Y O U T H (scomiche)

church

"Homosexuality is not a greater sin in the eyes of god, as any sin is an offense in the eyes of god. It's just one of the many things that keep you from the kingdom of heaven. Gods forgiveness is just as available to a homosexual as it is to an adulterer, murderer, idol worshipper, and you can be forgiven. On the pamphlet, as you walk out of the door, are many resources available to you, including verses that state that homosexuality is a sin."

I looked over at Scott in the next pew, wearing a green polo his mom picked out for him, tucked into a pair of khakis. He looked back at me, a little red in the face, trying to hold in laughter. You couldn't tell he was unless you knew him well or looked very carefully.

"The lord bless you and keep you, the lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you, the lord turn his face toward you and give you peace."

"Amen." Everyone repeated. The priest got down off of his stage-area, walked down the aisle, and everyone followed suit. I followed my mom out to the side of the pew, meeting with the other families on the hot concrete outside.

"Hey Mitch!" A happy, barbecue father put his arm around my shoulder. He wore a suit to church every Sunday, and my dad said he tried too hard.

"Hi, Mr. Green."

"Mitch, I've told you since you were able to speak, to call me Greg. You excited for your first day of school?"

"Yep."

"You're gonna be a senior now, aren't ya?"

"Yep."

"Nice, any college plans?"

"Possibly."

"That's great, Mitch! The more, the better. Now, I'm gonna leave you alone. Have a blessed week to you all!"

"You too, Greg." My mom said with a fake smile. I walked over towards the Hoying's.

"Hello, Mitchell!" Connie exclaimed to me. Rick went for a handshake, as always, while Scott awkwardly stood by. We left them to speak with another family while Scott and I walked around the pavement.

The after-church "pavement talk" (what I called it) could take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour. Basically, all of the white families get together to talk about how "great the lord is" and how "lovely the pastor is" and then gossip about their kids and each other's parents. When Scott and I started hanging out around the fourth grade, we would walk around the perimeter and do what we do best, talk.

I could talk to Scott for hours on end, and then-some. We were those kids in middle school that the teachers had to split up because we got the surrounding kids in on the conversation. My dad used to yell at me for doing nothing but sit up in my room and talk to him on the phone, even if I was doing homework.

"You know, Linda, I think that was just such a great talk the pastor had this morning, don't you agree?" I said in full white-mom voice. Scott, who was never able to find his white-mom persona, just laughed warmly.

"Oh my god, Mitch, you're too much."

"Scott Richard Hoying! You've just used the lords name in vain, that's twenty five cents in the swear jar and a prayer!" Again, white mom voice. Scott took a quarter out of his pocket and dropped it into my shirt pocket.

"Thanks." I said with a giggle.

"Hey, um, I have something to tell you. Not here, because I don't want people hearing, but, um, do you mind if I come over later?" I said, nervously.

"Let me ask my parents real quick, I don't know how long today's pavement-talk will be, they seemed in a hurry this morning." We both lightly jogged over to the Hoying's, waiting behind a pair of newlyweds talking to them. Once there was a break in conversation, Connie leaned over the couple to speak with Scott.

"Yes, dear?"

"Is it okay if Mitch comes over later?"

"As long as it's okay with his parents." I ran over to my parents, probably the shortest people in the whole church parking lot.

"Could I go to Scott's later?"

"Is it okay with his parents?" My mother said.

"Yes."

"Then yes, you may."

"Thanks!" I half-jogged back over to the Hoying's.

"They said it's cool!" Scott made the "jackpot" notion with his arm, gave his mom a thumbs up, and we went back to walking around the parking lot. 

"So, do you think you'd ever tell them?" I said to Scott. He responded with a sigh.

"I, honestly, have no idea. I don't know if they're actually cool with gay people, like, it's just a facade for church and the rest of the neighborhood, or if they'd actually shun me forever."

"Yeah. Waiting 'till college then?"

"I don't know if even then."

"Why? You'll have an official boyfriend at some-point."

"You say that as though you and I aren't official."

"Well, I'll give you that, but nobody actually know's about us."

"Yeah, yeah."

"What if you get married someday? They would, generally, like to know who your spouse is."

"Yeah, it's all stressful. God, why am I gay? Of all things?"

"Using his name in vain, again, Scott!" Said Cathy, my white mom persona.

"No, no, I was asking god why."

"Oooohh! Well, according to the pastor, god didn't create gay people. So you may have better luck asking satan."

"Satan, why am I gay?"

"That's better!"

"Mitchell, we're heading to the car!"

"Be right there!' I shouted with my small hands surrounding my mouth in an attempt to make myself louder.

"I should probably head back, too." Scott said, looking at his feet.

"Seeya in a bit, then?"

"Yeah."

We walked our separate ways towards our parents car's.