To Bobby
Those who have inspired me:
Although a work of fiction, many of my characters were inspired by and/or based upon the personalities of many real-life people I’ve known. This fictional account is in no way intended to be interpreted as a memoir or a recounting of any actual events. But to those who’ve given me inspiration, I genuinely say, “Thanks!”, and I’d be remiss if I went without acknowledging who you are.
Traci Delaney, Bob and Dianne Womack, Willard and Mary Patton, Bernice (Sugar) Sutton, Dan Matson, Bernice (Bun) Kowalske, Rev. Rodney Ward, and Bobby: I’ll always love you.
SHAWN WAS only five years old when he accepted Christ as his personal savior. It was at the First Baptist Church during vacation Bible school. Of course there were many other children present, all of whom had raised their hands when asked if they wanted to be “saved.” Although Shawn didn’t fully understand what he needed to be saved from, he obediently followed Mrs. Stewart into the kitchen area of the church where she then had him kneel reverently in front of an aluminum folding chair. He clasped his hands together as she indicated to him and rested his elbows against the seat of the chair. He had to stretch just a bit to reach it because he was such a little guy. Then he repeated the words of the prayer she said to him with his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Now he was born again. Jesus had entered his heart. It was funny, because he didn’t really feel it. He didn’t feel all that differently than he had before Jesus was inside of him. It surely did make Mrs. Stewart happy, though, as well as many of the other adults who were at that summer Bible school. After all, this was the ultimate purpose of VBS, to lead children to the Lord.
Shawn wasn’t really sure why it was that he needed to be saved. He honestly had no concept at such a young age what original sin was. He didn’t even actually know about death yet. He’d not yet known anyone or anything that had died, except for the goldfish that his mom had flushed down the toilet once. His bratty cousin Louis had been over to the house and had dumped an entire bottle of fish food into the bowl when no one was looking. By the time his mom noticed, all the fish were floating upside down at the top of the bowl. She was upset, and explained to Shawn that the fish had died. Then she flushed them.
He knew that Jesus had died too. He’d died for our sins, but Shawn didn’t know whether or not he’d had any of those. Mrs. Stewart asked him if he ever was a bad boy. Was he ever naughty? Shawn was a little bit afraid to answer the question because he knew what the consequences could be. He had already been informed by his mom that naughty children only got coal in their Christmas stockings from Santa Claus. If he lied and said he was never naughty, then that itself would be naughty, wouldn’t it?
Shawn remembered how sometimes he fed his vegetables to Betsy, the family’s pet beagle. He had to do it secretly when he sat at the dinner table, sneaking the food under the hem of the table cloth. But was that really completely naughty? After all, he was sharing. Probably Betsy didn’t think it was a sin.
In general, Shawn was not all that naughty of a child. He was a good boy. He knew how important it was to behave when he went out to eat with his family. He knew that little kids had to always be polite to grownups, never interrupt them when they were talking. He knew that he had to brush his teeth every night before he went to bed, and he had to try real hard to go right to sleep when his mom tucked him in. He’d learned all about being good in preschool. His teacher’s name was Miss Rice, and she had taught the kids how to stand patiently in “single file” when they were waiting for the bus. She’d taught them how to cooperate, and how to follow instructions. Shawn was quite good at all of these things, and he didn’t actually know what it even meant to be really naughty.
But he did know that if he did not admit that he was bad sometimes, then he wouldn’t be able to have Jesus come into his heart and be saved. So he told Mrs. Stewart what she wanted to hear. He told her that he was bad sometimes, that he was naughty. He prayed the prayer just like she said: “Dear God, I know that I am a bad boy sometimes. I know I’m a sinner. I know that I can’t save myself, but Your son Jesus Christ died for my sins. I ask him to come into my heart and to be my savior.” And it seemed that was all there was to it. Now he was saved. He was “born again.” He was a Christian now.
There were many children at that vacation Bible school who prayed this same prayer. In fact, almost all of the kids there did so on one occasion or another. Shawn didn’t know most of the kids, but the few he did know had not seemed any different to him after their salvation than they were before. Becoming Christians didn’t seem to make them any better or worse. It was just something that they did because they knew they were supposed to.
For Shawn it was a little different. His premature conversion experience seemed to stick with him far more significantly than with most of his peers. After vacation Bible school, Shawn continued attending the First Baptist Church. He went every Sunday morning to Sunday school and morning worship. As he got older, he began attending Sunday evening services as well, and Wednesday night prayer meetings. Well into his teens, he continued. He joined the youth group which met on Thursdays, and he even volunteered to mow the church lawn. Eventually he became a Sunday school teacher himself. This was when he was still a teenager, and he taught the first and second grade boys’ class. Shawn’s relationship with his savior and with his church became the focal point of his life.
It was when he was still in grade school that it began to become apparent to everyone that he was different from most other boys his age. His second-grade teacher, Mrs. Korthase, had assigned a project to the class, instructing them to draw a picture depicting what they wanted to be when they grew up. Shawn drew a pulpit, and standing behind it was a little stick figure of a preacher man holding up a Bible. He knew then that this was his calling. He was confident that one day he would lead a ministry and be the pastor of a church.
It was no surprise to Shawn that most people regarded him as being different. He felt quite different himself. In fact, he felt at times as if he were the only person on earth to have feelings such as he did. He knew that his mom considered him to be special, and he tried very hard to live up to her expectations. His dedication to his religion and to his church was very real to him, but this religiosity was not the only thing about him that set him apart. He was very different in another way as well.
By the time Shawn was in the second or third grade, he realized on his own that it was not normal for him to like Barbies and Easy-Bake Ovens. He came to the conclusion that it was not acceptable and thus unwise for him to continue choosing typically girl toys over the Tonka trucks and water pistols that boys generally preferred. Although he never got to the point that he could actually relate to the rough-and-tumble boys his own age, he eventually found ways to participate in gender-neutral activities. No one suspected he was different when he elected to play with Legos or even a game of Battleship.
In spite of his efforts to conform, Shawn found himself developing friendships primarily with the little girls in his class instead of the boys. While the boys were off playing dodge ball at recess, he was learning hopscotch and jump rope with the girls. He was playing House, and this seemed to be acceptable because every game of House needed a male participant to be the Dad. He was always the Dad in House, simply because he was always the only boy playing.
Shawn’s mom had a job where she worked every weekend. When he was in grade school, this meant that he needed to spend Friday nights and Saturdays at his grandma’s house. She was his babysitter. His Gram was a very affectionate and loving person, and she connected with him in a manner that was far deeper than was the case in most familial relationships. As he grew up, Shawn became so close to his Gram that he at times felt that she was more of a mom to him than his own mother. She always accepted him for who he was. She never tired of his company, and she treated him almost as if he were her own son rather than her grandkid.
One of the things that Gram loved the most was old movies. She watched Tarzan movies every Saturday morning, the real old ones which starred Johnny Weissmuller. Shawn actually liked the movies, too, and he’d lie on his stomach on the floor in front of the TV, watching them with Gram. The stories themselves were not really all that great, though. In fact, they were kind of cheesy, and they all ended the same way. But there was a secret reason why Shawn was captivated by these movies. They featured a muscular, athletic star who ran around the jungle wearing practically nothing. He was always shirtless and always wore little more than a pair of underwear.
But Shawn wasn’t really sure why it was he liked this. He was thankful that he was always lying flat on his stomach on the floor, because he would have been embarrassed had his Gram noticed that he was at times a little bit aroused during the movies. This arousal didn’t make much sense to him either, in truth. It was kind of like when he woke up in the morning when he had to go to the bathroom really bad. His privates were very hard—so hard that it was almost impossible for him to pee even though he had to really badly. He’d have to wait in front of the commode for his stiffness to subside a bit before starting to relieve himself. Well, it was this same stiffness he felt when he was watching Tarzan.
Tarzan wasn’t the only shirtless man who was appealing to Shawn. He also really liked the Irish Spring TV commercials. There was always a really attractive naked man standing in a shower lathering up. It didn’t reveal his whole body of course, but it showed him with his eyes closed and his head tilted back as he soaped up his hard, chiseled chest. You could see the foam run down his body as he breathed in the perfumed scent of the deodorant bar. Shawn always asked his Gram to buy Irish Spring. She had no idea why he preferred that soap, but she got it for him nonetheless.
When Shawn was in the fourth grade he had a male schoolteacher for the first time. His name was Mr. Howard, and he was a Mormon. Mr. Howard was very strict, and he had certain rules that he imposed in his classroom. If you broke the rules you got a demerit. When you got ten demerits, you got a spanking. All of the fourth-grade students feared these spanking sessions, and they were constantly reminded of the ever-present threat they imposed because Mr. Howard hung the large fraternity-like paddle on the wall behind his desk.
Shawn would remember for his whole life the very first time he witnessed this paddle being used. The recipient was the boy who sat directly in front of him. His name was Scott. Scott was a rambunctious kid who seemed to have difficulty focusing. He was very prone to collecting demerits simply because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut when he was supposed to. Scott’s mom always dressed him in plain cotton-polyester blended dress pants. They were kind of like khakis, and a lot of the kids wore them back then. They generally fit snugly and had a crisp, conservative look to them. They were what are now known as wash-and-wear, no ironing required.
Shawn remembered how Mr. Howard had pulled a chair out into the middle of the floor, right there in front of the chalkboard. He made little Scottie come up and bend over, placing his hands flat on the seat of the hardwood chair. When he did so, the fabric of the dress slacks he was wearing pulled tightly across his buttocks. This made a rather enticing target for the paddle. When Mr. Howard wound up and methodically delivered the ten swats (one for each demerit) to Scottie’s behind, Shawn sort of felt that Tarzan-induced stiffness again in his own pants. He wasn’t really sure why, but it was kind of exciting to him to see this classmate of his getting his butt whacked. He knew it wasn’t very Christian of him to feel this way. He should feel sorry for Scott rather than enjoying his public humiliation, and why was it that the smooth, tight appearance of Scottie’s backside ever appealed to him in the first place?
It was in the sixth grade that Shawn first realized that there might be a serious problem with his uniqueness. This was the first year that he attended the Christian academy. While Shawn was in the public school, everybody who knew him did seem to notice and accept the fact that he was different. Most people also knew that he was rather religious. They suspected that Shawn’s uniqueness was due to his religious commitment, ascribing his soft-spoken and gentle mannerisms to the fact that he was special. They figured he was very sensitive, probably because of his religion.
Well, all of that had suddenly changed. Shawn was now in an environment where everyone supposedly had this same religious commitment. All of the boys his age had been saved. All of them were born-again Christians, and yet none of them were like him. He no longer could fall back on the excuse that he was different because of his spiritual calling when all of his peers had a similar calling of their own.
His teacher, Mr. Matheson, noticed this difference in Shawn right away. Three times a week the class had an outdoor activity in lieu of an actual Phys Ed class in a gymnasium. The school was small, and they didn’t even have a gym, so they conducted gym class outside. Usually they played an organized sporting activity such as volleyball, soccer, or baseball. These events were torture for Shawn, because he had no aptitude for sports whatsoever. He was one of the kids who threw like a girl, or so he’d been told. He felt very self-conscious and embarrassed when it was his turn at bat or when the soccer ball got passed to him. He also was pretty much the last person ever to be picked for a team when they were choosing sides.
It was during the first week of the sixth grade that Mr. Matheson realized he needed to have a private conversation with young Shawn. After gym class that day, he pulled the boy aside and led him alone into the classroom. The other students were still outside enjoying a free period as Mr. Matteson sat Shawn down and pulled out his Bible. Shawn’s heart was racing as the teacher began to talk to him. Had he done something wrong? Was he in trouble already?
“Shawn,” the teacher said, “I want to talk to you about something that is very important, but I want you to realize that you’re in no way in trouble. The reason I’m talking to you is because I want to help you. Do you understand?”
Of course Shawn did not yet know his teacher, being that it was the first week of school, but he believed the man to be sincere. It was actually quite natural for Shawn to trust authority figures. He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Mr. Matheson said, as his smile started to fade and his expression became serious. “I want you to read this passage of scripture aloud for me.” He handed Shawn his Bible, pointing to the chapter and verse.
Shawn read the Bible verse, which said something about masculinity and how God had made this person a man. He didn’t fully understand it, and he was quite confused about why the teacher would want him to read this Old Testament scripture from the book of Samuel.
“Shawn, do you see what God is saying here?”
Shawn nodded slowly, although he really didn’t see at all. “I think so,” he said.
“What is it? You tell me what this verse means to you.”
Shawn felt his face start to redden. He was on the spot and he didn’t know what to say. “Um, well… I think it means that God wants men to be masculine?”
Mr. Matheson smiled and nodded. “Yes, that’s right! God made men and women very different. You know the story of Adam and Eve, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, sir,” Shawn acknowledged.
“God created Adam first. He is the male, and he then took one of Adam’s ribs to create his helpmate Eve.” He was telling the story to Shawn as if he’d never heard it before, as if he were teaching a first-grade Sunday school class. “He made them to be very different from one another, and he did this for a reason. Do you know what that reason was?”
Shawn slowly shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, sir.”
“He did so because it was God’s intention to give Man dominion over all creation. This is why he made men physically stronger than women. Women were created to be helpmates for men, just as Eve was to Adam. They are weaker physically and need the protection of men. They are softer and more sensitive. None of these are bad things. They are simply the way God designed them. Women are in actuality a gift from God. He created them for us.”
“God created women to be a gift for men?” Shawn asked, somewhat confused.
