Colors (23 page)

Thinking of Aunt Jenny does this for me: they’re receding, thoughts of my mother’s denial, of Brother Gramm, of the spiders crawling up my back into their eternal box I keep for them, giving me a moment’s relief. But soon….

They are gifts from God.

Brother Gramm’s words echo in my brain. I focus on finding the men’s room.

Gifts from God?
Was I your gift? Huh? Brother Gramm? A toy you could play with?
Abuse? Torture? Ruin?

Zombie-like, I pass meeting rooms set up as Family First offices.

Your present? To do whatever you wanted to with?

I thrust open the bathroom door, lean over the sink, turn on the faucet. I splash cold water in my face. The icy water feels good. It both numbs and cleanses, making me feel less used. I turn the paper towel crank, then rip off a piece and dry my face.

As I pull open the door, a voice from across the hall thrusts me nine years into the past.

“Now, this will be our little secret. Run along and find your mother.”

Trembling, I step back into the men’s room, leaving the door open a slit. My nine-year-old eyes peer into the hallway, frightened.

Brother Gramm leads a child through the opposite doorway.

My God, he’s at it again!

On that child, I see a familiar face—my own… alone, terrified.

This can’t be happening.

I blink.

My nine-year-old face vanishes and another comes into focus. The face I now see is Miriam Railston’s son, Obadiah. And in his eyes, I see the helplessness I once felt—I still feel—with Brother Gramm.

A tiny sob escapes from deep within me. I’ve got to help Obadiah… snatch him away from that monster.

But I’m paralyzed.

Brother Gramm glances across the hall, and startled, I shut the door. I back away.

Did he see me?

I turn from side to side, frantically searching for a place to hide. I can’t let him find me.

I duck into one of the stalls, fearing Brother Gramm will burst into the bathroom at any minute. I cover my eyes with the palms of my hands, trembling in terror. I cower, gasping for air, listening for footsteps. I rub my back up against the stall’s partition, trying to stop the spiders from crawling all over it. I gasp again. The air is thin. I swallow, then gulp more cleansing oxygen, swallow again, breathe again, and on and on for what seems like fifteen minutes or more—until the air thickens and seems to give me some courage.

Finally, I listen. The stillness engulfs me. The door to the bathroom has remained closed, so Brother Gramm must not have seen me.

Stealthily, I open the stall door, peep into the void, creep out from the stall.

A sigh of relief. Tiny. Cautious.

I once again splash icy water on my face and let it calm me, and then I slowly step into the hallway.

At a snail’s pace, I make my way back toward the exhibits. My downcast eyes count the tiles in the floor. Anything to keep my mind focused—off of Obadiah Railston—off Brother Gramm.

“Pardon me, young man.” I stop. “I didn’t see you there. I guess I was lost in thought.”

I see the shiny shoes first, and then my head, as if by an invisible hand, is drawn upward.

When our eyes meet, I am certain Brother Gramm will recognize me. It’s the moment I’ve imagined over and over… meeting
him
again.
Give me the courage to confront him.

Brother Gramm’s steely gray eyes pierce me, sending shivers up my spine.

“I was thinking about how truly blessed we are to have this rally, praise the Lord,” Brother Gramm intones. “Are you working the exhibits, my boy?”

My boy? Why not Neil? Why doesn’t he use my name? Doesn’t he know who I am?

“Y-y-yes,” I stammer. The prayer for courage is unanswered.

Have nine years changed me so much he doesn’t recognize me? Or does he forget us all once he gets what he wants?

“Keep up the good work, son.” Brother Gramm lays his hand on my shoulder. It burns like a hot firebrand. “Christ be with you.”

I stand, paralyzed, as the monster lumbers past me.

What am I going to do? The man hasn’t changed. I can’t let Obadiah suffer like I have. I can’t let Brother Gramm get away with this any longer. I have to tell someone.

I pick up one lead foot, then the other.

I’ve got to find Miriam. She has to know what that scum is doing to her son.

My steps falter.

Wait a minute. What will I tell her? I didn’t see anything. How will I explain how I know what Brother Gramm does to little boys? She’ll ask questions. I’ll have to explain my
little secret
.

I expel a long, hot stream of air, an air of defeat.

