RAINBOWS ALL AROUND US
by
Nathan J. Morissey
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Nathan J. Morissey on Smashwords
Rainbows All Around Us
Copyright 2012 by Nathan J. Morissey
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***
Copyright 2012 by Nathan J. Morissey
All rights reserved. No parts of this book shall be reproduced, stored or transmitted by any
means, except with the written permission of the author.
Please note that this story contain explicit erotic and sexual content. Mature readers only.
Reader discretion is advised.
This work of fiction is the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to real life
characters, places and events are unintended and purely coincidental.
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***
Foreword
I’ve always wanted to write a heartbreaking and beautiful gay love story. Encouraged by
my friends and fans, this is my first effort. I hope you like it.
Deeply closeted and lonely, Justin spirals into a depression when he has no one to turn to.
When compassionate and sexy Lucas enters the picture, he changes Justin into a confident and
happy young gay man. But tragedy strikes when Lucas gets involved in the gay rights movement
and attracts homophobic bigots. Can Justin protect his true love? Or will they be torn apart
forever?
Set amid the gay marriage movement, Rainbows All Around Us is a story about the
difficulties of being both gay and masculine in the modern world, the importance of being
yourself, and most importantly, the power of love to change your world.
***
Special Dedication
For those that are fighting for equal rights for all, especially same-sex marriage. I support
your cause.
***
Foreword
I’ve always wanted to write a heartbreaking and beautiful gay love story. Encouraged by
my friends and fans, this is my first effort. I hope you like it.
Deeply closeted and lonely, Justin spirals into a depression when he has no one to turn to.
When compassionate and sexy Lucas enters the picture, he changes Justin into a confident and
happy young gay man. But tragedy strikes when Lucas gets involved in the gay rights movement
and attracts homophobic bigots. Can Justin protect his true love? Or will they be torn apart
forever?
Set amid the gay marriage movement, Rainbows All Around Us is an uplifting and
inspirational gay love story about the difficulties of being both gay and masculine in the modern
world, the importance of being yourself, and most importantly, the power of love to change your
world.
***
Rainbows All Around Us
Prologue
When I was ten years old, my pet dog died. It was a beautiful golden retriever that dashed
around the house, wagging its cute little tail. When I was sad, it would leap up on me, licking me
in the face until I was wet but laughing.
My parents decided it would be a good idea to have a funeral for little Rover, to provide
closure and all. I still remember that Autumn day. Gray skies threatened rain as the three of us
were huddled outside in the backyard, standing in front of Rover’s makeshift tombstone.
A tear streamed down my face as I reminisced about how the dog cheered me up when I
was picked last in gym class.
When my father saw me sob silently, he put a comforting hand on my shoulder.
I looked up at him, barely able to see him. “Why did Rover have to die? Why didn’t that
car stop?”
The rain started to pelt down, staining my face until I wasn’t sure whether the water on my
cheeks were tears or raindrops.
My father had no words for me. He hemmed and hawed, but said nothing substantial.
Silence surrounded us, the only sound the steady dripping of the cold fall rain.
In a little while, the rain subsided and a tiny sliver of sunlight peaked out of the sooty
clouds. The golden drop mixed with the rain to form an enchanting rainbow arc, which just so
happened to grace little Rover’s gravesite.
My father pointed at the direction of the rainbow. “Hey look, Justin!”
I stared at the rainbow of many colors. It wasn’t just any rainbow though. It sparkled and
glowed longer and brighter than any rainbow I had ever seen. It had twenty different colors,
instead of the usual seven. I could make out the tiny nuances among the different colors. The
color blue was made up of traces of cerulean, turquoise, lapis. It was the most beautiful rainbow
in the world.
I couldn’t help but smile.
Was this a sign from God, telling me not to be sad? Was He telling me that beauty could
arise from tragedy?
If Rover hadn’t died, then we wouldn’t have buried him there. And if we hadn’t buried him
there, but we wouldn’t be out here admiring this unique rainbow. But still, this rainbow
represented only a fleeting moment of joy in the tragic death of my dog.
In the end, I decided the heavens was telling me to look on the bright side. So I did. As I
stared at the rare rainbow, mesmerized, I thought about the wonderful times that I had with that
little puppy. I remember, with embarrassment, how my first kiss was technically with my dog. I
was coming home from school one day and my dog, in his excitement, jumped onto me as soon
as I entered the house and licked my lips with his tongue. I spat in disgust, ashamed that my first
kiss was with an animal. Looking back on it, the incident was hilarious.
I laughed wildly. The laughter started off small, but then spread throughout my body,
taking a hold of me. As the crazy laugher reached its zenith, I shook uncontrollably as the chilly
rain and the cruel wind continued to whip me.
***
Part 1
San Diego, California, 1997
Chapter 1
Growing up in Southern California in the late 1990’s, being gay was a total taboo. When I
first realized I was gay at the tender age of 16, I was scared shitless. I saw what had happened to
one gay man in the news. He was beaten to death one night by two drunk bigots. The two drunks
were caught, put on trial, but acquitted when they pleaded the gay panic defense. An uproar
ensued in the gay community. At that point, I wasn’t much into gay rights. I was just scared that
might happen to me.
One day, I saw the latino actor Mark Diego shirtless lounging on the beach on TV, I was
aroused and my dick confirmed my arousal. Oh shit, I thought. Up until that point, I had never
even thought about other people’s sex appeal. I guessed I was a late bloomer. But one look at
Mark’s rippling biceps, chiseled abs, broad chest angular face, brown eyes and I was hooked. I
couldn’t just my eyes off him. He was hot and sexy. And I really wanted him.
The next shot cut to the beautiful buxom blonde actress Cindy McMillan in her bikini,
showing off her perfect hour-glass figure. I knew she was beautiful, but my cock was flaccid.
Nothing stirred down there. I wasn’t even getting wet. Desperate, I flipped to another channel,
eager to see another beautiful woman. Maybe I just didn’t like blondes. I turned to channel 28
and the petite brunette Jennifer Hopson was dancing with some guy. Her breasts were pressed
tightly against the man’s chest and her hips and ass were gyrating suggestively. But my eyes
weren’t on her for long. They wandered to her male dance partner, a beefy blond guy with big
arms and a wide chest. I nearly salivated at the sight of him. I confirmed that it wasn’t blondes I
didn’t like. I just didn’t like women.
It was then that I realized that life was going to be harder for me than for my straight
friends.
My best friend at that time, Davie, was pointing at Jennifer Hopson and leering. “Damn,
she’s fine. Isn’t she, Justin?”
Trying to conceal my true sexual orientation, I nodded. “Oh yeah. She’s hot.”
Davie nodded, his eyes still fixated on the wide hips of the lady.
Oh shit, I thought. This is bad.
I knew I had to accept my homosexuality. It was only accepting it within myself that I
could be ready to have a boyfriend. I didn’t want to become a self-hater. But still, it was hard for
me to accept. For a long time, I did hate myself. I thought I was a fag, and according to my ultra-
religious and conservative parents, God hates fags and sends them to hell for punishment. I could
only hope that the Lord could spare me in His divine mercy.
For two years, I struggled with my sexuality. I suppressed it, refusing to acknowledge it. I
even stopped looking at hot men on TV, in movies and in real life. it was hard to do. One lonely,
horny night, I caved in to temptation and watched some gay porn on the internet while pleasuring
myself. It had been months since I looked at hot guys so my orgasm was particularly intense.
When I finally came, I felt happy. It was then that I realized that suppression of my sexuality was
unhealthy. So I decided to accept my homosexuality, but I decided not to tell anyone yet.
Still, at the same time, I curious about what having a boyfriend would be like. It was
normal for straight guys my age to have girlfriends, so why couldn’t I, a gay man, have a
boyfriend? Then I realized that if I did have a boyfriend, it would not be a normal relationship.
Because I wasn’t out of the closet to anyone at all, I’d have to sneak around. We wouldn’t be able
to hold hands or kiss in public, the kind of publicly displayed affection that straight couples
enjoy and take for granted. All that sneaking around wouldn’t be fun for me and my boyfriend.
One day, I was sitting in a boring history class. The teacher was droning on about the
Reconstruction Era after the American Civil War, but I wasn’t listening. I was thinking about
how nice it would be to have a boyfriend.
I was 18 and in my senior year of high school at Maderas High in San Diego. My
adolescence was nearly over and I hadn’t even had my first romantic entanglement with a boy
yet. I was green and wet behind the ears sexually. I didn’t want to leave high school without at
least some sexual experience with other boys. More importantly though, I didn’t want to leave
high school without experiencing first love with another boy.
It was halfway in the school year and we were getting ready to take the SATs, but my mind
was far from college. My parents, a doctor and a lawyer, both wanted me to go to college and
enter medical school, but my mind wasn’t set on it. I wanted to pursue an artistic and creative
profession. Exactly what I wasn’t sure, but definitely somewhere in the arts. In either case, I
didn’t care about college or the SATs.
That was why instead of listening to the teacher, I was thinking about a boy in class:
Tommy Smith. A tall wiry redhead with glasses, Tommy was the only boy out in the entire
school. And he took a lot of heat for it.
When he first came out, a group of boys from the varsity basketball team beat him up and
tossed him in a dumpster. The boys were suspended because Principal Taylor didn’t condone
hate crimes in his school, but that did not stop others from harassing poor Tommy.
Even then, Jimmy Henning, the class bully, was tossing spitballs at Tommy, who was
oblivious. Jimmy was a big fat guy who looked like a Neanderthal caveman and had the
intelligence of one too. He was destined for a life as a McDonald’s server after high school. His
glory days were high school and I supposed that was why he was living it up.
The teacher too was oblivious, because her attention was on the door. Someone was
knocking on it.
Mrs. Monroe suddenly exclaimed, “Oh right. We have a transfer student today.”
She opened the door and this tall, athletic guy came in.
“Everybody, this is Lucas Manolino. He’s a transfer student from....”
She looked to him for a prompt.
Lucas ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “Arizona.” His voice was deep and
masculine.
Mrs. Monroe nodded. “Oh, right. Of course. You can have a seat over there, next to Justin.”
My face reddened. This guy was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. And he was
coming my way.
He looked like a combination of the actors Jared Padalecki and Matt Bomer. Lucas had
Jared’s gorgeous green eyes, strong jaw bone, tall stature, buff musculature and blackish
windswept hair that fell naturally down his shoulders. He also had Matt’s sense of easygoing
coolness. Just the way he casually walked over and sat down next to me - I could tell this guy
was confident and knew who he was. His swagger said a lot about him.
Although he was from Arizona, Lucas looked like a California surfer dude, with his tanned,
bronzed skin, muscular build and his shaggy dark hair.
After he sat down, he looked over at me, fixing his hypnotic green eyes on me. I stared
into them, unable to pry myself away.
Stop it, I told myself. You’re embarrassing yourself. Stop staring at the cute transfer
student.
He curved his lips up into a slight grin, revealing one dimple on his left cheek.
Oh god, he was cute. My heart beat a little more wildly.
I forced myself to pry my own brown eyes from his jade ones.
My cock stirred a little bit.
Oh god, I thought. This is not good.
Mrs. Monroe’s sharp voice carried across the room. “Justin. It’s your turn to come up and
give your presentation.”
My eyes widened. What? Now? With my boner trying to poke through my fly? I couldn’t
go up there. Everyone would laugh at me.
“What? I thought it wasn’t until tomorrow,” I said, my voice shaky. The truth was that I
had totally forgotten about it.
“It’s today, Justin,” Mrs. Monroe said in a tone that implied I was an idiot to have forgotten
and that either way, I’d have to go up there right away.
Alright, I told myself. Calm down. You can do this. You can go up there, babble on about
the South during the Reconstruction Era and hide your erection at the same time.
So, I walked up to the front of the room slowly, conscious that all 30 pairs of eyes in the
room were on me.
Think unsexy thoughts, I told myself. Think about girls. So I did, and my erection
subsided.
At the same time, I tried not to face the class, so I didn’t turn all the way to the front. I
turned sideways, showing my class my profile, praying that no one would spot my semi-erection.
I opened my mouth, about to give my report, when my eyes fixed on Lucas.
He was leaning back in his seat, his thick arms resting casually behind his neck.
He was a sight to behold, like a Greek Adonis in contemporary America, although he
looked like a mix of Polish, Italian and Portuguese - a combination of those exotic cultures. I was
a boring blond Anglo-Saxon with blue eyes. Anything dark was exotic to me.
Lucas was wearing a cotton white Tommy Hilfiger T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans.
Definitely hot.
Unfortunately, he was also a source of stimulation and arousal. My subsiding erection grew
again.
I prayed that no one would notice, but no such luck.
Someone tittered. I scanned the classroom to see who it was.
It was the bully, Jimmy. He was pointing at my crotch and whispering to one of his
boneheaded friends.
Soon, the entire class was chuckling.
I looked down and where my fly was, there was a bulge. The bulge of my erect cock. It
was sticking out, forming a very noticeable shape.
I was so embarrassed I could die.
I inspected the classroom. The laughter started off small, but soon erupted. I looked to my
right. Even Mrs. Monroe was pressing her hand onto her mouth in a vain attempt to suppress her
uncontrollable laughter.
The only person who wasn’t laughing was Lucas. He had a concerned expression on his
angular face.
On the other hand, Jimmy was laughing the hardest. Pointing at me, he exclaimed, “The
new guy is giving Justin a boner!”
That comment only made the class laugh harder.
I was not out yet. No one knew I was gay. For Jimmy to be taking a wild guess and hitting
the mark was horrifying to me.
Dying of embarrassment, I dashed to my desk, grabbed my backpack and fled the
classroom. I couldn’t stay in there for another second.
***
The last class that day was gym. I was still reeling from my erection mishap from history
class, but fortunately, not a lot of people from my history class had gym with me.
After a game of basketball, most of the boys were in the locker room changing. This was
the hardest part of gym class: tons of semi-naked boys without their shirts on. It was all I could
do not to have another erection again.