Mr. Matheson leaned forward and smiled broadly. “Yes. Yes He did! And because of this, it is very clear to us what God’s intention is for both men and women. Men are leaders. Men are protectors and warriors and soldiers. Men were designed to be strong and brave and competitive. Do you understand?”
Shawn scowled but nodded. “Yes, sir.” He looked down at his lap, feeling his face grow even redder with embarrassment.
“I want you to work on this for me, okay? I want you to understand that you’re not in trouble, but this truly is very important. If you don’t try now to begin changing some of your mannerisms and behaviors, you may end up growing up to act more like a woman than a man. We don’t want that, do we? We know what the Bible says about men and women, and we don’t want to in any way go against scripture. Does this make sense to you?”
Shawn was mortified and devastated as he sat there shamefully. He knew that if he tried to speak his voice would crack and he’d begin to cry. That was the last thing he wanted because it would be the opposite of what Mr. Matheson expected of him. He just nodded and continued to look down at the floor.
“I want you to try a little harder in gym. Pay close attention to how the other boys are behaving. Try to mimic their actions. Try to make friends with some of them and get them to help you. I’ll help you too. This is a great opportunity for you, Shawn. This will help you so much, and I promise you that if you work on this now, you will be so thankful when you get older. Okay?”
Shawn nodded again. “Yes,” he said softly.
“Okay, you’re dismissed.”
This was the first and only time in all the years of Shawn’s primary education that he was ever called in front of an authority figure for any kind of counsel. He felt as if he’d been taken to the principal’s office. Of course he would never tell another living soul about his conversation with his teacher that day, but he would always remember it. He would mostly remember the shame. He would remember how inferior he felt, and he would remember how he realized for the first time that he was less of a person because of who he was.
ROBERT EARL WILDER JR. went by the name Bobby. Since his father was Bob, he’d been called Bobby since birth. Bobby’s parents had divorced when he was young, and he lived with his mom in southern Ohio. He actually lived in a small town near the border of Kentucky, and for all intents and purposes he was as much a Kentuckian as he was an Ohioan. He spoke with a distinct Kentucky accent and owned a leather jacket that had a confederate flag on it. He did not shy away from being called a redneck, and often bragged about it in a lighthearted manner. In some ways it was a label of honor for him.
Bobby had never been one to willingly submit to authority. He was by nature a rebel. In early grade school he was already getting into trouble and starting fights. He was only ten years old when he got drunk the first time behind the town’s old theater. It was a bottle of his mom’s cheap wine that he’d stolen from the fridge. She never even noticed it was missing. This secret place in the alley behind the theater was also where he’d gone to smoke his first cigarette, and then later his first joint.
He’d always been regarded as a cute kid. His bright blue eyes and blond hair made him appear almost innocent at first glance, that is until you got to know him. Bobby was far from innocent and the polar opposite of naive. He had what you’d call street smarts, wise to the ways of the world. He’d learned early on how to fend for himself. His mom was barely ever home, and he had no siblings. He was a latchkey kid from about the age of eight when his mother decided it was finally okay to leave him by himself. They had a neighbor who knew to look in on him occasionally, and his mom was usually home by six or seven at night, in time to make a late dinner for the two of them.
This time alone and lack of attention might have been the very thing that led Bobby down the rebellious path that he took. At least when he was getting into trouble someone was aware of his existence. It’s been said before that negative attention is better than no attention at all.
It was not so much that Judy, his mother, did not care about her young son; it was just that she was so damned busy. When his parents divorced a few years back, his mom had initially felt overwhelmed. At times he felt guilty that she now bore the burden of responsibility alone for him and for his well-being. This required her to work long hours, and then she had to take a huge portion of her check and hand it over to the babysitter. His father’s support payments were sporadic, and they were not a dependable source of income. He knew that his mom hated leaving him alone when he was so young, but it was a solution to her financial dilemma.
Bobby’s dad had a terrible drinking problem. He was what people referred to as a closet drinker. He sat at home alone every night with his bottle of peppermint schnapps and drank himself shit-faced. Eventually he would pass out in his La-Z-Boy recliner where he almost always slept. Then he’d get up in the morning and head out to work. His hands would be shaking just a little, barely enough to be noticeable, when he got home in the evening and unscrewed the top of his schnapps bottle. This cycle continued for the duration of the seven-year stint that Bobby’s parents were married to one another.
It was when Bobby was four that Judy told Bob she’d had enough. He had been offered a position as a factory foreman in a Michigan plant, and he wanted to move the family to start a new life. Judy expected it would just be more of the same. Same old story, new location. She asked for a divorce, and it was granted.
His mom worked as a cashier at a supermarket, which paid barely over the minimum wage. She’d been there for over ten years now and had finally advanced to the position of head cashier. She hadn’t realized that the designation wouldn’t be much more than a title. She’d only gotten a quarter-per-hour raise out of the “promotion.”
The lack of attention that Bobby got at home often led to trouble at school. At least a couple times per month, the principal’s office would call his mother, requesting that she drop everything and go down to the school. If it wasn’t a fight then it was unauthorized smoking. He’d gotten suspended once for bringing a concealed weapon to school (actually just a jackknife), and another time for cursing at his teacher.
It was this string of incidents which prompted Judy to phone her ex-husband in the spring of Bobby’s sixth grade year and ask if he’d consider taking Bobby for the summer. It actually was far more than simply a request; it was more like a demand, or perhaps a plea. She’d reached her breaking point and was at the rope’s end. She just couldn’t take it anymore and needed a break. She told Bobby that perhaps a fatherly influence within his life would be just what he needed.
Bobby idolized his father. When he’d first learned of the divorce, it was devastating to him. He pleaded with his dad to take him with him, but Bob explained to his son that he needed to stay with his mom. She needs you. You’ve got to be the man of the house now. He promised young Bobby that they’d still see a lot of each other. He promised he’d come down for visits and that Bobby could come stay with him on holidays and long weekends, maybe even for extended stays during the summer.
All of these promises rang hollow, however. At the age of twelve, Bobby had never yet spent a Christmas with his dad, not since before the divorce. They weren’t together for birthdays or for Father’s Day, and he’d never spent any of his summer vacations in Michigan with his dad. When Bob left Ohio, he started a whole new life. He met a woman at the factory where he worked. Her name was Diane, and supposedly it was love at first sight. They were married less than a year after Bob’s divorce had been finalized. About ten months after that, Bob and Diane had a baby, a little girl whom they’d named Colleen.
The birth of Colleen was not particularly good news to Bobby. When his dad married Diane, he felt completely abandoned. All of the hopes that he’d had about his parents reconciling were now gone. Now that his dad had another child it was even worse. He was all wrapped up in his new family. Bobby felt forgotten. He felt unwanted and alone. Even his mom didn’t seem to really want him. He figured out rather quickly that he was more of a burden to her than he was the man of her house.
Bobby had developed a degree of independence that far surpassed his chronological age. By the time he was nine, he no longer waited for his mom to get home and cook for him. He knew how to make P-N-J sandwiches and how to use the microwave. That was enough. He didn’t wait for her permission to do the things he wanted to do, either. There were plenty of nights when Judy would come home to an empty house because Bobby was off with friends somewhere. In the beginning, she scolded Bobby, telling him that when he took off like that it worried her, but when she discovered that he always came home safely she seemed to stop worrying after awhile.
Bobby usually went to the park downtown. His closest buddy was a kid named Randall, who lived next door. Randall was two years older, and they spent a lot of time together. Randall wasn’t all that bright, but he was someone that Bobby looked up to. What Randall lacked in intelligence he made up for in social skills and good looks. He had a bit of a golden-boy innocence to his appearance. He was literally the boy-next-door, all smiles and ever-so charming. It was from Randall that Bobby picked up what would eventually become his trademark expression: Trust me! Both Randall and Bobby were skilled at manipulating people into believing them by simply delivering this one two-word line. It was a phrase that, when coupled with a sincere stare directly into the eyes, could win over even the most skeptical of people.
Randall and Bobby played a lot of pool together. They sneaked into a lot of movies together, and even skipped some classes together. They spent much of their free time with each other. Most significantly, they jacked off together.
It started when Bobby was twelve, just before his mom told him that he was going to be spending the summer with his dad. Randall was fourteen then, and his hormones were raging full force, as would be those of any adolescent male at that age. Randall got his hands on one of his older brother’s Hustler magazines and brought it over to Bobby’s house. It was a Saturday, and it was just the two of them, Randall and Bobby.
When Bobby looked at the magazine for the first time he acted really cool about it. He oohed and aahed at just the appropriate moments, and tried his best to act as if it were something he saw every day. The naked women with their oversized tits and spread-open vaginas seemed to be Randall’s favorites, and so Bobby played along and voiced his assent. The truth was that Bobby hadn’t really thought all that much about girls yet. He was only twelve. He’d started having occasional erections and even a couple wet dreams, but he hadn’t ever really even masturbated. He was just starting to sprout some pubic hair in his private region, to be honest.
Randall, on the other hand, was far more experienced. When he held up the centerfold and stared at the blonde, buxom bimbo all laid out and ready for the taking, he couldn’t help but grope himself. Well, one grope led to another and before long he was rock hard. He and Bobby were sitting on his bed together, and Bobby inadvertently glanced down as his friend was groping himself and saw the big bulge encased in the tight denim crotch. This was enough to spark some arousal for Bobby as well.
The odd thing about it was that Randall seemed to act as if this whole scene was so purely natural, and when he noticed his little buddy was starting to display a bit of a boner himself, he leaned over and held the magazine up in front of him, thinking this would continue to fuel the flames of their teenage passion. To Bobby it was more the leaning that did it for him than the photograph. Having his cute, older friend whom he secretly idolized pressing against him while the two of them were hard was quite stimulating. When Randall shoved the magazine into Bobby’s hands so that he could unzip his pants, Bobby gladly took it from him and repositioned himself so that he was even closer to Randall. It was an effective ruse because of course the two had to be right next to one another. They both needed to share the one magazine. Right?
Randall’s was the very first penis other than his own that Bobby’d ever seen. Being as young as he was, he hadn’t yet changed in a locker room with other guys. He had no brothers or male cousins that he’d ever seen changing or bathing. And in spite of his false bravado, he hadn’t even ever seen a porn magazine before.
It wasn’t until after the incident that Bobby began to question his own attractions. It made him a bit uncomfortable to realize he had done something so intimate with another guy. It also made him fairly resolute that he was going to have to end this friendship with Randall. He didn’t want people to start thinking that he was a fag or something.
When Bobby’s mom came to talk to him about her plans to ship him off to his dad’s for the summer, he was concerned how well he’d fit in with his dad’s new family. He was worried about having a younger sister to live with. He even was a bit fearful of how it would be living in another state around a bunch of people who didn’t know how to talk right. But there was one thing for sure that he was very glad of. There would be no more possibility of him ever doing anything like he’d done with Randall. He would be far, far away and all that fag stuff would be way behind him. Or would it?
IT WAS 1984, and Ronald Reagan had been re-elected President of the United States. The Detroit Tigers won the World Series that year for the first time in almost two decades. People were just beginning to talk about an unusual and frightening ailment that was killing homosexuals. It was called Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome, or AIDS.
Shawn Graham turned twelve that year and was in the sixth grade. It was Shawn’s first year at Northern Michigan Christian Academy, a biblical fundamentalist-run parochial school, and surprisingly he was already off to a rocky start. It was turning out to be vastly different than he’d anticipated. He had so looked forward to being surrounded by like-minded Christians. He was certain that he would no longer feel so different and so ostracized, like he did while in the public school, but the reality proved to be the opposite. He actually felt even more out of place than he had in public school. All of his characteristics about which he’d been self-conscious seemed to now be under a magnifying glass. In Mr. Matheson’s small sixth-grade classroom, he stuck out like a sore thumb.
After having the conversation with his teacher about his lack of masculinity, Shawn sat very quietly in the van for the long ride home. When his fellow passengers pressed him to tell them if something was wrong he just shook his head and mumbled that he didn’t feel so good. Once alone in his room, he finally permitted himself to cry, and it seemed almost as if he would never stop.
Shawn knew how true Mr. Matheson’s observation of him had been. He’d known for quite some time that he was not the good boy that most everyone thought him to be. It was like his Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Stewart, had told him all those years ago when he was saved. He was naughty. He was a sinner. It wasn’t right for him to enjoy playing with girls’ toys and to sometimes dress up in girls’ clothes. He shouldn’t feel so awkward about being around other boys. He knew he should like sports and fishing and hunting.
Shawn’s father had these expectations of him, but Shawn rarely saw his dad. His parents had divorced when Shawn was almost too young to remember. His dad lived in the same town, but he hardly ever came for visits. He knew his dad wanted him to be a lot different than he was. His dad wanted him to be like he himself was, to like working on cars and going camping and rifle hunting. He used to take Shawn with him to go fishing during their visitations, but Shawn was too squeamish to even put a worm on a hook. He just couldn’t do it because it was wiggling all around, still alive. He didn’t like to hurt things or to kill them, and his dad made fun of him for this. He’d said that if he was worried about hurting a damned worm, how was he gonna feel about killing a fish?
His dad tried several tactics to toughen him up. Carl obviously considered it to be his duty to instill masculinity into his son. When they did catch fish, Carl made Shawn clean them. This was absolutely horrific to Shawn because almost always they were still alive right up to the point that he began to gut them. Catching them with a hook and line did not kill them. What did it was when he sliced their heads off. Shawn cried the first time his dad made him do this, and this pissed Carl off.
“Don’t be a baby about it!” he shouted. “Just hold it down like this and cut it off—one clean swipe. Those fish don’t feel anything!” It sure looked to Shawn like they did, from the way they were flopping around.
