Chapter 6 – Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Little cements a friendship like a joint journey to the brink of Hell and back. During the 2010-11 school year, Luke and I were together unless I was in a math lab or he was baseballing. We were so joined, Luke started calling me "Bennie," from Elton John's "Bennie and the Jets." He was, of course, the Jet(s). When I'd show up, he'd start the song. I liked the name a lot. It stuck. I didn't like Luke's singing. It stunk.

With our attachment and my open status on campus, I was surprised that rumors were not swirling around us. But, they weren't, a fact I confirmed with friends. Apparently, Jet's BMOC status – coupled with the fact he was now, like Tim Tebow, a poster boy for the Religious Right and the efficacy of its abstinence fixation – insulated him. On campus, my presence in his life was a confirmation of the Owl Program and of Jet's Christ-like goodness. Christ fraternized with whores. Jet fraternized with a gay.

I suspect some element of the campus viewed me as mission work. They hoped Jet was preaching the Gospel to me, trying to save me from the sinful path I had "chosen."

As a Junior, I was living "Beyond the Hedges" (i.e., off-campus). I had a one bedroom apartment that I basically shared with Jet. He was over all the time. We studied together. We prayed together. We researched and debated theologic points together. We tried to sway each other. He wanted me to listen to more Christian rock. I wanted him to listen to more Classic rock. He wanted me to stop solving math problems and be more social. I wanted him to stop watching Cub games.

As often as not, he slept over. Usually, he slept on the couch. But, sometimes, he slept in my bed. When he did, we almost always slept hand in hand, forehead to forehead, having fallen asleep while we prayed.

As the semester break approached, we made plans to visit each other over the holiday. I was driving to his house the day after Christmas. He was driving to mine the day after New Year's Day.

As I drove north on December 26, I wondered if Luke and I were a couple. Aside from sex, we were doing all the things couples do together. When he was not around, I missed him. When he was around, I delighted in him.

Luke's parents greeted me warmly and welcomed me into their home, especially Mother Black. When I mistakenly called her Mother Black instead of Mrs. Black, she broke into a broad smile. "I like that," she said. She was Mother Black to me thereafter.

Over dinner, she thanked God for bringing me into Luke's life and described me as the brother he always wanted but never had. If only it had been that simple.

That night, Luke and I were in the basement talking long after the Blacks had gone to bed. I didn't want to scare him, but I wanted to share question with him, to see what he thought.

"A funny question occurred to me as I drove up here."

"What's that?"

"Are we dating?"

Luke laughed. "Good grief, Bennie, we've been dating a long time."

"Really?"

"Yes. You didn't know?"

"No. I can't believe I've had a boyfriend and didn't know it."

"Well, you have. We're together all the time. What else could it be?"

"I thought we were just best friends," I admitted, laughing at my obtuseness.

"We are best friends. But, not 'just' best friends."

"I think it's time we kissed," I said.

"I think it's past time. I've been waiting for you. I've never kissed anyone. I don't know what to do."

"I haven't really kissed anyone either. I kiss my parents, but I don't think that counts."

"How should we do this?"

"We should stand up."

We did. We were face to face. But, we were helpless. We were like two foals trying to stand for the first time.

Sublimated and suppressed desire finally overwhelmed me, and I grabbed Luke's face in my hands, pressed my lips to his, and shared my first real kiss. Luke's lips were soft but firm, and touching them with mine sent a jolt of electricity throughout my body. My stomach tingled, like I had just crested the hill of a roller coaster and started the free fall.

We parted to catch our breath. I looked at the clock. It was 12:17 a.m. on December 27. I had been 21 years old for 17 minutes, and I had just shared my first real kiss. I had not told Luke it was my birthday, but he had just given me the greatest gift I had ever received.

"Wow," Luke said, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, wow," I confirmed, moving my mouth back to his and kissing him again. Slowly, our mouths opened, and our tongues touched. I was back on the roller coaster, again in free fall.

We kissed the night away. I kept checking the clock when we broke. At 1:31, we were still standing. By 2:57, we were seated on the couch. By 4:15, we were side by side on the floor. Most of the night, we held hands as we kissed. If we were not holding hands, any touching was above the waist, usually at the shoulders or around the neck.

By the time the sun came up, my lips were raw, and my stomach ached. I generally tried not to masturbate, but I needed to relieve the ache.

We also needed to make our way upstairs. We were already going to have to explain why we had slept in the basement, even though neither of us had slept.

When we got upstairs, no one else was up, so we continued up to our bedrooms. Once in my room, I went into the bathroom and relieved the ache in my stomach. It had to be done. I then showered and headed back downstairs for breakfast. I should have been exhausted, but I felt electrified.