Miriam is just like all the rest, just like my dad, just like my mom. She won’t believe me either. Brother Gramm is a saint. That’s what they all think.

They’ll say I’m making it up. A man like their beloved Brother Gramm would never hurt little boys. Oh, no.

I turn back, take two steps.

But what about Obadiah? I can’t desert him. Wouldn’t Miriam want to help her own son?

Cemented to the floor, I look toward the rally offices. I try to pick up my feet. I urge my legs toward Miriam. But they feel as if they are encased in hardened concrete.

No. It’s too risky. I’ve worked hard to forget what happened to me. I can’t throw it all away. Obadiah will survive. I did.

What am I saying? He’s nine years old. I need to help him, to save him. I’ll do something, Neil….

In a fog, I find my way back to the ring toss.

Did I just call Obadiah Neil?

“I was about to send out a search party for you. Did you fall in the fountain? Your hair’s all wet. Where have you been?”

I am so deep in thought, so lost in my own helplessness it startles me when Melissa rushes me as I approach the booth.

“You missed Brother Gramm. He was just here.” She reaches out, moves my dripping hair off my forehead.

“Melissa….” I stop.
You can do this, Neil. If you can tell Melissa, you can tell Miriam, and
then
it will all end.
“You know all those stories about Catholic priests who have abused kids?”

“It’s disgusting, isn’t it? But when you forbid a man to marry, I guess he can go crazy. Thank the Lord, all our pastors are normal.”

“Well, I was just thinking, what if a pastor—like one of yours—did hurt little boys?”

Melissa cuts me off. “There is no way. That would never happen in our church. Every pastor I’ve ever known has been a wonderful man. They are very caring and loving. Take Brother Gramm, for instance….”

“Okay….” I’m on thin ice here. I try to soft pedal my revelation. “Say Brother Gramm was an abuser….”

“Neil, don’t even think such a thing. Brother Gramm is a fine man, a great pastor. Why in the world would you link his good name to such a vile act? What in the world has gotten into you? You’re gone for ten minutes, and you come back spouting all sorts of nonsense that doesn’t belong in the holy Christian atmosphere that people like Miriam and Brother Gramm have created at this rally. You just stop it.”

“But, Melissa….”

“Neil, it’s all that theater stuff messing with you. You’re creating one of your little scenes in your head, aren’t you? I know you, Neil Darrien. I know that ninety-nine percent of the time, you’re lost in your
wonderful
world of theater. Well, get your head on straight right now. I don’t know about your precious Scott Scheer and MTM, but if it was me and you started coming up with trash like that, I would take your scholarship away. No college program in its right mind would want someone with perverted thoughts like that around.”

Melissa has never, ever gone off at me. Not as vehemently, anyway. Is that what she really thinks of me and the theater?

But Melissa’s rant proves one thing: I can’t tell Miriam. I have to figure out another way to save Obadiah.

“I
S
THAT
you, Neil?” Aunt Jenny calls out as I latch the back door.

“Yeah.” I sigh, exhausted, defeated.

“Come in here. Your old auntie needs a hug.”

I had hoped to go straight up to my room, but instead I go to the studio. I don’t need any hassles with Aunt Jenny right now.

“I’ve been working on this order all day,” Aunt Jenny says as I half-heartedly wrap my arms around her. “I have to get it ready to ship tomorrow.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Maybe I can forget everything, especially Melissa, if I offer a little physical labor.

“No. I’m almost finished. Kristina was here. She helped me,” Aunt Jenny answers. There is a contentment in her I’ve not seen before. A lovely lady has gotten lovelier.

“Are you in love, beautiful lady?” I ask.

She hesitates. Then coyly: “Maybe.”

“Good for you. Now, let me help with this stuff.”

“No, really, I’m almost done.”

So much for distraction. Or am I just looking for an excuse to stay here awhile with Aunt Jenny, loving, unjudging Aunt Jenny?

She looks up from her work and frowns. “You look whipped. Rough day?”

“Long.” I turn. I can’t answer any questions right now. Too tired, too afraid of what I’ll answer. “I’m going to go work out, then I’m hitting the sheets.”

“Neil, you worked out this morning before you left. I heard you. That ought to be enough for one day. There’s such a thing as too much exercise, you know.”

