The Perfect Family (29 page)

“I think you’re looking at this wrong. I know the value of having a trained clinician clarify and frame situations in a different light. I also know how support groups can help ease some burdens.” She patted his hand. “I’ve seen a counselor all my life, honey, and she’s helped me immensely. I also did a few groups.”

“Yeah, but your family was so screwed up.”

Her throat got tight. She’d always been proud that the four of them were the opposite of the Lorenzos.

“Mom? You okay?”

“I think
our
family needs help now.”

“Maybe.” Jamie waited, staring out at the birds. “Did you, um, find somebody to help Brian? Even though I’m mad as hell at him, I know he’s having a hard time.”

Her heart swelled in her chest. Jamie was such a good person and loved his brother enough to set aside his own anger. “There’s a group at the Alliance for brothers and sisters of gay teens. But I’m also giving him the name of a private psychologist.”

An idea popped into Jamie’s head. She could see it by the slight raise of his brows, a light in his eyes. “Is there a cost to this, Mom?” He held up the paper.

“No, the Alliance is free.” At the relief in his expression, she added, “Honey, we can afford private counseling if you’d prefer that.”

“I was thinking about Luke. But his parents wouldn’t pay for him to see somebody.”

“They might surprise you.”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, let’s get back to you.”

Clasping the note, he stood. “I’ll think about it.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m gonna watch some TV.”

Not much later, Maggie went upstairs. Brian’s door was ajar and she could see him at his computer. She knocked and went inside. “Morning, honey.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Do you have a minute?”

His face tightened exactly as Jamie’s had. “I don’t feel like talking,” he said. “Please.”

“Neither did your brother. But
I’ve
got something to say. It’ll only take five minutes.” Crossing to the desk, she stood behind him and kissed his head. “I love you, Brian, and I’m going to help you.” She placed a second paper on the desk and went through the same explanation as she had with Jamie.

But her older son surprised her. Staring down at the number, he said, “I don’t have anybody to talk to. I used to have Heather and Jamie.” His voice cracked.

“I know, baby. You still have me and Dad, and don’t ever forget that. But if talking to us is too hard, which I suspect it is, here’s another option.”

“Thanks.”

Maggie went back to the kitchen, poured more coffee, then settled out on the deck. She sat under the umbrella table and prayed to God she’d done all she could for her boys. For today, at least.

*

Before church on Sunday, Mike planned to pray silently about the war zone his household had become. But as soon as he knelt down, one of the deacons came over and told him Father Pete wanted to see him in his church office. So Mike headed there. Inside he found Craig Johnson sitting in an empty chair in front of the desk, the priest behind it. “Hey, Craig. Father.”

“Good morning.” Father Pete’s smile was warm, but there was an expression in his eyes that disturbed Mike. Or maybe he was reading more into the priest’s demeanor because he felt so bad about himself today. He’d made some serious mistakes last week.

Dropping into a chair adjacent to Craig and facing Father Pete, Mike asked, “What’s up?”

“I’d like to talk to you about the schedule for the Contemporary Issues group.”

Mike frowned. “I thought we had it all set. Tomorrow night is divorce.” Ironic, given Caroline’s reappearance and what Maggie had said about Craig’s annulment the other night.

“It’s the following week I’m concerned about you leading.”

Again, Mike tracked the list in his memory. “Ah, homosexuality.”

Folding his hands in front of him on the desk, Father Pete held Mike’s gaze. “Given your situation, I’m not sure you should be in charge of that session.”

Craig leaned forward in his chair. “It could be hard for you, buddy.”

“It might be, but not impossible.”

“I was thinking we should reorganize the order of the issues. Maybe put the topic last. By then,” Father Pete said in a stern voice Mike rarely heard, “you’ll have a better handle on your family life.”

That stung. Was he losing credibility in his own church? With two men he admired for their deep faith? “I’m shocked you don’t think I can handle the church group objectively.”

“It is what it is, son.”

“I see. Well, then, let’s reschedule.”

“Would you like to talk more after church?” the priest asked. “Maybe your whole family could come in with you.”

“Only Brian will be here.”

Disapproval etched out on the holy man’s face. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“Me, too.” He stood. “I’m going pray about it before the service.”

Mike hurried out of the office, conflicted by Father Pete’s decision and his obvious disappointment in Mike. The priest’s questioning his leadership ability made him feel even worse than when he’d come to church. He’d let down Maggie, Jamie, and even Brian on Thursday. Now Father Pete was losing confidence in him.

In a blur of recrimination, he made it to the vestibule before Craig caught up with him. “Mike, wait.”

He stopped. The man was his best friend and Mike could trust him. What’s more, he needed
somebody’s
support now. Maybe God had sent Craig out after him.

“I’m sorry if that upset you,” Craig said earnestly.

“I’m glad you were there. Did Father Pete ask you to come to the meeting to be there for me?”

Craig’s expression was pitying. “No, Mike.
I
asked for this meeting. It was my idea to postpone the topic of homosexuality.”

*

Jamie sat in the parking lot of the United Church of Christ at eleven o’clock on Sunday morning, having asked his mother to take him to church. After what happened with his father on Thursday, then finding the pills in Luke’s drawer, he needed some spiritual comfort. Staring at the cars on the blacktop, he realized he wasn’t the only one seeking out God today.

In the car next to him, his mom reached over and squeezed his arm. “You ready for this, buddy?”

At least he could answer that. “Yeah, Mom, I am. I’ve had trouble with the Catholic Church for so long, and not just about gay issues, but I never, you know, wanted to leave
God.
” He gestured to the building. “Maybe this was supposed to happen.”

“I feel the same way. Let’s go see.”

