The Mormon and the Dom (22 page)

“I’m not saying it’s been bad. It’s not. I have a good education. I have a good job and a nice place to live. But I’m not happy. I’m not ever going to be happy if I keep doing what will make you happy rather than what will make me happy.” Noah took a deep breath, bolstering his resolve, and then said, “I’m gay.”

Silence seemed to drop into the living room with all the grace of a drunken cow.

“I know that’s something that you never wanted to hear.” Noah forged ahead, desperate to make them understand. “I realize hearing that is a shock, but—”

“You’re just confused.” His father’s face was deathly pale. “I’ve heard of other young men having this issue arise when they contemplated going on a mission. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to make up some outlandish excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse. I don’t want to serve a mission, because I don’t want to spread my faith when my own church hates me for the way God made me.”

“Noah.” His mother seemed only able to say his name. Nothing else came out other than that.

“You’re blaming God for your thoughts?”

“I’m not blaming God for anything. And they aren’t just thoughts.”

“Oh, Noah.” His mother clasped her twisting hands together and began to pray.

The conversation degenerated at that point. His mother kept praying while his father tried to get him to see reason. Noah hadn’t imagined coming out would go well, but he wasn’t prepared for his parents to simply refuse to believe him. He despaired that the only way to convince them was to bring Ronan over and make out with him. The idea of actually doing that made him laugh hysterically.

His sudden and totally inappropriate laughter prompted his father to say Noah was confused. What he needed to do was see their bishop. All Noah really needed to do was refocus his attention. Noah tried to be understanding. He knew what they were hearing was devastating to them. With a couple of words, he’d destroyed their vision of his life. In many ways, Noah blamed himself. Had he stood up to them before now about other things in his life, this wouldn’t be such a shock. But he’d always done what they wanted him to do because he needed their approval. He still did, but he needed his own approval much more.

“I’m the one who has to live my life.” Noah was done with the conversation. “I’ve always been a good kid, a good son. I’ve done everything you’ve ever wanted me to do, but I can’t serve a mission I don’t believe in. I can’t keep working at a profession that doesn’t inspire me. But more than all that, I can’t marry a woman I don’t love.”

“We’re not asking you to get married now.”

“Right. Not
now
. But you will. When the idea of serving a mission came up, I tried to tell you I didn’t want to go. You wouldn’t listen.”

“Then don’t serve one, but don’t do this,” his father implored.

“It’s not one or the other. The mission was just the tipping point. When I saw how much you expected that of me, I realized it was always going to be another thing after another that I was going to be expected to do. Rather than asking me what I want or what I need, you push me the direction you think is best.”

“That’s what it is to be a parent.”

“I understand that. I do. But you push without even hearing my input.” Noah realized he was rehashing his frustration when he’d been picking his college major. “Look, I don’t want to get bogged down in the past. It’s over. It’s done. I love you both very much, but I won’t keep torturing myself.”

“Do you realize what this means for us?” His father’s voice was soft but still reflected his fear.

“I do. That’s why I’m moving.”

His mother burst into tears and resumed her frantic praying.

“If I stay, you’ll only get hurt worse. If I go, you’ll be able to tell everyone that I left to attend school.”

“School?”

“I want to study aviation.” Noah had already decided to follow his bliss. “I remember the night we huddled around the computer, looking at college majors. That was the one that caught my eye. I’ve thought about it off and on over the years. It’s what I want to do.”

“I’m not going to lie to cover up your sins,” his father said hotly.

“Then don’t.” Noah stood. “I’m done lying. I see no reason for you to start.”

“You’re just going to go after dropping this on us?” His father stood, too. He looked worn and exhausted.

“I’ll stay if you want to talk further, but you’re not going to change my mind. It’s a lot to take in. I know that. I’m sorry it all came out at once, but I couldn’t sleep another night with this on my chest.”

“So you put it on ours.”

“I’m sorry if that’s the way you see things. My intention was to come clean with you. I feel like I’ve been lying to you since eighth grade.” Noah remembered his first dance and how he’d been unable to find a date. His cousin had gone with him. Ironically, it was the only date he’d had until another girl took pity on him. Noah didn’t really count either event as a date. “I don’t want to lie to you or myself anymore.”