The summer when Shawn was nine, Carl was having his fortieth birthday party. It was an outdoor barbeque, and there were a lot of family members and friends present, including several children close to Shawn’s age. His cousin had asked him to play catch with him, and Shawn readily agreed. By this time his dad had already had quite a few beers, and unbeknownst to Shawn, was watching his son very closely. Shawn and his cousin tossed the ball back and forth casually, unaware of their audience, until suddenly Shawn heard his father’s voice behind him.
“Come here!” he demanded of his son. “That is not how you throw a ball! You’re doin’ it like a girl. I’ll teach you the right way.”
Shawn was humiliated beyond description. How could his dad say something like that to him in front of all these people? And it seemed as if at this point literally everyone had stopped their conversations and socializing in order to take in the spectacle. Shawn’s face reddened as his father persisted. The more his dad continued talking, the more intense Shawn’s nervousness became, and thus his throwing actually worsened.
“Shawn! Dammit, you’re not even trying! Do you want people to think you’re a faggot or something?”
Shawn instantly crinkled his face in an agonizing expression of heartbreak and hurled the ball as hard as he could. It sailed across the yard wildly and smashed straight through his father’s kitchen window. Shawn burst into tears and began running. He ran into the house and hid in the closet of the spare bedroom. About thirty minutes later Shawn’s mother arrived to pick him up. He was still crouched in the bottom of the closet crying uncontrollably. He didn’t go back to visit his dad very much after that.
Shawn knew that all of these things were failures on his part. He knew that it was not very Christian of him to be the way he was. Mr. Matheson had shown him straight from the Word of God what was expected of boys. They were to be masculine because it was their duty. They had been charged with the responsibility of having dominion over all creation, but how could he ever do that when he couldn’t even throw a ball the right way?
All of his life Shawn had known he was different. He tried very hard to change himself but didn’t really know how. He kept praying about it and hoping that God would show him. Maybe if he just tried a little bit harder then God would reward him, and one day he’d wake up to discover he was just like all the rest of the boys.
What Shawn’s dad had done to him was very embarrassing, and so were the words of Mr. Matheson, but Shawn knew that they both were right. It was going to be up to him now to change things. He was going to have to be extra careful about every single thing he said or did to make sure it did not seem girlish. He was going to have to work really, really hard to get better at sports. He needed to make himself do things that he didn’t really even like to do—like hunting and fishing and killing things—and then maybe people would stop noticing that he was ….
What was he? He didn’t even know, but he knew it wasn’t good. He knew it wasn’t what God wanted, and he knew that if he didn’t succeed in his efforts to change, he would never fit in at the Christian academy.
As with just about everything that Shawn set his mind to doing, he ended up succeeding quite remarkably that year at NMCA.
Initially the other students ridiculed and teased him, but the teasing was more covert than it had been in the public school. These kids were Christians, so they had an image to maintain. Being mean to a nerdy sissyboy was not Christlike behavior, so they had to be creative. Some of the guys played practical jokes on Shawn simply because he was so gullible. He was trusting and believed in his heart that pretty much all people had goodness in them, so why would they lie?
One particular incident involved a boy named Tim, who sat right next to Shawn in class. He was quite the athletic type, and also rather bright. Shawn greatly admired him and sort of wished that Tim and he could become better friends. It seemed one day that this was actually starting to happen when Tim decided to hang out with him during lunch break. The two of them talked for a while about a book they’d both read, and then Tim told Shawn all about the grocery store chain that his father owned. He was being so nice that Shawn almost could not believe it. They went outside together for the remainder of their lunch because they had recess until the hour-long lunch period had expired. When the bell rang, they all had to come inside and get back to class.
Just before it was time for lunch recess to end, Tim told Shawn he had to go inside to use the restroom. He said for Shawn to wait and he’d be right back. A few moments later he returned and seemed very excited. In fact he was nearly hysterical. “Oh man!” he exclaimed. “There is a terrible mess in the bathroom. A pipe or something has burst, and David is hurt. He fell and hit his head. I gotta find Mr. Matheson!”
Shawn was instantly panicked and feared for the safety of their classmate David. He looked around, seeing if he could locate the teacher outside. Maybe he was still inside at his desk. “Come on!” Tim shouted. “I’ll go find Matheson. Will you go see if you can help David?”
Of course Shawn immediately responded and rushed into the bathroom, expecting to see a big mess. When he got there, nothing was happening. The bathroom seemed to be empty. His heart was pounding and he was out of breath. “David?” he called out. He stepped over to the stall to see if he was in there. Just as he approached the stall door, it suddenly flew open and whacked him squarely in the head. He cried out in pain, but before he knew it there were arms around him. He couldn’t see straight but he knew there were two of them, David and Kevin. Then suddenly Tim stepped into the bathroom.
The three of them shoved him into the tiny stall. Kevin and David each had one of his arms, and Tim was pushing down on his head. They forced him to his knees and then rammed his head into the toilet. Then, of course, they flushed.
Shawn ended up getting a demerit that day for being tardy when he returned from lunch. Oddly Mr. Matheson didn’t notice his wet hair. Nothing was ever said. He did not confront Tim about his mean spirited prank. He ignored the snickers of his three bullies that day and every day thereafter, but he cried when he got home that night from school. He cried every single time he remembered the incident later. It was one more shame to add to his list.
So Shawn knew he didn’t stand a chance of becoming friends with these guys as his teacher had suggested to him. He knew they never would help him, but he also knew that he didn’t want them to hate him. Honestly, he didn’t really understand why they would have anything against him in the first place. He’d always been nice to them. Maybe he just hadn’t been nice enough. He remembered Jesus’ instructions about forgiveness: if someone smites you on one cheek, turn the other and allow them to smite that as well. Never pay back evil for evil.
Instead he opted to kill them with kindness. He first elected to focus on Tim, mainly because he sat right next to him in class. He offered him a pencil one day when his lead broke. He complimented his new shoes. He congratulated him on winning the spelling bee. In general, Shawn just continued to be extremely pleasant and friendly to the boy who had humiliated him. Then one day Shawn had an idea. He’d learned by eavesdropping that Tim loved to play chess. Shawn loved chess too. He had a really cool magnetic chess set which he’d gotten for Christmas the previous year. The board was made of metal and the pieces were magnets, so they didn’t fall off accidentally while playing. It was ideal for using in a car, or even possibly a classroom.
Shawn brought the chess set with him to school one morning. He pulled it out of his backpack and set it on Tim’s desk. Nervously he waited for Tim to come in and take his seat. When he did so, he looked a bit bewildered, wondering where it came from. He was impressed, though, and it was obvious that he really liked it. “Wow, where did this come from?” he asked. He looked over at Shawn simply because he was closest and thought that perhaps Shawn had seen who left it on his desk.
“Um, I had that at home, and I heard you liked chess. I don’t really use it, so I thought maybe you’d want it.”
“You’re giving this to me?” Tim asked incredulously. “Why?”
Shawn shrugged. “Well, I don’t need it. I figured why not give it to someone who would like it.”
“Thanks,” Tim said quietly as he sat down. He picked up the small chess board and looked it over. As class started he began arranging the pieces on the board until Mr. Matheson noticed him and told him to put it away until break.
From that point on Tim was always fairly nice to Shawn. Kevin and David were, too, when he eventually presented each of them with a gift. He used some of his paper route money to buy David a checkers game. He figured if the chess set worked with Tim, why not try checkers with David. He gave Kevin a pocket version of the game Battleship. None of them bullied him for the remainder of the year, and nobody ever spoke about the swirly incident.
The one person that Shawn grew the most attached to that year was a boy named Sam. Sam was mentally challenged and was being mainstreamed in the regular classroom. He had a short attention span and was often a distraction to many of the students as well as the teacher. Most of the kids liked Sam and felt sorry for him, but truthfully they were mainly just tolerating him. He was annoying at times. Sam also had a tendency to get very emotional.
In the beginning, Shawn surmised that Sam seemed lonely. Shawn was a bit lonely himself, so he decided to befriend him. He asked Sam if he could sit with him at lunch, and then he offered him a fruit pie from his lunch. From that point on, Sam considered Shawn to be his best friend. Sometimes when Sam started to get upset about something, Shawn was the only one who could calm him down. Even Mr. Matheson allowed Shawn some latitude in this regard. He’d let Shawn pull Sam out in the hall and talk to him. Nobody else seemed to be able to get through to the kid.
Sometimes it embarrassed Shawn a little when Sam would come up to him and hug him. Sam was quite affectionate, and he clearly loved Shawn. Then of course Shawn felt guilty afterward for ever feeling embarrassed. For Christmas that year, Sam made a special card for Shawn out of construction paper, markers, and glitter. It said, “Mary Chrismus to my best frend Shawn.” Of course Shawn cried when he read it, and he kept it as a most cherished possession.
After Christmas break, Shawn began developing a friendship with another really special person. Her name was Marci Winter. Marci had been in Shawn’s class the entire year, and she even rode in the van with him every day to school, but the two really had not connected in any meaningful way. One day, though, they just started communicating. Marci was really cute, the shortest person in the class. She was always cheerful and bubbly and had a tendency to let her mouth get her into trouble. She didn’t seem to be at all like most of the other Christian kids, and at times Shawn wondered if she even really was a Christian.
Marci was very vocal about the fact that she liked rock music, even though it was frowned upon by the school and the church. She also liked going to movies, dancing, and occasionally, when no adults were around, she even used swear words. She was always cutting up and telling jokes. Even in class she was a bit of a clown. Often Mr. Matheson would give her warnings, and sometimes he even went so far as to assign her demerits for her smart-aleck antics.
It wasn’t really clear to Shawn why he ended up becoming a close friend of hers. Perhaps he envied her carefree nature. He knew that he loved her sincerity and her genuine openness. She never seemed to judge him, either. She didn’t care if he was like all the other boys or not. In fact it almost seemed she liked him more simply because he was different. For a while he was beginning to think he had a crush on her. He was growing to care about her a lot, but it never turned into that kind of a relationship.
Marci also attended the First Baptist Church, and once she and Shawn started to become friends, they usually sat together in church. Shawn kind of doubted that she would ever have chosen to come to church had she not been forced to do so by her parents, but he was glad she was there nonetheless. It was embarrassing sometimes ’cause she was just as quick to cut up and misbehave in a church pew as she was in a classroom. She’d whisper funny remarks to him during worship service, and then he’d have to stifle a grin. The grin usually turned into a giggle. If Marci started laughing herself then Shawn knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop. They seemed to feed off of each other’s laughter.
Shawn also saw Marci at the Wednesday prayer meeting and the Thursday night youth group. The more time they spent together, the closer they became as friends. They started calling each other and even hanging out together whenever they could get away with it. Marci confessed to Shawn that her parents suspected he was her boyfriend. They both laughed at this assumption. Neither of them knew exactly why, but the mere idea of it seemed absurd to them. Marci was more like Shawn’s sister than anything else. Their relationship reminded him of the one he’d had with his cousin when he was younger, the one he played Barbies with.
By the end of the school year, Shawn was feeling a lot better about himself. He had managed to do quite well in the new school. It was different than he had anticipated, and he still felt different from most of his peers, but he had managed to win them over.
During the last week of the year, the atmosphere in class was one of mixed emotions. The students were excited about the end of the year and the beginning of summer break, yet there also was a sense of sadness that the year was over. Many of the kids did not know whether or not they’d be able to return to the same school in the fall, Shawn included. He knew how much of a struggle it was for his mom to pay the tuition, and he suspected that many others faced these same financial decisions in their own families. The location of NMCA was central and drew students from many neighboring towns. There was always talk of the possibility of smaller schools opening within these communities, which also would mean that his current school might lose some of their students in that manner.
The one thing Shawn was most pleased about was the fact that no matter what, he and Marci would remain friends. She lived near him and went to his church, and he hoped that they would be lucky enough to attend the same school and to be in some of the same classes together next year. It would all be different in junior high anyway. They wouldn’t be in the same classroom all day. They’d be changing classes. He hadn’t really expected to develop such a close friendship with someone like this, but he now couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.
That Thursday evening was a big event for all of them. The school was conducting its annual kindergarten and elementary graduation and award ceremonies. Shawn was a bit nervous, knowing he’d have to get up in front of all those people and accept his diploma. He knew that after the ceremony, his school year would be completed as well. He would no longer be a grade school kid; he’d be a teenager going into junior high. He smiled to himself as he thought about it.
The ceremony was held at a big church auditorium, and Shawn, of course, was sitting with his mom and grandma. Across the aisle from him was Marci, and he thought about how cute she looked in her gingham dress. It was ironic because she looked almost as if she had stepped off the set of Little House on the Prairie, yet her impish grin betrayed her. He knew she was anything but an innocent little farm girl. She was spunky and rebellious, and he suspected that she was not planning to ever become a preacher’s wife.
Sam was also at the ceremony, and it didn’t take him long to seek Shawn out. “Mom,” Shawn said as Sam approached, “I want you to meet my friend Sam.”
Sam smiled and extended his hand, “Hi, nice ta meet ya! Shawn’s my best friend!” He shook Denise’s hand and then wrapped his arm around Shawn. “I’m gonna miss ya so much Shawn.” His eyes were beginning to well up with tears.
“Aw, don’t cry Sammy,” Shawn said, comforting him. “We’ll probably see each other next year. Even if we don’t, you know you’ll always be my friend.”
“You’re my best friend!” Sam reiterated.
The two embraced, and as they did so Sam quickly planted a loving peck on Shawn’s cheek. He knew he should be embarrassed by it, especially being that it was here in this crowded church with people all around them. He didn’t care, though; instead he kissed Sam back, also on the cheek. “I love you, Sam,” he whispered to him. “You better go take your seat. I think it’s about to get started.”
