Losing My Religion Page 15

  I turn my attention back to my phone when it chimes with Jaden’s reply.

  Jaden: Sawing logs. This guy snores worse than my old dog. I didn’t think that was possible.

  Me: Dude, tell me about it. I live right above you. I can hear him through the floor some nights.

  Jaden: LOL! Try sleeping next to him.

  Me: I’d rather be sleeping next to you…

  I pause before I hit Send, reading over my response once more. I mean every word. But it’s too much. I know it is. I hit the backspace until the screen is blank.

  Me: You guys have a busy day tomorrow?

  Jaden: Yeah. More of the same. Tracting, a few lessons, more tracting.

  Me: Sounds like fun.

  He sends me the eye-rolling emoji.

  My smile falls. I want to ask him something, but I don’t want to risk offending him or scaring him off. I decide to borrow his earlier tactics.

  Me: Can I ask you a question? Feel free to say no.

  Jaden: Ask me anything.

  I smile at the response I was hoping to get.

  Me: Why do you do it? You’re not like Fisher. And, if your eye roll was any indication, you don’t seem to enjoy it. So, why?

  Again, I’m met with no reply. Fuck. I totally pissed him off.

  Me: If I’ve overstepped, I apologize. Please tell me to fuck off.

  I can’t, in good conscience, say buzz off. It’s just not me. So, I amend his earlier response and hit Send.

  Jaden: I need to think about that. Can I get back to you?

  A small smile breaks out across my face.

  Me: Fair enough.

  Jaden: I’d better get some sleep. Early day tomorrow.

  I glance up at the clock in the top corner of my screen. It’s just after three thirty. I’ve heard them up and moving around down there at six, so I know he has less than three hours before Fisher will be rousing him for a fun-filled day of missionary shit.

  Me: Sleep tight, Jaden.

  Jaden: Good night, Quinn.

  I drop the phone on the bed next to me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling. Something about our exchange leaves me unsettled. It’s not that he didn’t answer me. I didn’t answer him either. But I feel like something was left unsaid.

  I replay the entire conversation in my head. When I get to the end, I have to stop myself from smacking my head in frustration. I’m an idiot.

  I’m sure he’s asleep by now, the phone shut off and stuffed under his pillow. But I need to send this if I’m going to get any sleep.

  Me: Thank you, Jaden. Thank you for taking this risk for me. I hope I don’t let you down.

  To my surprise, the delivered message changes to read almost instantly. Those three dots appear again.

  Jaden: Impossible. You’re worth it. I can tell that already.

  I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  * * *

  Jaden

  My fingers twitch in anticipation of being able to check my contraband phone.

  Fisher was watching me like a hawk all day. I’m sure it was all in my head, and it was no more than he normally does. But it felt like he had his eye on my every move. Throughout all our hours of tracting and proselytizing, I didn’t have a single moment by myself. Even the few times I was able to sneak away to the bathroom, Fisher followed me, always choosing the stall right next to mine. I didn’t dare try to pull the phone out of my sock to check. That means, all day long, I was dying to know if Quinn had sent me anything new.

  Fisher’s snores rip through the room, letting me know he’s finally under. I was beginning to think he’d never fall asleep. Again, probably just my imagination, but he seemed particularly chatty as we got ready for bed, continuing the conversation about Andy and his upcoming baptism long after we lay down.

  Yep, Andy has finally decided to take the plunge. Literally. In three weeks, Fisher will step into that baptismal font and finally experience the moment he’s been waiting for. I wasn’t even the slightest bit upset when Andy had asked Fisher to be the one to baptize him. Those two have formed a bond over the last few weeks, Fisher almost always taking over our lessons and answering all of Andy’s questions. That is fine by me. I’m so confused by everything right now. I wouldn’t feel right with performing a baptism anyway. How can I bring someone into a church I’m not sure I even believe in anymore?

