The God Box (4 page)

THE FOLLOWING MORNINGWHEN I ARRIVED AT HOMEROOM, MANUEL AND

ANGIE WERE ALREADY THERE, CHATTING QUIETLY.I said hi and sat down beside them.

Suddenly I got the feeling people were staring over at us. But when I looked around, people glanced away. Was I getting paranoid?The bell rang, followed by announcements blasting from the loudspeaker. When the end-of-homeroom bell rang, people clamored out of the room. And in the last row, Jude Maldonado announced to one of his buddies: "If I saw two guys walk down the street holding hands, I'd take a baseball bat and kill them."An angry flush crept up the back of my neck. That moment made me want to pound Jude, even though I'd never been in a fight in my life.

Impulsively, I turned to face him."Yeah?" Jude glared back at me. "What are you looking at?"I stared at him a moment, sizing him up. Then I turned away, annoyed at myself. His stupid comments didn't merit attention. But at the same time he'd fueled my suspicions: Had people begun to talk about Manuel?While I sat in morning classes, an even tougher question35weighed on my mind: If I associated with Manuel, would people start talking about me}When lunchtime arrived, I stood in the food line, gazing across the cafeteria at my lunch table. Angie and Dakota were talking with Manuel, but Elizabeth was conspicuously absent. That didn't totally surprise me. She was probably still riled at Dakota for making fun of her in Bible study."What can I get you today?" The cafeteria lady smiled at me.Glancing down at the aluminum trays, I settled on the fried chicken; then I trudged toward my table."Hi." Angie pulled a chair out for me.As I set my tray down, I noticed Elizabeth sitting across the room with Cliff, several of his football teammates, and some of their girlfriends. Manuel followed my gaze and asked, "How come Elizabeth isn't sitting with us?"I glanced away, letting Angie and Dakota respond. "I think she wants to keep closer tabs on Cliff," Angie told Manuel."She's jealous of his ex," Dakota added.Manuel's eyebrows arched up, as if he sensed there was more. Angie and Dakota exchanged a look."Well, actually . . ." Dakota pushed a loose strand of red curl behind her ear.

"She also thinks we shouldn't associate with somebody ... gay.""Ah." Manuel nodded. Then he glanced over at me, as if once again implying I might be gay. But this time I refused to look away. Let him think what he wanted."Look..." Manuel set his fork down from his lasagna. "I don't want to break up your group. I'll go sit somewhere else.""No," Angie protested. "You don't have to do that.""Yeah, please don't!" Dakota agreed. "Elizabeth will get over it."I stayed silent, biting into a chicken wing. Even though I felt36bad for Manuel, the prospect of not having to be seen with him offered some relief."No, better I go," Manuel said, grabbing his tray. He pasted on a smile, but it seemed like the saddest smile in the world. "Thanks for letting me sit with you guys."Angie called after him. "Manuel!"He ignored her calls and wandered across the cafeteria. I watched him, curious who he'd sit with, but I wasn't able to see where he ended up. When I glanced back at Angie and Dakota, both were glowering at me."What?" I asked innocently."You know what." Dakota's gray eyes were smoldering."Why didn't you say anything?" Angie elaborated."Because he's right." I tossed down my chicken wing. "He is breaking up our group.""No, he's not!" Dakota argued. "Elizabeth's the one breaking it up."Angie clenched her jaw, not saying another word. I knew that meant she was angry. But what could I say? I focused on my chicken till the bell rang.After school, when I met Angie in the seniors' lot to go to choir practice, she didn't toss me her car keys. Instead, she drove.Halfway to church she said, "Can I ask you something?"From experience I knew that that question signaled the start of an argument.

I sat up in my seat, bracing myself. "Yeah.""Why don't you like him?"Obviously, she meant Manuel. I took a breath and chose my words carefully. "It's not that I don't like him. I just don't want to hang out with him. And I don't think you should either."Angie stopped the car for a red light and gave me a sideways glance. "Are you jealous of him?"37"Jealous?" The question confused me. "He's gay! Why would I be jealous?""I don't know." She turned the car into the church parking lot. I slid down in my seat, irritated by the conversation. "He's bad news.""Well,"

Angie said, "if you don't want to hang out with him, that's up to you. But I don't care if he is gay.