The ceremony seemed to take forever, mainly because it was a bit stifling in that auditorium. It began with the kindergarten procession and was followed by a couple of musical presentations and then a speaker. Then the academic honors were presented for the third through sixth grade classes. Shawn hadn’t realized that this was going to be a part of the ceremony and was quite embarrassed when he had to go forward to receive his honor roll certificate.
After the awards, the school choir performed another song, and this was the cue for the sixth grade students to move to the front of the sanctuary and sit in the reserved seating section. Shawn and Marci got up and walked down the aisle together, slipping in next to each other. Then the school’s principal and Mr. Matheson did the roll call and presented the diplomas. Shawn’s heart beat rapidly as he waited for his name to be called. He was thankful when it was over and thought this would be the end of the ceremony.
He was surprised when Mr. Matheson stepped to the podium for an announcement. “It is my honor to be presenting this year’s Christian Citizenship Award,” he began evenly. “Every year at NMCA the teachers and staff meet and discuss potential nominees for this important award. The citizenship award was established to recognize outstanding Christlike commitment and dedication in both academics and social situations. We look for students who go above-and-beyond, who exemplify the teachings of Christ in their daily lives as they interact with school staff as well as with their fellow students.
“This year, I have been selected to present this award, simply because the recipient is a student in my sixth grade class. In fact, I was the one who nominated this student, and I’m honored to be able to tell you about him tonight. Almost immediately upon meeting him, I was aware that there was something special about him. In all my years of teaching I’d never encountered a kid who was so respectful and so intent upon doing the right thing. At first I honestly was taken aback. I thought that perhaps he was simply trying to impress me, and I doubted his sincerity; but as the school year progressed I witnessed time and again how unselfish and compassionate and loving this boy was.”
Shawn sat in his seat nervously. He was certain that Mr. Matheson was referring to Sam when he began this introduction. All he was saying seemed befitting of Sam. He was loving and compassionate and Christlike. Shawn was worried that he’d start crying if Sam won the award. He’d be so happy for his friend. As Mr. Matheson continued, it became apparent he was not talking about Sam.
“Obviously I made a mistake in my initial assessment of this student. I wanted him to be more like everyone else. I wanted him to simply conform and to fit in. I guess I didn’t really understand how powerful a force a Christ-centered life could be, for it didn’t seem so much that the student changed during the year. Instead, he seemed to change all of the rest of us.
“When I witnessed this boy getting picked on because he was different, I decided to sit back and see what would happen. I was hoping that perhaps he would toughen up a bit and be less sensitive. I knew that as a teacher it was my job to protect him, yet I also wanted to observe how he would handle himself. I witnessed him do something remarkable. In the face of teasing and taunting and bullying—yes, bullying right here in our Christian academy—this student reached out with a hand of love and forgiveness and won these kids over.
“I then watched as this boy befriended a student in my class that nobody seemed to understand. He simply accepted this other student unconditionally and became his dearest friend. I watched as he helped many of the other kids with their assignments. I watched how he seemed to always have a kind word to say. I watched as he reached out over and over again unselfishly, never trying to get attention, but always to do the right thing.
“This student is one of the most generous kids I’ve ever seen. He shares his lunch, his school supplies, and even his own toys and games with other students. He doesn’t seem to do it in a grandiose way, either, but quietly and subtly, often anonymously.
“And he also is an honor-roll student.
“It is now an honor for me to present this year’s Outstanding Christian Citizenship award to Shawn Graham.”
Tears were streaming down Shawn’s face by this point. He’d figured out who Matheson was talking about halfway through his monologue, and he couldn’t believe it. Why was he getting this recognition? He didn’t even think that most of the class liked him so much, except of course for Marci and Sam. Marci was sitting beside him and reached down to grab hold of his hand. “Come on!” she whispered to him, smiling broadly. “You gotta go up there!”
Shawn’s legs nearly gave out on him as he climbed the steps up to the podium and accepted his award. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to be different after all.
IN SPITE of Bobby’s nervousness about spending the entire summer with his father in Walloon Lake, Michigan (where the hell was Walloon Lake, anyway?), Bobby wasn’t about to let anyone see that he had any fear. He was gonna do what he always did, and that was to play things cool. His dad really hadn’t shown him much interest in the past eight years, so why should he act in any way as if he was glad to be with his father? He knew the truth about the situation, anyhow, which was that his dad was taking him for the summer not because he wanted to but instead because he was being forced to do so.
Bobby had no idea what it would be like to have a stepmom, either. He’d met Diane a couple of times but had never spent any extended periods with her. Her bubbly attitude and persistent sense of optimism seemed to be a bit annoying, yet he was also used to this type of behavior to a degree, having been raised in the south.
On a Saturday morning, Bobby’s father arrived at the house to pick him up. Bobby’s mom had busied herself all morning by packing his bags and making sure all of his clothes were cleaned and neatly folded. Bobby wished his mom had been so attentive to these things the past few years. If she had been, things might have been different. It felt good to him in a way to know that his mom seemed upset that he was leaving. It wasn’t the fact that he wanted her to feel bad, but he just needed to know that he was going to be missed. Several times during that morning, she walked over to Bobby and kissed him sweetly on the head. Normally he’d have pulled away, but he allowed it due to the situation.
Bobby was sitting in front of the TV when his dad knocked on the door. He felt his heart skip a beat and his pulse start to race, yet outwardly he remained very calm. He forced himself to not even look away from the television when Judy let her ex-husband in their home. He was determined not to allow his dad to see that he was anxious to see him.
Bob stood there in the entryway shaking his head as he looked over at his son. “Ain’t ya gonna even come over and say hi to your old man?” he asked. “Come on, it’s been a long time.”
Bobby shrugged and very slowly pushed himself up off the couch. “Well it’s not like we aren’t gonna be seein’ a lot of each other. I’m gonna be livin’ with ya for the next three months.”
“Git yer ass over here!” Bob said affectionately, and Bobby walked over and allowed his dad to wrap him in a warm bear hug. Bob was a very tall man with broad shoulders. He towered over his son, and the strength of his embrace felt nice to Bobby, though he’d never have admitted it.
“Where’s… um….”
“Diane?” his dad finished for him. They both knew the matter of how Bobby would address his stepmother had not yet been decided. “She’s at home. I drove down myself, but she’s real excited ’bout seein’ ya. So is Colleen, and she can’t wait to spend time with her big brother.”
“Oh, Bobby, that is so sweet,” interjected Judy. “I think you’re gonna like having a baby sister.”
Bobby made a distasteful face. “Don’t know ’bout that,” he said, “she’s only like six, right?”
“Yep, she just turned six last month,” Bob said, “cute as a button.”
Bobby laughed at the outdated expression. “Well, it’ll be cool to see what she looks like. She was barely walkin’ the last I saw her.”
“She’s a good girl,” Bob emphasized. “Both of my kids are good.” Judy rolled her eyes.
“Bobby can be good if he puts his mind to it. He needs some guidance is all….”
“I don’t need guidance,” Bobby spat disgustedly. “I didn’t really do anything wrong.”
“Mouthin’ off again to yer teacher, from what I hear,” said Bob. He raised his eyebrows as he looked down disapprovingly at his kid. “We’ll get things straightened out, one way or another.”
Saying goodbye to his mom was hard, even for a kid as tough as Bobby. She had been the only parental influence he’d ever really known. He also worried about how she was going to do on her own without him around. It probably would be easier on her, to be honest. She wouldn’t have to be worried about him, and she could go out more on her dates and stuff. She was crying openly when she grabbed hold of him and gave him one last hug goodbye.
When Bobby crawled into the front seat of his dad’s Cadillac, it almost felt like he was going to cry himself, but he just kept a stiff upper lip and forced himself not to look back at her. Knowing her, she was probably standing in the front door waving as they pulled away, but he didn’t want to see it. He just wanted to get out of there and start his new life.
It was nearly a ten-hour drive all the way up to Walloon Lake, and for a good portion of it Bobby slept. When Bobby was awake he tried turning on the radio, but he and his father couldn’t settle on a station they both liked. Bobby wanted to listen to rock, preferably heavy metal, and his dad was strictly country. Bobby didn’t bother to admit that he actually liked quite a bit of country himself, especially Charlie Daniels and Hank Williams Jr. He really didn’t want to have compatible music preferences with his dad. No one liked their parents’ music.
Bobby’s dad tried talking to him about school, but Bobby merely responded with one-word answers like “yup” or “nope” or “uh-uh” or “uh-huh.” It was obvious he was struggling, perhaps trying to remember what it was like to be twelve. Finally he broached the topic of girls. “So, ya got a girlfriend yet?” His father glanced over at him, gauging his reaction, and Bobby shifted a bit in the oversized seat.
“Um, nah. Not really….”
“Well I’m sure you will have soon enough. When you do, you know you’ve gotta be responsible. Ya know what I mean by sayin’ that, son?”
Bobby laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, Dad. Ya mean ‘wear a rubber’.”
They both laughed. “Well, that’s part of it. Ya don’t wanna be gettin’ no girls pregnant. It’ll ruin your whole life, hers too. But you also gotta learn how to treat women with respect.”
Like you did with Mom? he thought. Instead he just nodded. “Yeah, Dad, I know.”
They stopped in southern Michigan and got a bite to eat at a Denny’s. Bob got himself a big plate of catfish and hushpuppies. Bobby wondered how he could eat that crap. He got a burger and fries, loaded with catsup. Bobby studied the way his father moved, the way he talked and gestured. He really was a great guy. He didn’t doubt that his dad cared about him, but he wondered how it was he could have abandoned him for all those years. Now he wanted to step back into his life and suddenly make it the way it was supposed to be.
It was an odd mixture of feelings. Bobby wanted to grab hold of his dad again and hug him like he’d done when he arrived to pick him up, but then on the other hand he wanted to punch the bastard right square in the face. How could he have left us? How could he leave Mom like that, not giving a damn how she was gonna take care of herself and her kid? Then to top it all off, he hadn’t even bothered to keep very close contact. Half the time he didn’t even remember to call on his birthday or on the holidays. Bobby guessed that his dad thought he wouldn’t remember any of these things. He probably thought he could step right back into his life and all would miraculously be forgiven. Well, think again, Pops.
“What are ya thinkin’ ’bout, son?” his dad asked as he shoved a cornbread hushpuppy into his mouth.
Bobby shook his head. “Oh, nothin’. Sorry, I’m just tired.”
“You were in outer space somewhere. Are you worried? I mean, worried about how it’s gonna be when we get up home?”
“I just left my home,” Bobby said, scowling at his father.
Bob nodded. “That ya did. Sorry. I mean about when ya get up to your new home. Your second home with me, your dad.”
Bobby wanted more than anything to tell his dad how he felt, but he knew it was best to bite his tongue. The man didn’t really even deserve his honesty. He had no right to delve into Bobby’s feelings because he’d never been there for him in the first place. “I’m not worried,” he said. “I can take care of myself, no matter where I’m at.”
Bob raised his eyebrows and looked his son straight in the eye. He was pointing his fork at him when he spoke. “Now don’t you be gettin’ in no more fights, ya hear?”
“Well, if someone starts somethin’ with me, I’m gonna finish it. Trust me, I don’t take shit from no one.”
“I’m not askin’ you to be takin’ any shit, but don’t go startin’ anything neither. You been in enough trouble already, and the reason you’re coming to stay with me is so that maybe we can get ya straightened out. I don’t want my son growing up on the wrong side of the law.”
This was almost more than Bobby could take. In fact, it was indeed the last straw. He had to speak his mind. “Why do you care?” he asked. “Just where the hell were you all these years? Now you come back in my life, and I’m supposed to just pretend like nothing happened.”
Bob sighed and leaned back in the booth. “I know it’s hard. Damn!” He rubbed his big hands across the front of his face momentarily, as if trying to wipe away the emotion. “Divorce is so damned hard, son. It’s hard on everyone, but especially you, the kid. I didn’t want to leave you. In fact I practically begged your mom to let you come with me.”
“I begged you to take me with you! I begged you!” His voice was cracking and there were tears in his eyes, but he willed himself not to cry. He wasn’t gonna give this man the satisfaction.
“Bobby, you can go on hating me for what happened if you want. I hope one day you’ll learn that things just don’t always work out the way you want ’em to. And sometimes we try real hard but still don’t make the best decisions. I wanted to do what was best for both you and your mom. Taking you away from her would not have been the answer.”
“But what about all those promises you made? What about how you said you’d be down to see me all the time? You said we’d spend weekends together and holidays. You acted like you were moving across town, not clear up in the fucking sticks!”
“Watch yer mouth, boy!” he warned his son, and then immediately lowered his voice. “You’re right, Bobby, I should have done better at keeping contact with you. I regret it every day of my life, and now I’m tryin’ to make it up. I was so glad when yer ma called and asked me to take you. Me and Diane, we’ve been so excited. She’s got yer room all set up. New bed. New stereo. New clothes. Everything you’ll need.”
“New stereo?” Bobby asked. “What kind?”
Bob laughed. “I don’t know. Some Japanese shit. It’s a nice one, though.”
“Cool!” Bobby was excited, but then suddenly realized this was only a distraction. Maybe his dad was just trying to buy his forgiveness. “I don’t need a new stereo, though,” he said seriously. “I don’t want presents.”
“Well just wait ’til we get there and then decide, okay? And don’t tell Diane I told ya about it, she’ll kill me for ruinin’ the surprise.”
Bobby nodded. “No problem.”