As I was changing by my locker, I caught the putrid stench of Jimmy the Bully’s sweat. I
looked beside me and sure enough, there he was, changing out of his gym clothes. Jimmy was
big-boned and he didn’t turn me on in the slightest. His ugly personality matched his ugly face.
“Hey fag!” he said to me, tossing me an ugly smirk. “You should stay away from me. I
wouldn’t want you to get another boner again.”
I scowled, my heart racing. I was no in position to beat him up. I was average build and
height: only 5’9 and 145 pounds. Jimmy was at least 6’1 and 200 pounds. Although he had no
muscles, he was still big.I knew what was good for me. If we got into a shuffle, he’d win and I’d
be pounded to a pulp.
But still, I muttered, “Shut up,” but I didn’t think he heard me.
For a while, the clang of lockers and the din of conversation between other boys were the
only sounds.
Then, before I realized what was happening, Jimmy grabbed me by the throat and pinned
me up against the lockers.
Perhaps because I was wiry and of average build. Perhaps because I had a reputation for
not standing up for myself. Or, most likely, perhaps it was because I was gay. In any case, Jimmy
was on my case now.
I was pushed up against the locker with a loud bang.
Jimmy’s foul breath reeked of onions and garlic. “You fucking fag! You disgust me. You’re
an embarrassment to the entire school.”
I squeezed his eyes shut. I felt like a coward. I can’t let Jimmy do that to me. I had rights. I
had to stand up for myself.
Jimmy shoved me against the locker again. The commotion was loud enough for the
everybody in the entire change room to stop their activity and stare.
Some were silent. Some were egging on Jimmy.
“Pound the little fag!” one of Jimmy’s boneheaded friends shouted.
Jimmy raised one fist in the air.
I felt sick to my stomach. No, I thought. I’m going to stand up for myself. I am not going
to be teased, harassed and bullied anymore, just because I was gay.
“Get away from me!” I shouted.
I clenched my fists. My heart beat loudly and sweat was forming on my nervous face.
To my relief, someone equally tall and big as Jimmy stepped in.
“Let him go,” a deep, rich voice commanded.
I recognized that voice. It belonged to Lucas, the cute transfer student.
Someone stepped out of the way and the tall stature of Lucas came into view. He was
shirtless, wearing just a pair of Nike shorts, which revealed his tanned and muscled, hairy tree-
trunk legs.
I had wondered what his broad chest would look like naked, and now I didn’t have to
wonder anymore. Two large muscular pecs that implied he did a lot of push-ups. A row of
hardened ab muscles, no doubt from hours of crunches. And a smooth, wide chest that implied
warrior status. He wasn’t a Greek Adonis. He was the Greek god of war: Ares.
I felt my hard-on coming back.
Oh crap, I thought. This was the worst possible time for it.
But it was more than just Lucas’ great body that turned me on. He was standing up for
anther someone else, the little guy. He was a hero, a vigilante, like Spiderman or Batman,
defending the weak and helpless. How hot was that?
Jimmy scowled. “Hey, new kid. This is none of your business. Just between me and him.”
He pointed to me, but Jimmy’s expression was not so certain anymore. He knew that Lucas was
just as tall as he was, and that Lucas was buffer and stronger too.
Lucas had this calm, confident look on his face. He was not scared or even a little
intimidated. He knew that he was going to get his way. He knew he was going to emerge as the
victor in this dispute.
“Listen, buddy. I have a black belt in karate. Karate’s big over in Arizona. Don’t make me
use it on you.” He crossed his arms, another sign of confidence.
Jimmy sighed. “What do you have to get in my way?” He almost sounded like he was
whining, like a child who didn’t get his favorite cookies for dessert.
Lucas said nothing, and just stood there with his strong arms crossed. His biceps and
triceps glistened in the dim lights of the locker room.
Lucas stared at Jimmy. From my point of view, it looked like two dominant alpha-male
lions having a showdown. Who would back off first?
For a while, neither moved nor said anything. No one else in the room did either.
A leaky faucet dripped. The silence magnified it.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The anticipation was killing me. Would Jimmy finally get what he deserved and be beaten
to a pulp? Or was Lucas only pretending to be a martial arts expert?
Finally, Jimmy relented. He backed away, letting go of me.
I walked away from the bully.
Jimmy frowned. “This isn’t over.”
Without warning, he lunged at Lucas, who sidestepped him gracefully. Lucas did this
karate move: he twisted Jimmy’s arms behind his back as he sailed past.
The big bully crashed into a locker, hitting his head, stunning and dazing him.
Jimmy clutched his head and moaned.
His boneheaded friends looked scared.
“Come on,” one of them said. “Let’s get out of here.”
They fled the room.
The crowd dispersed.
Lucas nodded. All was right with the world again.
He caught me staring at him from. He strolled over to me, sweat dripping down his broad,
naked chest. As he approached, I caught a whiff of his delightful scent. It was the exact opposite
of Jimmy’s. Lucas gave off a sort of manly citrus smell, kind of like Old Spice.
“You OK?” he asked, once again fixing his green eyes on me.
He had this way of hypnotizing people, I realized.
Once he fixed those pair of emerald eyes on me, I was a helpless victim. It was simply
irresistible.
“You saved me,” I said. “Thanks.”
He was so close that if I reached my arms out, I could hug him.
I wondered about Lucas. Was he gay too? Or at least bi? If not, why would he defend gay
guys like me? Maybe he was indeed a modern-day hero, a man who could not stand the sight of
the weak and defenseless being picked on. In any case, if he was gay, he was every gay man’s
wet dream. He was tough and strong and masculine, not at all effeminate like a lot of other gay
men. He could have his pick of the crop of gay men. That said, he could have his pick of the crop
if he was straight too.
Lucas was attractive and intimidating at the same time. He was like a graceful, strong and
beautiful lion out in the wilderness of Africa. I was intensely attracted to him, but I was also kind
of afraid of him.
He saved me. It was normal to fall in love with one’s savior, wasn’t it? But it wasn’t
normal to be scared of him, was it?
Lucas shook his head. “I hate bullies like that. There were tons of them back at my old
school in Arizona. I hated seeing people get picked on.”
He was making conversation with me. Me. I couldn’t believe it. Plain old, blond-hair blue-
eyed me.
“Yeah,” I said. “Jimmy’s the worst one here. Thank god we’re all leaving high school in a
few months.”
Suddenly, I was very aware that I too was semi-naked, wearing only my boxers. I was even
more aware of Lucas’ naked chest so close to me. If I looked hard enough, I could even see a
couple of curly brown hairs on his broad chest. Very sexy.
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m heading to the police academy right away.”
So he wanted to be an officer. That career fit his type perfectly. He was big and strong and
protective, a man with a sense of justice.
I nodded. “That’s great. You fit the part.”
I realized that I may have crossed the line by saying that. That observation implied that I
had been checking him out.
My face grew red.
Noticing, Lucas said, “It’s OK.”
So he was tough and strong and kind. God, he was everything I could ever want in a man.
“What made you move out here?” I asked, hoping to keep the conversation going and steer
it away from my having checked him out.
“My dad took a job out here. He’s a police officer.” Beads of sweat dropped down from his
forehead and onto his face, highlighting his high cheek bones. This guy was physically perfect.
He was a Spartan warrior. If he had lived in Ancient Greece, he probably would have been the
Spartan King.
He brushed a strand of loose dark brown hair of his eyes.
I couldn’t stop staring at him. I saw every curve of his body. Everything was so hard, so
well-defined. I saw every detail. He had a mole under his left nipple. A tiny strand of dark hair
was growing out of his right nipple.
Blink, I told myself. At least blink.
I blinked once. “Hey listen. I know you’re new here. How about I show you around
sometime? You know, to thank you.”
He nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that. See you in class.”
He turned around, showing me his smooth, well-muscled back.
And just like that, he left the room.
I realized that I had been holding my breath for a while. Slowly, I exhaled. Then, I allowed
my wobbly legs to collapse onto the floor, bringing me with them.
I wanted him so bad I was weak. If I had so weak after such a brief conversation with him,
I wondered what hanging out with him would do to me. Would it kill me?
***
Chapter 2
That weekend, I went to church as I normally did with my family. But something felt
different. Until that point, I had never met a guy who I wanted so bad. Two years earlier, when I
first realized that I was gay, I had never acted on my desires. But now there was a real live man
in the flesh and blood in my life. And I got it bad for him.
As soon as I stepped into St. Theresa’s Catholic Church that Sunday, I felt as though I had
already committed a grave, cardinal sin that would never be forgiven by God. Just thinking about
Lucas’ hairy chest and legs gave me a boner. Was that a sin?
Before mass was confession. As I stepped into the confessional booth, I decided that I was
going to be honest. I was going to tell the priest everything in confidence.
I knelt down and made the sign of the cross.
On the other side of the booth, the priest said, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the
Holy Spirit.”
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession.”
Father Jones had this gravelly voice. It sounded like he had been smoking a pack of
cigarettes a day for the past ten years.
“Go on, my child. What do you have on your conscience?”
“I think....” I hesitated. Should I tell this priest the truth? It would be a huge weight off my
shoulders. And everything I told him would be in confidence. He couldn’t tell a soul.
“I think that I might be homosexual,” I said, my voice steady.
I waited for a reply. The priest was silent. Was he already judging me? Or was he waiting
for me to continue?
When he said nothing, I said, “Is that a sin?”
Father Jones said, “The official stance of the Catholic Church is that homosexuality itself,
the sexual orientation, is not a sin. But homosexual acts are.”
“So being gay is not a sin, but doing gay sex acts are?”
“That’s correct, my child.”
“But what does God think about this? Why would he create me, make me homosexual and
then hate me?”
For a while the priest hemmed and hawed, but said nothing of substance.
Then, he said, “God doesn’t hate you, my child. Perhaps he made you a homosexual to
challenge you. If you have a hard life because of your sexuality, then that only makes you
stronger, right? That only makes you learn and grow.”
I nodded, but I was doubtful that was the real reason.
“But the official stance of the church is that homosexuality is frowned upon, although not a
sin?”
“That’s right.”
I prepared to leave the confessional.
“I understand. Thanks be to God,” I said.
We made the sign of the cross and I left the booth.
On my way to join my parents on the pew, a lot weighed heavy on my mind.
My family had been catholic for generations. My parents weren’t diehard religious
fanatics, but they did go to church and took communion at least once month.
Was my sexuality a sin to God? And what if I told my parents? They would die. They
would be so ashamed of me. They might even disown me. No, I decided. I couldn’t tell my
parents yet. I couldn’t tell anyone yet. Maybe except for the kind, gentle, strong and wonderful
Lucas. Oh crap. I was putting him on a pedestal now, wasn’t I? That’s never a good thing. I was
sure he might have some flaws in him. I was looking forward to seeing him again the next day in
history class. I had promised to show him around town to thank him for standing up for him.
The priest stepped up onto the altar and began the sermon. We all stood up. Church hymns
played on the organ, but my heart wasn’t in it anymore.
I decided that I wouldn’t attend church services anymore. I was sure that God loved all his
children. Why would He create me as a homosexual just to hate me? That didn’t make any sense.
I believed in God, but I didn’t have any faith in the Catholic Church anymore. Even though
my parents and I had been coming there for years, since I was a kid, I didn’t feel welcome there
anymore. I was a big believer in God, and starting then, I would worship God my own way.
***
That evening, I had dinner with my family. My mother, a short brunette with glasses, was
reading the UCLA law review. My father, a tall neurosurgeon with greying hair and a receding
hairline, was reading the American Journal of Neurosurgery.
This was a typical scene in my family, when they were home, that is. Everyone liked to
read at the table during dinner. Being the son of a busy lawyer and a busy doctor meant that I
was usually alone for dinner, since I was an only child.
For the first time in a week, my folks were home and I had them all to myself. Maybe this
was the time to come out to them. I was pretty sure how they would react. Being Catholic, even
if they weren’t hardcore Catholics, they would probably frown on it, and perhaps even reject me.
But still, they were my parents and I owed it to them to tell them. They were curious why I had
never mentioned girls and had even brought it up one time. I had shrugged and said nothing.
I cleared my throat. “Mom. Dad. I have something to talk to you about.”
My father took his eyes off his magazine long enough to say to my mom, “Honey. Pass the
peas, please.”
My mom passed him the peas and returned to her reading.
I tried again. “Mom. Dad.”
Without taking her eyes from her reading material, she said, “Yes, sweetie?”
“I need to talk to you. Both of you.”
My dad pried his eyes from his magazine.
I finally had my parents’ attention. Both of them. This was rare, once in a blue moon. I had
to make good use of this opportunity.
I took a deep breath. “Mom. Dad. I think I’m....”
The phone rang. My mom got up. “Hold that thought, sweetie. I’ll be right back.”
I sighed. There was never a good moment.
My mom ended up talking to her law firm partner for at least an hour, while my dad went
back to reading.
Maybe another night, I consoled myself. The problem was that another night could be a
very long time.
I finished my dinner just as the doorbell rang. It was probably Davie. He was coming over
that night to study for a test we had in biology class.
I went to the door and sure enough, Davie stood there with his textbooks in his backpack.
“Hey Justin,” he said.
“Come in, Davie.”
Davie was a pudgy, corpulent boy who ate too much pie and did too little exercise. He had
been my best friend since we were kids. He lumbered in and we went to the living room where I
promptly turned on the TV. I found that having the TV on helped me study.
Maybe I could tell Davie tonight, I thought. I tried to guess how he would react, but it was
hard to gauge his opinion. I knew he was straight and definitely not gay, but I didn’t know how
he felt about homosexuals.
We were about to open our textbooks when I found out.
Davie cried loudly, “Eeeeeewwwww!”
He indicated the TV. Two middle-aged men shared a chaste kiss on the lips on some
progressive TV show.
“Oh god, that’s disgusting,” he said, making a face. It was as though he was looking at a
pile of rotting feces, instead of two men.
So much for telling Davie, I thought.
I said nothing and started studying.
***
That Monday, I arrived to history class early. I was the only one in the classroom. I was
hoping to see Lucas so that we could make our plans to get together.
I was bold in offering to show him around, but had boldness paid off. We didn’t make any
plans that day in the locker room, but he did say that he’d see me in class, so I assumed that was
when he wanted to make plans.