“Are you—is there someone?” His mother looked horrified that the answer might be yes.

“There is.”

His mother cringed. Noah saw himself in the gesture.

“His name is Ronan. I think—I think I love him.”

“Think!” His father cried. “You only think you do? You’re throwing your life away on thinking you’re in love with this—this—”

“Man. And I’m not throwing my life away. I’m finally embracing it. And I say
think
because I’m not going to tell someone else I love Ronan before I tell Ronan directly.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Noah knew he was in love. It had happened fast, but that made the feeling no less valid. “I’ve never felt as comfortable and content with anyone in my life. With Ronan, I can be myself.”

“You can be yourself with your family.”

“But only if I do as you want me to.” Noah felt saddened by the circular nature of their argument. “Please, I need to go. I want to talk more. I do. But I think you need time to think about what I’ve said.”

Noah and his father had talked a bit more after that, but his mother had stayed on the couch, crying and praying. As much as it hurt him to see his mother so upset, he wasn’t going to go backward. Telling them the truth had tumbled a huge boulder off his back. After putting in his notice at work, his apartment, and now with his family, Noah finally felt free. When he stepped outside, he didn’t feel prying eyes judging him. He didn’t wonder what the neighbors would make of his scratched car. With Ronan’s help, he was able to understand that he had no control over what other people thought or what they did. The only person he had control over was himself, and it was high time he stepped up to the plate and took care of business.

Returning to his apartment was far less stressful than it had been yesterday. Since he’d gone to his parents’ house right after work, the sun was still up and his parking space was empty. He pulled in, shut off the engine, and opened the door.

Noah heard a cry and turned toward the sound. All he saw was a fist flying at his face, and then he felt hot asphalt against his body. Screams filled the air. He struggled to stand up to see what was going on, but then realized he was the one making all the noise. Mercifully, darkness overcame him.

Chapter Seventeen

Ronan struggled to hold off on calling Noah. He thought Noah was going to call him after work, but that was hours ago. They’d made a tentative date to watch television together while they chatted on the phone, so Ronan was waiting for the show to start. When it did and Noah still didn’t call, he called Noah. There wasn’t an answer. It rang six times, then went to voice mail. Ronan sat down and watched the show with partial attention. He kept his phone in his hand, watching the little digital clock count off the minutes until ten had passed. He hit redial. This time there were only two rings before he was dumped into voice mail.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m sitting here watching television. I just wanted to talk to you about your day and see how you are. Call me.” Ronan disconnected the call. He felt anxious. The jittery feeling was one he didn’t have very often. He realized he was only worried now because Noah was eminently dependable. If he said he would do something, he did. There was no way he would delay calling, not when he knew how concerned he was about the whole Keith affair.

That made a new and far more troubling shiver crawl over his skin. What if Keith had been bailed out? Noah was supposed to be notified, but sometimes things happened and promises weren’t kept. After three more unanswered calls spaced exactly ten minutes apart, Ronan knew he had to do something. Even if Noah were working late, something he said he never did, he would still answer his phone.

Since he was never going to get comfortable, Ronan left a message for Noah that he was on his way to his apartment. If he got there and Noah wasn’t home, he would figure out his next move at that point. “Just call me as soon as you get this message. I’m worried about you.” Ronan wanted to add that he loved him, but he wanted to say that to Noah’s face.

Within minutes, Ronan was on his bike, heading toward Provo. Traffic was ugly, but not as bad as it was during rush hour. He made it to Noah’s apartment in less than forty-five minutes. What he saw as he turned into the parking lot amped up his adrenaline to a terrifying level. Noah’s car was surrounded by crime scene tape, while a group of people stood nearby, talking with two uniformed officers. When he drove up, every gaze swung his way. In that moment, he understood exactly how Noah felt sometimes when he thought everyone was looking at him and judging him harshly. Almost as soon as Ronan got off the bike, an officer was asking him who he was and why he was there.

