Let the Church Say Amen (18 page)

T
HE DAY WAS OVERCAST
and dreary. Funeral weather. Simon still couldn’t believe his wife was dead. Rachel, who was dressed in all black, hadn’t stopped crying for four days. The family was awaiting their ride to the church. David sat stoically in a corner. Jonathan paced back and forth. He seemed to be taking it the hardest. Simon guessed that it had to do with the fact that he and Angela seemed to be having problems already, then he had to deal with Loretta’s death. No matter what kind of disagreement they had had, Simon felt Angela still should be here with Jonathan today. But anytime Simon tried to broach the subject, Jonathan got quiet and depressed.

As for the kids, they seemed oblivious to what was going on. Jordan was chasing Loretta’s Yorkshire terrier. Nia sat in her playpen, throwing plastic blocks.

The doorbell rang. Simon glanced at the clock hanging in the entryway.

“That must be the limo driver. I’ll get it.”

He didn’t know why he even bothered to say anything; no one else made a move to answer it.

Simon opened the door. The tall, slender young man standing there didn’t look like a limo driver. He was dressed in a navy blue suit, gray shirt, and gray tie. “Hi,” Simon said anyway. “We’ll be ready in just a minute.”

The man looked confused. “Excuse me?”

“Aren’t you the limo driver?”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. You must be Mr. Jackson.”

“I am.” Simon wasn’t in the mood for visitors. It was bad enough having to deal with all those people after the funeral.

Couldn’t he at least have this time with his family?

“May I offer my condolences? I’m so sorry to hear about Mrs. Jackson,” the man said.

Simon nodded. This was probably one of Loretta’s old students. Simon thought maybe if he didn’t engage in conversation, the young man would get the hint to leave. They stood in silence for a few seconds, but he didn’t appear to get the picture.

“Well, what can I do for you?” Simon finally said.

“Umm, I’m a friend of Jonathan’s,” he nervously responded.

Simon perked up a little. “Oh, okay. Any friend of Jonathan’s is a friend of the family. Come on in.” In the months that Jonathan had been home, none of his friends, except Kevin, had dropped by or even called. Simon thought it might be good if Jon had someone here for support right now, although Simon had never seen the man standing on his front porch before today.

“Thank you, sir,” the man said as he stepped into the living room.

“I didn’t get your name,” Simon said, closing the door.

The man stopped and turned to Simon. “It’s Tracy.”

“Well, Tracy, Jonathan should be right down that hall in the den.” Simon pointed the way. Tracy nodded and walked down the hall.

Jonathan was gazing out the window, his back turned from the entrance.

“Jon,” Tracy called.

Jonathan spun around. An astonished look crossed his face.

“Tracy!”

The two stood silently before Jonathan ran into his arms. “What are you doing here?” he cried as he hugged Tracy tightly.

“Now, you know I couldn’t let you go through this alone.”

Simon watched as the two of them embraced. There was something strange about this whole scenario. Jonathan seemed to be grabbing on to him desperately, and the loving way Tracy was rubbing Jonathan’s back had Simon feeling uneasy.

It suddenly dawned on the two of them that they weren’t the only ones in the room. Jonathan quickly removed himself from Tracy’s embrace. “Everybody, this is my friend Tracy.”

David and Rachel smiled halfheartedly at Tracy and nodded hello.

“I’m glad you came,” Jonathan said softly as he turned his attention back to Tracy.

“Did you ever think I wouldn’t? When you called and told me about your mom, I knew you needed me. I just didn’t know if you wanted me to come.”

“I’m glad you did,” Jonathan mumbled.

Simon was leaning against the den wall, taking this all in. He raised his eyebrows in confusion. Something wasn’t right.

“Have you told them?” Tracy looked around the room at everyone staring at them. “I think you should tell them.”

A terrified look crossed Jonathan’s face. “No, not now.”

“Yes. Now or never. This has gone way too far. I only came to be here for you, but I need to be all the way here for you. I can’t be putting on acts.” Tracy looked determined and serious.

“But my mother just died. Maybe we should just wait until later.”

“I know how much you’re hurting and I want to be able to comfort you without any guises. This has been our problem from day one. And if we don’t get it taken care of right now, I’m leaving. For good,” Tracy said.

Jonathan looked like he wanted to protest but changed his mind. His shoulders dropped and he walked over to the sofa and sat down. Tracy followed.

“What about Martin?” Jonathan whispered to Tracy.

“Martin is not who I want. Now tell them.” Tracy was adamant in his demand.

“Tell us what?” Rachel asked. She had stopped crying, but her eyes were still red. Nia was sitting in her lap gnawing on her pearl strands.

