Angel, page 19
“This is serious, Paul. There are some people who are”—he paused to find the right words—“deeply concerned about this. I’ve known you a long time. I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you have the kid living in your house. If it’s not what it looks like—if there’s a good reason, explain it to me.”
Paul crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have to explain anything.”
“Normally I’d agree with you, but you’re the minister of this church. So it is our business. No one is accusing you of anything, we’re just concerned with the appearance of impropriety.”
“There’s nothing inappropriate about it.”
Mike leaned back in the chair. “Then my suggestion would be you help Ian find himself another place to live. People might stop talking about this.”
Paul shook his head. “I’m not doing that.”
“I’m trying to help you. I don’t think you understand how serious this is.”
“You don’t think I do? You want to know what’s inappropriate? This is inappropriate,” he said, poking the desk top with his index finger, “you coming in here and telling me who I should be friends with and who can stay in my house.”
“If there is nothing going on, what would it hurt for him to have his own place?”
“He’s fine where he is.”
Mike shook his head, and after a pause, said: “Paul, I’m just going to ask you this directly. Are you having a sexual relationship with Ian?”
It would have been the easiest thing in the world for Paul to lie. It might have changed everything, or at least bought him some time. But he didn’t like lying. He preferred to avoid the truth.
“I can’t believe you just asked me that.” He stood up and gestured toward the door. “I think we’re done here, Mike. Thanks for coming by and bringing this to my attention.”
Mike shook his head again. He got up and walked to the door. Before he turned the knob, he looked back.
“I’ve been to your house, Paul,” he said. “You don’t have a guest room.”
Moments after Mike left, Paul experienced a state that can hardly be called an emotion at all. It was the blinding tension of his fight or flight instinct kicking in. His stomach was tight, his nerves were raw, and he couldn’t think. He had to get out of the church.
“I’m taking the rest of the day off,” he called to Julie as he passed.
“What about Ian?” she asked.
“What about him?” Paul barked. He’d had enough of people asking him about Ian.
“How is he going to get home?”
Paul pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right,” he sighed deeply. “Can you take him home?”
“Sure,” Julie said.
A few hours later, Ian arrived back at the house to find Paul sitting on the futon with a mostly empty bottle of wine.
“Wine,” Ian said.
“I thought I’d be done with it before you got home.”
Ian picked up the bottle and eyed its contents. “You came pretty close. I’ve never seen you drink before.”
“I didn’t want to drink in front of you.”
“Being drunk in front of me is okay, though, huh?” He was smiling when he said it. “This is an interesting turnaround.”
“I’m sorry I left you at the church,” Paul said. “I just had to get out of there.”
“I know. Julie explained it to me.”
“She did? How did she know?”
Ian shrugged. “She knows everything.”
“She should mind her own business.”
“She’s just worried about you.” Ian sat down next to Paul and put his arm around his shoulders. “Tell me what happened.”
“It’s starting,” Paul said. “The board sent Mike Davis to confront me about my ‘inappropriate relationship’ with you.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I should kick you out of the house.”
“Maybe you should. Maybe I should get an apartment. I wouldn’t have to stay there. I’d just have an address.”
“You really want to spend money on that?”
“It might help you.”
“I don’t want you to do that. It’s like going backwards. It’s too late, anyway.”
“You told him?”
“No, but I didn’t exactly deny it.”
Ian removed his arm from Paul’s shoulder and looked down at his knees. “I’ve screwed everything up for you.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Things were fine for you before I came along.”
“No, they weren’t. They were just more… stable.”
“What happens now?”
“I’m going to finish this bottle of wine.” Paul put the bottle to his lips and drank the remaining wine directly from it.
Paul expected immediate repercussions from his discussion with Mike, but that is not how communities work. They operate at their own pace. It takes time for an issue to percolate and vibrate through the group until there is enough critical mass to address it. For the next few weeks, Paul and Ian lived in a state of purgatory. Paul could sense the growing current in the congregation—what should we do about the problem with our minister? He saw judgmental glances everywhere, even where they did not exist. He no longer felt the church belonged to him. His detractors owned it now, and they were only allowing him to stay and go through the motions for a trial period while they planned their next move. He still had to perform all of his regular duties, hospital visits, social events, and Sunday services. He did them with a forced smile and an imitation of compassion because he could not focus.
