Birch and Lawrence **OLD**

"There ain't nothin' wrong about two boys lovin' each other."

Lawrence arrived at his house at around one o'clock in the morning. The door was carelessly left open by his mother, who was passed out on the couch. He went to his bedroom and pulled out a small photograph wedged between the mattress and boxspring. It was an old photograph of him and his father. He was seven years old in the black and white image, hugging a little clown doll. His father stood at his side, one arm around his son's shoulder.

Conroy Addams was a tall, thin, bearded man with a big smile and an even bigger heart, and little Lawrence was the apple of his eye. It was he who taught Lawrence how to walk and talk, how to read and write, how to love and to be kind. He was so kind-hearted as a matter of fact, he only struck Lawrence once, and later broke down crying because he felt so awful about it.

Lawrence thought of a very prominent memory he and his father shared. They were in church, sitting in the back pew. Lawrence was seven, the same age as he was in the photograph. He was busy sucking his thumb and scribbling a picture of a cat on paper. His father sat next to him, politley listening to the priest.

"The bible claims," the priest declared, "any man who lies with another man the way he lies with a woman, has commited sin and will be destined for hell!"

"Amen," the Negro people in the church simultaneously replied.

Mr Addams nudged his son. "That's not true Lawrence." Lawrence looked up from his work, a puzzled expression on his cute little face. "What's not true, papa?" He had been so focused on his cat, that he hadn't paid attention to one word the priest had said.

"The priest said that it's wrong for two boys or two girls to love each other," Conroy Addams said. "and that's not true. There ain't nothin' wrong about two boys loving each other. As long as they're happy, it's okay." Lawrence's seven year old mind was unfamiliar with the whole concept of homosexuality. "Wait, two boys can love each other, but only if they're happy?" he asked.

Mr Addams nodded. "Yup. That's what love is all about. So if you love a boy when you grow up, I won't get mad."

"Okay, papa." Lawrence replied and turned his attention back to his drawing.

The comforting past faded from Lawrence's mind. He was seventeen again, laying on his down bed and looking at the photograph of his father posing next to his seven year old self. He felt his eyes water, and tears spilled down his cheeks, irritating his bruised eyelid. Why couldn't things stay the way they were? He almost remembered the answer to that question, and quickly averted his mind away from the memory of that horrendous, grim day.

Lawrence buried his face into the flattened pillow and sobbed. I'll do anything for love, he thought. Anything.  Then, the face of the white boy he had met earlier flashed into his mind, and he suddenly felt a little better. What was his name again? It was something like Barley or Burl, something weird that began with a B. Oh yeah, it was Birch. Now that he thought more about it, the name Birch did have kind of a handsome ring to it. He was so nice, the way he let Lawrence keep the pears. And didn't he say something about the town square tomorrow? Hmm, maybe he'll be an even nicer boy. Why not take a chance and meet him there? Lawrence felt butterflies in his stomach, the kind that made him want to giggle like a school girl. He got under the covers and went to sleep, knowing that he had something to look forward to.