Simon still wasn’t getting a good feeling, but now wasn’t the time to figure out what was going on. They needed to get going to the funeral. “Son, whatever you need to tell us, can’t it wait until after the service?”

Jonathan looked at Tracy, who softly shook his head. He slowly gazed around the room. Everyone was staring at him.

Just then David jumped up. “Holy crap! Little brother, is this dude saying what I think he’s saying?”

Jonathan briefly looked down at the floor, before holding his head up high. “Yes, he is. Everybody, Tracy isn’t just my friend … He’s my … my partner.”

David started howling with laughter. Rachel almost dropped Nia as she gasped.

Simon was still confused. “Your partner? What does that mean? Are y’all in some kind of business together?”

Suddenly, it dawned on Simon that he’d heard of Tracy’s name before. That’s who Jonathan was on the phone with that time. Tracy. Simon had just automatically assumed it was a girl. But now that he thought about it, Jonathan had never confirmed that.

“Come on, Dad, don’t be so naïve,” David chimed in. “Is that why Angela kicked you out? Because you’re gay?”

“Sweet Jesus.” Simon was about to pass out. He sat in his recliner in stunned silence.

David continued on. “Man, I cannot believe you’re gay!”

Simon shook his head. “But Angela?”

Jonathan sadly looked at his father. “Angela was a mistake.” He paused. Tracy squeezed his hand. “Dad, I know this is a lot to take in, but this is who I am.”

Simon rubbed his head, took a deep breath, and stood up.

“I’m going to call the funeral home and see what’s taking the driver so long.” He started walking out the room. “When I return, I don’t want to hear no more of this blasphemous talk!”

Simon left without looking back. A promiscuous daughter, he could deal with. A drug addict, he could even deal with. But never in a million years would he accept that his prodigal son was a homosexual.

T
HIS HAD TO BE
the hardest day of Simon’s life. He had done hundreds of funerals with no problem, but then he never dreamed he would be burying his wife.

The doctors were never able to revive Loretta. Simon had left the hospital numb. How could he have not known Loretta was sick? He racked his brain trying to recall some sign that she’d had a heart problem. Did he just not notice? He had to admit, he hadn’t paid much attention to his wife lately, but surely if she had been sick, he would’ve known.

Simon had just returned from the home of his sister-in-law, Vera. All of the family had gathered there after the funeral instead of at his home. He preferred it that way; he just didn’t want all of those people in his house.

It seemed like everybody who ever attended Zion Hill was at the funeral. It was standing room only. Loretta was loved by so many people.

Simon removed his jacket. He was anxious to get out of his church clothes and just relax. As he was about to hang his jacket in the hall closet, he felt the envelope in his pocket. Simon reached in and pulled out the folded manila envelope. Vera had given it to him right after the funeral. She said Loretta wanted him to have it if she died. Simon was a little taken aback that Loretta had prepared for this. He was even angrier that Vera knew about it and didn’t say anything. Vera apologized, but said her loyalty was to her sister. Now, standing there clutching the letter tightly, Simon didn’t know if he could bear to open it. Maybe he needed to wait until his wounds healed some.

Simon had always been one to follow his first mind, so he tore the envelope open and started reading.

Simon didn’t realize he was crying until he saw the tears drop onto the paper gripped tightly in his hand. The aching in his heart hurt more than anything he’d ever experienced.

So many things were racing through his mind. He knew his children felt slighted by his commitment to the church, but he had no idea it was that bad. How could his children not think he loved them? Simon thought back. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember the last time he said it, but he did love his children—all of them, from the bottom of his heart. He knew he could be hard sometimes, but it was because he wanted them to be successful in their lives.

Then Simon was dealing with some guilt himself. He felt like a complete failure as a father. He tried to give his children the world and he had let each one of them down. Maybe his children had turned to outside forces because they couldn’t turn to him. David had turned to drugs. Rachel had turned to men. And Jon, well he’d turned to men, too. And that thought alone just absolutely sickened Simon.

“Where did I go wrong, Loretta?” Simon sniffed as he smoothed out the letter that had become crumpled in his grasp.

As much as he loved his son, Simon couldn’t see himself accepting the fact that his pride and joy, the light of his life, was gay. How could Loretta see that something was wrong with Jonathan and he couldn’t? He talked to Jon all the time. He thought Jon was happy with Angela, even telling himself that their separation was just postwedding problems. How could he not see this? Maybe Jon’s just confused. Maybe that Tracy just got him up there at school and messed up his head. That has to be what happened, Simon concluded. He knew he shouldn’t have let Jonathan go to an all-male school.

