked this song long before I met Ryan, I think I was drawn to it because it was I wanted. A place to hide out that was safe and warm until the storm, (my parents), passed. I changed she to he in the lyrics and waited to see if he picked up on it. He was the shelter from the storm.

“Beauty walks a razor’s edge, someday I’ll make it mine,” I quivered on the line.

He was the beauty, I hadn’t made him mine though, he’d made me, his. I never would have said anything if he hadn’t confessed. I was too afraid of losing my friend, one of the few I had.

I continued on till the end and by the end the song had taken on a new meaning for me, before, it symbolized hope, a future. Now it represented the present, but for how long? This couldn’t be forever, as much as we both wanted it to be. I had another year and a half in this place at least. After I had no clue where I was going. My sister had gotten a scholarship for her 4.0 GPA and athletic abilities in swimming but I didn’t have that. I had nothing going for me and the way my anxiety worked I’d never get through a shift at a normal job. And there was no way I was going to let Ryan even attempt to help pay. I would be the failure who never made it. In a family of shining potential, I would be the disappointment.

Mind you, I already seemed to be the disappointment. I wasn’t sure which they hated more: the anxiety or the homosexuality. Neither should have been a source of disappointment but they were. I had wanted to go to the pride parade earlier last year, I could understand if they didn’t want to go, the pride parade wasn’t for them but that didn’t mean I couldn’t go. Ryan had offered to drive me but they found out and put Maxine as a guard outside my door to make sure I didn’t leave.

“No son of mine will be caught parading that message around,” my father exclaimed, drunk again.

I was too annoyed to poke fun of the language he used. What was worse was Alison marching up and down the hall in a dress sporting tiny American flags saying, “Save the gays!” They were already instilling in her what made me fight myself for so long. I was secretly hoping she’d grow up to be lesbian or trans, or bisexual just so the scales could tip in my favor. No one should have that message instilled in them, that love or being yourself is wrong.

I had finished the song and mind was wondering down memory lane. I was silent for a while before I noticed Ryan’s icy eyes on me. They looked concerned.

I started playing Christian songs, Casting Crowns, Colton Dixon, Matthew West, so on. Ryan didn’t like many of them, but they brought me comfort.

I wasn’t sure what it was about them, maybe that God was supposed to love and forgive me no matter what. He wasn’t ruined for me either because I didn’t grow up in a heavily religious household that was stating, “Pray the gay away!” Although they probably wouldn’t have been opposed to it.

I always wondered how the world and everything in it came to be created. How Jesus died for our sins so we could be forgiven. Was homosexuality really on the same level as killing and pedophilia? It seemed ridiculous to call love wrong. Even if it was different. There are different interpretations and some churches are accepting, I’d like think I’d get married in one of those churches one day, by one of the old snow-white-haired pastors, maybe to Ryan, maybe to someone I’d never even met. I’d always wanted to get married, weddings were beautiful, I could imagine Alison being the flower girl if she ever changed her mind about saving the gays.

I think she’d love it. I could imagine Maxine being a bridesmaid and my parents crying in the front row. But that was a fantasy I had when I was younger before I came out, I saw empty spaces now where they should be, maybe the spaces where filled with Ryan’s family or strangers I’d yet to meet.

“What are you thinking about?” Ryan asked.

I had stopped again.

“Weddings,” I answered quietly, embarrassed.

“Give us a few years, we’ll get there,” he replied.

He wasn’t even opposed, maybe he thought I was looking forward to when I was happy and that a wedding would just be part of it. He couldn’t fault me for looking forward.

“I hope we do,” I reply quietly.

“Have faith,” he comments.

“Not Christian, no faith? Remember?” I joke.

“We’ll convert you yet,” he joked back.

“Back to music, what would your album be called?” he changed the subject.

“The Sea, vast, wide, open, and beautiful,” I replied quietly.

“And full of mysteries,” he finishes.

“The Sea & Its Mysteries, I like that, too,” I answer.

I started singing “The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea” by XYLØ, then.

“Oh, I’m drowning now, come and save me, save me,” I do the bridge quietly before breaking back into the chorus.

I went on a spree of songs that mentioned the devil. “I’ll Be Good” by Jaymes Young being the next one.

“The blood on my hands scares me to death, maybe I’m waking up today,” I mumbled over.