Deep in thought, I didn’t notice Jimmy the bully come in. He was wearing this ugly yellow
T-shirt that showed off his pot belly. His ugly face had a beard so scruffy that it was like he
didn’t know how to use a razor. If ever there was a Neanderthal caveman with an IQ of 50, it was
Jimmy.
“Hey fag,” he said, sitting down a few seats in front of me.
Suddenly, I grew angry. I was aware that he could pound me to death if he wanted to, but I
didn’t care. What gave this bully the right to make the lives of those different from he was
miserable? No one has that right. I was reminded of how he had me by the throat, in a
stranglehold.
“Leave me alone,” I told him firmly.
He got up, frowning. “What did you say?”
I wasn’t afraid anymore. I was just pissed off.
“I said leave me alone. What gives you the right to pick on others different from you?”
For a second, he looked like he wanted to beat me up.
But then, he smirked.
“You people are the worst kind of scum,” he spat out, sitting down. “You fuck one another
up the ass and pretend it’s not immoral or sinful.” His eyes shone of hatred. “It’s disgusting. You
should be ashamed of yourself. God created AIDS to teach you people a lesson.”
My eyes grew wide. I wasn’t expecting Jimmy the caveman to be articulate. That comment
hurt. It hit home, especially because he mentioned God.
I grabbed my backpack and fled. As I walked past Jimmy, I shouted, “Fuck you!”
The surprise in his eyes made me feel better. He wasn’t expecting me to stand up for
myself. I was glad I did.
My heart was heavy. I was confused. The Church hated me, my classmates hated me and I
was sure that if my parents found out about my homosexuality, they would hate me too. Maybe
Jimmy was right. Maybe even God hated me.
I kept walking around in a daze. Happy, smiling faces of my classmates passed me in a
blur. I ended up going to the roof of the school.
I inhaled the fresh air. The cool early spring breeze caressed my face. Down below, I could
see the parking lot, the basketball court, the baseball diamond and the football player. People
were down there playing sports, without a care in the world.
Why did life have to be so hard for me? Why did gay people have to put up with this kind
of intimidating harassment in the world? It was so unfair. Did straight people have to come out of
the closet? Were they ever harassed for liking members of the opposite sex?
I inched closer to the edge of the roof. It was a good 30 feet to the ground.
For just a moment, I wondered whether I would be missed if I weren’t alive anymore. I
didn’t have a close relationship with my parents. They were hardworking and barely home and
when they were, they read the newspaper instead of talking with me or each other. I didn’t have a
lot of friends either, except for Davie, who already demonstrated his disgust with homosexuals.
My grades in class weren’t particularly high, so I wasn’t exactly going to the best college either,
not that I wanted to. My parents me to go to medical school and there was no way I was doing
that.
My life was empty. It felt like I had nothing to live for. My life was indeed empty, except
for Lucas, who was a question mark. He was kind to me and kindness in a cruel world is the
most valuable thing of all.
But what were the odds of him being gay, or even bi? But even if he was neither, we could
still be friends. He was friendly and gave every indication that he wanted us to hang out.
But people are greedy. I would want more. As I got to know him, I would want to be more
than just friends with him.
As I lost myself in thought, I was barely aware that I was inching ever closer in the edge of
the roof.
Maybe I could just die. Then the pain would go away. Then it wouldn’t be so bad anymore.
No more hatred, just eternal love. I was sure that God still loved me. At least, I sincerely hoped
so. The jury was still out on that.
All of a sudden, a deep voice said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I froze and then slowly turned around.
It was Lucas, dear sweet Lucas in a cotton white sweater and a pair of ripped blue jeans.
The tight sweater hugged his broad chest and left nothing to the imagination. The jeans were
worse. They showed me bits of his flesh. I was aroused, frightened, depressed, and happy, all at
the same time. Lucas was the only good thing in my life at that point.
I said, “Why not?”
From down below, I heard the steady dribble of a basketball.
Lucas brushed his dark, wavy hair out of his bright green eyes.
There it was again. Those eyes.
He knew what kind of effect it had on people.
He fixed those moss green eyes on me. Hypnotized, I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.
He shrugged. “You promised you would show me around. If you fell off, who would show
me around?”
I nodded. That did make sense.
He shifted the weight of his backpack to his other shoulder. “Are you OK? I heard what
Jimmy said to you back in the classroom. I followed you up here.”
So he heard. He knew I was gay. Yet he still cared enough about me to follow me to the
roof to make sure I was OK.
I shook my head, pursing my lips. “Just life, you know?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But you don’t want to be a self-hating homosexual, do you?”
He walked up to me.
My heart pounded wildly. Every time he got near, my heart would get excited.
When he got close enough, I realized how much taller he was than I. A good two, three
inches.
He tilted his head to the side. “Don’t listen to that idiot, Justin. God loves everyone.”
A tear welled in my eyes. Lucas knew exactly what to say. He was such an angel. Maybe
God did love everyone. He sent me this angel, didn’t He?
Without warning, Lucas reached his arms around me and enveloped me in a tight embrace.
“Come here,” his rich, masculine voice whispered in my ears.
Caught by surprise, I did not resist. I allowed my body to succumb to the comforts of his
muscular arms. I buried myself into his broad, built chest, shedding a tear.
He whispered, “I know what it’s liked to be teased for being gay. The world isn’t fair, is
it?”
I inhaled deeply, his spicy Old Spice scent filling my lungs. This would later become my
favorite smell in the world.
Lucas hugged me closer still and for a second, I felt as though my body had melded into
his. His fingers nimbly caressed my backside as his hot breath brushed against my ears.
I closed my eyes and reveled in the comforting embrace of this strong yet sensitive man,
who practically confessed that he was gay too.
For just a moment, I forgot how crappy my life was. I forgot how distant my parents had
been to me, how the Church hated gay people, how my best friend was disgusted by them, and
how bad the teasing from the bully was.
All I felt was a deep sense of peace.
And Rest. And love. Oh yes, tons of love.
I was oddly sexually and emotionally aroused at the same time. Was this love? Or merely
infatuation?
The most powerful desire in the world was the desire for love.
The most powerful high in the world was the combination of love and sex.
Feeling his hard body wrapped around mine because he cared about me, I was definitely
feeling both.
***
Chapter 3
Locked in Lucas’ hot embrace, I found myself drifting off, fantasizing about other worlds.
In my fantasy, he and I are running naked through the sunny fields of Europe, carefree and
innocent. We had each other and we had all the time in the world. He turned to me and smiled
and my heart melted.
All too soon, Lucas let go of me and my fantasy ended.
I looked up at him. He fixed those wonderfully vivid eyes on me.
A moment passed between us. It was a moment of deep understanding. We were both
homosexuals in a cruel and unforgiving world that persecutes us for something we could not
control.
That moment of understanding led to the gradual development of a bond between us. It
made me feel close to him. Even though I’d known him for only a few days, it felt like a lifetime.
I grinned. “What do you say we skip class and hang out? I could show you the city.”
He brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. “I’d like that.”
My heart was uplifted. That feeling of first love and first infatuation was like no other. Of
course, I wasn’t naive enough not to know that it was just chemicals and hormones, but that
doesn’t make the feeling any less real or genuine or exhilarating.
For the first time in my short, tortured life of confused and anguished sexual orientation, I
had a kindred spirit, someone who understood exactly what it was like to be harassed and bullied
for being gay. He was worth his weight in gold. To me, he was the most valuable treasure in my
life.
Lucas gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Oh happy day!
***
We ended up in beautiful San Pasqual Park, a place that overlooked that crystal-blue waters
of the Pacific Ocean. The spring breeze brushed against my skin. The green forest and grass
renewed my faith in humanity again. Those and Lucas too, of course.
The two of us sat on a bench and stared out at the pristine waters of the calm Pacific
Ocean.
I turned to him. I couldn’t get over how perfect he was physically. Looking at his profile, I
could see his high cheek bones and angular jaw line. I could see his soft, pinkish lips. I wondered
what it would be like to kiss them. The late afternoon sun glistened on Lucas’ perfectly parted
dark brown hair. He had the hair of a friendly dog. It was looked so soft to the touch.
I shifted in my position. “So where did you learn to fight like that? I saw your karate
moves in the locker room.”
He turned to face me, blinding me with his flawless complexion. “I took lessons. You
know, I used to be a scrawny kid back in Phoenix, Arizona. Bullies picked on me a lot. One time,
it got so back that they almost broke my nose.” His expression hardened in remembrance. “That
day, I decided that I wasn’t going to take it anymore. I was going to learn how to defend myself.
So my dad enrolled me in karate lessons and I trained hard.”
It was hard to imagine Lucas as a scrawny guy. He was easily 6’1 and 200 pounds of pure
muscle.
“I’m half Polish and half Italian,” he added. “The polish side of me insisted that I learn
how to fight.”
He gave me this cute little grin and the dimple on his cheek was visible again.
I found myself smiling along with him. So I was right. He was this exotic mix of Polish
and Italian in him.
“I’m half English and half French,” I said. “The French part of me doesn’t know how to
fight.”
He chuckled.
Then, the moment turned serious.
Lucas stretched his arms behind his back. I could see the bulge of both biceps. They were
bursting at the seams of the fabric.
He yawned. “So high school’s almost over. I’m going into law enforcement. You have any
plans yourself?”
I was surprised that he was going to become a police officer. Most masculine men weren’t
gay and most gay men weren’t masculine. Yet, Lucas Manolino was the rare combination of
both. The desire of every gay man and straight woman.
I said, “My mom’s a lawyer and my dad’s a doctor. They want me to go to medical school.
I’m not so sure about that. I want to do something in the arts. Maybe become a writer or a
painter. You think that’s idealistic?”
He shook his head, his tousled hair flipping from side to side. “No, not at all. If that’s your
passion, your dream, you have to chase it. Life is too short not to follow your heart. Take my
mom, for example.”
Then, his voice lowered and deepened. The volume decreased almost to a whisper. I had to
strain to hear what he was saying, but that was good. It sounded like he was about to reveal a tiny
secret to me, something personal, something that you wouldn’t tell just anyone. It made me feel
closer to him.
“My mom passed away when I was young,” Lucas said. “But I remember her telling me
that she never wanted to be a nurse. Her family forced her into it, because it was a safe, practical
career choice, but what she really wanted to do was to become a ballet dancer. Sure, it was
impractical, but she would have at least liked to try it.”
His voice deepened even more, yet it took on this musical lilt and rhythm. It was almost as
if he was singing a song in a bass tone of voice.
“She later regretted not even trying to reach for her dreams,” he continued. A far-off look
flashed in his eyes. “She settled down and met my father and then had me. She always wondered
what it would have been like to go for it. You know what I mean?”
I nodded.
Lucas sat up straight. I felt so short compared to him.
He ran a hand through his hair, which then landed in perfect formation by his shoulders. It
was like he had his own personal hairstylist that followed him everywhere. Growing up, I had
always been jealous of people with great hair. It made my short blond hair pale in comparison.
My beautiful friend then smiled wryly, revealing neat, white teeth. “She didn’t want to
have regrets, but she did. Toward the end of her life, she had so many regrets. I still remember
being by her death bed. She had cancer. She told me not to have any regrets in life. Lots of
people want to do something other than their typical 9-to-5 jobs, but they never gather the
courage to pursue their dreams.”
A silent moment ensued. I thought about what he had said. Was he trying to tell me that he
didn’t want to be a cop?
As I thought about it, I inspected our surroundings. In the near distance, an old man pushed
a child on the swing. Beside them, on the path, a straight couple walked hand in hand. How I
envied them - to be able to flaunt their love publicly was a privilege I was sure they took for
granted.
I turned to Lucas. “What about you? Do you really want to be a cop? Or are you doing that
just to please your dad?”
A serious expression formed on his face. He was contemplating my question.
“My dad really wants me to follow in his footsteps,” he finally said. “I mean, I do have the
physique to be a cop.”
I took that as another invitation to check out his buff, tanned body. He was big, to say the
least, but he was big as in the opposite of how Jimmy the bully was big. Lucas was actually
toned. He actually had muscles. Tons and tons of muscles.
As I gazed at him, I could see the definition of his chest through his cotton white sweater.
This was most certainly a man in the most physical sense.
Lucas saw me checking him out and my cheeks reddened. This time, it wasn’t as
embarrassing, because he knew I was gay and I knew he was gay. We were becoming
comfortable with each other. We were developing in our relationship. But just because we were
both gay didn’t mean that we had to become lovers; yet, I didn’t want to be just friends with him.
He was too tempting to pass up.
He shrugged and even chuckled. “Go ahead. Look. A lot of people do.”
“I don’t mean to view you only as your body,” I said. “I know you’re a lot deeper than
that.”
His face brightened. “Thank you. A lot of people just see me as a hunk of meat, but they
don’t really see the real me. Now I know how girls with a nice rack feel.”
“I’d like to know the real you,” I offered.
He put his elbow on his thigh and rested his right cheek on his fist, and then turned to stare
at me. “Do you?”
Every time I saw those forest green eyes, I got the wind knocked out of me. I tried to
compose myself.
It felt like he was challenging me, as though probing to see if I was being genuine.
“Yes, I do,” I said firmly.
He nodded.
I asked, “So are you out to your family?”
He shook his head. “Nah, my macho-man dad would freak. He’s a cop. And I want to be
the opposite.”
I was horrified.
“A criminal?” I guessed, raising an eyebrow.
He looked at me and burst out laughing. “No, an activist. An activist for equal rights.”
“Gay rights?”
“That would include gay rights.”
Wow. He wanted to be an activist for gay rights. He was a hero in the truest sense of the
word, a crusader even. And I thought he was hot for having stood up for me the other day. This
revelation was even hotter.
Lucas reclined against the back of the bench. “Yeah. I had it really rough in Arizona.
Skinny gay boys make good targets for homophobic bullies. Who knows? Maybe some of them
are gay and are only acting out to hide their own sexuality. They fear being gay so by picking on
gay kids, they feel better about themselves.”
