The Closet Chronicles

10. Camp Sunset

    June went by uneventfully. I still slept and worked in the basement, but I was allowed to come upstairs for meal times and for my tutoring. I was allowed to see Jennifer for an hour every week day and two hours a day on weekends, provided that I showed her some kind of affection when she came and when she left. I got a raise to twenty dollars an hour, and I got to work reduced hours on the weekend, provided I continued on my journey to being straight.
    Anytime I did something that my parents deemed "homosexual", I would lose my time with Jennifer for that day or the next day, and I would be locked back in the basement until breakfast the next day. However, my acting skills were almost impeccable, so that only happened twice.
    On the first of July, my father brought down two suitcases for me.
    "In this one, pack all of the clothes that we have gone through and deemed acceptable," he said. "In the other one, put the rest of your faggy belongings." I did as he asked, and then brought the suitcases upstairs.
    "Tomorrow you will be leaving for Camp Sunset," my mother announced. "You will be gone for a month, so you get three hours with Jennifer today, instead of learning with your tutor."
    "Thanks, mom. I'm gonna go get ready before she gets here"
    "You have fifteen minutes," she called behind me as I went back downstairs to change.
    Jennifer and I had a great afternoon. We ate cobbler, played board games, and gossiped. By the time our three hours were up, we were about to cry at the fact that we were going to be separated again, this time for a whole month. With tears in our eyes, we hugged goodbye. I watched her walk down the driveway, and ran downstairs, where I began to bawl.
    I stayed in the basement until it was suppertime. We spent the meal in silence, other than "Pass the peas," and "Do you want more chicken?" It was very awkward, but I was glad for the silence. I didn't really want to talk.
    The next morning, my mother woke me up at five a.m., so that we could drive out to the camp. The drive was three hours, but it said on the packing list to bring a phone and earbuds if you could, so I listened to music the entire way. When we got there, it was nine o'clock, and registration was just starting.
    There were forty kids total in the camp: twenty-one boys, and nineteen girls. I was in a group with four other boys, and five girls. The girls were in one side of the cabin, and the boys were in the other. Going back and forth between sides was encouraged.
    The first day of camp was actually fun. We learned each other's names, and played games. At night, we had a campfire, and sang songs while eating marshmallows. It seemed much like a normal camp.
    The problems started the next day at craft time. We went to the craft cabin, and sat down in a circle. One of our counselors, Megan, began talking in a very bubbly camp counselor voice.
    "Before we begin our crafting, let's get to know each other. Everyone please say your sexual orientation. Let's start with you!" She pointed at me.
    "I'm gay," I said quietly.
    "You're what?" she responded.
    "I'm gay," I repeated.
    "No you're not. You're straight. Everyone here is straight! Do you all understand!" A small murmuring of yes ran through the circle.
    "Now, Jamie, because of your struggles with accepting your heterosexuality, Hollie will be taking you to the convincing station until craft time is over. We will see you in an hour." Our other counselor, Hollie, came over to me and grabbed my arm. She lead me like a child to the convincing station, a black cabin where they "convinced" the kids to be straight somehow.
    When I got inside, I was greeted by a rather ugly old man.
    "Hi," he said. "I'm Steve. Are you ready to continue to accept yourself as a heterosexual being?"
    "Sure?" I said. I learned that just rolling with the punches helped pacify my parents, so I thought it may help in that situation.
    "Great! Let's get to it! Your room is just over here." I followed Steve to a medium sized room. There was nothing in there except for two chairs and a closet.
    "What are we going to be doing?" I asked, curious about how they were planning to convince me to be straight.
    "We are going to have a little chat," Steve said with a smirk. "Let's get started. What is your sexual orientation?"
    "Straight," I replied, remembering what Megan had said.
    "That's right! You did it! Let's play a game!" Steve walked over to the closet, and pulled out a deck of cards. He dealt the cards, and we played a game of go fish.
    "You know that you are a smart one, right?" Steve said to me quietly. "If you had said gay, I would have had to punish you."
    "How would you have done that?" My answer was the sound of tears, coming from the room next door.
    "We would have kept talking," Steve said slyly. We continued to play a multitude of different card games. Every little while, he would ask me what my sexual orientation was. I was smart enough to answer straight every time. I could hear the tears of the person in the next room, and I was scared.
    Once our time was up, Steve thanked me for being so cooperative.
    "You're going to make a great heterosexual," he said as he let me out the door.
    I only had one slip up for the rest if the month, and I got to play cards with Steve again without any other punishment. However, the cries of the kids being shamed in the other rooms were torturous. I could hear the weeping from my cabin. The sound of tears terrified everyone in the camp. I struggled to sleep at night, because some kids from our cabin would stay at the convincing station all night long. When we saw them the next morning, they not only looked exhausted, but they looked as if they would pee their pants at the sound of a sneeze.
    For the rest of the month, we did many different activities. We sang songs about being straight and not being gay, we played games at the expense of the homosexuals, and even had a dance party with custom recorded songs about being heterosexual. The camp did everything a normal camp would, but with a straight twist. The only hints that differed from normal camps was that we had to go to a heterosexual behaviour class every day. We learned how to walk and talk like the camp's view of a straight kid. Everytime you slipped up in the convincing station, you had a belonging, such as your earbuds or phone, taken away from you. Every offence was worth twenty-four hours without your belonging.
After what felt like an eternity, the month was over. On the last night, we had a bonfire, and we burned all of our "faggy" belongings. We didn't get to sleep until after two that night. The next morning, my mom came to pick me up. She looked at me, and a huge smile spread over her face.
    "Look at you," she said. "My own son, cured at last!" I smiled at her, and played along with her fantasy.
    "I realize just how gross I was, mom. I'm all better now, though."
    "Good boy," she said, leading me to the car.