After pulling off his helmet, he said, “I came to see Noah Cameron.” Ronan glanced toward Noah’s car. Since there wasn’t a car parked next to him, Ronan was able to see that the driver’s side door was open. He also saw what looked like stains on the ground, but the blacktop was fairly well marked with all kinds of spots, marks, and debris.

“He’s a friend of yours?”

“He’s—yes.” Ronan had been on the verge of saying that Noah was his boyfriend but stopped at the last second. Ronan was proud of that fact, but he didn’t think Noah wanted his orientation broadcast to everyone who lived near him. Unfortunately, Ronan’s slight hesitation caused the officer to narrow his gaze. Suddenly suspicious, the officer seemed to focus his attention even more fully on Ronan. To cut him off, Ronan said, “I called him several times, but he never answered. I knew he was having a problem with one of the tenants here, so I came over to make sure he was okay.”

“What problem?”

Ronan told him everything he knew. When the officer wrote everything down but didn’t say anything, Ronan asked, “Is he okay?”

“He’s been taken over to UVRMC.”

After a moment, Ronan realized that was short for Utah Valley Regional Medical Center. His heart did a series of somersaults. There was a LifeFlight helipad there that could take Noah to another facility. Just how badly was Noah injured?

“Is he—please tell me he’s okay.”

“I don’t know.” The officer consulted his notes. “Tell me more about the person he’s been having problems with.”

“There’s not anything else to tell. He’s the one who vandalized Noah’s car. He was supposed to be in jail.”

“Uh-huh.” The officer was back to writing again.

“Please, I need to go and see him.”

“You need to stay and answer my questions.” This time, the officer’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped into Ronan’s personal space. It was an aggressive move meant to establish dominance. In any other circumstance, Ronan would have used his own body to intimidate the officer, but he feared being held longer if he did. The officer was middle-aged, short, and clearly used to swinging his weight around. Even though Ronan’s earlier hesitation had prompted suspicion, he was glad he hadn’t said Noah was his boyfriend. This man struck Ronan as the kind who would take delight in tormenting him strictly for the fact he was gay.

After what seemed forever, the officer eventually let Ronan go. He wasn’t sure exactly where UVRMC was, but one quick check on his GPS brought up the coordinates. The hospital was massive. Ronan parked and placed his helmet in the trunk. Since he didn’t know exactly what had happened, he thought the place to start was with the emergency area. When he stepped inside, chaos greeted him. Most of the chairs were filled, yet the nurses on duty didn’t seem to be flustered. He imagined this was the norm for a hospital this size.

When his turn at the counter came, he explained he was trying to find his friend. He told the rather disinterested woman that there had been an altercation of some kind, and he was looking for Noah Cameron.

She did what he feared she would. While she confirmed Noah was a patient, she couldn’t give out any details about why he was there or where in the hospital he was. The only other bit of information Ronan was able to glean was that Noah had been unconscious when he’d been brought into the hospital.

“Are you his emergency contact?”

“I’m sure his parents are.”

“Are you family?”

“I’m his friend.” Ronan was certain she was repeating her questions as a way of testing his honesty.

“I’m sorry. You’ll have to contact someone from his family.” She was looking down at something on a chart, but Ronan couldn’t see it.

“Did you call them? I don’t want to duplicate your efforts. Or worse, be the one to inform them Noah’s in the hospital, since I don’t know what’s going on.”

“You knew enough to come down here.”

“I went to his apartment, and the police sent me here.”

“You’ll have to contact his family directly.” The nurse looked past him. “Next.”

As much as Ronan wanted to argue, he knew there was no point. She wasn’t going to tell him anything else. All he could do was move aside and try to regroup. It seemed to him hours went by without any grand idea coming to mind. In his agony of not knowing, he looked up and fixated on an older woman with the same corn-silk hair as Noah. When Ronan looked to the man beside her and saw Noah’s blue eyes, he figured he was either hallucinating or these were Noah’s parents. Given the stricken expressions on their faces, whatever they’d been told to get them down here was not good.