I thought about what he said and agreed with him. It made a lot of sense, all this
psychoanalysis. Maybe Jimmy the bully was gay and feared it. That was why he picked on me
and Tommy.
Lucas let out a deep breath. “So I beefed up and bulked up in the gym and stood up for
myself. Then I realized that I couldn’t defend just myself. A lot of other weak gay kids were
being picked on too. So I knew I had to stand up for them.”
He sighed. “Sometimes, there’s just so much injustice in the world.”
“Yeah,” I said, not knowing what else to add.
He glanced around and noticed the empty swings. The old man and the kid were gone.
He pointed to the swing set. “You wanna go on?”
I grinned. He was showing me this other side of him, this sensitive, childlike side that just
wanted to have fun. This contrasted so much with his tough guy side. Maybe it was just a facade.
Or maybe the tough guy side was a part of him because it had to be, for survival reasons. His old
high school sounded like a tough place for homosexual boys. Maybe he could turn his tough guy
side on and off at will. In any case, I was happy to be getting to know this mysterious Lucas
Manolino. He was full of surprises.
I nodded. “Sure. Why not?”
The two of us headed toward the swings. On the way there, my hand brushed gently
against his.
Lucas did not withdraw his hand quickly, but he did look at me with anticipation. His green
eyes pierced mine.
My stomach was full of butterflies. I felt like I had been stabbed there. I mean, I heard
about first love and all that in movies, on TV and in songs, but it’s nothing compared to
experiencing it for the first time. I was confused and giddy and excited, all at the same time.
The two of us sat down on the swings, side by side.
He turned to me. “Sometimes when my parents were fighting, I’d escape to the park and
pretend that I didn’t have parents. I pretended I was an orphan and I could do whatever I wanted
and there was no unhappiness in my home. It’s nice to pretend, isn’t it?”
I nodded and we began to swing.
It was indeed nice to pretend.
I pretended to be a carefree kid once again. I felt like I was transported back in time, to a
place and time where sexuality did not exist and did not matter. I was just a 7 year-old kid having
fun on the swings.
The Catholic Church did not hate me, bullies did not exist, Davie and I were still the best
of friends and my parents and I were as close as ever. A boy could pretend, can’t he?
I swung as high as I could. What a thrill! It was like going on the roller-coaster. I glanced
beside me and saw Lucas’ happy face. He was smiling and laughing, as though he too were a kid
again. No doubt he was reminiscing about his simple, innocent childhood, just like I was.
When we had had enough, we slowed to a stop but remained on the swing, which flailed us
around gently.
“Hey, Justin,” Lucas said, turning to face me. His hair was in complete disarray, spilling all
over his shoulders. “That day in class, did you really see me and have a boner?”
I was glad that I had just finished swinging, because now he couldn’t tell what the reason
was behind the reddening of my cheeks.
God, this was embarrassing. Giving him a slight smile, I shrugged.
He chuckled and got off the swing, stepping right in front of me. He was so close I could
smell him - a sensual mix of manly sweat and Old Spice cologne.
He bent down and stared me in the eyes. We were face to face.
I was hypnotized. It was such a calming feeling. At the same time, I felt self-conscious.
I remembered that I hadn’t thanked him enough for saving me in the locker room that day.
“Thanks for defending me that day,” I said.
I was breathing hard now and I knew it wasn’t because of the swinging.
Lucas’ broad chest was heaving in and out. I could see it plainly. I wanted to bury myself in
his masculine chest again, just like I had when he hugged me for the first time.
He smiled, dazzling me with his straight white teeth again. “Thanks for showing me
around. This is a beautiful park.”
I just stared at him, entranced by his beauty.
Then he did this thing with his mouth - curving the corners of his lips. It wasn’t quite a
smile, but it wasn’t unpleasant either. It looked like he was deep in thought, as though wrestling
with a decision.
He looked down on the gravelly ground.
Finally, he looked up at me. His eyes were firm and resolved. It looked like he had made
up mind his about something.
“I like kindness, Justin,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I really like
blond boys.”
Although he was having trouble breathing too, he had gone for it, in spite of his
nervousness. It was so cute and touching how someone so strong and tough could be nervous
about expressing his feelings toward another boy.
He grabbed my hand and I let him have it. His touch was warm and gentle as he stroked
my palm. Then, he kissed my hand, like a prince charming would.
His kiss was soft, tender, moist. The place on my hand that he kissed sang with pleasure.
Then, he leaned in to kiss me properly and I prepared myself to receive the kiss of this
beautiful, hunky, exotic stranger, someone I was beginning to become fast friends with, even
lovers.
I loved his kiss on my hand. I loved the fact that he didn’t check to see if anyone was
around either. I realized that it didn’t matter, even if someone was. This was between me and him
only. It was no one else’s business. I admired his boldness. He was definitely out of the closet,
much more so than I was.
As his delicious lips approached, I closed my eyes and wet my lips in anticipation.
The next thing I felt was water on my lips.
“Oh Lucas,” I moaned softly.
Then I realized that something was wrong. It wasn’t Lucas’ saliva. Lucas hadn’t kissed me
yet.
I opened my eyes.
Lucas was so close to me that if I stuck my tongue out, I would have licked his lips.
The moisture was not his saliva. It came from above.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
I glanced up. It was starting to rain.
I grabbed his hand. “Come on. I know a place where we can find shelter.”
We raced toward this little picnic table that had shelter.
We sat down, next to each other.
My heart pounding was crazy.
Rain had soaked Lucas’ face and streamed down to his chest, emphasizing his definitions
even more than before.
He took off his white cotton sweater, revealing massive pectoral muscles under a flimsy
muscle shirt. His bronze biceps glittered.
He smiled and my cock stirred in response.
I wanted him so badly I could barely breathe.
He inched closer to me, and there, under a shelter, with the rain pelting all around us, we
were alone, alone to do whatever we wanted.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and inched closer to me.
Then, his lips met mine. It was everything that I had imagined and more.
I was feeling light, so very light, almost as if I was floating. This floating sensation made
me feel like I was an astronaut in outer space, performing a space walk for the first time.
His warm, buttery lips massaged mine. I kissed him back. His mouth was cool and salty.
He stuck his tongue into my mouth and I reciprocated in kind. Never had a wet tongue tasted so
good.
I snuck a glance at his crotch and saw a bulge there.
Now I had confirmation that he was just as aroused as I was.
I then closed my eyes again and lost myself entirely in the intensity and heat of the kiss.
This was passion. And it was indeed intense.
I felt like I was drowning in a deep pool, but the sensation was pleasurable, like a drug
kind of high.
I felt loose strands of Lucas’ hair softly brush against my forehead. One even fell onto my
cheek.
Lucas pulled back all too soon.
We locked eyes. This was a perfect moment. I would later go on to remember it as the
perfect moment of my life.
The love and passion in his eyes spoke loudly. My heart thudded against my chest. Lucas
was breathing hard.
All around us, the rain continued to pour down. The steady patter of the rain lulled me,
making me want to sleep.
Soon, it suddenly stopped.
We looked out at the horizon.
A tiny rainbow had formed in the sky. The colors danced amid the wet backdrop.
“Hey, look!” Lucas said. “A rainbow.”
It was gorgeous. I was reminded of my dog’s death when I was ten years old.
The same rainbow had now come out to remind me of life’s infinite beauty.
Lucas held my hand and grinned at me. “Always look for the rainbows in life, Justin. There
is so much beauty and hope and goodness in the world. I believe that people are generally good.
Don’t worry anymore. Bullies aren’t worth killing yourself over.”
I nodded. He was right, of course.
His soft, gentle voice made me believe him. The tender way he spoke to me - I would have
believed anything he said.
My life was finally turning around, all thanks to this one angel called Lucas Manolino.
I stared at the beauty of the rainbow.
Soon, it faded away.
Lucas held me in his arms and we just watched the sunset together.
He stroked my forehead and the side of my face lovingly.
Never had someone’s else touch made me feel so happy. Never had someone’s else touch
made me crave and desire. Never had someone else’s touch made feel so alive.
***
Chapter 4
Over the following months, my relationship with Lucas flourished. We graduated from
high school and spent the summer preparing for the rest of our lives.
With time, we had become gay lovers. But I had issues to work out.
One hot summer day, we were lounging on his bed, just enjoying each other’s company.
His dad, a police officer, was never home due to his heavy work load and odd work hours so we
had his two-bedroom house all to ourselves.
We were semi-naked, both shirtless, making out on his bed, our legs entwined around each
other.
I was sweating like crazy, thinking about going all the way with Lucas. I was anxious. I
was still a virgin, which in the gay world meant an anal virgin.
The rays of the summer sun highlighted Lucas’ high cheek bones and mesmerizing green
eyes.
He held me close and stuck one finger in my aching asshole.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go all the way.”
I whimpered. “I don’t think I’m ready.” Then, I admitted rather sheepishly, “I”m a virgin.”
He nodded. “I’m not,” he admitted. “I’ve just done it once before. But I want to do it with
you. I’m going to pretend that my first time is with you and everything will be magical.”
I stared into his hypnotic eyes. I wanted to do everything that he said. I just wanted to
make him happy. But, I was uncertain. Was I really ready?
I stared at his sexy dark chest hair and the loose strands of ebony hair that rested on the
side of his face. I wanted him so badly.
I sighed, turning to lie on my back.
The insufferable summer heat filtered in through the window. I felt hot, but not in a good
way. I felt sticky and humid and uncertain. I felt like I was going insane. The heat and the
decision were driving me crazy.
Lucas got up and propped his back against a pillow.
I studied him. God, he was handsome. He was so hot shirtless in bed with me. His chest
was perfect. Just months earlier, I would have given anything to have someone like Lucas. But
now, things had changed. We were moving fast in our relationship. We had even acknowledged
each other as our boyfriends, although we hadn’t told our families yet. They wouldn’t
understand. With my conservative family and Lucas’ hyper-masculine father, they would freak.
“What’s wrong?” Lucas said, resting his chin on one hand.
He stared at me with those amazing eyes and I just wanted to tell him everything. But I was
afraid. Would he judge me for being a wimp?
“Sometimes I think being gay is wrong,” I said. “I grew up Catholic. Catholic guilt is deep-
rooted in me. My priest said homosexual acts are bad. Sinful.”
Lucas shrugged. “What does he know? He’s a celibate man. He’s probably never even been
in a relationship.”
He rubbed his fingers on my stomach. “He doesn’t know the joy of another person.”
I nodded, but I was unconvinced. Why did I have to be religious and gay at the same time?
It was the hardest thing in the world.
At the same time, I knew I loved how he was touching me. It was the ultimate high. So
even though it was wrong, I still reveled in it.
Lucas brushed some hair out of his eyes. “I can tell you’re struggling with your sexuality.”
He began to stroke my chest with his fingers, all the way up to my erect nipples. “It’s OK.”
I really liked what his fingers were doing to my body. I just wanted to give in, to surrender
to the will of my man, Lucas.
“Do you like that?” he lowered his voice, knowing what it did to me. I had told me before
that I loved his masculine voice and ever since he’d been using it to tease me, to turn me on.
I nodded. “I like your touch so much.”
“It’s OK to like it.”
A silence followed. Outside, robins chirped. A lawnmower started, his rickety engine
disturbing the peace. The smell of barbecue chicken wafted in.
I was suddenly hungry, but not for food.
Lucas kissed my earlobe. Then, he hovered beside me, whispering, “I’ve been where
you’ve been. That whole guilt thing. I was raised in the Baptist Church. They’re even harder on
gays. I was told I was sinful. I was told I was going to hell. I was told that I was even the Devil
incarnate himself.”
I stared at my boyfriend. I could relate. “That’s so sad.”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling away now, sitting up straight in bed. “But then I realized that they
did not have the ultimate say about God. Who are they to say that I was evil and sinful? God was
the one who invented sex. As long as we’re not hurting anyone, as long as we’re both consenting
adults, what does it matter?”
I digested what he had said. He was right. It didn’t matter. It’s no one’s business but ours. I
was sure that God loved everyone. He created me. Why wouldn’t He love? Just because I loved
other men? Is that a good enough reason to hate me? No, something was wrong about that logic.
Something was very wrong about the stance of organized religion toward homosexuals.
Lucas curved his lips into a semi-smile. “Don’t be afraid to be yourself. Take a look into
yourself, Justin. Look deep into your soul. Is this who you are? Are you a homosexual?”
I closed my eyes and did some soul-searching. I could not imagine living with a woman
and having sex with her. It didn’t excite me. And it wouldn’t be fair to her either. If I was married
to a woman, I’d probably cheat on her with other men. That was how I was wired, by my
Creator. It’s not like I chose to be gay. I didn’t choose this. I was born this way.
I opened my eyes, only to see Lucas’ understanding gaze.
“Yes, I am,” I said. “Yes, I am indeed very much a homosexual.”
“Then don’t be afraid to be yourself,” he murmured softly. “Suppression is unhealthy. Hell,
if everyone in the world enjoyed life and wasn’t afraid to be themselves, I don’t think there’d be
any wars.”
Suppression was indeed unhealthy. I was reminded of those times between 16 and 18 that I
refused to look at hot, muscular men. I was miserable. I remembered how good it felt when I
finally gave in and jerked off to hot guys on the internet. The orgasm was pleasantly intense.
Lucas rubbed my nipples with his fingers. “Don’t be afraid to be yourself. Suppression is
unhealthy.”
“I agree,” I said, giving him a big, wet kiss on the lips.
I realized just how actualized Lucas was, how much more mature he was than I was. I
could learn a lot from him.
He kissed me back and made a joke. “In fact, if people like those conservative politicians
and uptight priests had more sex, the world would be a much happier place.”
I burst out laughing. He was right.
Lucas’ hand moved toward my asshole. How I wanted him inside me! Hell, if I were a
woman, I would want his seed inside me. I would want to have his babies.
I caught his hand before it managed to stimulate my rectum and anus. “Not yet. Maybe in a
few months.”
Lucas didn’t argue. He was compassionate and understanding. It wasn’t in his nature to
force his unready boyfriend to have sex with him.