I scowl. I don’t need this right now; what I need is a long, mind-numbing, distracting workout.

“Well, I just need to do a few reps to unwind.”

I don’t turn back.

“Besides, I’m working on my upper arms.”

“Neil, come out with it. I’m not blind. I’m well acquainted with my son’s patterns. You push your body when you have something to work out in your mind. So what’s bothering you? You’ve been awfully nice about Kristina and me, but I know I’ve laid a heavy thing on you. Is that what’s bothering you?”

I scrunch up my face, horrified she would think that. “No. No, no, no, no, no, no. I am so happy for you. Kris is great. And I’m glad you have somebody.”

“Well, I’ve been worrying about it all. If you recall, right before Kris showed up, we’d had that talk.”

I think back to the drive to the craft show. All that gay talk.

“I still mean what I said,” Aunt Jenny continues. “Being gay can be a hard life, but living a lie is harder. Know what I mean?”

Is she still thinking
I’m
gay?

“I told you, Aunt Jenny. There’s not a gay bone in my body.”

She shakes her head. “I believe you. But there are several in my body. And I denied it all for so many years, out of fear. Now I’ve accepted it. And I want to make sure you have.”

“Listen here, lady,” I scold. “I am totally on board with anything you are. If you told me you just committed an axe murder, I would say to myself, ‘Well, I guess they deserved it.’ And being gay is a far, far cry from being an axe murderess.”

She laughs. “Well, I would hope so.” Then she turns dark again. “So what is bothering you these days? And don’t say ‘nothing’ again.”

I’m just not ready to tell her everything. Brother Gramm, Obadiah—I have to figure it all out before I say anything to her. She’ll just want to fix it all, and I don’t think even Aunt Jenny can fix this.

“I had a fight with Melissa.” Maybe I can satisfy her with that.

“Oh, Neil, I’m so sorry. What about?”

“Nothing really. I think we’re just both tired. And all the Christian stuff is kinda getting to me. I just said something that pissed her off.”

“Well, you knew early on it might not work out. And, if you ask me, religion is a big relationship killer. She wants a church wedding/he wants to elope to Vegas; he wants to sleep in on Sunday morning/she wants to sit in the front pew; he wants a night out with the boys/she wants Wednesday prayer meeting. Some couples make it work, others split up over it. And I’m not just saying it’s always the woman who is religious. Sometimes she wants to prowl the bars with the girls while he’s the one who wants the front pew Sunday evening. I’m telling you, you both have to agree, or it’s doomed.”

“I know, I know… but I just don’t think I’m ready to give up yet. That’s why I apologized. And I think she accepted.”

“Well, good for you. Give and take, that’s important too. But sooner or later, you’re going to have to come to terms with the religion thing, because I don’t think she’s going to give in on that one.”

“You’re probably right,” I accede, more to get out of here than anything. She’s has a point, though. “But at this moment, I don’t plan to race to the altar. And Melissa can be fun. And she’s so… she’s so….” A warm blush creeps into my face. I can feel it.

“Pretty?”

I smile. Aunt Jenny can read my mind every time.

“What? You don’t think I noticed? She’s a hottie. And I’m not saying that because of my lesbianic tendencies; I’ve seen how you look at her. I don’t blame you, son. But I don’t want you racing to the altar, so you just take your time and enjoy it while it lasts.”

I sigh. “Good night.”

“Oh.” Aunt Jenny stops me before I can get to the doorway. “I almost forgot. Scott called today.”

“Scott
Scheer
?” I punctuate the last name as I jerk around.

“Do we know any other Scotts?” She gives me an exasperated look.

“What did he want?” I ask, fearing the answer.

“He has to go to New York soon. He wanted to double-check the dates for
Oklahoma!
He said he didn’t want to miss your performance.”

“Oh,” I say.
How long can this go on, Neil? If you expose Brother Gramm, then it’s bound to make the news. Then what will Scott think? Will he want that kind of news to taint everything he’s built at the university? No, he definitely won’t want you and your dirty little secret at MTM. After all, he has a program to protect.

I trudge upstairs. More confused than ever.

I
THRUST
my right arm toward the ceiling, and with my left arm on my waist, I bend sideways, reaching toward the wall. After several stretches, I switch sides and repeat.