Get Me To A Church

CHAPTER 6: THEN

           "Anyone in there?" I called from outside the bathroom stall. I didn't know who was there, but I heard sniffling.

           "No duh, fuckwad. Buzz off!" It was clearly Travis, but his voice broke in the middle of his sentence. He sniffed again and groaned frustratedly. It came out more like a sob, though.

           I wasn't really sure why I'd decided to check the stalls. The school bathroom was disgusting, so I rarely used it; the note could've been there since last month and I just hadn't known. Still, I wanted to know who wrote it.

           "Travis?" I asked confusedly. I'd never heard him cry. His only emotion was anger. "Were you just... crying a second ago?"

           He recognized me. "Sally Face?" He sniffed again. His breathing was labored, like every tear was hurting him. "I— No! What the hell?! Can't a guy get some privacy?!"

           It seemed like there were three options — walk away and ignore the situation, maybe even crack a joke as revenge... comfort him, somehow, though I can imagine that it might be a little creepy to do that from the other side of a stall door in a public bathroom... or ask him why he made fun of me so much. The last option seemed like the best at the time. I'd been punched in the face by him the day before.

           "Why do you hate me so much?" I asked.

           "Because! You and your... d-dumb friends are a buncha homos!" he screamed. "It's sick! It's not right! God will never love you! Why should I?!"

           It sounded like a reminder more than a threat. I vaguely understood what was happening at the time: Travis was getting his homophobia from his dad. Since Travis's dad owns and probably preaches at Phelps Ministry, one of the few nearby churches, he's clearly very religious. I began to realize that Travis's dad was not be the saint he probably tries to be. Maybe he tells his son to belittle others who he thinks is gay. Maybe he tells his own son that he's being to much of a sissy for a good, Christian child of God. Maybe this is Travis's defensive mechanism — to tell others that they are the sinners so he thinks that he's the good one. He needs help.

           "You know we aren't all actually gay, right?" I checked. "I mean, besides for Todd. Todd is super gay." That was supposed to be lighthearted to make the room feel less claustrophobic, but I don't think it worked. Travis simply harrumphed after I made the joke.

           To be completely honest, I wasn't sure who I was. Before, "straight" wasn't even a word. It was conventional that a guy would fall in love with and marry a girl, and then they'd have babies and the bloodline would keep going. That went from a gross thought to an accepted part of life to an interesting topic as I grew older. Still, I'd never crushed on anyone except for Ash. I digress — girls are cute, guys are cute, and if there's any other gender I'm missing out there, I'm sure they'd be cute, too.

           Then I was introduced to "gay" and "straight" and "bisexual" and this truckload of shit that made me stop and think: "What am I?" I stopped caring about a label, eventually. 

           I'm glad I was able to think about it and come to a conclusion without having to do it in secret. When I told my dad, he didn't care — still, he let me know that other people may not be so kind. Travis was one of those people, but more importantly, Travis's father was one of those people.

           I snapped out of it and noticed I'd been staring at the wall for a while. "But that's part of who he is and I think it's wonderful. He's one of the kindest people I know. How could anyone hate Todd?"  I continued.