“OK,” he said, kissing my cheeks tenderly. “Sometime soon then.”
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “Sometime soon.”
How soon? I was not sure. Truth be told: I was scared. Losing my virginity would be a big
deal. It would mean absolute acknowledgment of my being a gay man. I was only 18. I wasn’t
ready yet. I wasn’t mature enough to acknowledge it. And then, I’d have to come out to my
friends and family. The thought filled me with terror. I still had much to learn about life and a lot
of growing up to do.
I changed the subject. “So we now have the rest of our lives in front of us. You still dead
set on being an activist?”
“Hell yeah!” he said with much enthusiasm. “I’ve been thinking that I need to get on with
my life. Los Angeles is where the gay activists are right now. I need to head there.”
For a moment, my mind was gripped with terror. Was he making a fresh start without me?
Was this his subtle way of breaking up with me? Was it because I didn’t want to have sex with
him yet?
Lucas continued, “Do you want to come with me?”
I studied his serious green eyes. “You mean live together?”
He nodded, grabbing my hand, caressing it gently. “Yeah, let’s get out of here. Let’s make a
fresh start in a new city, just the two of us. We could pursue our careers together. I could pursue
activism and you could pursue the arts there. Everyone knows careers in the arts flourish in LA,
what with all the actors, writers and directors migrating there.”
He was right. LA was the place for the arts.
It sounded perfect.
I held his hand. “OK. Let’s do it.” My eyes were bright.
I was excited. A new beginning was what I needed. I could escape from the stifling
environment of San Diego. Perhaps people were more tolerant and liberal in LA.
The huge grin on his face made me feel better.
He got up, pinned me down and moved in close. “Now we will celebrate with some major
making out.” His hair brushed against my forehead.
I chuckled. He was so cute and funny.
Lucas’ sweet breath brushed against my cheek, which made me hard. I inhaled his Old
Spice cologne deeply.
He began to kiss me all over.
I succumbed to his sweet kisses, all the while excited to move on with the next chapters of
our lives.
Most importantly, our relationship was moving forward too. I was sure I was ready for that.
I wanted to have sex with him soon, just not right away. We could live together first and feel
each other out, see what made each other tick.
A fresh start in a new city was exactly what I needed.
***
Part 2
Los Angeles, California, 1998
Chapter 5
So, the following year, we made the move to LA. We turned over a new leaf and moved on
with the next phase of our lives. We barely talked to our parents. They knew we were living
together as roommates, but they weren’t aware of the full extent of our relationship, and we
didn’t intend to tell them yet.
As for work, Lucas joined a gay rights group called the Organization for Equal Rights. He
was being paid minimum wage, but then again, people don’t become activists for the money.
They do it to achieve results.
I, on the other hand, was having no luck sending out resumes to the film production
companies. I decided that I wanted to be a screenwriter, but in order to break in, you had to start
at the bottom. So, I was applying for script intern positions, you know, a position that requires
backbreaking work weeding out the bad scripts in order to find the good ones.
Unfortunately, no one was hiring at that point. Most of the internships were unpaid
anyway. The interns were basically slaves, a source of cheap labor. I wasn’t really looking
forward to the mindless intern duties and low pay. In any case, I spent most of my days perusing
the classified ads for jobs, with an eye for those internships, because they could help me
advance. That said, I was realistic too. I was mostly looking for any job - day labor, or even fast
food.
Since I had no job and therefore, no source of income, I was relying heavily on Lucas
financially. And when there’s that kind of unequal balance in any relationship, there’s bound to
be trouble.
One day, Lucas came home in a bad mood. I sensed it immediately. We had been together
for nearly two years now and when you’ve been with someone for that long, you pick up on
subtle things about them, things that don’t require verbal expression.
“This is hopeless,” he said, walking into our one-room apartment and dropping his
briefcase down.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, turning from the newspaper to my lover.
I inspected him. Lucas’ hair was disheveled, which gave him more of a sexy appeal. I liked
men with casual, longish hair that gently fell to the sides and Lucas fit that definition to the tee.
He was wearing casual ripped blue jeans and a tight, white T-shirt that showed off his
bulgy chest.
I was suddenly turned on. I was suddenly in an amorous mood.
He sighed. “The gay rights movement is fighting an uphill battle. We’re trying to make
same-sex marriage legal in this state, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen anytime
soon. The conservative Christians and Republicans are our main opponents and they have a lot of
support in terms of people and money.”
I nodded sympathetically, not knowing what to say.
He lumbered toward me and sat down beside me, on a chair by the kitchen table. “We’re
having trouble just trying to get Proposition 15 on the ballot by the November General Election.”
Even just sitting there, he was so tall and big. I was overcome with the desire to tear off his
clothes and have him carry me to bed, both of us naked.
He added, “And to make matters worse, this ultraconservative politician, Dave Sampson, is
running for Governor of California. If he wins, we’ll never get the same-sex marriage law
passed.”
“That’s too bad,” I said.
Because it was a hot summer day in LA, sweat was forming on my man. Little beads of
sweat were forming on his forehead. God, I just wanted to stick out my tongue and lick them off
him.
I grabbed my boyfriend’s hand and held it. “Why don’t we take your mind off that?”
I leaned in and kissed his cheek.
We locked eyes. His green eyes penetrated into my brown ones.
He hugged me, but it wasn’t sexual. I could tell that his sex drive had been hampered by
his troubles at work.
He pulled back, his face exhausted. “Nah, I’m just not in the mood. I’ve been working all
day.”
There it was. That common excuse. Too tired to have sex. I wasn’t going to buy it.
“Come on,” I said, giving him my bedroom eyes.
“Nah,” he resisted. “Tomorrow, baby.”
“But I’m horny now. Come on!”
Anger flashed in his eyes. I had never seen him angry before. It was humbling and
frightening.
Lucas frowned. The anger in his eyes was gone, replaced by mild irritation. “You sit at
home all day and I’m working like a dog. I’m tired and hungry. Let me say it again. I’m tired and
hungry. I don’t feel like it.”
I grew annoyed too. I didn’t like how he was talking to me. But still, he kept his voice
even. I thought he was going to yell at me.
“I’m at home looking for a job,” I protested. “It’s not like I’m sitting on the couch doing
nothing.”
“But I’m the one who’s paying the rent,” he countered. “Maybe you should ask what I
want instead of talking about what you want.” His voice was calm, but I could tell he was still
angry. “Maybe get dinner started for once.”
He had a point, of course, but I was too proud to admit he was right.
I sat in stunned silence, still recovering from our first lovers’ spat.
I thought about what he had said. It wouldn’t hurt me to think about his needs. After all, he
was the one supporting us financially.
He got up. “I’m going to take a shower.”
His voice was curt and short.
He turned around, his back to me. “I’m getting a pay cut at work. The Organization is
losing funding and everyone’s salary is getting docked. We might not even make this next
month’s rent.”
I got up. “Why don’t you look for a different job? A higher paying one.”
He turned around. His face was red and although he struggled to stay calm, his eyebrows
were furrowed and his mouth was a thin line.
“Activism has been my dream since I was young. You knew that. I’m working to make life
easier for minorities like us everywhere. If you can’t put up with that and its low pay, then maybe
you should think about living with someone else.”
He spun around and left the room.
I sat there, feeling really bad. I was selfish and immature. I had put my own horny needs
above his. We hadn’t had sex yet. I was still a virgin, but I was ready to give it to him.
Worse yet, I had questioned his choice of career, while knowing full well that it was what
he had wanted to do with his life. He wanted to fight for gay rights. It was noble. I should have
been proud of him. But like most others, I didn’t want to live in relative poverty. I mean, he said
that we might not even be able to pay next month’s rent. What did that mean? That we would be
evicted and out on the streets soon?
I couldn’t believe that he had suggested that we break up. Maybe he didn’t mean it. Maybe
he had said it only out of anger.
I listened to the gentle rhythm of the shower as thoughts and scenarios zoomed through my
mind. I had now been rudely awakened to the mature financial responsibilities of the adult world.
Gone are the carefree days of adolescence, including sharing magical kisses in the park at
springtime.
Our fight had made me realize that maybe I should grow up. Maybe I should look harder
for a job. After all, a partnership is supposed to be equal. I didn’t want to contribute nothing to it.
Even if I didn’t contribute financially, I should have contributed at home.
I looked around the kitchen. It was a complete mess. Dirty dishes from lunch were still in
the sink.
Shame filled me. I should have washed those dishes. And I should have had dinner fixed
when he got home. He said he was hungry. I should have offered him a nice back rub. He said he
was tired.
I did the dishes and then quickly made Mac and Cheese.
And then I thought about how to make it up to him.
I know! I’d slip into the shower with him and massage his back.
I turned off the stove and got naked.
As I approached the bathroom, I heard the faint sound of the TV in the background. I
caught the words gay and harassment. That caught my attention. I headed into the living room.
The TV anchor was saying, “Today, a random attack happened downtown. A man was
walking hand in hand with another man when they were both violently hit with a baseball bat
from behind. They are both suffering head trauma and in critical condition at the hospital. There
is no word about the motive, but authorities suspect this was a hate crime.....”
I shuddered. I hated to think that could be me and Lucas. At the same time, I was
disgusted. What kind of cowards would hit people from behind?
Ignoring the news, I turned the knob of the bathroom door.
The fog steamed everything up, but I could still see Lucas’ impressive physique behind the
shower curtains.
Without a sound, I stepped into the bathtub and wrapped my arms around my boyfriend’s
waist. I pressed my erection against his asshole.
He looked magnificent naked, like a strong, sturdy stallion. Muscles all around.
Lucas turned around. “Justin?”
I kissed his neck. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have helped out more at home. I got dinner
made already. And I’m sorry about questioning your career choice. It’s a noble career and I
support you 100%.”
He kissed my cheek. “It’s OK. I’m sorry for losing my temper.”
“I don’t want to live with anyone else.”
“I didn’t mean that,” he said, holding me close.
“I’ll get a job soon. Fast food, if I have to,” I promised.
“We’ll make it work,” he whispered into my ears.
I experienced the sweet joy of reconciliation. Relief flooded me. I did not want to lose my
lover.
The hot shower splashed water all around us. Some of it landed in Lucas’ hair, which then
cascaded down his face. I had never seen a man so beautiful before. Water always enhances
people’s beauty.
His dark hair looked so good slicked back like that. He looked like a male model on the
runway. He would have made a great actor or model. It would have paid better than being an
activist. But then I reminded myself that activism was his dream, so I banished that thought from
my mind.
As the hot water poured down our bodies, I felt a sense of complete vulnerability. I was so
naked. So was he. We were both so naked with each other. Yet, it was not a sexual thing. It was
emotional.
I had never been so naked with someone else before. All my defenses were down.
Lucas stared at me with his green eyes. Those eyes penetrated into my very soul. He was
probing me.
I was scared. It was scary to be so naked. That meant being vulnerable.
Yet, I trusted Lucas completely. He would never hurt me. It was OK to be naked and
therefore, vulnerable with him. But still, that meant a lot of trust in the person. Being vulnerable
meant that you trust the person not to hurt you.
His low, rich voice took on a mystic quality as he leaned in and whispered, “I love you,
Justin.”
My heart leapt up. This was the first time he had said it to me. I had been feeling it since
before our move, back in San Diego, since that hot summer day when we were lying in bed,
thinking about the unknown future.
“I love you too, Lucas,” I murmured.
Then, there was no need for talk.
The rhythmic patter of the shower water was the only sound as the two of us gripped
tightly onto each other.
We then shared this non-spoken magical moment of love. Sometimes, no words are
needed. Sometimes, communication is in what is not said.
And this was the message I got from Lucas.
The world is tough and cruel, but when we’ve got each other, then it’s not so bad.
We will survive somehow. We will make next month’s rent, one way or another.
I hugged him closer and he hugged me tighter.
All around us, the gentle pitter patter of the water against the tub lulled us into a sense of
peaceful quiet.
It made me feel that everything was going to be all right.
***
That night, I lost my virginity to Lucas. I gave him my heart and soul.
The need for physical and emotional intimacy was strong in me. I was yearning for my
male lover, especially after our fight. I wanted to show him I was ready. I wanted to make it up to
him. I wanted to show him I was not immature anymore, that being with him had enabled me to
grow up.
In the quiet of the hot night, we sat in bed, our legs and arms wrapped each other. It was
like we were trying to fuse into one person, a position taken from the pages of the Gay Kama
Sutra.
His fingertips caressed my backside.
The sultry Californian summer heat drifted in from the open window. The moon and stars
shone on us, enhancing our first lovemaking experience with each other, giving it this mystical
atmosphere. It was almost as if we were two innocent men in caveman times, two innocent
lonely men who found each other.
As his fingertips touched me in all the right places, he leaned in and whispered, “I want to
kiss every part of your body.”
So I let him.
His lips were everywhere: my forehead, earlobes, lips, neck, collarbone, nipples, chest,
abs, legs, thighs, feet and even toes.
I cried out in joy and pleasure. Having sex was always that much better when it was with
someone you were in love with. It was a relationship enhancer.
My cock was fully erect. It was so hard that it hurt.
Then, he pushed me down and straddled me. I stared up at the rippling muscles of his body.
I wanted his flesh, but it was more than just that.
I wanted to be closer to him, physically and emotionally. I wanted him in me.
He leaned down and hovered above my face.
His sweet hot breath brushed against my cheeks. Loose strands of hair dangled from his
head, and brushed against my face.
He looked so handsome in the moonlight. He was my knight in shining armor, my prince
charming. I would never forget that he had stepped in and saved me from that bully in high
school.
Lucas pressed his body against me and I wrapped my legs around his ass smooth cheeks.
Then, we kissed passionately. His tongue explored my mouth, leaving no nook and cranny left
untouched.
Soon, our lips became raw and we were out of breath.
He pulled back and caressed the side of my face. “You’re so beautiful, Justin. You’re my
hot blond man.”
I grinned. “And you’re my prince charming.”
He smiled and kissed me again.
I inhaled deeply. The spicy scent of my male lover drove me wild with desire.
I had this ache, this deep yearning. It was an ache that could only be scratched with Lucas’
beautiful cock.