“Just give me a chance, son. All right? Can you at least try? I’m not sayin’ you gotta forget about everything that’s happened—or in this case, that hasn’t happened. But please let’s try to start over. Let’s try to be father and son again. Okay?”
Bobby looked down at the table silently, and then after a moment he mumbled, “All right.”
“Good. Better eat yer food ’fore it gets cold.”
Bobby’s dad would probably never fully understand just how important that conversation at Denny’s had been to him. Although it wasn’t exactly an apology and a plea for forgiveness, Bobby knew it was the closest he could ever expect to get from a man like his father. He had too much pride to completely humble himself, but it was obvious that he did have regrets and he was genuinely remorseful for shirking his duty as a father.
Over the years, Bobby had heard his mom drop snide comments about his father’s drinking. He knew that it clearly stuck in her craw that her ex-husband drank so much, but from what Bobby could tell, she was no angel herself. She always had alcohol in the house. She went out partying almost every weekend, either with her girlfriends or on dates with various guys. There had even been a few times when men had come home with her. He’d always avoided these men, and when he was aware that she had a houseguest he simply made himself scarce.
It should have been a major clue to Bobby at that Denny’s restaurant that his father might have a problem with alcohol, for after he was finished eating he excused himself to use the restroom. When he returned Bobby thought that he smelled booze on his dad, but dismissed it, thinking it wasn’t possible.
Bobby was far more concerned with his own issues than he was with whether his dad wanted to have a drink now and then. For one thing, he expected his dad would be majorly pissed when he discovered that Bobby smoked. For most of the ride north, Bobby contemplated how it was that he was gonna be able to sneak off and have a cigarette, because he doubted his dad would allow him to smoke openly at age twelve.
Bobby also worried that his dad might start to figure out some of the other secrets about him that he’d been able to easily keep hidden from his mom. When his dad had asked him about girls, Bobby thought he might shit his pants right there. He didn’t understand why everyone always made these assumptions about him. Why’d they all think he should be so girl crazy? He didn’t really even wanna think about that shit yet. He’d rather hang out with buds and chill.
His mom had always teased him, stating that he was sure to be a heartbreaker some day. “You’re a lady killer,” she said lovingly. “With those bright blue eyes, all the girls are just gonna be falling at yer feet.” Sometimes when she said things like this to him, he would smile in what appeared to be a bashful way, although in truth he’d never been too shy. It was that very smile, though, that convinced Judy that she was right about her son. He had this adorable crooked little smile that made him appear almost devilish. Well, there really was no “almost” about it.
BOBBY DID indeed end up being very pleased with his new home. Though not a mansion by any stretch of the imagination, it was nicer than the shack he’d grown up in. His dad had a decent-sized ranch style home with four bedrooms and two baths. There was a big living room and dining room. There even was a second living room which they referred to as the “den.” It contained a fireplace and a big screen television, toward which Bobby instantly gravitated.
Diane was obviously an excellent housekeeper, for the place was immaculate. When he saw his room for the first time he thought for a moment that he was in a dream. It was spacious with a big full-sized bed, a desk, the new stereo his dad had mentioned, and even his own phone. “I got my own phone?” he asked, shocked.
Diane smiled sweetly. “Yes, hon. Well, actually, it ain’t a separate line, but it’s your own phone. Please just ask us first before you call long distance, okay?”
“Oh sure,” he said, “but sometimes I will wanna call my mom, and maybe my friends.”
“You always can call your mom, honey. Any time you want, and you can work it out with your dad about calling your friends. I’m sure that won’t be a problem. Bobby, I’m just so glad to have you here! We’ve been so excited for the past two weeks, knowin’ that you’re comin’. This weekend we’re havin’ a family picnic to celebrate. It’s gonna be a big shindig over at your aunt Ruth’s house.”
“My Aunt Ruth?”
“Yes, honey, your dad’s big sister. Don’t you know your Aunt Ruthie?”
“I might’ve heard of her, but never met her.”
“Well you’re gonna love her. You’re gonna love all the family.”
“I thought Dad’s family was all in Ohio and Kentucky.”
“Not anymore,” she said, shaking her head and smiling. “A bunch of ’em moved up here a few years back. I think once Bob moved here some of ’em came up to visit him. Before long a few decided to move. Dell got a good job here and moved the whole family, and I’m real close to his wife Esther. She’s Ruthie’s daughter—your cousin.”
“Well, thanks for all the new stuff. I can’t believe this room.”
“Oh you’re welcome, honey. Are you gonna want to go to church with me tomorrow morning, or do you think you’ll be too tired after the drive.”
A ghastly look crossed over Bobby’s face. “Church? I don’t usually go to church. I think I’ll pass if that’s all right.”
“Sure it’s all right. I’d never force you to go to church, but the invitation is always there. I’d love for you to come and at least try it. It might be a great way to meet some new friends.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he said sincerely, “trust me.”
SHAWN’S MOM began attending Parents Without Partners meetings during the summer between Shawn’s sixth- and seventh-grade years. After her first meeting, she came home all aglow and announced to him that she had a date. She was going to go out with a man named Mark who lived in the neighboring town of East Jordan.
Shawn and his mother lived in Boyne City, the same town where the First Baptist Church was located, and the same place where his best friend Marci lived. Boyne City was also located about six miles from Walloon Lake.
At first Shawn was nervous about his mom beginning to date simply for fear that any romantic interest she might develop could possibly change his relationship with her. He also feared that any man she brought into her life might have difficulty accepting him. He hadn’t had a great deal of luck with his own dad and he worried that all men would be similar to his father.
On the other hand, Shawn wanted nothing more than for his mom to be happy, so when she came in that night and was gushing about the man she’d met, he was completely supportive of her. It wasn’t long until the two were talking about what she should wear and Shawn was offering her expert advice.
She was trying to decide whether to wear her sleeveless summer dress with light and dark gray colors or her jersey dress with the V neck. Shawn was quick to advise her, suggesting emphatically that she go with the jersey dress. “Mom, it’s designed to flatter. The way it’s cut will make you look… um… very shapely.”
“You think so?” she mused.
“Go try it on. Go on! Let me see, and then we can pick out your accessories.”
Of course once Denise had it on, it was obvious that Shawn had been right. It was absolutely perfect. She stood in front of the mirror and straightened her dress, pulling it down snugly and pushing firmly under her breasts to adjust them. She reached up and lightly patted the sides of her hair, fluffing it just a tad. Walking briskly, she turned and headed back to the living room where her son was waiting with a sudden gasp of approval.
SHAWN WORKED his butt off that summer on his paper route. He was trying to earn as much money as possible to help his mom pay next year’s tuition. He knew that if she could not afford it, he’d have to go back to public school, and although he would do so if it ended up being necessary, he just felt so much more at ease in the parochial school. For some reason they accepted him there, even though he was different.
Shawn was never comfortable in situations where he had to approach strangers and talk to them, but when the newspaper announced that they were having a subscription drive, he decided to go door to door and look for some new customers. Being that he was little for his age, it often was not a hard sell. When women answered the door, they saw a cute little boy standing there, and it was hard for them to resist him. He had a memorized sales pitch which he quickly rushed through, usually in one breath.
He ended up tripling the size of his route, and in the process he won the newspaper’s grand prize: a trip to Montreal, Canada. The particular newspaper that he was selling was the Detroit Free Press, and although Boyne City was several hours north of Detroit, their statewide edition was very popular in the area. The small town did offer its own local newspaper, but it only covered local events, had no comic section or Sunday edition, and was very appropriately small-town in its appeal. The Detroit Free Press was the only real newspaper available in northern Michigan at the time.
Several of the carriers for the paper won this grand prize, for it was based solely on the sale of new subscriptions. Shawn, however, was the only out-state winner. It all was incredibly exciting to him, for he had never taken a trip anywhere in his entire life. He’d never flown on a plane, never even been out of Michigan.
His newspaper agent was a jovial middle-aged man named Jerry, and he volunteered to drive Shawn to Detroit where he would catch the plane to Montreal. The trip was scheduled for a Friday in early August. They’d be boarding the plane at seven a.m. and would arrive in Montreal later that morning. It was a three-day vacation, and so they were scheduled to return late Sunday evening. Shawn’s father Carl had agreed to pick him up upon his return.
Shawn was so excited the day before he left that he could hardly sleep. His mom made him take an afternoon nap, knowing that he would have to leave the house in the middle of the night in order to arrive in Detroit by seven a.m. He explained to her that he could sleep in the car, but she suspected he would be too excited to do so. Well, this was true, and it was the exact same reason he couldn’t sleep the afternoon before, either.
He did end up dozing off for a couple hours in the car, but was wide awake the remainder of the drive. When they arrived at Metro Airport, he was a bit overwhelmed. Everything seemed so incredibly large, and everyone was moving around so quickly. He started to feel a little shaky, and so he tried to stick as close to Jerry as possible. When they finally arrived at the terminal, Shawn realized that all of the contest winners were kids about his age. Most of them seemed to know someone else there. Immediately, he felt like an outsider.
When it was time to board the plane, the kids were all herded in like cattle, Shawn thought, and they all made mad dashes toward the window seats. He didn’t really care if he got a window seat or not, though. He was just glad to be on the plane at all. His mom always said that she was terrified of flying, but it didn’t seem like such a bad thing to him. The flight was kind of cool other than the fact that the kids sitting next to him were a bit rambunctious. Shawn concluded that the absolute coolest aspect of flying was the takeoff. He smiled to himself a little once they were airborne, but was careful not to let anyone see. He didn’t want the others to know how inexperienced a traveler he was.
Once they had landed in Montreal, Shawn and the others gathered in the airline terminal there. A chaperone instructed them what the itinerary for the weekend would be, and he told them to select a buddy to partner with for the weekend. Shawn immediately felt conspicuous for he didn’t know anyone there. Quickly all the others chose their partners, and he was just standing there alone. “Okay, does anyone not have a partner?” the chaperone asked. Shawn meekly raised his hand. “All right, you can be partner with these two. The three of you can be buddies.”
The two boys next to him looked at him strangely. They were the ones who sat next to him on the plane. He already knew their names were Matt and Jonathan. Both of them were about Shawn’s age, and both a good three inches taller than him. They seemed friendly enough, though. Once they got to the hotel, each set of buddies was assigned a room. They were each given a coupon for free pizza and soda pop for the evening, and they were each given a ticket to Montreal’s huge amusement park. That was on the itinerary for the next day. For today, they’d be checking in the hotel and meeting at the in-house restaurant for lunch. Then they’d be going on a bus tour of the city.
It all was very exciting to Shawn, and he couldn’t wait for the tour. Once in his room with his two bunkmates, he discovered that one of the three either had to use a fold-out cot or share one of the two beds. Shawn of course volunteered to use the cot.
The events of the first day were interesting and educational to Shawn. Although he had to remain close to his buddies, the two of them were pretty much a couple, and he was more like a third wheel. He basically kept to himself and just took everything in quietly. That evening when they were in their room, Matt and Jonathan were very polite and made every attempt to include him in their conversations. They watched a pay-per-view movie, and then Matt pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
“You want one?” he offered, and Shawn just stared at him wide-eyed.
“Um, no thank you,” he said.
“I’ll take one,” piped up Jonathan.
“You sure you don’t want one?” Matt tried tempting him. “It’s free. You ever smoke before?”
“No, I mean not yet.”
“Wanna try it? If you don’t like it you can put it out.”
“Um, no. I guess I better not. I’d probably choke to death or something.”
“It’s cool,” Matt said, “no worries.”
The three boys stayed up way into the night, and their room was thick with cigarette smoke by the time they all dozed off. In an attempt to clear the air of toxic smog, Shawn turned on the air conditioner. When the wake-up call came at eight a.m. that morning, it was freezing in the room. Shawn was quick to apologize for leaving the air on all night.
When they arrived at the amusement park, the chaperone again reiterated how important it was for everyone to honor the buddy system. He told them to remain with their buddies at all times and not let their buddies out of their sight. Everyone stated that they understood, and confirmed that they’d all remembered to bring their tickets. They were then shuttled into the park.
Once through the gates, Matt and Jon excitedly expressed that they wanted to go on as many roller coasters as possible. Shawn wasn’t so sure about this. He’d never been on a real big coaster before. He’d never been to a park like this before, actually. The closest experience to which he could compare it was when the little carnival came to Boyne City every spring for the annual Mushroom Festival. Hesitantly, he agreed to go on a rollercoaster with his buds.
The ride proved to be a bit of a mistake, Shawn decided. He couldn’t remember being so terrified in all his life. The other two were laughing as they got off the ride. “Dude, you look like you’re gonna puke! You’re white as a sheet.”
“Oh man, I don’t feel so good.”
“You all right?” Matt asked.
“Wasn’t that scary to you?” Shawn asked sincerely.
“Hell yeah! That’s what makes it so fun.”
You call that fun? Shawn thought.
“You ready for the next one, or you wanna take a break?”
Jonathan spoke up. “We should just go get in line for the next one. You’ll be all right by the time we get to the front of the line.”
“I think I need to sit down first, guys. Why don’t you go on without me? I’m not sure I like the roller coasters.”
“Dude, you know we can’t. We’re buddies and we can’t let you out of our sight. Remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. Well, what if I agree to stay right around this area, and then we’ll meet back here in a couple hours?”
Matt and Jon looked at one another. Matt shrugged. “Yeah, that’d be cool. You sure you’re gonna be all right by yourself?”
Shawn nodded and smiled wanly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Go on. Have fun!”
“Okay, two hours… we’ll meet you back here at this bench. Don’t be late… and have fun!” Immediately the two took off, leaving Shawn alone.
