QColumn: A Gay In The Life: For The Love Of God

For the Love of God
By Steve Prince
“Hmmm,” I said aloud wondering what was taking so long.
I had been waiting for Peter to walk through the security doors at LAX for about thirty minutes.
I looked at my phone for the fourteenth time. No text or call. I shifted my weight to my other leg. My lips felt chapped, probably because I’d been biting them nervously.
As excited as I was to see Peter, the nervousness inside me gathered like a storm. How was I going to tell him I cheated? Spit it out, I guess… I didn’t know.
I looked up at the arrival board. The flight wasn’t listed anymore. Just minutes ago it had said, “Flight 833. Arrived.” Now nothing. I guess too much time had passed.
I looked at my phone again. Still no call. No text. It had been forty minutes now.
A woman who had been waiting at baggage claim heaved a sigh as her own bag finally came. I had seen her walk out the security doors and wait for over half an hour for her bag—bless her heart. The baggage claim at LAX always takes forever long. At least she found what she’d been waiting for.
“Excuse me,” I said as she passed by me, “may I ask what flight you just came in on?”
“Oklahoma City,” she said. That was Peter’s flight.
Okay, now I was just worried. Why hadn’t he called?
And then I realized that I could just call him. Why didn’t I think of that before?

After the third ring his voice mail picked up.
“Yo, it’s Peter. Do it to it and I’ll call you back.” I smiled. It was the lamest greeting in the world, but hearing his voice made my nervousness go away. I just wanted to see him, wrap my arms around him and take in his smell of soap with the faint hint of cigarettes. That might not sound appealing, but it was to me—that was his smell. And even thinking of it made feel seem like he was right next to me.
“Hey babe,” I said, “It’s me. I’m here. Um, let me know what’s going on? Kinda getting worried here. Hope you’re okay. Um… alright… bye. I love you.”
Ten minutes passed and still no word. Now I was really worried. Luckily, there was a small United service desk by the elevator. A woman with mousy brown hair feverishly typed away at her kiosk. The bags under her eyes and her sallow skin suggested that she’d probably been working through the night. As I tentatively stepped toward her I hoped that she was in a good mood.
“Excuse me,” I asked as politely as I could.
Her palm shot in to the air. “Hold,” she said, as she kept typing. Peachy. She seemed chipper.
After a minute, she took a sigh and looked up at me. “Yes?” she asked in low mumble. She kept typing.
“Um… hi, yeah,” I said, my hands fidgeting, “I’m waiting for a friend who I know was on this flight, but he’s not here. I wanted to check and see if he boarded the flight.”
Her short, robotic answer sounded rehearsed. “Are you family and is this an emergency?”
“Well,” I began, “no, but he’s my boyfriend.”
“So you’re not family?” she asked.
“Not technically,” I began again, “but—”
“And this is not an emergency?” she asked.
I took a breath so I could talk faster. “I don’t think it is,” I said rapidly, “but if I haven’t heard from him, then it could be an emergency, so I if I find out he wasn’t on the flight—THEN we have an emergency.” I smiled politely.
“Sorry,” she said, looking back down at her screen typing, “No family. No emergency. No information.”
“But really, all I want to know is—” I began.
“Look sir,” she said, “the FAA has rules for a reason. Now unless you want to talk to that US Air Marshall over there I suggest you go home and wait. He’ll call you. And if he doesn’t, he’s probably with someone else. Men are pigs, I know.”
I stared at her blankly. Do people really say this kind of stuff? I almost felt like I was being PUNKED. How dare she tell me about my life; like she would know. I had a right mind to tell her off and let her know she was way out of bounds.
Instead I smiled way too big and said, “Thanks so much sugar!” Sometimes being Southern is a curse.
I looked at my phone. It’d been an hour. Maybe that bitch was right and he had found someone else. It would serve me right. I headed home.
Driving home I didn’t know what moved faster—my car or my thoughts. What happened? Where was he? What if something had happened to him? Or what if something had happened to his other grandparent? He was so close to his family. If one of them died he might have forgotten to call me. He’d be devastated. What could I do? Wait. I remembered that Peter’s sister was my friend on Facebook. Maybe she put her contact information on her profile. If her phone number was on there I could call her. It was worth a shot.
It only took twenty minutes, but it felt like an eternity before I got home.
As I walked into the house I flung my keys on my bed. I pulled my laptop up and opened it.
I’d forgotten to close my e-mail browser page out. As I scrolled to type in Facebook, I noticed that G-mail said I had a message on Facebook, from Peter. What? It might’ve been a group recommendation, an invitation to play Farmville, or one of the two other Peters I know. Still wondering, I hurriedly went to my Facebook page.
“Come on,” I said waiting for the page to load. Finally, I clicked on my inbox.
It was from Peter. My Peter. The subject read, “Hey bro…”

Steve,

I just saw that you called. Sorry I couldn’t pick up but I think you’ll understand by the end of this email.

Steve, something amazing happened to me yesterday. My Mom saved my life. See, when I told her about us and my choice she was crushed. In fact, she locked herself in her room all day and didn’t say a word to me. I spent the time thinking about how hard the last few months have been—I’ve had lots of doubts.

Finally, the next morning she asked me to go with her to church. I felt so bad I had hurt her so much, so I joined her. And Steve, when I walked into that building, I admit that Fear came into my heart and I was scared. Scared about me, you, and us.

But as soon the preacher began preaching about homosexuality, and the way it can turn us away from God and darken our hearts, I knew he was talking to me. He talked about the difference between true love versus lust. At first I didn’t want to hear it, but then he talked about how there are people like me out there. He said there’s counseling available that can teach people like us how to live of life of God again.

When he finished my Mom began crying and as everyone sang the hymn, she grabbed and hugged me. She said, “This is what I prayed for all night, son. Jesus has shown you His Path. Please take it. You have to do this for me.” I realized that those Preacher’s words were actually the word of God. The Lord was speaking through His vessel.

Suddenly the Fear in my heart was banished and replaced with Love. I could feel the Lord’s presence in my life and I knew I had only one way to go. His way. A life without sin.

I’m not coming back to LA, Steve. My Mom thinks it best that my family there packs my stuff up for me. She wanted me to ask you not to call again. Probably for the best, if I saw you I might be tempted and I wouldn’t want to lead you astray from God anymore than I already have. I’ve already found a counselor in town who specializes in this type of thing. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to begin a new life.

I know you may be angry and you may be hurt. But please remember Steve, I do love you. Like a brother. I just got mixed up for a while, and confused that Christian love with lust. Still, remember that God loves you more than I ever will. His love is infinite and abounding. Jesus has plans for you and you can still control the choices you make in life. If you ever need help in that choice, let Jesus Christ into your heart, you’ll never be sorry again. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of me and I hope you feel Joy like this one day. If you want to live a life of God, please find me and I’ll help anyway I can.

God bless,

Peter