I like him.""Fine." I gave a shrug, not wanting to argue anymore.After choir practice she didn't invite me over for dinner. When I asked if she wanted to come over to my house, she merely said,

"I can't tonight. Thanks."Once I arrived home, I tried my best to put any more thoughts of Manuel out of my mind. I made my pa and me meat loaf and corn for dinner. Later that evening I was doing homework at my computer when an IM from GetReal_BeReah^i2 appeared:Sup? I hope I didn't screw up u guys 'friendship with Elizabeth.I stared at the message, debating whether to respond. I didn't want to encourage him. Finally, I typed, That's okay.Manuel replied at once: If u don't want to talk to me at school, just tell me.His words made me feel like a creep. Could he tell I didn't want to be seen with him? Our town and school were too small to truly avoid someone.

Besides, even when I disliked somebody, I always tried my best to get along.My leg jiggled nervously as I told Manuel, Don't worry about it.I hoped that might end our conversation, but unfortunately, he seemed to take it as an invitation to friendship: Wanna hang out this weekend?My hands fumbled across the keyboard. I'm kind of busy with a concert at church.I waited, hoping he'd take the hint.38OK, he replied. Good luck with it. Knock 'em alive!I let out a sigh. Later, when I said my prayers and reviewed the day's events, one question Angie had asked kept reverberating in my brain: Was I jealous of Manuel?I still didn't understand why she'd asked that--and I had no idea what to pray in response.39

EVEN THOUGH I HAD TOLD MANUEL IT WAS OKAY TO TALK TO ME AT SCHOOL, I

STILL FELT NERVOUS ABOUT IT. WHEN I GOT TO HOMEROOM THE FOLLOWING

MORNING, I HUNG OUT AT MY LOCKER AND CHATTED WITH FRIENDS, WAITING

FOR THE BELL TO RING BEFORE GOING IN TO SIT BESIDE HIM.My fears weren't groundless. As the week progressed, the stares and whispers about him multiplied:"Did you hear that new guy is gay} He said so himself.""Oh, my God! You serious? That's so gross\"On Friday afternoon when the final bell rang, I bolted out the door, welcoming the weekend.Saturday morning, I slept till nearly noon. Then I spent most of the afternoon doing homework and chores: laundry, vacuuming, washing Pa's truck...Around six, Raquel came over for dinner with Pa. After gabbing with her a while, I drove over to Angie's. Saturday was our regular date night. We almost always did the same thing: go out for dinner and a movie, usually by ourselves, though sometimes with friends. There wasn't much else to do.40Tonight I took her a little stuffed panda I'd picked up at the store, even though she'd gotten over her anger at me about Manuel. At her house I helped with the evening feeding of adopted cats and dogs. Then for our own dinner we agreed on the little Chinese restaurant, one of the few options for eating out in our town.On our drive Angie was in a sweet, happy mood. She smiled at me, played with the panda, and rubbed my hand between hers. Over dinner we talked about our upcoming SATs and about universities for next year. We had discussed going to college together, and Angie wanted to apply to Texas AM's veterinary school. Her life's dream was to be a vet. Mine was to be a minister.We made it through our veggie pot stickers, Ma-Po tofu, and stir-fried eggplant without any mention of Manuel.

When we broke open our fortune cookies, Angie's said: If you think the sea is blue and I think it's green, why try to convince you?"That's true!" Angie laughed, her ponytail bouncing back. I loved her laugh--self-assured and joyful.My fortune said: For sunlight to shine through a window, the blinds must be raised.To me, both messages seemed kind of, like, duh.After dinner we headed to a movie at our town's one dinky little mall--or, as we called it, the (s)mall. The film was a romantic comedy that followed the standard Hollywood formula: boy meets girl, loses girl, and wins girl back. Along the way, boy and girl get into a heavy make-out session and usually land in bed.In contrast, Angie and I had been a couple for nearly five years but had never gone beyond making out, much less landed in bed. After all, we were Christians. At least that's how I rationalized it. I didn't admit that my passion for her all took place above my waist. I'd never thought about sex with her. Instead, I tried to be the perfect boyfriend, imitating the romantic gestures I'd41watched Pa show my ma: I held doors for Angie, gave her chocolates on Valentine's Day, slipped my jacket onto her shoulders if she felt cold ...I loved her--of that I had no doubt.