Ian stopped attending Bible class. There were no more playful suggestions from Ian in the sanctuary. In fact, they hardly spoke to each other at all during the day. It wasn’t something they had agreed to do, it was just something that had happened. They both sensed they had to keep their distance. If you didn’t know them and saw them pass each other in the hall, you would most likely assume they were old enemies based on their cold looks and their gruff “hellos.” Paul ate his lunch in his office so as not to risk sitting by Ian in the lunchroom. Ian stayed out of the office as much as possible. The cheerful banter with Julie was gone. Instead of waiting for Paul with his elbows on her desk, Ian would finish his work, sign out, and wait for him by the car, quietly smoking a cigarette.
The strain exhausted both of them. They would come home, complain about the atmosphere at the church, share any new gossip they might have overheard, and then collapse in front of the television for a couple of hours before falling asleep and waking up to face the church again.
The irony was that regardless of what anyone else might have thought, Paul felt his love for Ian was of a much purer form than his love for Sara. This was not to say that he had not loved Sara deeply or that his motives for marrying her had been anything but sincere. But his union with her had given him social standing. He had been a respectable married man, doing what a man of his age ought to do in society. He had always understood that, as a man, one day he would fall in love, marry, and support his family. He had married her at the right age, when he felt it was time. The story existed in his mind before he even met Sara. She was the one he had chosen to cast in the role.
Ian fit no narrative at all. He could offer Paul nothing in the world. Ian did not bring social standing. If anything, he could only erode it. Yet Paul loved anyway. Ian sparked his imagination and touched his soul. That was all he could offer. Wasn’t that more pure and more sacred? It was a strange inversion of the way the world imagined it—the blessed union with Sara, the profane union with the young man.
The Meeting
Mount Rainier is a vestige of her former self. Some geologists believe that the peak once rose to 16,000 feet, nearly 2,000 feet higher than the current summit. It is a site of constant change, of destruction and revision. The mountain, the very symbol of strength and permanence, is in a state of constant change, crumbling, fracture, and cleavage. New crags and new shapes are cut with violent wrenching—perpetual re-creation. The peaks and ridges are transformed but remain awesome and sublime. “Mountain decay,” wrote the nineteenth-century arts writer Richard St. John Tyrwhitt, “is a sculpture of beauty.”
Ian was at Emily’s desk, in the dark, chewing on the nail of his middle finger. Paul watched him from a few feet away, at Marlee’s desk. He had a strong urge to hold Ian’s hand but didn’t dare. They were sitting with the lights off so that no one who walked past the office window could see them.
The board had specifically asked Paul not to attend the meeting, which would allow the members of the congregation to discuss their concerns about the minister and his alleged affair with the custodian. At the end of the meeting, they would be taking a vote as to whether or not Paul should remain in his position.
So many wanted to attend that they had decided to hold the meeting in the sanctuary. This gave Paul the opportunity to listen in via the speakers that piped the Sunday service into the office. Julie had agreed to turn the microphone on. So Ian and Paul sat in the darkened office, listening to the discussion like a pair of criminals.
“We’re talking about firing Paul for something we suspect is happening, but do we have any proof of it? Has he actually said that he is involved with Ian?” It was a woman’s voice that Paul couldn’t quite place.
“He didn’t say it was true. He just said he wouldn’t answer the question.” That one was definitely Mike Davis.
“Then we don’t know for sure. It’s just gossip.”
“If there wasn’t, don’t you think he’d say so rather than saying it’s nobody’s business?”
“There might be reasons he would.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Protecting Ian or something. There may be some reason we don’t know about.”
“Do we even know for sure that Ian is gay, or is that just a rumor?” asked a male voice.
Various voices replied, overlapping. “Oh, yeah, he’s gay. He’s definitely gay.”
Ian shrugged and shook his head.
“He definitely is. He said so himself. At the blood drive. He said he couldn’t give because they don’t let gays give blood.” That had to be Margaret.
“Yeah, and then a few days later, Paul took his name off the sign-up list.”
“Thanks, Emily,” Paul muttered.
“That’s pretty suspicious.”
“But that’s not proof of anything.” Paul recognized Julie’s voice instantly. “There could be all kinds of reasons for that.”