He sat there by himself on the bench for about ten minutes and then decided to get up and wander around a bit. Maybe he could play a carnival game or get a snow cone or something. Just as he was about to stand up, a middle-aged man approached him and asked if he could sit down. Shawn smiled up at him and said, “Sure.”
The man was a bit heavyset though not obese, and he had jet black hair and a round face. He smiled very sweetly at Shawn, and when he spoke Shawn noticed his thick French accent.
“Where are your father and mother?” the man asked, and Shawn quickly explained that he was there without them, on a trip he’d won from the newspaper. “And how old are you?” the man asked. He seemed surprised when Shawn told him he was twelve; the man obviously had judged him to be younger.
Within a matter of minutes the two were becoming fairly friendly with one another, and so Shawn confided in the nice man that he was supposed to be with his buddies but he didn’t like the rollercoaster rides that they wanted to go on. The gentleman assured Shawn that he understood completely and offered to show him some other rides which were not so scary.
Shawn thanked him and said that he had to wait around here until his friends got back in two hours, and the man told him not to worry that they’d be back in plenty of time. Shawn then said that he did not mean to be rude but he was kind of tired and thirsty and figured he would just get a soda pop and wait for his friends.
“Wait,” the man said, “you wait here and I go get it for you. What kind you like?”
“Oh no, sir, it’s okay. I have my own money….”
“You tell me what kind. I’ll get it for you.”
Shawn finally told him he’d have a Coke and thanked the man profusely. He returned a few moments later, and Shawn again expressed his appreciation. The two sat quietly as Shawn sipped his cola and occasionally glanced over at the man beside him. Once more the man offered to show Shawn some of the rides. This time Shawn agreed, though a bit hesitantly. It wouldn’t really have been right for him to accept the beverage and then refuse the offer.
The ride they went on actually was very cool. The cable cars were located above them in the air and extended the entire length of the park. Shawn and his new friend rode them from one side to the other and back. It was awesome to look down and see everything below. He looked for his buddies amongst the crowds, but of course it was pointless. They were too high up, and there were just far too many people.
When they got off the ride, Shawn thanked the gentleman again and told him politely that he needed to find a restroom. “I show you the washroom,” the man said, and he led Shawn down the thoroughfare until they arrived at a big sign advertising “Men.”
“This way,” the man said. They had to go down a flight of steps that led along the side of the building, and Shawn hurriedly headed for the door. “Wait,” the man said, “use this one.” He pointed to another door around the corner. It was labeled as a family restroom and was single occupancy. It must have been set up for parents to use when they had little ones who needed diaper changes.
“Oh, thank you,” Shawn said, and quickly rushed inside. He locked the door behind him and hurriedly unzipped himself. After taking care of business, he washed and dried his hands, then turned to pull open the door. His friend was standing there in the door frame and immediately stepped toward Shawn.
Shawn was taken aback by the man’s forcefulness, and at first he thought that he just really had to go to the bathroom badly. Shawn apologized and stepped aside, and as he did so the man closed and locked the door behind him. Now the two of them were locked inside together.
He didn’t know what to think of this man or of what he was doing. Why’d he just enter the bathroom and lock the door? What did he want? What was he planning to do to him? “Pull down your pants,” the man said very assertively.
Shawn stared at him wide-eyed, frozen in his tracks. He felt his heart begin to pound and fear washed over him. It was a horrific feeling, one he’d never forget. It all felt so surreal to him, as if he were in a horror movie or something. The man repeated his command to Shawn: “Pull down your pants!”
This time Shawn did respond, but all he could manage to say was one word, “Why?” It came out of him as more of a plea or a cry. It was a whimper. Why did this man want him to pull down his pants? What was he going to do?
“I promise, I will not hurt you if you do as I say. Trust me. Pull down your pants!”
As the man stepped closer to Shawn, he instinctively backed away from him. The bathroom was small, though, and after two steps he was standing against the wall. What should he do? Should he scream? Would anyone hear him? Should he trust the man and obey him, and just hope he then went away and left him alone?
Suddenly the man reached out and grabbed hold of Shawn’s wrists while at the same time shoving him backward, slamming him painfully against the wall. “I said pull down your pants, boy! Now do as I say! Do it and I will not hurt you.”
At this point Shawn began to cry. It was not a sob but merely silent fear-induced tears. “Please,” he begged the man, “please don’t make me do it,” and while he pled with him he was reaching down to unzip his pants.
Once Shawn had opened his pants, the man roughly pulled them down his thighs. He then spun Shawn around and hefted him up, setting him down on the toilet lid. Seeing Shawn’s lack of pubic hair and complete smoothness, the man seemed to get very excited. He was breathing heavily as he reached down and began groping little Shawn.
The man proceeded to molest Shawn in that tiny and filthy amusement park bathroom. What began with fondling turned into a demand that Shawn perform oral sex. After a few moments the man made Shawn stand up by the sink and bent him over. He used soap as a lubricant. Shawn stared down at the tiles on the floor and memorized their pattern as the man violated him. Shawn cried all the while.
For the rest of Shawn’s life he would remember that tile pattern.
He also would remember the smell of the man’s sweat and cheap cologne. He’d remember the incessant sound of the roller coasters screaming down their tracks and the screams of their passengers as well that were outside the bathroom window. He’d remember the feel of the cold porcelain from the sink that pressed against his abdomen. He’d remember the shame and of course the excruciating pain of the act itself. And he’d never forget the words that the man kept repeating to him: “I will not hurt you, I promise.”
WHEN DIANE had mentioned to Bobby that they’d planned a big shindig, she wasn’t just a kiddin’. Bobby had never seen anything like it. He and his entire new northern-Michigan family gathered over at the home of his dad’s niece, Esther. She and her husband Dell lived in a small house trailer in the neighboring town of Boyne Falls. Although their home was small, especially considering they had four children, they had an enormous yard which was then cluttered with lawn chairs and kids’ toys and canopy tents which covered huge spreads of food. They had horseshoe pits as well as a volleyball net, a basketball hoop, a large children’s playground, and most impressively: a live band.
The band was a country-western group which was comprised primarily of family members, none of whom Bobby had yet met. Even though country was not particularly his favorite genre of music, he had to admit they were pretty damned good.
Never in his life had Bobby felt so welcomed and loved as he did at that gathering. With each new face that he met, he received a warm hug, handshake, or pat on the back. Meeting his Aunt Ruthie was a rather interesting experience, for her straightforwardness kind of took him by surprise. “Yer dad tells me you’ve been quite a handful, boy. Full of piss ’n’ vinegar, jus’ like he was at yer age. Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it, Bob?” Of course everyone laughed at her remark, but Bobby never felt even a hint of judgment in this nor any other comment that was made.
He was surprised at how many cousins, second cousins, aunts, uncles and friends-that-were-just-like family were there. One such person in attendance was the best friend of his dad’s niece Esther. Everyone called her Denni, but her real name was Denise. Denise Graham. Esther explained to Bobby that Denni was invited to all their family functions. She had been the one person who’d been most supportive and welcoming of Esther’s family when they’d moved north several years ago.
“Hi Bobby!” Denise smiled and grabbed his hand affectionately. “I have a son who’s just about your age. How old are you?”
“I’m twelve, ma’am,” he said.
“Oh, I love your southern manners! You’re just so adorable. My Shawn is twelve too. He’s much littler than you, though, by I’d say a good three or four inches. I’d have brought him along but he had something goin’ on at the church today. Do you go to church?”
His stepmom was only a few feet away, and her ears perked up a bit at the reference to church. “I’m tryin’ to get him to go with me some Sunday. He’s not quite ready yet but we’ll keep workin’ on him, Denni.”
Denise smiled warmly. “Well, I wanna tell ya somethin’ ’bout your cousin Esther, here. She’s good people. You couldn’t ask for better friends than her and Dell. Your whole family here, I love ’em all.”
“Even me, Denni?” shouted a voice from behind them. Bobby turned to see a tall and slender reddish-haired man approaching. He had a gangly frame and a rather dopey expression on his face.
“Yes, even you, Dee-Dee!” Bobby looked at her puzzled, wondering what kind of name that was for a man. He smiled as Dee-Dee stepped up and placed his hand on his shoulder.
“I’m Esther’s baby brother. Name’s Darwin but everyone here calls me Dee-Dee.”
“It’s ’cause Esther couldn’t pronounce his name when she was a toddler. She called him Dee-Dee and it sort of just stuck,” Ruthie explained.
Bobby was wondering how he would ever keep all these names straight. There were so many new faces, and everyone was so friendly. It was almost unreal. He had grown up in an environment where hospitality was a way of life, yet he’d never experienced this sort of unconditional acceptance into any group of people.
It all sort of made sense when he thought about it. The reason these people all seemed so hospitable was because they were indeed raised that way, most of them coming from the same area where he grew up. He hadn’t really known any of them simply because they had all migrated north around the time that his parents had divorced. He really liked the way that they all seemed so friendly toward one another. The familial bond that they shared was remarkable. He wondered if the reason they had all moved to the same area was simply because they couldn’t bear being separated from one another. They were kind of like a clan in a way.
The men at Bobby’s party all started drinking beer rather early in the afternoon. His dad had his bottle of schnapps instead, and he even saw a few of the women indulging as well. They also had a couple kinds of liquor open, but it seemed to sit untouched for most of the evening. The band started playing late that afternoon and continued on and off into the night. All the little kids were given sparklers, and they ran around the yard merrily as if it were Fourth of July.
It was probably around ten o’clock when Bobby started to feel relaxed and mellow. The band was playing a series of slow ballad-type country songs, and Bobby sat down on the grass in front of Diane’s chair. He leaned his head back against her knee and looked up at her, and she smiled at him lovingly. “We’re so happy to have you here, Bobby. Thanks for coming up this summer.” She then leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him while kissing him lovingly on top of the head.
“Thanks for letting me,” he said, and she continued to rub her hands affectionately across his shoulders, almost like she was giving him a massage. He sat there contentedly while she caressed his back and shoulders and just listened to the soft tones of the music.
So this was what it felt like to have a family, he thought. He’d never have thought it could be so perfect. He’d never have thought that he could feel so good about himself. It was almost like they regarded him as a celebrity or something. He just hoped he didn’t do something stupid to screw it all up. He just hoped they never found out what he was really like. He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t risk losing his new family.
And what was he gonna do at the end of summer when it was time to go home? How could he leave everything behind him and exchange it for what he had before? Nothing.
BOBBY WILDER JR. did have himself the best summer of his twelve-year-old life. At the family picnic he’d met his cousin Bryan, who was just a year older than he, and the two of them became fast friends. The next week Diane took Bobby over to his cousin’s house, where he spent the day. Bryan’s mom was named Rita, and she was another of Bob’s siblings. She was the youngest of the kids. She and her husband Frank lived between Boyne City and Boyne Falls on a five-acre farm.
The coolest part of the visit with Bryan was that he had two off-road vehicles (ORVs). The two boys spent the better part of the day riding the quads up and down the trails on their property, doing wheelies, spinning out, and whatever other childish yet macho maneuvers they could imagine. In the late afternoon, the two rode Bryan’s dirt bikes into town and went swimming.
Boyne City was a small town with a population of about three thousand five hundred people. It was situated on beautiful Lake Charlevoix and was a magnet for tourists who enjoyed vacationing there in all four seasons. Summer was by far the busiest time for the tiny town, as resorters would flock in for water skiing, fishing, boating, golfing, camping, and any other fun summer activity one could imagine. Boyne had two public parks located on the east and west sides of Lake Charlevoix. In truth, they were directly across from each other, and if you were a good enough swimmer to make it five miles, you could simply swim from one to the other. Each of these parks was about a four-mile drive from the main part of town.
Many of the kids who lived in town went swimming at the town’s unofficial beach. On this same property, a factory had operated for several decades but was now defunct. It had been a tannery, but the only real evidence of it that remained were pilings which stuck up proudly from the water. These huge logs looked like enormous telephone poles.
Bryan was eager to show his new cousin the logs, and he immediately dared Bobby to climb one of them and use it as a diving platform. This actually was not an unusual occurrence, for almost all the kids in town dove off those pilings at one time or another, but of course Bobby, being the badass that he thought he was, accepted the dare and then chose the steepest and tallest of all the logs to conquer.
“No fuckin’ way!” said Bryan. “I ain’t never seen nobody jump off that one. It’s, like, twenty feet!”
Bobby casually stripped off his shirt and dove into the water. It was refreshing and cool, and nearly crystal clear. He swam expertly out to the thick beam and grabbed hold of it. He was surprised at how slippery it was. How exactly was he going to shimmy all the way up to the top? As he was pondering this, he noticed the metal rungs sticking out the sides of the log. They were like a ladder, and he quickly made his ascent to the top.
Standing atop the log and looking down, it suddenly became apparent to Bobby just how scary it was to be elevated to such a height, and to be positioned so precariously atop a log which now seemed a lot narrower than it had before he accepted this dare. He felt a little wobbly for a few seconds, and his heart began to beat rapidly. The distance between him and the water seemed much greater looking down than it had looking up.
“Fuck!” he screamed. “This is some fucked-up shit!”
Bryan busted up laughing. “Scared?” he taunted his cousin.
“Hell no! I ain’t scared. It’s just….” He paused briefly, and then said much more quietly, so that Bryan couldn’t hear him, “Pretty fuckin’ scary!”
“It’s okay, man, you don’t gotta jump,” Bryan yelled up at him. “I was just yankin’ yer chain. It’s too dangerous, anyway. Just climb back down.”