  After letting another ten minutes go by just to make sure Fisher isn’t going to get up and use the bathroom or have a sudden epiphany about tomorrow’s work in his sleep, I power on the phone. Burrowing under my covers, I create a little tent with my elbow and watch the screen as it goes through the start-up motions. It’s like I’m a kid again, trying to read my comic books under the covers. Only, this time, my mom wouldn’t just ground me if she found out. If she caught me harboring a smuggled phone, texting a man I’m more than a little attracted to, she’d flip. Imagining the look on her face almost gives me pause, wondering if I should keep this up. But, as soon as the device vibrates in my hand, my misgivings disappear, and my spirits lift.

  I have ten unread messages. Quinn’s the only one with the number, so I don’t even have to look to know they’re all from him.

  But, of course, I look.

  6:32 a.m.

  Quinn: Good morning. Just wanted to say hi, and I hope you have a good day.

  12:56 p.m.

  Quinn: On a break at the bistro. It’s been a while since you guys have come in. Hope you can swing by soon. I liked seeing you sitting in my section.

  1:14 p.m.

  Quinn: Longest. Day. Ever.

  3:37 p.m.

  Quinn: Stopped by my favorite sushi joint on the way home from the bistro this afternoon. Sushi is my favorite. Got me thinking. What’s your favorite food?

  6:42 p.m.

  Quinn: I have to work tonight, but I’ll try to check in when I can.

  6:55 p.m.

  Quinn: Hope to talk to you soon.

  6:56 p.m.

  Quinn: Dude, I sound like a clingy chick. Sorry.

  7:03 p.m.

  Quinn: Actually, I’m only sorry if you think it’s annoying. Otherwise, I’m going to continue to cling. I’ll be the Saran Wrap to your salad bowl.

  7:05 p.m.

  Quinn: OMG, that was the cheesiest thing ever. I’m going to go hide now.

  10:22 p.m.

  Quinn: I miss you.

  I laugh when I get to the last few messages, biting down on my fist to try to stifle the sound so as not to disturb Fisher. I hit the Reply button, trying to come up with something clever to say.

  Me: Hey. First, thank you. Now, I know what people mean when they say, “So and so was blowing up my phone.” Though it doesn’t seem as bad as they led me to believe. My favorite food is Mexican. All of it. Not big on sushi, but I might be able to be persuaded. And lucky for you, I happen to be a Saran Wrap kind of guy. I’ve always thought it was better than foil. More transparent. I like being able to see what’s on the inside.

  I hit Send before I can delete the whole thing. It’s corny and ridiculous, but Quinn didn’t exactly hold back with his earlier messages. Besides, I’m risking everything for this guy. It’s only fair we show each other our true selves. I’m not about to play pretend where he’s concerned. Not when I have so much on the line.

  I exit out of the message screen, knowing Quinn is at work and surely won’t be able to answer for a while. There’s no way I’ll be able to fall asleep anytime soon. Not while I’m waiting to hear back from him. So, instead, I pull up the internet browser. The data this thing came with is miniscule. I’ll have to make this quick.

  When the search bar pops up on the screen, I type in something I’ve wanted to search for a long time but never dared to do on our home computer. I knew how to wipe the search history, but I still worried I’d somehow get caught. It was better to just let it go.

  But, now, with a phone that nobody but Quinn knows about, I feel a little safer. If anyone finds out abo
ut the phone, I’ll have bigger problems on my hands than what I might have Googled.

  I hit Enter, pulling up the results of my search.

  Being Mormon and gay.

  I wade through a few articles from the church website, already knowing what they say.

  You can have homosexual tendencies, and as long as you don’t act on them, you can still be a member in good standing.

  God loves all his children, just not their sins.

  If you pray and believe, God will help you overcome your unnatural feelings.

  As if you can just pray gay away. And that first one? It’s okay to be Mormon and gay as long as you commit to a life of loneliness and celibacy. Deny and bury who you are, and you can remain.

  I’ve been doing that for as long as I can remember. The idea of continuing to do so for the next seventy-plus years makes me want to cry. How can you say God loves you if he wants you to be miserable for the rest of your days? That’s not the God I believe in. God wants all his children to be happy.