After a while, he rose. His seven-inch, hard-cock cock was pointing straight at me.
Gently, he murmured, “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Yeah, baby,” I said. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
He smiled, dazzling me with his white teeth and that one dimple on his cheek. “All right,
baby. I want to make love to you.”
“And I want you to.”
And make love to me he did.
He slipped on a condom and flipped me around.
“Justin,” he whispered. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you too.”
And then, he slid his enormous cock into my ass and pumped himself into me until I was
crying out in both pleasure and pain.
The desire for him to be into me was strong. If I could, I would have wanted him to eat
him, to swallow him so that I would have part of him with me for all time.
But I couldn’t, so I had to settle for his gigantic manhood pushing itself into me. Not that I
was complaining.
As he pumped himself into me, I examined my feelings. It was, after all, my first time with
another man. I had waited this long before I wanted to be sure that it was with the right guy. The
good news was that I had finally found the right guy.
It didn’t feel wrong to be having sex with another man at all. All that religious Catholic
guilt was gone. I was sure that God loved me. The Church did not have the ultimate
interpretation of God and how he feels towards his children.
Before, I didn’t want to have sex with Lucas because it would have meant my
acknowledgement to myself as a gay man. I had no problem with that anymore. I was a gay man
and I was proud of it.
And I had Lucas. I had his body and mind and soul.
I jerked myself feverishly as his huge genitalia stimulated the nerve endings of my anus
and rectum.
I was in blissful heaven.
I stared into those jade eyes as Lucas made sweet love to me.
Those eyes said one thing: this love is strong.
He leaned down to kiss me as he continued to fuck my brains out.
To be kissed and fucked at the same time from a gift from the Creator.
Lucas pumped himself into me a couple more times and then pulled out.
The condom was dripping with liquid.
Lucas screamed. He was coming inside the condom.
At the same time, I came too.
Hot semen spurted out of my dick, staining the white sheets.
I moaned. My orgasm was pleasantly intense.
Lucas moaned. From the sounds of it, so was his.
Sweat dripped down his crimson face.
“Fuck!” he yelled.
Then, it was over.
So that was my first time with another man. I was no longer a virgin. I had imagined my
first time to be good, but nowhere near this great. Lucas was a master in the bedroom. He made
me so safe and loved.
Exhausted, Lucas fell down next to me and closed his eyes. He didn’t even bother to take
off his condom.
I put my head on his chest and listened to the pounding of his heart. His breathing was still
hard. His slightly hairy chest rose up and down.
We then lay in bed, spooning.
I was hot and sweaty and sexually satiated.
Lucas then gently stroked the side of my face, much like he had when we kissed for the
first time a year earlier in San Pasqual Park.
I lived for his touch.
My mind was drifting, but I was not thinking about anything worrisome. I was just
thinking about how lucky we were to have found each other. And when you have something this
great, you want it to last forever. If only it could. But I wasn’t naive. I wanted to be with Lucas
for as long as possible, but no one could predict the future. If only there was some way to have a
little part of him with me wherever I went.
Then, I had a thought.
With a quick motion, I slipped off his condom and brought it to my face.
The salty smell of semen filled the humid air.
“What are you doing?” Lucas groaned sleepily.
I took the condom to my nose and inhaled deeply. Normally, I hated the strong smell of
semen, but this particular kind was different. This one belonged to my lover. This one belonged
to my man.
A drop fell out of the condom and landed on my nose. I scooped it up with one finger and
put it into my mouth. It was bitter and salty, but the taste disappeared after a while.
Beside me, Lucas moaned again. He was starting to doze off. He had had a long,
exhausting day.
“I just want a piece of you in me forever,” I replied softly.
I didn’t think he had heard me though.
In a way, I didn’t want him to.
This was my own private way of cherishing him. It was the highest honor I could give him.
This man saved me. I had been an unhappy, lonely closeted gay man and he made me feel
good about myself again. He gave me a new life and made me want to live again. I was
oppressed and he made me free again.
Swallowing some of his cum was the best way I could think of to honor him.
And now I had his seed inside me. The thought made me feel content and satisfied.
It meant that no matter how far apart we would be from each other (no one knows what the
future may bring), I would always have a part of him with me forever.
I laid my head on his chest. “Tell me a secret, Lucas.”
“What?” He sounded groggy.
“Tell me a secret.”
He forced his eyes open. A look of understanding came across his face.
“Oh OK.”
He adjusted his position in bed and placed a protective arm across my chest. “When I was
12, I wanted to go to Sea World. I was living in the dry desert of Arizona, so I had never seen the
ocean before. I loved whales. They were just so friendly and carefree. I wished I could be with
them.”
I giggled. “That’s so cute. You know, we could always go back to San Diego for a visit. We
could see our family. Then we could go to Sea World.”
I felt even closer to him after that revelation. Who would have thought that a tough guy
like him would like cuddly creatures like whales?
He nodded, closing his eyes, drifting off. “OK, baby. OK.”
Soon, he was asleep.
I stayed awake to watch him breathe. It was so hypnotic. I felt calm and serene. I could
watch him sleep all night.
***
Chapter 6
As summer bled into fall, I found a steady job serving hamburgers and fries at McDonalds.
I tried writing a screenplay on the side, but I had no inspiration. No ideas came.
My fast food job wasn’t that bad though. I was still applying for script internships on the
side, but nothing had materialized yet.
Lucas was making headway in his career. He was preparing for the November General
Election, when Proposition 15, the referendum about same-sex marriage, would be on the ballot.
But like he said, it would be an uphill climb. He was fighting Dave Sampson, a xenophobic,
homophobic, racist Republican gubernatorial candidate. Dave Sampson was running on a
platform of ultraconservatism and family values, and thus, would stop at nothing to stamp out the
gay rights movement, including spending enormous funds to stop the legalization of same-sex
marriage.
Lucas came home every night depressed.
One night, I was sick of seeing him this way. The arduous task of securing rights for a
group was wearing him down.
I asked him to go with me for a walk, to blow off steam. He agreed.
The fall wind was still mildly humid and even stifling, so Lucas was wearing shorts that
showed off his tanned tree-trunk legs and a torn T-shirt that allowed everyone to see what kind of
body he had.
Walking around the City of Angels with him beside me was prestigious. I was proud to be
seen with someone as beautiful as he was.
We walked side by side. Our hands were close to each other, but they never quite touched.
As the blazing sun finally died, Lucas was talking incessantly about work. “So we’re trying
our hardest to get Proposition 15 onto the ballot in time for the November General Election, but
it’s going to be hard. We have opposition from so many sides.”
I listened sympathetically, but inside, I was ashamed to say that I didn’t care as much as he
did. Sure I was for equal rights everywhere for everyone, but I wasn’t thinking on a grand a scale
as my boyfriend. He was a noble person. He was in it to help people. As for me, although I
would like to see same-sex marriage legalized in my state, I just wasn’t as outspoken about it. I
just wanted to live quietly with my man.
Lucas brushed some hair out of his forehead. He hadn’t had a haircut all summer, so his
chestnut brown hair was starting to get shaggy. I liked it though. It made him look like a
California surfer dude, what with his muscles, bronze skin and now shaggy hair.
Lucas continued, “We’re being attacked from so many sides it’s hard to keep track of
who’s opposing us and for what reason. The Republicans, the conservative Christians, the
moralists.”
He sighed, looking far off into the sunset. The tall LA skyscrapers blocked out some of the
fading rays.
“Sometimes I just feel like giving up,” Lucas admitted.
He turned to me, his eyes brooding and pensive. “What do you think? Do you think I
should?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes there are no good answers.”
“You’re saying I should?”
I didn’t want to give him a definite answer, but I was sure he knew what I thought. I didn’t
want to share my Lucas with the world. I didn’t want him to be attacked and get hurt. Because he
was involved in the Organization for Equal Rights, he was out there for people to see. He
attended rallies and even gave speeches. He was visible. He was a target.
Lucas stopped walking and stood there, holding out an accusatory finger. “You’re saying I
should quit.”
It was a statement, not a question.
I bit my lips. “I just think it’s hard for one person to make a difference.”
I expected him to be angry with my opinion, but he was not.
Patiently, he challenged my statement. “What about Martin Luther King Junior? Malcolm
X? Mother Theresa?”
I breathed out slowly. My face was getting hot. I didn’t like where this conversation was
going.
“I’m not saying you can’t. I’m just saying it’s hard,” I said.
He stood there under the soft light of the sun, his shoulders square.
“Yesterday, someone named Tom from Modesto called us. He said that his life partner had
died and because they were not legally married, he inherited nothing. The house wasn’t in his
name, so it was given to his partner’s nephew - who’s last visited 12 years ago - and Tom was
kicked out. They were together for 20 years. Is that fair?”
“No,” I said, growing defensive.
My voice softened. “I just don’t want you to be in the middle of all this. It could be really
dangerous.”
I gave his hand a tug. “I’m selfish. I want you all to myself.”
He looked at me with conflicted emotion. “How would you like it if I died, but you didn’t
get the house that we bought and lived in together? The state doesn’t recognize our partnership
just because we’re both the same gender.”
Of course, he had a point.
I had no answer for him.
Deep in thought, I continued to walk beside him.
I felt a separation between us. It was as though a wide gulf had opened up between us. He
was on one side and I was on the other.
I hated to be far away from my man.
Lucas looked at me. His face gave no indication of what was going through his mind.
What was he thinking? What was he going to do?
Then, he took my hand.
I grinned. Relief filled me. So he wasn’t angry after all. He had decided to let it go.
His warm hand held mine as we strolled through the streets of downtown LA.
I turned to look at him. The fading golden rays of the sun hit him in an angle that
highlighted the softness of his hair, the angle of his cheek bones, the tenderness of his lips and
the warmth in his face.
At that moment, I sent a prayer up above. I considered myself lucky to have found
someone like him. We could discuss things and disagree without losing respect for each other.
While we were walking on the sidewalk and holding hands at the same time, there were
people walking toward us. An elderly couple gaped at us, but said nothing. An elderly man
passed and shook his head. A middle-aged lady with glasses stared at us, and then frowned.
I looked at Lucas, who merely shrugged.
I can do this, I thought.
This was my first time holding another man’s hand in public. If straight couples could do
that without being stared at, then why couldn’t gay couples? This was exactly the type of right
that Lucas was fighting for. I suddenly had a newfound respect for him.
So we continued to walk, all the while aware that people were gawking at us.
A straight couple walked past, hand in hand.
The woman whispered into the ear of the guy, and they both burst out laughing. I had no
proof that they were laughing at us, but I was feeling paranoid. They probably were.
At the same time, I was deeply envious. They were able to walk hand in hand without
drawing attention to themselves. They were considered normal. Lucas and I were considered
oddities.
Lucas held tighter to my hand, affirming my resolve to remain connected with him.
Then, the worst possible person walked by. Of all people, it had to be him.
It was this punk skinhead with a mohawk. He was wearing all leather and had chains tied
around his wrists.
He snorted and laughed derisively. “Fags,” he muttered.
Instinctually, I let go of Lucas’ hand. It was not a conscious decision. It simply happened,
like an uncontrollable instinct.
Lucas looked at me with disappointment in his eyes.
I looked down. I was ashamed of what I had done. I was not ashamed of being with Lucas.
He knew that. It’s just that it’s difficult to violate social norms in this country. Men in America
do not hold hands with one another. It just wasn’t done, unless they were gay.
But I am gay, I thought. Why couldn’t I hold my partner’s hand?
I was reminded of those guys I heard about on the TV, the ones who were hit from behind
just because they were holding hands and were of the same gender. I didn’t want to end up like
those guys.
***
That night, Lucas and I had a discussion.
“Listen,” I said, cornering him in the kitchen just as he was preparing dinner. “I’m sorry.”
He dropped the knife on the counter. “For what?”
“You know,” I said. “It was an instinct. I couldn’t control it.”
A silence permeated the room.
An uncomfortable silence.
“I saw something on TV the other day,” I said, breaking the silence. “Two men who were
holding hands in public were beaten up.”
His green eyes pierced me. “And you think that could be us?”
“It’s possible. We don’t know what people would do. We have to protect each other. It’s not
that I’m ashamed to be seen holding hands with you. You know I love you.”
He picked up the knife and hacked carrots apart. Bits and pieces flew everywhere.
“I just wish homosexuality wasn’t an issue,” he said. “Why do people have to care about
things that are none of their business?” His voice wasn’t angry. It sounded almost defeated.
“I agree,” I said.
Then, I sighed. “It’s just so hard sometimes. It’s tough to be masculine and gay in this
modern world. It’s not the same for women. There’s more stigma to being a gay man than being
a gay woman. Masculine women are seen as tomboys, which isn’t a big deal, but feminine men
are seen as sissies. It’s a much bigger deal.”
He stopped chopping. “That’s why I’m fighting so hard. I don’t want any stigma to be
attached to any sexual orientation.”
“Neither do I, but people are always going to be people. They are going to judge. They are
going to place stereotypes on others. It’s easier that way. It’s human nature. And if it changes, it
will take time. Lots of time. Generations. Just look at the civil rights and feminist movements.
Things still aren’t completely equal and I don’t think they will be. There are always going to be
prejudices against the minority, against the people that are different.”
Lucas stared at me.
I said, “I’m not defending it. It’s just the way they are.”
Then, he did something that startled me.
He began to cry. He sobbed until his eyes were bloodshot. It was as though a dam had
broken and water was now bursting out.
Immediately, I ran over and held him in my arms.
It was so surprising and disarming to see him cry. I was used to seeing him so strong. I had
never seen him vulnerable before. He was not a crier. He was a fighter.
His hot tears stained my shirt.
Then, as quickly as he started, he stopped.
His warm body detached itself from mine.
He started to talk, stuttering slightly. “I see so much injustice at work. And it’s so hard to
change it. It sometimes feels impossible. The opposition is too great. I just want things to be OK
for people like us.”
I knew what he was saying, but I couldn’t quite relate. I just wanted to live quietly with my
man. I cared about equal rights, but I wasn’t as fanatical or passionate as he was. I wasn’t willing
to make waves to change it. I admired people like Lucas, but to be in a relationship with
someone like him was going to be tough.