Aside from my family, she was the most important person in the world to me. She was funny, fun, kind, smart, and always there for me. I loved the time we spent together, whether talking, studying, praying, or just hanging out. Even when we argued, I never stopped loving her. But as much as I wanted to, I felt none of the lusty in-love-ness I watched on screen, even when we kissed or slow-danced.One lunchtime during sophomore year Dakota had stirred up a discussion about what constituted premarital sex. "To me," she argued, "that only means you can't have intercourse.""No way!" Elizabeth protested. "Sex includes any kind of sex.""What do you guys think?" Dakota asked Angie and me."Well," Angie replied, "I think it's a personal decision between two people and God."Then the three girls shifted their gaze to me."Um ..." I poked my fork into my mashed potatoes. "I think, um, a couple should wait on anything sexual till marriage."And secretly, I prayed that when the time came God would make me want to have sex with a woman.In tonight's silly comedy, the girl mistook the boy, a lab janitor, for a rocket scientist. Hoping to score an easy lay, he went along with the mistaken identity. But then he found himself falling in love and feared that if she found out who he really was, he'd lose her.Although it was a lame story, I laughed--probably from nerves. What if Angie found out my secret? Would she still love me? I didn't want to hurt her. But I didn't want to lose her either. She wasn't just my girl friend; she was my best friend.42Angie stroked my hand in the darkness of the theater, glancing at me every time the couple kissed--and when they landed in bed. Her longing was obvious.I squeezed her hand but kept my eyes glued to the screen, praying, Please, God, make me feel toward Angie like the guy in the movie feels toward his girl. . . like every other normal boy in the world feels, except me.At the climax of the film, the girl discovered the truth about the boy, and they had a blowout of anger. He apologized. And she decided she loved him anyway, for who he was inside, not what he was outside. Happy ending, blah, blah, blah ... The moral eluded me. My life was no silly Hollywood movie.As I drove Angie back to her house, the moon was up, and little thin clouds were whipping across it, going south. Angie leaned close to me, light-voiced, her hair fragrant.I parked the car and laid my arm across her shoulder. Angie rested her head on my chest and hummed a little bit of some hymn.Eventually, we kissed. I didn't mind kissing her; I just wished that I felt more. After several minutes I pulled away and reached for the door handle, expecting Angie to climb out too, so I could walk her up the front steps--

always the ideal gentleman. Except tonight she remained in the car seat beside me, studying my face.I let go of the door handle. "What's the matter?" She gave her head a little shake. "You're always the first to pull away." "Huh?""When we kiss," Angie explained, "you always pull away first." A faint band of sweat beaded on my forehead. Was she suspecting something?43"Um, sorry." I put my arm around her again and resumed kissing."Okay!" Angie pulled away, giggling.

"You're so funny sometimes."I laughed too, from anxiety. Then I walked her to the front door. On the steps we kissed again, and once more I waited for her to pull away first.She gazed into my eyes and told me, "I love you.""I love you too," I echoed, meaning it.After one last peck she said,

"Good night," and stepped inside. But as always she waited till I'd started the car before shutting off the porch light.And I drove home, thinking about the silly movie.44

SUNDAY MORNING I WOKE UP THINKING ABOUT OUR YOUTH CHOIR

PERFORMANCE -- FEELING MORE EXCITED AND NERVOUS THAN EVER.In our town, the church that you went to defined what group you belonged to--kind of like whom you sat with at lunch. It seemed like we had a church on almost every corner. When meeting someone for the first time, folks would ask, "Where do you worship?"The I Am The Way Church was one of our area's largest congregations, holding English and Spanish services for more than two thousand members in a building bigger than our high school.Five years ago, when I first went with my pa and Angie, I had never been to a charismatic church before. At the solemn little chapel Pa and I had attended with Ma, people knelt in silent prayer, listening to the musty organ while waiting for service to start.Here, even before the service began, churchgoers stood and prayed out loud, some at full voice, raising their hands in the air. And when Pastor Jose strode in, a full-throttle band and jubilant choir accompanied his arrival, while people swayed their bodies, clapped to the music, and practically danced in the aisles.45That Sunday, Pastor Jose had preached about how Jesus softened our hardened hearts, quoting from Matthew: '"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.'" People started speaking in tongues, received the laying on of hands, and fell backward ("slain in the Spirit," Angie later explained), while I shifted in my seat, a little nervous.When I gazed at Pa for reassurance, I was surprised to see a river of tears streaming down his face for the first time in the weeks since Ma had died. And when Pastor Jose invited all who wanted to be made new in Christ Jesus to come forward, my pa responded.I craned my neck to watch, not wanting to let him out of my sight. When he returned from the altar, he stood straight and smiled peacefully, his eyes no longer dimmed by Ma's death but glowing with light. It was uncanny. Had Jesus truly made him new?That afternoon I asked Pa,