“You really think there’s another reason?” Mike said. “They live together, the two of them took their vacation at the same time. Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think we should assume anything.”
Next came an unrecognized male voice: “Come on. Haven’t you seen the way they look at each other? They’re clearly gay.”
“I saw them in the conference room one time. It looked like they’d been kissing.”
“We were not,” Paul argued with the unknown voice.
“How does someone look like they have been kissing?” Julie asked.
Ian laughed at this.
“What I think…. This question of being gay or not gay…. I don’t think that it’s a problem if Ian is gay, but I don’t know if Paul should…. Isn’t the question whether or not Paul is a good minister? Because I remember, you know, when we met for the Worship Committee…. Oh, that was the time that Ian ran out of the house wasn’t it? See, it seemed like there was something going on there.”
“Rella,” Ian and Paul said in unison.
“I know Paul is fond of Ian, but I always assumed he felt protective of him, like a son. Just because you’re close to someone gay doesn’t necessarily mean you’re gay too,” said an older woman.
“But that’s the most likely explanation, isn’t it?” Mike said. “All the other reasons are kind of a stretch.”
“I just want to say something,” said a female voice. “So what if he is gay? My husband and I are new to the church, and we came because we liked the minister. We love his sermons, and he’s been really welcoming and helpful to us. As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter if he is gay or straight or from Mars. He’s the reason we came here, and we’re going to keep coming.”
Another female voice: “I’m not homophobic. I don’t care what two consenting adults do in the privacy of their own home….”
What two consenting adults do in the privacy of their own home, Paul thought. Was someone really using that expression about him?
“But we’re trying to grow our membership. We have to be realistic. If you’d heard that this church had a gay minister before you came, would you have gone somewhere else?”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference to us.”
“But do you really think that’s typical? Are most people going to come to the church with the gay minister?”
“There might be some new people who would actually come because of it. Because we are open to diversity. I think young people might be attracted to that.”
“We might draw a lot of gays, but what about the normal people? Won’t they stay away?”
“Normal people,” Ian muttered. Fortunately, someone in the room had the same reaction.
“Normal people?” she said.
“You know what I mean, the families with kids.”
“At least they’re discreet. They’re not in your face about it.”
“Discreet,” Paul repeated. What an awful word.
“I’m with Jodi,” said a male voice. “Paul performed our wedding ceremony and our daughter’s baptism, and he was supportive when my wife’s mother died. He’s like part of the family. I’m going to support him. I can’t believe after all he’s given to this community we’d even talk about letting him go over this.”
“Me too. If he wanted us to know, he’d tell us. Otherwise, it’s none of our business.”
“I’m sorry, but doesn’t anyone else find this whole thing disgusting?” It was a man speaking. “It may not be PC these days, but it’s not natural. We are talking about the minister of our church. How could anyone be in favor of keeping him?”
“I’m with you. The Bible says it’s a sin. He’s supposed to be the minister. Would we keep him if he committed another sin?”
“Like what? Not honoring his father and mother?”
“It’s not just that he’s gay. He’s fooling around with a kid.”
“Come on, Mike,” Paul said. “Tell us what you think.”
“Ian’s an adult,” Julie replied. “He’s not underage.”
“But how old is he? Twenty? Twenty-one?”
“I think he’s twenty-five.”
“How does that look? The minister and the twenty-five-year-old janitor?”
“If it were a twenty-five-year-old female housekeeper, we wouldn’t even be talking about this.”
“Hooray, Julie,” Ian said.
“But it’s not a female housekeeper, is it?” a new voice chimed in.
“Look, everyone likes Ian,” Mike said, “but don’t forget, the kid is an alcoholic too.”
“He’s a recovering alcoholic.”
“What if he has a relapse? Alcoholics have relapses. Remember how he ended up here in the first place? Paul scraped him off the floor. Is someone going to have to go and bail the minister’s boyfriend out of jail or something? Think about that.”
“You know Ian,” Julie said. “Do you think that’s going to happen?”
“It could. But even if it didn’t, don’t you think it lowers the minister’s stature just a little bit to have taken up with this pretty young guy….”
Ian winced, as he always did when someone used word “pretty” to describe him. Paul was beginning to understand his aversion for the word.
“Doesn’t that paint the wrong kind of picture? It doesn’t make him seem very serious.”
Another male voice began 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.”