Not knowing what to say, I hugged him. He buried his face in my chest.
How weird it felt to be the stronger one. All throughout our relationship, I was the one who
needed to be cheered up and reassured. Now, it was his turn. And I was glad to comfort him.
I even stroked the side of his face lovingly, just like he would do to me. I stroked his
forehead and then cheeks.
He then lifted his head and stared at me with those lovely green eyes.
No words needed to be exchanged between us.
I knew what those eyes were saying.
They were saying that he was grateful that I was in his life.
I was equally grateful he was in mine.
***
Chapter 7
The next day, Lucas came home with a black eye and a shallow gnash on the side of his
face.
I had just gotten home from working at McDonalds when he walked in.
He looked like he had been in a fight.
I rushed up to him. “What happened?”
“Just an accident at work,” he replied, without looking me in the eyes.
“An accident? What kind?”
I was suspicious. What kind of accident could possibly cause that?
“Just an accident.”
He walked into the living room and collapsed onto the couch.
I followed him. “Lucas. I’m your boyfriend. You can tell me.”
He looked at me. He was looked like he had been to hell and back.
He sighed. “All right, fine. I’ll tell you. But you can’t make a big deal out of it. It was one
of those anti-homosexual crusaders. I was passing out flyers to this rally on the streets and he
came at me with a knife.”
My eyes widened. I was hungry before, but now I couldn’t eat. My Lucas had been
threatened. My appetite was gone.
“What?” I exclaimed. “He tried to kill you?”
Lucas nodded, his face weary.
I sat down on the couch. “But you lived. You were lucky. You could have died.”
The possibility hit me like a sharp scythe plunging into my chest. My baby could have
died. I couldn’t process it.
“This is exactly what I feared,” I said, working myself up. My heart was racing a mile a
minute. “You never know what kind of crazy guys are out there.”
I took his hand. “Lucas, I want you to consider something.”
“What?”
I took a deep breath. It was now or never. If I let it out, I could never take it back.
I decided to go for it. His wounds made me nervous and gave me courage to say something
I had been thinking about for a while.
“Lucas, I want you to quit this movement. It’s too dangerous. I can’t imagine what I would
do if something happened to you.”
He shook his head vigorously, his dark hair spilling all over his shoulders. “No, I can’t. I
took an oath. I made a vow to myself.”
I was growing agitated. “I understand you want to fight for our rights, but at what cost?
Your own death? But why does it have to be you? Why can’t it be some other guy who’s getting
us these rights?”
A silence passed between us. We were at a stalemate. Neither of us was getting what we
wanted.
Lucas may have been nearly perfect, but he still had his flaws. He was extremely stubborn.
He turned to me, his eyes brooding. His left eye was black and blue around the edges. He
looked like a panda.
As I stared at the light gnash on his cheek, I was flooded with anger. Lucas was the most
beautiful person in the world to me. How dare this narrow-minded bigot mar his beauty! He
made a blemish on my Lucas.
He tried to hide the scar by covering it with his hand. “Someone has to do it.”
He exhaled. “Do you know why I’m doing this?”
“No,” I said, folding my arms. “Why are you risking your life for these rights? Why does it
have to be you?”
When Lucas replied, he had this glint in his eyes. “I have a vision. I envision a society
where your sexual orientation, your race, your age, your religion - none of it matters. I envision
everyone to be equal, because that means freedom. And our country was founded on the ideals of
freedom.”
He stared at the floor and then back at me again. “I’ve this vision ever since I was a skinny
gay kid picked on in high school back in Arizona. I vowed that no one should have to go through
that kind of hell. And then my thinking just grew bigger from there. No one should have to suffer
the indignities of being different. And being denied marriage because I want to marry another
guy is an indignity.”
What he said was extremely profound, but also, extremely idealistic to me. The kind of
society he envisioned did not exist. Humans simply cannot be completely equal, because we are
not. We are all too different. As for the indignities part, I agreed with it in principle, but I had to
pick my battles.
He inhaled and continued. “I mean, wouldn’t it be great if you no longer had to fear being
killed just because you’re holding hands with another man in public?”
“That would be great,” I said softly. “But I just don’t want it badly enough to risk my man
for it. I’m selfish. I want you all to myself. I don’t want you risking your life out there in the
cruel world. Let someone else do it.”
Lucas shrugged. “Someone has to do it.”
“But why does it have to be you?”
He had no answer for me.
Another silence floated between us. I was getting nowhere and I was getting frustrated.
“I can’t quit,” Lucas murmured. “We’re so close.”
He closed his eyes. He looked exhausted.
I didn’t know what to say.
When he opened his eyes again, his expression was serious.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he said, propping himself up against a pillow.
“There were times I wanted to quit, but I need to do this. I need to fight for those who couldn't
fight for themselves.”
Did he mean me?
I shook my head. “I can’t deal with this. I just can’t.”
He turned to look at me, pursing his lips. “So what does this mean for us then?”
I had no idea.
Lucas got up and stood up. “I have to do this. I’m sorry, but I have to. And you have to
decide whether you’re in this with me for the long haul. And if you are, you have to decide how
best to deal with this, because I’m not giving up my mission. Everyone needs to find their
mission on Earth and this is mine.”
It hit me like a ton of bricks. Was Lucas giving me an ultimatum? Was he suggesting that
we break up or take a break from our relationship?
I stood up and came face to face with my man. “I want you to quit the movement. For your
own good.”
He shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. I won’t quit.”
He sighed. “I think we should take a break.”
There it was. My fear had come true.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I’m going to go away for a while. This time will give us a chance to think about what we
want in life. It’ll give us time to think about each other and about the future. Because activism is
my life. It’s in my blood. And I can’t give that up if I want to be happy. In the meantime, you
have to think about our relationship and what you want from it. If you can’t put up with my
career, then it’s going to be really hard for us both.”
My mouth hung open. I was so shocked I was speechless.
Torn, Lucas looked at me mournfully. “Let’s take a week off. I’m going to live in a motel.”
He walked toward the door.
I stood there, rooted to the floor.
Go run after him, I told myself. Go, before it’s too late.
But I couldn’t. Maybe it was because of my stupid pride. Whatever the reason, I was still in
shock. I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t command my body to move.
Lucas turned around. His eyes were wide and melancholy. I could tell this was causing him
even more pain than to me.
“There’s a same-sex marriage rally next Saturday at 1pm, by Hollywood Boulevard. It’s
kind of like a gay pride parade. If you want, you can join me. And this time, if you’re up to it, we
can hold hands in public with no shame, just pride.”
And just like that, he was gone.
***
That week without Lucas, I was completely miserable. I went to work like a zombie and
went home like a zombie.
My Lucas was gone. Even if it was only for a week, I missed him. Terribly.
I thought about the future of our relationship. I saw him in my life, but I wasn’t sure he saw
me in his. Our values didn’t match. He might even see me as weak.
But I needed him. It might be pathetic, but I did. He had become a part of me. We had been
living together for a year already. I wasn’t used to his absence.
But in a way, I felt an immense sense of relief. I loved him so much that if I lost him, my
whole world would end. But now that he was out of my life, I no longer felt so vulnerable. I
didn’t have him anymore. I no longer had anything to lose. I no longer felt that sense of immense
vulnerability.
But because he was out of my life, loneliness set in. At first, it was slow. During downtime
when I watched TV, that sense of extreme loneliness crept into me like an invading virus.
On the fourth day, I thought about hiring a gay male prostitute. Was I weak? Yes. I longed
for a man’s touch and now that Lucas was giving me a taste of life without him, he could no
longer satiate that need.
I’m ashamed to admit that, in my loneliness, I did go to the red-light district and sought out
a male prostitute. It was some Latino guy in his 20’s. He had these big brown eyes and
disheveled hair. He looked hungry and homeless.
Wearing just a flimsy torn T-shirt and a pair of dirty shorts, he was standing on the street
corner, eyeing potential customers eagerly.
I approached him. “How much do you charge?”
“$50 for sex,” he replied.
His eyes were practically pleading with me to accept his offer.
When I hesitated, he lowered the price. “$30 for a blow job.”
I was tempted to accept the discounted offer. I was aching for sexual release. Masturbation
could only get me so far. Most of all though, I longed for a man’s gentle touch.
As I stared at the desperation in his eyes, the dirt on his face, and his tattered clothes, I
realized that my needs weren’t as important as his. For once in my life, I was not selfish.
I fished out $50 and paid him.
He grabbed me and started to drag me to some dark alley, but I resisted.
“No,” I said. “The money’s for you. A gift. Take care of yourself.”
The prostitute looked at me with surprise and gratitude. “Thank you.”
I nodded and turned around. I was proud of myself. Lucas had taught me not to be selfish.
My needs sometimes weren’t as important someone else’s. And besides, it wasn’t someone else’s
I needed. It was Lucas’ touch.
As I drove home, I thought a lot.
I realized that I needed love in my life. I realized that life was ultimately meaningless
without love. And I realized that being vulnerable and the possibility of losing the one you love
were worth enduring for the sake of having love.
Could I put up with Lucas’ activism? In a way, it was like being married to a cop. I’d never
know if he was going to be OK. Everyday, he would get up and go to work and there was no
guarantee he’d come home after work. It was just too dangerous.
But he was fighting for a noble cause. Our noble cause. It affected me too. I was
embarrassed because I wasn’t fighting as hard as he was. If this was an actual war, he’d be one of
those soldiers facing the enemy head-on on the battlefield and I would be hiding in the trenches,
cowering in my boots.
So could I put up with his activism?
Yes, I realized. The only other alternative was to break up with him, and that wasn’t an
option. How could I leave someone who had given me so much, who had made me feel life was
worth living when I didn’t think it was, who had helped me accept myself as the homosexual that
I was?
I couldn’t.
This was Lucas’ mission in life. He told me so himself. This was in his blood. To love
someone meant to accept and love them entirely.
I thought about going to that rally on Saturday and seeing Lucas and then marching with
him hand in hand.
I was no longer fearful. Lucas’ fight was now my fight. I loved the man.
The thought made me smile.
The thought also made me break down and cry.
***
That night, I had the weirdest dream. I dreamed that Lucas and I were standing on the
peaks of two different mountains. We were miles above the Earth and the wide separation would
not allow us to move any closer to each other.
I reached out to him and he to me, but no matter what we did, we could not come together.
Then, Lucas had an idea. For some reason, he jumped toward me, but instead of landing
beside me, he plummeted down to the Earth.
“Luuuuuccaaaassss!” I shouted.
But there was nothing I could do.
He was gone.
I woke up drenched in sweat and tears.
***
Chapter 8
Saturday rolled around. I went to Hollywood Boulevard at 1pm. A crowd of people was
already gathered there.
And there, in the middle of it all, was Lucas.
He was standing on a stage, looking as fine as ever. The sun shone down on him, making
him look like a golden angel.
He looked like such a hero. He played the part. He looked the part. I was impressed.
He was our hero and this was his life. I had now accepted that and was prepared to grow
together with him.
He was shouting something into a microphone. “No longer will we be suppressed. We will
be heard!”
A cheer erupted from the crowd as people applauded.
Lucas was about to shout something else too when he noticed me standing at the very edge
of the crowd, staring at him.
“Excuse me,” he said. Then, he left the stage and made his way to me.
He beamed. “You made it.”
I had forgotten how beautiful he was. His smile made my heart leap. Even years later, he
still had that effect on me.
His dark brown hair was parted in the middle, both sides falling to his shoulders. His green
eyes were clear and mature, as though he had grown wiser in the week since he left me. He was
wearing a plain old blue windbreaker and a pair of worn jeans.
“I understand,” I said. “I accept what you do. I accept because I love you. It’s the only way
to grow together and not apart.”
He embraced me.
I placed my head on his shoulders, his hair tickling my nose. I breathed him in. His
familiar Old Spice cologne made me feel safe and warm. How I missed him.
I mumbled, “Will you come home?”
He stroked my head and then the side of my face. “Yes, baby. I’ve missed you.”
There it was again. The sweet joy of reconciliation.
Lucas turned to his supporters. “Everyone. This is my partner, Justin.”
People smiled and applauded gently.
As I looked out at the sea of faces, I felt happy. In a way, I was coming out to everyone. I
felt so free.
Lucas grabbed my hand and held it high in the air.
He cried, “Let’s start the march, everyone!”
And so, Hollywood Boulevard became crowded with hordes of people, mostly gay men
and some straight women.
As we walked hand in hand, I smiled. I was proud. It was such a relief to be able to hold
my lover’s hand in public. I felt like I was finally allowed to be myself. I felt whole.
As though it was a test from God, a group of punk skinheads walked past and immediately
started shouting gay slurs and other obscenities at us, but I didn’t care.
In fact, I held my partner’s hand up high, so that everyone could see how much we cared
for each other. It was liberating to be completely out like that. I loved Lucas so much that I
wanted to declare our love to the world, or at least to anyone who would listen.
Lucas turned to smile at me and I smiled back.
This was one of the most magical moments in our relationship. I stared at him as the
afternoon sun’s gentle rays caressed his face. He was truly everything I had ever wanted.
Then, as if the moment wasn’t perfect enough, Lucas did something startling.
He got down on his knees. “Justin. Will you marry me? That is, when Proposition 15
passes.”
I was so happy that I couldn’t speak. My stomach was roiling. My hands were sweaty. My
mouth was dry. My heart was pounding. My legs wanted to collapse onto me.
Still clutching his hand, we stopped in the middle of the street.
Everyone stopped and turned to watch.
A murmur of excited voices filled the air.
I nodded. “Yes, Lucas. Yes, I will.”
He got up and grabbed me, hugging me so hard I could barely breathe.
Then, he kissed me.
I kissed him back eagerly.
How I missed those wonderfully tender lips.
People cheered and applauded.
As I closed my eyes and savored the moment, I thought about my own life and how it had
gotten me here to this very spot, about to marry the love of my life.
We were so young and full of hope. Maybe things could change after all. Maybe I was
wrong. Maybe one person could make a difference.