I didn’t have blood on my hands but I wasn’t part of the solution either. I could have gotten help for myself, for Alison, there was still time for us, but we could end up in foster care and that could be worse. Alison had the chance of getting adopted but I was too old to be part of some family’s dream, even though every other kid grew up to be what I was. They wanted their values instilled in me, they wanted a happy, healthy kid who could fit into their cookie-cutter image. Not a broken teen who had his own opinions.

I didn’t believe in some higher power watching over us, and not giving us more than we could handle. Sometimes I wish I did though. Maybe I’d be a different person but I honestly didn’t think I’d be that different, it would just give me hope, I’d still be gay, I’d still like Ryan.

“When was the last time you ate?” Ryan interrupted.

“Last night,” I answered.

“We should get you some food,” Ryan replied.

I knew Ryan cared for me but I was still waiting for the other foot to drop. Or for one of his football buddies to see us together and start a rumor. I didn’t have faith that we’d last long if that happened. But he’d told me to have faith. A few years, and we’d be married. I didn’t know if I believed that either. Jocks tended to run in the other direction as soon as anyone found out they were even a millimeter from straight. And I could only hope Ryan wasn’t like that. He’d instigated it by confessing to me, too though.

Ryan got up and stood on the path back to civilization.

“You coming?” he asked holding his hand out.

I raised slinging the guitar over my shoulder and took his hand. We smiled at each other. Content for the moment. We walked out of the trees to a slightly fuller parking lot, people walking their dogs and going for their mid-day runs. He pulled me behind his four-door sedan and kissed me, I wasn’t sure if it was for my sake or his that we were behind the sedan but I embraced it. He released my hand and I walked around to the passenger side to put my guitar in the back and get in.

“What do you want to eat?” Ryan asked.

“I don’t care,” I answered.

I had learned not to be picky when there weren’t many choices.

“You do,” he replies quietly. “Care. Just normally no one asks you your opinion.”

It was true. My opinion didn’t matter, it was wrong, that was all I knew.

“But since I care and I want you to like what you eat, where do you want to go?” he repeated.

But I still didn’t care, I was just glad I wasn’t home. I was glad I wanted to eat for the first time in a while, I was safe for the moment. I wanted to be present in that moment rather than think about what the future held. The future wasn’t steady, and I wasn’t sure it was safe, not knowing made me think about what would happen when I went home. That wasn’t going to be a pretty picture.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“I won’t degrade your suggestions,” he continued quietly.

“I know,” I answered looking away out the window into the blurry landscape that stayed still well our car sped by.

“They’ve really done a number on you. You had suggestions when I met you two years ago,” he continues.

“I was still fighting back then. Fighting back’s pointless with them though so I stopped,” I added.

“Fight for me, okay?” he commented.

“I’m trying, but it’s just food. We can go anywhere,” I answer.

“Just one?” he tried.

“Peter’s?” I responded quietly.

Peter’s was a shake drive-thru. They had lots of kinds and you could combine them. My parents never brought me here, I didn’t discover it till I met Ryan.

“Do you want a poutine?” he asked.

“They’re too big, too much gravy and not enough cheese, I’ll just get a burger,” I reply.

“What kind of shake do you want?” he questioned.

“Umm…” my mind went through a mental list of what they had. Root Beer, marshmallow, peach, vanilla, chocolate, blueberry, raspberry, Pina colada, pineapple, the list went on and on. “Pina colada.”

“Okay,” Ryan replied.

We drove back into the city and through the streets to the drive-thru. We got in line and Ryan dug out his wallet, he took out a twenty and ordered mine and added a burger and root beer shake for himself.

“Please move to the next window to pay,” the attendant finished.

Ryan drove ahead.

“Hey, Ryan,” the attendant said, he was dark-skinned with a short haircut, curly.

Must have been one of his college buddies.

“Hey, Will,” he greeted casually.

“Who’s this?” he asks pointing to me well taking the cash from Ryan.

“This is Nico,” he answered.

“The guitar kid?” he asks.

“Yeah,” he replies.

I was bracing for high school kid or worse gay kid.

“It’s cool that you play, I used to play the drums,” Will replies.

“Thanks,” I managed.

“What are you guys doing?” he asked. “Did you?” he asks pointing at me.

“I told him. He’s for it,” Ryan answers casually again.

“Good for you. Happy for you. Now I just gotta get myself a date and we can go on double dates,” he comments.

He knew Ryan was gay. I felt jealous that he knew before I did. It sounded like Ryan had told him about confessing to me, too.

“Will, get back to work!” someone shouted inside.