For a brief second Bobby thought his cousin was right and almost allowed his fear to control him, but then almost as quickly he regained his resolve. “I’m goin’ for it, man!” he shouted. “One! Two! Three!” An instant later Bobby was airborne, pushing himself high into the air as his body hurled forward out toward the lake. “Whooo-eeee!” he screamed, and then he cannonballed right into the water.
As he dragged himself back up onto the dock, his cousin was guffawing. “I can’t believe you just did that! You tha man!”
Bobby was laughing. “I know I am,” he said cockily. He shook his head rapidly, almost like a dog would do and then strutted up and down the dock. “Want me to do it again?” he asked.
Bryan shook his head. “Nah, but it was cool. Let’s just swim for a bit.”
“All right,” said Bobby, and he quickly reached over and grabbed his cousin by the shoulders and hurled him off the dock into the water. Bryan came up sputtering moments later.
“You asshole!” he screamed playfully, and he flipped his cousin the bird. Bobby cannonballed him.
THE REST of the evening the two cousins cruised around town. Bobby asked Bryan if he ever smoked, and Bryan smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I used to get smokes from my folks. They both smoked Reds, and they kept ’em on top the fridge. They always bought two cartons every week when they got groceries. It was easy to get away with it, ’cause when I took a pack my ma thought my dad took ’em and he thought she did. It’s not so easy now, though, ’cause my ma switched brands. She smokes Virginia Slims or some shit.”
Bobby laughed. “Where do you get ’em now?”
Bryan lowered his voice and leaned in to emphasize that he was confiding a very important secret. “Depends if you have money or not. If you got quarters you can go down to the Dillworth Hotel and they got a cigarette machine. It’s in the lobby and no one hardly ever watches it. If you ain’t got cash, you can lift ’em from the Marathon station or Country Star.”
“What’s Country Star?” Bobby asked.
“Grocery store. It’s easy, they got a rack of ’em right on the floor.”
“Cool,” Bobby said. “What’re we waitin’ for?”
“You got money?”
“Even if I did, why’d I spend it when I can get what I want for free?”
Bryan smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Good point.”
BOBBY AND Bryan spent a lot of time together that summer, and the two got really close. They were becoming the best of friends. One day in mid-August, though, Bryan called Bobby and informed him that he was missing several rare coins that he’d saved. His grandpa had given them to him for his birthday, and they were dated in the 1800s. Bobby insisted that he never saw them.
“Honest, I never saw ’em. I didn’t even know you had any coins. You know I’d never take anything from you, right?”
“Yeah, man, I know. I just can’t figure out where they’d have gone. I had ’em in my dresser drawer.”
“I didn’t see ’em. Trust me.” When Bobby hung up the phone, he reached inside his jeans’ pocket and removed a handful of coins, holding them up to the light. 1874. Now that’s old. I bet this baby’s worth some money.
He and Bryan weren’t such good friends after that.
PRIOR TO leaving, the man instructed Shawn to wait in the restroom. His command was stated sternly, almost threateningly. “Wait ten minutes, then you leave.” Shawn did not respond. He simply stared blankly at the wall until he heard the door close behind him. The man was gone and Shawn was alone—nearly naked, bleeding, covered with the disgusting smell of the man’s sweat. Frantically, Shawn stumbled to the door and locked it, as if that would somehow help, as if he were turning back time and locking the predator out.
It was too late. The damage had been done, and Shawn would never be the same. He didn’t understand. He was too young to realize the impact this single event would have upon his life.
His thoughts were of his own failure. He had disobeyed. He’d known the rules, but he hadn’t listened. Now this was his punishment. If he even told anyone about what had happened, he’d be the one in trouble. These were the thoughts of this twelve-year-old boy.
As he lay there alone, violated and still suffering the excruciating physical pain of his rape, he began to weep. The cries became sobs which he stifled by covering his face with his own small, trembling hands. Where is God? Why did He let this happen to me?
God did not seem to hear him. He wasn’t answering. In fact, Shawn was pretty sure He hadn’t even been there.
He knew in his heart why God had allowed this to happen. He had known the truth about himself all along. There was a reason why this man had chosen him to victimize. There was something about him that drew this man to him. Something had indicated to the man that Shawn was the right type. It was a defect. It was the same defect that his own father had seen when he’d called him that name. That horrible name. But it was who he was, and this man had known it.
It took Shawn nearly an hour to clean himself up. He vomited twice during the process. He amazingly had no problem whatsoever finding his way back to the bench where he was to meet his buddies. They were waiting for him, but they’d been late as well, so they were not pissed at him. They asked if he had a good time. He nodded and faked a smile.
He was nearly silent the remainder of the trip. The flight home was uneventful. His father was waiting for him at the airline terminal in Detroit. He offered very few details to his dad about what he’d experienced while in Canada. He said the airplane flight was cool. He told him they went to an amusement park and had a tour of the city. It was all right. It was fun. Sure, he was glad he went. No, nothing was wrong.
Shawn’s mom seemed concerned about his quietness and his sullen demeanor. He wasn’t his usual self, but it was to be expected. The family had received some very sad news. Shawn’s grandmother, his father’s mom, had passed away. She was seventy-eight years old and Shawn barely knew her, but he was such a sensitive soul. Shawn suspected that his mom had surmised that the reason her son seemed so sad was because he was mourning this loss. He had such empathy for others, it was to be expected.
Denise was pleased to inform Shawn that everything had been worked out with her finances, and she’d be able to send him to the Christian school for at least another year. Her boyfriend Mark had insisted upon helping her out. She wouldn’t accept a handout, but she graciously and thankfully agreed to a loan.
Shawn was relieved by this bit of news. Going back to public school would have been so difficult for him. He’d already concluded that it wouldn’t be a cakewalk, regardless of which school he attended, but he knew that the smaller, less-worldly environment of the parochial school would afford him some cover. Many of the students in his sixth-grade class were sure to be going back for junior high, so they’d already know him. He wouldn’t be ridiculed by them the same way he was in the public school. Sure, he’d suffered some humiliation at the beginning of sixth grade, but that was behind him now. The other reason that he was pleased about returning to NMCA was because Marci would be there. He couldn’t imagine not having her in his daily life. She was the only person who seemed to accept him unconditionally. She was his closest confidant and dearest friend.
THAT SUMMER was a dark time for Shawn, but the school year to come was sure to bring about many positive changes for him. He knew he had to just get his head on straight and put the dark events of his past behind him. He wasn’t going to think about what had happened. He wasn’t going to let it destroy his faith. God must have allowed it to happen in order to teach him something. Perhaps it was a punishment. In fact, he was sure that it was. It was a warning to him about what he could become if he did not continue to focus upon improving himself.
Do you want people to think you’re a faggot or something? That’s what his dad had asked him. That’s what the man in Montreal had obviously thought he was. That’s what he felt like when he watched the Tarzan movies and Irish Spring commercials. This had to change. It all had to change, and he was determined he’d be able to do it.
IT WAS one week before Labor Day, and Shawn was getting kind of excited about the fact that the new school year was about to start. He’d used his paper route money to buy all of his new school clothes and supplies. The students at the Christian school also had to pay for all of their textbooks, a fee which was in addition to tuition. Shawn had almost enough money saved to cover it, and his Gram helped him with the remainder. He was ready to go and counting the days.
It was Tuesday morning, and Shawn’s mom had dropped him off at the church to mow the lawn. He was thankful he’d gotten an early start, for the August sun was merciless. It was so hot that day that he thought he was going to die of heat stroke. Thankfully the job only took him about three hours, and he was done by noon.
He had a small vinyl insulated bag with him. His mom had bought it for him to use as a lunchbox for school. She’d gotten it through Tupperware when one of her friends had hosted a party. It was purple and reminded Shawn of a purse, so he doubted he’d actually ever take it to school with him, but it functioned nicely as a cooler to hold cold beverages when he was doing a job such as mowing the church lawn. Once he’d finished up, he sat down under one of the trees and pulled out a bottle of lemonade from the bag. He leaned his head back and sipped the refreshing beverage and complimented himself on a job well done. He finished the lemonade and tucked the empty bottle neatly back in his bag but continued to sit there for a moment, still resting.
A car was pulling into the lot as he sat there. He recognized the big Cadillac as belonging to one of the church ladies. It was Diane Wilder. He watched as she pulled in and parked the car in front of the building, and then she rolled down her window. She waved at him and smiled warmly. “Shawn, it’s so good to see you! Come here, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
Shawn quickly pushed himself upright and stood, then walked briskly over to her car. “Hi Diane!” he beamed. “What’s goin’ on?”
“I’m bringing in some donations for the church pantry. They’re in the trunk.”
“Oh, let me help you,” Shawn offered.
“Well, I’ve got a helper. Shawn this is my husband’s son Bobby. He’s your age.” She then turned to the boy beside her in the front seat. “Bobby, this is Shawn. He’s Denni’s boy.”
Shawn bent over slightly in order to see into the car and to look past Diane. A blond-haired boy with bright blue eyes and a crooked smile stared back at him. “Hi,” Shawn greeted him meekly.
“Hey,” Bobby said, “whassup?”
Shawn looked at him puzzled. Wasn’t it obvious? “Oh, I’m just here mowing the lawn. It’s nice to meet you.”
Shawn stepped back to allow Diane to open the door. “Come on, Bobby,” she said as she popped the latch to the trunk.
As Bobby stepped out of the car Shawn noticed the confident, almost cocky manner in which he strutted around. It seemed to Shawn that he was trying to act real cool. But then Shawn also could not help thinking: If I looked like he does, I’d be acting real cool too. There was just something about the kid that made Shawn uneasy, and it was not an uneasiness that referred to a lack of trust. Contrarily, it perhaps suggested to Shawn that he might be someone who would be far too easy to trust.
All of Shawn’s life, he had wondered what it’d be like to be that way, the type of guy who carried himself so confidently. He knew just by looking at Bobby that he was that kind of guy. He seemed tough and determined and acted like he didn’t have a care in the world. Shawn wondered how it was that he was able to make so many assumptions in just a few brief seconds, and more importantly, he wondered why he would do so in the first place.
“I’m so glad you get to meet Bobby. He’s goin’ home this week, though, and we’re gonna miss him so much.” Shawn thought that Diane was going to start crying.
“I can come back, right?” Bobby asked. “Christmas, next summer….”
“Honey, of course you can.”
Shawn wanted to engage Bobby in conversation. He wanted to ask him questions about himself, how old he was, where exactly he was from, why he had that funny accent. Shawn was too shy to voice any of these questions, though. He just stood there timidly and waited for Diane to open the trunk.
Once the trunk was open, Bobby reached right in and started hefting out the biggest box. Shawn was quick to follow his lead and grabbed a box of his own, following closely behind Bobby as he headed for the church entrance.
“Let me get the door for you guys!” Diane shouted, and she scurried in front of them. Bobby had to stop briefly and wait as she opened the door. Shawn was standing directly behind Bobby and looked down to take in the sight of his behind. He noticed the narrow waist and the tight denim fabric that fit like a glove. He quickly looked away.
There were enough food items in that trunk to feed an army, Shawn thought. It took both boys three trips to get it all hauled inside. When they were done, Bobby thanked Shawn for the help and smiled sincerely. They were standing beside the car waiting for Diane to return from inside. Shawn felt awkward, for he wanted desperately to engage Bobby in conversation but couldn’t think of anything interesting to say. “You’re welcome,” was all he could manage.
As Shawn heard Diane approaching them from behind him, he looked Bobby directly in the eye. Right before Bobby turned to get in the car, he winked ever so slightly at Shawn. It was almost unnoticeable, and it was accompanied by a genuine smile. Shawn’s pulse raced just a bit, but before he knew it, the two were in the car and pulling away. Shawn just stood there staring, not knowing what it was about that boy that made him so nervous. He’d be wondering this same thing for months to come.
BOBBY’S THIRTEENTH birthday came and went that December with little fanfare. He was back in Ohio with his mom, and things had returned to the way they were before. It was worse now, though. When he returned from Michigan that fall, his mother had a new boyfriend, who was living at the house. His name was Chuck, but everyone called him Red. Judy spent the evening of Bobby’s birthday on a night out with Red, and apparently remembered halfway through her date what day it was. She phoned home and told Bobby she hadn’t forgotten him and would have a big celebration that weekend. Of course, it didn’t happen.
Diane did remember Bobby’s birthday, though, and sent a huge box of presents via UPS. Bobby tried to conceal his excitement as he sat alone in the living room tearing through the wrapping paper. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to play it so cool when there wasn’t even anyone around to watch. He guessed he was just used to it. The gifts included several clothing items, a new wallet, a Bible, and most importantly, a Nintendo game system. Bobby was psyched! The gifts were so cool (except for the Bible, of course). Immediately he called to thank his dad and Diane.
The situation within his home was very stressful. Red bugged him. He was so creepy looking, for one thing. Tall and lanky with bright red hair. Bobby didn’t know what his mom saw in that insect. That’s what he was to Bobby—a roach. He was nothing but a lazy slob who referred to himself as an “independent contractor.” It didn’t take Bobby long to figure out that in this case that was merely a euphemism for “lazy bum.”
The thing Bobby hated most was that Red tried to boss him around. He tried to give him fatherly advice and enforce the rules of the house. Bobby’d had the run of the house for nearly a decade, and he didn’t need this other Johnny-come-lately to waltz in and start making changes. Red interfered with Bobby’s privacy and his freedom. He also was rude and disgusting and never seemed to take baths. In truth, Red made Bobby sick. He was gross.