When they entered the foyer, people were everywhere—chatting by a signup board, where big lettering said COFFEE HOUR and FOOD SHELF, socializing in small clusters by an office. Most everyone was smiling.

To the left of the entrance there were greeters wearing name tags. A woman held out her hand as they walked in. “Hi, I’m Patty Ames. These are my sons Brendan and Chris, my husband Brian and my daughter Beth. Are you new to UCC?”

His mother introduced them, then Jamie heard, “Oh, Maggie, I’m so glad you came.”

Jamie turned to find a woman in a white robe behind them. So this was the minister. The
lesbian
minister. Her short blond-streaked hair was highlighted by the sun streaming in from the big front door. She wore a white robe with a button reading
Another woman for peace
and a stole embroidered with abstract children of different races. She also had some color on her eyelids and wore lipstick. He wasn’t used to a female pastor, let alone one who wore makeup.

“Hi, Anabelle. This is Jamie.”

Without inhibition, the minister took Jamie’s hand in both of hers and held on. “Glad to have you here, Jamie.” Her grip was firm and her eyes met his directly.

“Thanks, Reverend.”

“Call me Anabelle. We don’t stand on formalities at UCC.”

“Sure, okay.”

“Come with me,” she said, tugging his mom by the arm. “I’ve got someone for you to meet. They’re members who want to sit with you.”

Becky and Dave Banks greeted them warmly, then accompanied them into the sanctuary to a pew halfway down the aisle. Organ music filled the air and people were quieting down. As minutes passed, the chatter dwindled to silence.

Up front, Anabelle addressed the congregation. “I’d like to welcome all of you this morning, especially our visitors.” Her smile, aimed at them, was brilliant.

The service had some similarities to the Catholic Mass, but it was more informal, more personal. They started with an opening hymn, followed by a children’s sermon, where people laughed at the antics of their offspring while Anabelle tried to teach them a lesson from the Bible. Then the choir sang a piece about spring and rebirth. Jamie was impressed by the professional quality of the performance.

Differing from the Catholic service was Anabelle’s request for the congregation to share their joys and concerns aloud. One woman asked for prayers for her sister who had cancer. A man spoke about a career change. Joys abounded—two people who’d been South for the winter were back, someone graduated from college, another person had relatives visiting. A tiny white-haired lady with a smile the size of Texas thanked the choir for sharing their amazing talent.

Then there was time to meditate on concerns the congregation kept to themselves. And Jamie couldn’t avoid his own major-league worry any longer. He’d stuffed it for a few days, but now he had to think about it…

When Luke came back from the bathroom after Jamie had found the pills, Jamie had held out a bottle. “What the hell are these?”

“Did you go into my drawers?” Jamie had recognized the offensive tactic because Brian always used it.

“The drawer was open. Answer my question.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“No.”

Luke strode over to him. His big frame was imposing, making Jamie want to step back. But he didn’t. Instead he stood in front of the drawer, a shield between it and Luke.

Finally Luke blew out a breath and his shoulders slumped. “I wasn’t gonna take them.”

“Then why do you have them?”

“The night I told my parents? They looked at me like I was pond scum. I
felt
like pond scum.” He flopped on the bed and sprawled out spread-eagle. “I-I thought about taking those.”

“Jesus Christ.” Then, “Why didn’t you?”

“You really want to know?”

Jamie nodded.

“Because of you. You’re so strong. Your family’s great. I kept thinking maybe if I was more like you, I’d get through this. Maybe if I waited long enough, my parents would be more like yours.”

Jamie scooped the rest of the bottles out of the drawer and put them in a plastic bag that was tucked behind the pills. “I’m taking these when I leave.”

“Go ahead.”

“You need to talk to somebody.”

“Listen, I’m not suicidal. It was a crazy thought.”

Crossing to the bed, Jamie sat on the edge of the mattress. “Promise me you won’t hurt yourself, Luke.”

“If you promise not to tell anybody about the pills, I’ll promise, too.”

So they’d made their pact and Jamie had let go of the issue…

He glanced over at his mother, guilt heavy in his gut. He hadn’t told her about Luke and the prescriptions, and he’d had the perfect opportunity Saturday morning. He was afraid to tell her too much because she’d take matters in her own hands. His parents had always said,
You can have your privacy unless we think you’re in danger, physically or mentally.
He was pretty sure that would extend to Luke, which was why he kept his concern to himself.

He dipped his hand in his pocket, where the paper his mother had given him yesterday rested. He planned to show it to Luke when they met up later today. Maybe they could even go to the Alliance together.

Anabelle was at the pulpit now and Jamie transferred his attention to her. She read from the Bible, then gazed out at the congregation. “There are passages of scripture that make theologically progressive Christians wince. Let me propose a few. ‘Wives, be subject to your husbands.’ ‘Slaves, obey your earthly masters.’ Or the ultimate cry of vengeance, ‘Happy is the one who seizes the enemy’s infant children and smashes their heads.’”

Her expression was wry. “It’s my belief that those passages should be challenged, as well as this other one, which is often held up as proof of the superiority of Christians. ‘I am the way, the truth, the light. No one comes to God except through me.’ In other words, only those with an intentional relationship with Jesus will be saved. That means, folks, that Buddha, Mohammed, Confucius, anybody living or dead who finds truth in a non-Christian faith is out of luck. However, I’m here to tell you that to make that claim, based on this text, is flat-out wrong.”

Wow! Jamie thought. That took guts.

Anabelle went on to the time period in which Jesus spoke the words. She emphasized that the message was meant to be taken in context, for a small band of people who were struggling with how to follow a Messiah that led them away from all they knew—the Jewish faith.