  After scrolling through a few pages of articles from the church and from major news sites about the church’s proclamation about children of gay couples, I finally find what I’m looking for.

  People like me.

  Mormon bloggers who are struggling with sexuality, who want to be true to who they are but also want to stay in the church they’ve believed in for so long.

  I click on one and start reading.

  It’s like I don’t know who I am anymore. On the one hand, I love my church. It’s all I’ve ever known. And, deep down, I think they only want what’s best for me.

  But what if what’s best for me isn’t what they think? What if their concerns are misguided, judged solely on a book written thousands of years ago? I mean, there are plenty of things in the Bible we don’t follow. Who says this must be one we do? What if this was just one man’s opinion, and he added it because he could? People turned their backs on Jesus, even knowing he was the son of God. Who’s to say those close to him didn’t sneak in a few things that might not have been proclaimed by God? If there’s one thing we know about man, it’s that he’s self-centered. Who wouldn’t want to throw in their own opinions in a book that’s supposed to be written by God?

  I don’t know. I could be completely wrong. I just can’t continue to keep living a lie. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to my family. They think I’m something I’m not. Something they can be proud of. But, if they knew the truth, they’d know I’m none of those things. I’m not the perfect son. I’m not a devoted member of the church, proud to hold the priesthood. It’s impossible.

  I believe in the church. I believe in everything they teach and do. Except this one thing.

  And it’s the one thing that could completely break me.

  I continue scrolling, feeling like everything I’m reading could’ve been written by me. It’s like these people have crawled inside my head and discovered my innermost thoughts.

  I click on another one, this time written by a woman.

  The church is full of hypocrisy if you think about it. Take the Word of Wisdom, for example. No coffee or tea. No alcohol. No sex. But Jesus himself drank wine. The church’s beloved founder, Joseph Smith, drank alcohol and coffee. He smoked. He had forty wives, some of them already married and some of them as young as fourteen!

  Yet, if I kiss a woman, I’m going to hell.

  Let’s hang up pictures of the hypocritical, adulterous pedophile all over the halls of the church. But, if my girlfriend and I tried to walk in the building, we’d be asked to leave. Makes total sense.

  I’m completely absorbed, feeling like I’m not alone for the first time. I consider starting my own blog. I could call it Confessions of a Gay Mormon Missionary. I wonder if I’d be able to pull that off each week when we stopped by the library without tipping Fisher off.

  I’m so caught up in my thoughts and my reading that, when my phone vibrates with a new text, it startles me. A soft yelp escapes my lips, my fingers fumbling with the phone. Luckily, it only falls a few inches onto the soft mattress, so I don’t have to worry about that waking up Fisher. My gasp, on the other hand…

  Shoving the phone back under my pillow, I poke my head out of the covers, trying to peer indiscreetly over my shoulder at Fisher in case he is awake and looking at me. If he is, I want to be able to try to play it off like I was sleeping, something in my dream having shocked me awake.

  But Fisher is still dead asleep, only furthering my suspicion that he really can sleep through anything. One of these days, I’m going to have to test that theory out.

  My mind flashes briefly to how this is going to work with Quinn once I have a new companion. And what will happen when I’m transferred to another area. There’s no way we’d ever be able to see each other. Would he be okay with only text messages for the remainder of my calling?

  I shake off the dismal thoughts, telling myself that’s a worry for another day. For now, I’m here, Fisher is dead to the world, and Quinn is texting me. I can’t dwell on the future when I’m not even sure I’m promised another day.

  I pull the phone out from under my pillow, making myself comfortable inside my cave once again.

  Quinn: Hey, you. I was wondering where you were. Glad to see I didn’t scare you off.

  Me: Nope. I’m unshakable.

  Total lie. I’m already so shook up, I feel like I’ve gone three rounds with a jackhammer. But I’m not going to tell him that. I might want to be completely up front with him, but he doesn’t need to know every personal detail about my apparent nervous breakdown.