As we marched on, elation filled me. I could just imagine living in a house together, him
working as an activist and me pursuing my Hollywood dream.
At that moment, everything and anything was possible. I had the love of my life with me.
We were together again. I felt like we could conquer the world.
That feeling lasted only a minute.
We reached the end of the street only to see at least three police cars blocking our way.
Lucas looked concerned.
The Chief of Police shouted, “Who’s in charge here?”
The organizer, a big fat guy, motioned to Lucas.
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
I nodded. I knew it was going to be a dangerous confrontation, but I now understood what
he had to do. This was Lucas’ career. It’s what he had signed up to do. It just so happened to have
a certain element of danger to it.
I watched as my lover and the organizer bravely marched up to the Police Chief.
The three of them exchanged words.
The organizer waved his fat arms around. Lucas looked pissed.
The Chief of Police scowled.
I tried to listen to what they were saying, but I couldn’t hear anything. They were too far
away. The police were probably asking whether the Organization for Equal Rights had a permit
to march or something. But wasn’t assembling peacefully in groups one of the Amendments to
the Constitution?
Then, something happened. Someone else showed up.
It was a punk skinhead, clad in leather and chains, complete with the mohawk. He looked
suspiciously like the guy who called us fags a few weeks earlier when Lucas and I were walking
hand in hand.
He raced toward Lucas so quickly that I didn’t have time to warn him. All I did was shout
incomprehensibly.
Lucas didn’t hear me, so I sped toward him.
The skinhead took out a knife from his pocket and plunged it into Lucas’ stomach.
My fiancé gripped his abdomen, not understanding what had happened.
The assailant then quickly fled the scene.
I clutched Lucas in my arms.
He started to babble but no words came out.
The police were shouting at the skinhead and then running after him. It was chaos in the
streets as confused people screamed and cried and scattered.
I looked into my man’s sweet face and into his clear green eyes.
I started to stroke the side of his face, feeling his soft skin on my hands.
No, I thought. It couldn’t be. We were going to get married and have a life together. This
isn’t fair.
Why now? Why me? Why Lucas?
Those questions were zooming through my mind again.
I whispered into Lucas’ ears. “I love you, baby.”
Blood gushed out of the open wound on his stomach. Lucas held up his hands, which were
bathed in his own blood.
His wide eyes said that he couldn’t believe his fate.
In the distance, the siren of an ambulance wailed.
I kissed him on the forehead.
I was hopeful, but somehow, I knew he wasn’t going to make it. He was just losing too
much blood.
I stared into his angelic face.
He looked calm, serene, peaceful. If I were dying from a stab wound, I would have been
terrified, but not Lucas.
Perhaps he knew where he was going. Perhaps he understood that he had fulfilled his
mission on this Earth. Perhaps he knew that he had done all he could to improve people’s lives,
including mine.
He tried to smile at me, but it ended up only as a half-smile.
I bit my lips and held him close.
At least he could die in my arms.
The next hour flew by in a blur. Ambulances arrived. Police officers talked to me. And
somehow, I found myself at a hospital. It may have been Good Samaritan Hospital. Or LA
County Hospital. I don’t remember which one.
All I remember was some man in a white lab coat coming out of Lucas’ hospital room and
saying to me, “I’m sorry. The stab wound was fatal. We weren’t able to save him.”
Horror filled my very soul. I felt like vomiting.
***
The funeral and then the interment were held on a cloudy day. The sky wanted to rain, but
it could not.
Hundreds of people filled Seaside Cemetery. I had no idea that Lucas had had so many
friends. Strangers came up to greet me and then offer their condolences. I regretted not making
an effort to get to know Lucas’ colleagues. They all seemed to know me.
They told me stories of how Lucas touched their lives by fighting so hard for such a cause.
He was a martyr for the cause, they said to me.
And I was the widower of the martyr. Lucas did propose to me just before he was stabbed.
The pastor said a few kind words but I wasn’t sure how he felt about eulogizing a gay man.
I was sure that as a member of the clergy, he was conflicted.
I stared at Lucas’ corpse in the casket.
He was about to be lowered into the ground.
He looked so helpless, lying there. Not the strong Lucas I was used to seeing. And to think
I would never see his beautiful green eyes again, or hear his deep voice, or feel his fingers
stroking the side of my face again.
A part of me wanted run toward the casket and embrace his body, but I refrained from
doing so.
I changed ever since he died. I felt like a new man.
He helped me grow. I wasn’t selfish anymore. I had given up the love of my life to the
cause.
I could be an adult and I could watch as my beloved was lowered into his grave.
As his casket was lowered, it hit me. Lucas was dead.
My worst fear had come true.
My fiancé was dead.
Even though police caught the guy who stabbed him, it didn’t matter to me. The skinhead
was sentenced to a mere eight years in prison for cold-blooded murder. How was that justice?
The police told me that the motive was to stop the gay marriage movement from gaining
steam. Strike the shepherd and the sheep would scatter. The skinhead was from some white
supremacist group who hated gays, lesbians, blacks, Asians and anyone else who wasn’t like
them.
And my fiancé, being the visible and outspoken symbol of the group, had been sacrificed.
As someone sang Amazing Grace, I looked at Lucas’ tombstone. It read Freedom Fighter.
He truly was.
From up above, thunder rumbled.
I looked up.
It finally began to rain.
The downpour drenched everyone and caused all but the staunchest of supporters to run for
cover.
Soon, the rain disappeared and the sun peeked out shyly from behind the clouds.
A rainbow landed on Lucas’ grave, highlighting the words Freedom Fighter.
Standing there in front of his grave and seeing that rainbow, I was transported back in time,
back when I was ten and my dog had died.
My father had pointed out that rainbow to me. He wanted me to look on the bright side of
life. So had Lucas.
When I was sad and suicidal that day in high school, he said there was much beauty in life.
I just had to look hard enough.
He was right. There the rainbow was, shining on Lucas. He was the beauty in life.
Then, I thought of all the good times we had together. I remembered how he had comforted
me when I was sad. I remembered how he had prevented my near suicide. Then I remembered
how we went to San Pasqual Park and talked and laughed and kissed. How young and carefree
we were. Finally, I remembered giving my heart and soul and virginity to him that hot summer
night. I remembered that I had swallowed his semen so that I would always have a part of him
with me.
Perhaps beauty could arise from tragedy after all.
As I thought about how he had touched me, I started laughing uncontrollably.
Soon, the wind began whipping my body and soul, but still, I laughed.
People stared at me as though I was crazy, but I did not care.
Lucas was in my life once.
I was laughing because I was happy I had Lucas once. Hell, I still had him.
Screw the cruel wind and its relentless attack on me. I, and only, I controlled my reaction
and perspective and emotions. Nothing else did.
God damn it, I was going to be happy. And nothing could stop me.
***
Part 3
Sacramento, California, 2015
Chapter 10
During the years after Lucas’ death, I slowly descended into a kind of workaholic madness
from which I never recovered. For 16 years, I channeled all my rage and energy into fulfilling
Lucas’ lifelong dream: equal marriage rights for gays and lesbians.
I became a hardworking lobbyist in Sacramento, the state capitol. The diehard Republican
Dave Sampson won the race for governor and blocked every attempt even to have Proposition 15
on the ballot. Fortunately, he was voted out of office after one term but the subsequent governor,
also a Republican, refused to put it on the ballot.
Now, 16 years later, someone else, a Democrat, John Morgan, was in power. He was
determined to push that referendum through and he did. It took 16 years even to see it on the
ballot.
I worked day and night. I posted ads and posters and attended and spoke at rallies. I
marched in parades. I scrounged up hundreds of volunteers for the cause.
The death of Lucas fired people up. His death was a rallying point for hordes of LGBT
activists. The movement gained momentum. People were angry. People from all walks of life,
gay or straight, black, white, Asian and everything in between, young and old, men and women,
were all fed up with the inequalities in our society. They were rising up and taking action. The
death of one innocent person who had fought hard for equal rights for all was inspiring millions.
And I, as the partner of the deceased symbol of equal rights, was their leader. I, Justin, a
person who once expressed doubt that one person could make a difference. A person who even
refused to march alongside him, fearing for our safety. A person, who once did not
wholeheartedly support the equal rights movement, a person who even asked his boyfriend to
quit the movement out of selfishness.
I did not want to lose him. Why couldn’t someone else take up the torch? But now, I
understood. Lucas had to die for the greater good. One person had to die in order to spur millions
of others to take action.
Lucas had been a catalyst for social change for the better. If he hadn’t died, people
wouldn’t have cared as much about the cause. His death prompted and inspired people to effect
change. The media reported his death for weeks on end. It had been popular in the news. The
visceral and emotional way the media reported the news of his death must have touched and
moved people.
Lucas was sacrificed for the greater good.
Did I agree with that?
In principle, yes.
Just because I understood didn’t mean I was happy about it.
Why did it have to be my man? Why did my man have to be the one? Why couldn’t it have
been someone else?
In many ways, I was still selfish. I would have given anything to have my sweet Lucas
back again, feel his breath on my face and feel his tender fingers stroking my cheeks.
But at least something good arose from his death.
On the evening of the Proposition 15 vote, the rest of the volunteers and I held our breaths
at campaign headquarters in downtown Sacramento.
The TV anchor was reading the news. “Today marks a very important occasion for the
equal rights movement. Proposition 15, the referendum for same-sex marriage, passes with a
slim majority.”
No one could hear what the reporter said next.
The room erupted in cheers and applause.
Everyone was hugging one another.
One of my deputies, Jesse, came up to me. “Congratulations, Justin. Lucas would have
been proud of you.”
I nodded. “Thanks. But I’ve been wondering: why did it have to be him?”
Jesse shrugged. “Someone has to do it.”
Someone has to do it. Those words also came from Lucas’ own lips.
I decided to focus on the positive instead of the negative.
I sent a silent prayer above. We did it, Lucas. Everything that you worked for your whole
life culminates at this very moment. 16 years in the making. It took 16 years for the question of
same-sex marriage to show up on the ballot, but we finally did it.
I looked around the room. It was as if everyone was celebrating a birthday that night.
A small smile crept onto my face.
At least something good came out of my man’s death.
Nevertheless, I felt a deep pang of sadness. I missed Lucas terribly. There was no souvenir
that I had of him, not even a picture of us together. I should have taken more pictures of him.
But then I remembered what happened that magical summer night when I gave him my
heart, soul and virginity. I had swallowed his semen so that I could have a small piece of him
around with me forever.
I smiled. He’s still with me. He never left.
The thought filled me with a deep sense of comfort.
***
A couple days later, I went back to San Diego for visit. My mom and dad greeted me with
tears in their eyes. It had been a long time since I saw my parents.
“We’re so proud of you,” they said.
They must have been watching the news. Since I was now the face of the gay rights and
marriage movement, I was famous. People knew me from the news.
I was now out of the closet with my parents. I had come out to them indirectly.
“You’re not disappointed I’m gay?” I asked.
Both my parents frowned at the same time. “How could you think such a thing? We love
our son.”
“But the church and all?”
My dad said, “They have their opinion and we have ours. How could God hate His own
creation? You will not go to Hell.”
I smiled. I didn’t care about Hell and all that. I was just glad my parents still loved me. And
I just was glad that I was finally open and out and free. There’s nothing like being able to be
yourself fully and not have to hide.
It was the most liberating feeling.
***
While I was in town, I went to Sea World by myself. Lucas never fulfilled his dream of
going there, so I was going there for him.
I stood by the huge tank and watched Lulu the Orca perform for the crowd.
She rode through the water, making waves and splashing the spectators.
I smiled. Lucas was right. Whales were carefree and friendly.
I looked to the heavens.
Lucas, I hope you’re enjoying this too, I thought.
***
Epilogue
I never dated other men after Lucas. He was the only man for me. Always has been and
always will be. He was my first, my last, my everything.
I threw myself into my work even more. The victory of Proposition 15 was not enough. I
had to do more.
I went on to establish this charity, the Lucas Manolino Foundation, which advocates for
victims of homophobic violence and murder. So far, we convicted four guilty offenders in four
separate cases. Each of them received a life sentence for the hate crime of killing a homosexual
man.
I’m very proud of the Foundation, inspired by the martyrdom of Lucas. But still, nothing
could bring back my dear Lucas.
His death had been years ago, but the beautiful memory of Lucas haunts me still.
He taught me to be happy in an unhappy world. He taught me to look on the bright side of
life. He taught me to accept myself and all of myself, including my homosexuality.
And at one point in my life, I had no friends and family. I had nothing. I was lonely.
And in a lonely world, company was the most valuable thing of all. Lucas would hold me
and I would not feel so alone anymore.
Will I see him again?
I believe in an eternal soul. I’m sure I’d see him again in the afterlife.
I even have a sign from God.
Every night, I would have this dream. I would dream that Lucas would come into my room
and hold me until I fall asleep. He would stroke my forehead and side of my face lovingly, so
like he had that beautiful summer night when we made love for the first time. I would cry into
his massive chest, because the strength of his love was just so beautiful. I had no words in
response to the beauty of his love, just tears.
After a little while, Lucas’ beautiful face would glow, almost as if he had been graced by a
rainbow. This would always remind me that inner beauty can enhance outer beauty.
That dream must be proof there’s an afterlife. It must be God saying that He loved me,
even if others hadn’t. It was God telling me that I would see Lucas again one day.
I don’t fear death, because Lucas will be there.
His last words that fatal day to me had been, “I’ll be right back.”
That must mean I’d see him again, one glorious day.
And when I see him, I’d rush to embrace him and my fiancé would receive me with open
arms. He would then kiss me and I would kiss him back.
Then, we would get married, in front of God Himself.
Lucas would be my husband and I would be his.
Then, we would have a wedding reception to celebrate.
And as we prepare to dine and feast with our friends and family, I would see colorful
rainbows all around the two of us, bathing us in their infinite beauty.
***
A Note from the Author
Thanks for reading!
If you liked this novel, please leave a review and help me spread the word to your friends
by sharing the link on facebook, twitter and other social media sites. Also, please like my
facebook fan page below.
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