“Good luck, man. See you on Monday,” he bidden ducking back inside.

Ryan rolled us up to the next window to wait for our food. The food came and we rolled out onto the road. Ryan drove us back to his apartment and we settled back in.

“He knew,” I commented.

“Will? Yeah, he’s cool with it, he’s bi,” Ryan replies.

“So, what’s your closet status exactly?” I asked.

I didn’t mean to be rude or direct but that’s how it came out.

“My parents know, my close friends know and the rest it’s none of their business who I sleep with at night,” he replies.

Who I sleep with at night.

Was I a fling? An experiment? I wish I had the confidence that Ryan felt the same about me as I did about him but I didn’t. I felt like some thin string was tying him to me and someone, probably a girl, would come along and cut it and he’d leave me in the dust.

I didn’t want to fight so I didn’t say anything. I curled myself into a corner with my shake in annoyance.

“You want to watch a movie?” he asked.

I uncurled myself and got up.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I replied.

I made my way to the bathroom, stripped and turned on the shower. I waited till it was hot and stepped inside closing the door behind me. I stood in the warm water, letting it run over me, cascading down my shoulders to my back. I picked up Ryan’s shampoo, Head & Shoulders, an expensive brand my parents would never buy. I pour some into my hand and rub it into my hair. I found it soothing as a child to have my hair washed by somebody else, but I was too old for that now and nobody would want to do it anyway.

I stood under the water to wash the shampoo out of my hair, I pressed my hands together so it looked like I was praying. I would be praying for faith if I knew who to pray to. People who believed said God spoke to them or that a sign was given that he heard but I didn’t hear or see anything, maybe that was a good thing, it proved I wasn’t crazy.

I still sometimes wanted faith, maybe I wouldn’t feel so alone then.

There was a knock on the bathroom door, it startled me out of my trance.

“Nico?” Ryan called. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I answered.

I wasn’t but I never was. I stared into the transparent glass that was getting fogged up from the heat at my reflection, mainly my black eye.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

I thought about this. Did I want Ryan to shower with me? Any girl would have said ‘why not’? But those girls would also just do it to say they’d done it. I did it for other reasons.

“Okay,” I answered.

I heard the door click open and he stepped into the bathroom still fully clothed. He pulled his shirt off exposing his bicep muscles from playing football and working out. His pants were removed next. My eyes paused at his abs. I was a twig compare to him. Finally, his boxers were removed and I didn’t have to use my imagination. He’d seen me naked before but I’d never seen him any less than half clothed, praise the pool parties.

He opened the door and stepped into the shower with me. I stayed put under the water. My hair flattened against my head in a spider web mess of tangles. He moved the flattened mess aside and cupped my face in his hands as if to study me. I wish I could say I hadn’t dreamed about this but I had. Granted in those fantasies I didn’t have a black eye.

He looks like one of Michelangelo’s statues, pristine and perfect, I was a wet-puppy dog.

One of his hands slipped down my shoulder to my hand. He took it and brought it up.

“Beautiful,” he whispered and kissed my hand.

Me? Beautiful? He had to be insane.

“Say the secret again,” I replied.

“I love you,” he answered this time.

“I wish I believed you,” I whispered.

“You will. It takes time,” he murmurs. “Have faith.”

Faith. Indeed.

Sometimes I Wish I Had Faith

Sometimes I wish I believed in God

When I was in that dark place

All by myself

I’d call upon him to be my saving grace

I’d want him to beg me to keep going

To push forward

Instead of quitting

Jumping off track

But I don’t know how

To believe

So, I don’t know how to pray

So, I don’t know how to call upon him

In my darkest hour of need

Sometimes I wish I had faith

But I’ve never been to church

And I wouldn’t know which to go to

Have I sinned too much already?

Have I fallen too far to start again?

I wish every Sunday I had a service to attend

Everyone is trying to push away

But I don’t know how

To believe

So, I don’t know how to pray

So, I don’t know how to call upon him

In my darkest hour of need

Sometimes I wish I had faith

Is it why I feel so alone?

Because I have no faith

My heart and mind are closed

Cause I’ve never been told to believe

In something I won’t be sure about till I die

When I die

Will, I end up in heaven or hell?

Have I sinned too much?

But I don’t know how

To believe

So, I don’t know how to pray

So, I don’t know how to call upon him

In my darkest hour of need

Sometimes I wish I had faith

Faith to carry me through

All my hardships

Forgive me for all my sins

Sometimes I wish I had faith