  Quinn: Good to know. How was your day?

  Me: Same old, same old. How was yours?

  Quinn: Same old, same old. *wink*

  I suck at making small talk. I have no idea what to say next. I’m not going to resort to talking about the weather, like they always seem to do on TV, so instead, I scroll back up to his earlier messages, trying to find something that might spark an idea of what to send next.

  When my eyes land on his last one, I realize I didn’t acknowledge that one in my earlier text. He said he missed me. Not missed talking to me because he was bored. He said he missed me.

  And I missed him, too. It’s the reason I couldn’t wait to get back here tonight. Couldn’t wait for Fisher to fall asleep, so I could see if Quinn had sent me anything. I missed him. I missed hearing from him. I missed the excitement that had come with every text message. I missed the way he’d made me feel normal when I felt anything but.

  Me: So…I miss you, too. Just wanted you to know that.

  I let out a deep breath as I wait for his reply. It doesn’t take long for it to come.

  Quinn: Really?

  The word is followed by at least a dozen smiley faces. I laugh softly. That’s a lot of smiles.

  I’m a little shocked I’m being so bold, but then again, this was my decision. Put it all out there. Find out what this is. Find out if what I’m risking is worth it.

  I have a feeling I already know the answer to that question.

  Quinn: Come out with me tomorrow night.

  It’s not a question. And it catches me completely off guard. I wasn’t expecting him to tell me to come out with him. I figured he’d commiserate, telling me he wished our lesson were sooner, too.

  Me: I can’t. You know that.

  Quinn: You CAN. Wait for Fishy to fall asleep, crawl out the fire escape, and come up to my place. I checked earlier today. You can get between our apartments just fine on that thing.

  A thrill runs through me at the idea of sneaking out and going up to Quinn’s place. Knowing he sleeps above me has always been enticing. But knowing I only need to climb a few steps and the short distance between us can be closed? It’s exhilarating. Why didn’t I think of this before?

  But, still, I hesitate.

  Me: I don’t know. Fisher is a deep sleeper. But I don’t know if he’s THAT deep.

  Quinn: Come on. You know you want to. And God knows I want yo
u to. You’ll have fun. Blow off your duties for the night and let me show you the real LA.

  I bite my lip. It’s tempting. And didn’t I just think that I needed to put Fisher’s sleeping abilities to the test?

  Me: Where would we go?

  Quinn: Wherever you want to go. But, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to show you my favorite spot in the city. Don’t worry; it’s pretty low-key. Just a few buddies. Maybe a few drinks—for me, of course. And dancing.

  The idea of Quinn’s arms around me seals the deal, my skin tingling at just the thought of it. Holding him close, feeling the hard strength of his body against mine…

  Me: See you tomorrow night.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  * * *

  Quinn

  “You ready for this?” I ask Jaden as I place my hand on the door to Halcyon, looking back over my shoulder to give him a smile.

  He looks nervous as hell, but he puts on a brave face and nods. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  I laugh, giving the door a gentle push and reaching back with my other hand to usher Jaden inside. I keep my hand on the small of his back as we enter the club, my eyes immediately going on the hunt for my friends.

  When I told Ross I’d finally convinced the guy I’d been pining over these last few weeks to come out, he immediately volunteered to tag along to try to make things more comfortable. Less like a date. You know, ease Jaden into the whole gay-club scene.

  I look around the place, glad I chose this spot to bring Jaden to for the first time. It’s my favorite club in town, and it also happens to be the classiest, most understated gay club around. There’s none of that stuff you see in movies at gay clubs—stripper poles, men in thongs, drag queens…all those stereotypes Hollywood likes to pigeonhole us into. Not that those places don’t exist and not that they aren’t a hell of a good time. Some of the best nights of my life have been spent dancing with a few queens and laughing my ass off. But, sometimes, it’s nice to just relax and be yourself without having to worry about assholes like Rick getting all up in your shit.