“No son of mine can possibly be gay!” Simon stared at the large picture of Jesus hanging on his living room wall. “Lord, this is another one of your tests, isn’t it?”

Simon stopped mid-tirade and looked over to the kitchen entrance. Jonathan was standing there, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a look of defeat across his face.

Simon stared at his son. He didn’t know what to say. Part of him wanted to run to him, hug him, and tell him everything would be all right, that they would work through his confusion. The other part wanted to beat him like he was a twelve-year-old thief stealing from a candy store.

“Can we talk?” Jonathan asked, never taking his eyes off the floor.

Simon eased into his chair. Without responding, he motioned for Jonathan to take the seat across from him.

“Dad, I don’t know where to start,” Jonathan said as he sat down.

“Try from the beginning.” Simon didn’t mean to sound so cold to his son, but burying Loretta was bad enough. Now, he had to face this.

“I love Tracy,” Jonathan said, finally looking his father in the eye.

Simon stared at his son like he was trying to find the right response. “You said you loved Angela, too,” he finally said.

“I did. I mean, I do. But not this way, not like I love Tracy.”

Simon turned up his nose in disgust.

Jonathan continued. “I know you’ll never understand that, but I do.”

Simon felt like he could no longer hold it in. He leaned forward, a look of exasperation across his face. “How, Son? How can you love another man? Why? What did your mother and I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything, Dad. I don’t know; maybe I was just born this way.”

“Don’t hand me that cockamamie answer. Ain’t nobody in my family funny. It ain’t in your blood, so where did it come from?”

“I don’t know.”

Simon leaned back like he was considering some possible reasons. “Did somebody molest you when you were a little boy?”

Jonathan exhaled slowly. “No, Dad. No one has ever molested me.”

Simon wrung his hands. “It’s because your mama let you take them dang piano lessons, ain’t it? Or because you were always drawing pictures and stuff, and never roughhousing it like the other boys?” Simon shook his head like he was talking to himself. “I knew I should’ve been harder on you. Should’ve made you be a man. You know, one time I caught you doing cheers. Cheers with that girl from down the street. What was her name?”

“Suzette?” Jonathan numbly responded.

“Yeah, the Watson kid. You and her were in the front yard just cheering away.
Sis boom bah!
You weren’t but eight or nine. I should’ve tore your hide up. But no, Loretta thought it was cute. Maybe if I had beaten the crap outta you, you would’ve toughened up.”

“Dad, me doing cheers did not turn me into a homosexual.”

“Stop it! Stop saying that blasphemous word!”

Jonathan lowered his eyes again. “That’s me. That’s who I am.”

Simon tried to calm himself down. “No, it’s not, Son.

You’re confused, that’s all. I mean, you’ve been with a lot of women. I know. I’ve heard the stories. They can’t all be lies.”

“They’re not,” Jonathan responded. “But I think I was doing that because I was running from who I really am. I thought if I could be with women, it would prove the feelings I had were just a fluke. That’s why I married Angela. I was trying to prove to myself that I was a man, all man.”

“Is that why you moved home? Does she know?”

Jonathan sadly nodded his head. “I never meant to hurt her.

I thought I could do it, be a husband. She never deserved me and I feel terrible about hurting her.”

Simon got up and went to his son. He sat next to him, taking his hands. “It’s okay, Son. We’ll get you some help. Put you in therapy or something. We can overcome this. We’ll cure you.”

Jonathan eased his hands out of his father’s grasp. “Daddy, there is no overcoming, no cure. This is who I am. I can’t pretend anymore.” Jonathan got up and walked toward the front door. He stopped to face his father. “Unless you can accept that, then I guess I’m as dead to you as Mama.”

Simon vigorously shook his head. “I can’t accept that. I won’t accept that.”

A sad look crossed Jonathan’s face, but he didn’t respond.

“What about the Bible?” Simon shouted as Jonathan opened the front door to leave.

Jonathan paused, but didn’t turn around.

Simon got up and approached his son. “It’s wrong. In the eyes of God, it’s wrong. Don’t you care about that none? Can you be happy damned to hell?”

“So I should choose a lifetime of misery so that my soul can have eternal happiness?” Jonathan asked with his hand on the knob.

“You won’t be miserable.”

Jonathan took a deep breath. “God made me who I am. I didn’t choose to be gay. Who would choose this?”

“God didn’t do this to you. You did it to yourself!”

Jonathan hesitated, like he knew the conversation was useless. “Well, it’s a good thing I got to say good-bye to Mama.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Simon asked.

“I know she’s resting in Heaven, and since you say I’m going to hell, I’ll never see her again, kinda like I guess I’ll never see you again.” Jonathan fought back tears as he slowly closed the door behind him.