Randall tried to rekindle his friendship with Bobby, but it just wasn’t the same anymore. Bobby couldn’t get over what had happened between them, and he didn’t want to risk a future incident. By this time he’d completely matured in his private region, and had a full bush of hair to prove it. He had underarm hair as well, and his voice was about an octave lower than it had been a year ago.
Now that he was in junior high, he had access to the school gym, which had a weight room. He began working out, intent on toning up a bit. He liked the idea of having a masculine physique. He still was just thirteen, but he felt every bit a man when he stood in front of the full-length mirror pumping iron. He liked watching his own biceps as he did his curls.
After he’d jacked off with Randall that previous spring, he hadn’t done it again for several months, and when he did do it again it was almost by accident. His sudden, uninvited erections seemed to pop up at the most inopportune times, and they seemed to be occurring more and more frequently. He was showering one morning when it happened, and he got a little carried away with the bar of soap. From that day forward, it became a morning ritual in the shower.
He lifted a porn magazine from the 7-Eleven store one afternoon and eagerly rushed home to use it. Inside he found pictures almost exactly like those that’d been in Randall’s magazine, naked women in seductive poses. He lay on his bed and excitedly leafed through the pages. They were pretty, and they had such big breasts; he knew it should be a major turn-on to him. He wasn’t getting excited, though, not like when he’d been with Randall. He reached down and groped himself, and his dick almost immediately stood at attention. He knew, though, that the arousal was in response to his groping rather than to the photos.
After a few minutes of continuing to leaf through the porno, he finally found a photo of a naked guy. He was sitting back comfortably in a chair with a blonde bimbo between his legs. She was servicing him orally. He felt himself throb with excitement, and proceeded to use this picture as he masturbated. His future masturbatory fantasies were always similar and always focused more upon the guy who was getting his rocks off than on the woman with whom he was doing it.
He went to his first junior-high dance that year, and surprised no one when he asked a girl to dance with him. Her name was Brittany, and she was obviously sweet on Bobby. He allowed her to think what she wanted about him, and enjoyed the fact that having a girlfriend was good for his reputation. He played it cool, trying not to act too interested. He didn’t want to appear overly eager. They talked on the phone a couple times a week and sometimes ate lunch together. They held hands in the hall between classes, and he even kissed her a few times. He didn’t think of her when he was alone in his room, though. Mental images of her did not heighten his nearly constant teenage state of sexual arousal.
There was a boy in a few of Bobby’s classes that he’d known for many years. His name was Edward Deveere but most of the kids referred to him as Eddie Da Queer. Eddie was rather flamboyant, a total sissy, and he sort of made Bobby sick. No one in Bobby’s class ever doubted that Eddie was a fag. Eddie’s voice even annoyed him, not to mention the way he swished around snapping his fingers and waving his limp wrists effeminately. He wanted to completely steer clear of this faggot, because most of the time he felt as if he wanted to just bash Eddie’s head in whenever he was around.
Bobby didn’t have a lot of tolerance for that sort of thing. If someone like Eddie wanted to be a fag it really didn’t matter to him, but why’d he have to go around broadcasting it to everyone in a ten-mile radius? It also irritated Bobby that Eddie was so nice to him. He sensed that the little homo might have a crush on him or something, and he wanted no part of it. If he ever so much as hinted at anything, Bobby was gonna beat the crap out of that queerbait. He really fuckin’ hated faggots.
It seemed very odd to Bobby, and hard to explain. He didn’t fully have his head wrapped around what was going on inside of himself. He suspected that perhaps what was happening to him was natural. It was probably what all guys his age experienced. He could tell by the way they talked that they were going through some of the same changes that he was. They probably jacked off, too, and they probably fantasized about blowjobs and about developing a toned, muscular physique.
He was a little bit worried, though, because he wasn’t sure exactly when he was supposed to start feeling really turned on by girls. He didn’t know at what point he was supposed to feel the urge to take things a step further with Brittany. At what point was it that he was going to get excited by a big set of tits or by the sensuous curves of a girl’s body? Sometimes he tried to force it. He would visualize woman when he was stroking himself, trying to associate the arousal with the mental images. It always frustrated him, and he’d either have to stop or change his fantasies.
The more this frustration intensified, the more he felt the need to prove that he was normal. He became quite vocal about how attracted he was to chicks. He bragged to his buddies at school about how he and Brittany had done things together. He commented on girls’ tight asses, and made frequent crude remarks about oral sex.
He and the guys would insult one another by calling each other degrading names. If one of his buds did something questionable, he was quick to point out that they were being a fag. Homo, queer, and faggot were words commonly thrown around in jest. By using this language, Bobby was sending a message to everyone around him that he didn’t like that sort of thing. He didn’t like guys like Eddie Da Queer. He hated their guts.
The worries that he had about himself were merely concerns and nothing more. He never permitted himself to actually connect the dots and consider that he might have some of these homosexual tendencies himself. Such a consideration would have been beyond his capability at this point. In truth, he was sexually inexperienced and wasn’t even close to understanding what he was or why he was that way. This uncertainty was troubling to him, and he often expressed his anxiety over it with crude homophobic remarks or threats of violence.
At the age of thirteen these things really didn’t matter a whole lot. Although the teenage hormones were starting to kick in for almost all of his peers, nobody had yet done much of anything about them yet. The boys all did what boys do. They talked. They bragged. They joked around. It was fairly easy to play it cool and simply allow the guys to make assumptions about the fact that he was confident in himself. There wasn’t a whole lot of pressure just yet to back up his words with actions, at least not in the seventh grade.
The most pressing thing on Bobby’s mind that year was the reality of his home-life situation. Ever since he returned from Michigan, things had been miserable for him. His mom had changed dramatically. She was just different, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps it was that she had enjoyed her three months of freedom while he was away. Maybe it was that she’d realized what a pain it was when he was around. He sensed that she didn’t feel the same about him anymore. She didn’t love him like she used to.
He was beginning to feel like it had been a mistake for him to even come back. He’d had the best summer of his life up in Walloon Lake, but he’d missed his mom and had been worried about her. He should’ve known that things would be different. During those first few weeks of the summer she had called to check on him numerous times, but by the middle of July he stopped hearing from her. When he did finally return on Labor Day weekend, rather than seeming as if she was thrilled to see him, she’d chosen to lecture him. She warned him about how things were going to be different from now on.
Things were different all right. Now he barely saw her, and when he did she was either hung over, physically exhausted, or both. She still was working her full-time job at the supermarket, but she was also out partying with Red several nights a week. What was worse than the times she went out to party were the times the two of them stayed in. On those nights Bobby would make himself scarce by either hiding out in his room or by heading down to the alley behind the theater.
The house was always a pigsty and reeked of stale cigarette smoke. Red usually hung out there all day while Bobby was at school and Judy was at work, but he never so much as lifted a finger to wash a dish or push a vacuum across the carpeting. When Bobby got home from school each day, Red would be sprawled out on the couch, usually smoking a joint, and then he’d try to boss Bobby around and tell him to do the dishes and clean the kitchen before his ma got home. Bobby didn’t listen to him, though. He wasn’t taking orders from that good-for-nothin’ lowlife.
It was in the spring of the next year that things finally came to head, and a major confrontation ensued between Red and Bobby. Apparently Red was under the impression that Bobby had some knowledge as to the whereabouts of a bag of weed he’d left lying on the sofa table. Bobby of course denied any knowledge of ever seeing it. This led to a series of accusations being hurled, which were then followed by fists. Bobby might have been only thirteen, but he was as tall as Red and his physique was starting to tone up nicely. He landed a right hook in Red’s jaw, and in so doing he thought he might have broken a couple fingers. It was worth it, though, just to put that bastard in his place.
After the fight, he went down to the alley and sold the baggie of pot to one of Randall’s friends.
Bobby had known that he would be in trouble with his mom over the incident, but what he hadn’t anticipated was that she would completely side with Red over him. She was waiting for him when he got home at about eleven thirty that evening. Red was sitting at the kitchen table holding an ice pack against his swollen jaw, and Judy was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter.
“Where have you been?” she demanded.
He glowered at her, glanced over at the pathetic worm sitting at the table, and then redirected his gaze to his mother. “Out,” he said snidely.
Exasperated, she sighed. “So you think you’re quite the big little man, now, do you? You can come and go as you please.”
“Hasn’t it always been that way?” he asked sarcastically, and he turned to walk away from her.
“Bobby, I’m not done talking to you! This is bullshit! First you steal from Red, then you punch him in the face and leave for four hours. Now you strut your ass back in here and cop an attitude with me. What the hell has gotten into you? You haven’t been the same since….”
“Since he got here!” Bobby shot back at her, accusingly pointing his finger at the pathetic little creature who was crouched behind the table.
“So is that it? You’re jealous of the fact that I finally have someone in my life other than you? Did you expect that I would just go on for the rest of my life alone…?”
“I don’t expect shit from you, Ma!”
“Don’t talk to me like that, Bobby! Don’t ever fuckin’ talk to me like that. I’m your mother, and you will show me respect.”
“What about my respect? You never show me any. You act like I’m nothin’ to you anymore. You act like you wish I never woulda even come back from….”
“You know, Bobby, maybe you shouldn’t have come back from your dad’s. Maybe you should have just stayed there. I just can’t handle this anymore. I can’t handle the stress. I can’t handle the constant phone calls from school.”
“What phone calls?” Bobby demanded. “I ain’t even been in no trouble this year at all. What are you talking about?” She now had tears in her eyes, which Bobby hated. Seeing his mother cry was heartbreaking, but he was pissed at this point and wasn’t gonna let it affect him. “Ma, I didn’t take the damn weed. I swear I didn’t. Will you trust me? Please!”
She turned her back to him and stared out the kitchen window. All she was seeing was her own reflection, since it was dark outside. She stood there nonetheless because it was easier to see his reflection in the window than it was to look him directly in the eye when she said what she had to say. “I want you to leave. I want you to go back to your father’s. You’ve put me in a position where I have to choose between you and Red, and that’s not fair to me.”
“So you’re choosing him?” Bobby spat angrily. “That’s fucked!”
“Go to your room, Bobby,” she said quietly. “I’ll call your dad in the morning and find out when he can come pick you up.”
“I don’t care!” Bobby screamed. “I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here, and I hope I never see either one of you again!” He then stormed off to his room and slammed the door angrily behind him. Hot tears streamed down his face as he irately pounded his fist against the bedroom wall. He continued, barely noticing the pain he was inflicting upon himself, until finally a sob erupted from his throat. He threw himself on his twin bed, burying his face in a pillow as he wept.
IN SPITE of Shawn’s initial misgivings, he really liked his mom’s new boyfriend. Actually, he wasn’t even sure if he was officially her boyfriend, but they surely had been spending a lot of time together. Mark was an electrician, and he had his own business in the neighboring town of East Jordan. He also had a fifteen-year-old son named Max.
It seemed to Shawn that his mom was hardly ever home anymore. If she wasn’t out with Mark somewhere, she was over visiting her friend Esther in Boyne Falls. Other than that, she worked. It really didn’t bother Shawn too much, and he rarely had to be at home alone, even if his mom was gone. He often went to his gram’s house on the evenings that Denni was out, and sometimes he just hung out with Marci. Her parents were quite religious and thus strict about their rules for Marci in relation to boys. She was not allowed to be over at his house when an adult was not present, so at these times if he wanted to hang with her, he had to go to her place.
She was the only person within Shawn’s life that he trusted enough to confide his deepest and darkest secret. He wanted to tell her about what had happened to him when he went on his trip to Montreal. There were a couple of times when they were talking that he almost did in fact tell her, but he couldn’t do it. He knew she would not judge him or hate him for what had happened, but how could she help not thinking differently of him?
It was amusing to Shawn the way that Marci made misbehaving seem so totally acceptable. In school she was always getting herself into trouble by making smart-aleck remarks during class. She often failed to turn in assignments on time and acted as if it was no big deal. She got in trouble once for telling a dirty joke which one of the teachers happened to overhear. None of her missteps were serious, and Shawn wasn’t even entirely sure if it would be correct to characterize them as sins. They were usually serious enough, though, to earn her demerits.
“Crap, I got another demerit today,” she told Shawn one day when they were riding home in the van after school. “Now I have to have a board meeting.” Shawn knew what this meant. As was the case in his fourth grade public-school class with Mr. Howard, here at NMCA, when a student got ten demerits, they received corporal punishment. The only thing better about the Christian school’s system was that it at least was done privately and without the public humiliation in front of the entire class.
“Oh no!” Shawn gasped. “That’s horrible. What’re you gonna do?”
Marci laughed. “Get my ass whooped,” she quipped. Then her face sobered. “How bad do you think it’s gonna hurt?”
Shawn stared at her wide-eyed. He didn’t want to say anything to frighten his best friend, but he imagined it hurt pretty badly. He’d seen boys in his class who came back from a board meeting, and it seemed like they could barely sit down. Plus you could always tell that they’d been crying. “Um, I’m not sure. Probably not too awful bad. You ever get spanked before?”
“Oh yeah,” she said flippantly. “Tons of times, and by a leather strop. That’s what my dad uses. He always hit the boys a lot harder than he did me, though. He felt sorry for me ’cause I was a girl.”
“Well, maybe Mr. Bolton will feel sorry for you too,” Shawn offered hopefully.
“I doubt it. They always have to have a woman teacher there watching when it’s a girl. If he has Mrs. Jensen as the witness, she’ll probably tell him to hit me harder.”
“I wish there was some way for you to just get out of it. Did you try begging Mrs. Jensen not to give you the demerit?”
“Oh, that bitch did it on purpose,” Marci said, lowering her voice so the others didn’t overhear her swearing. “She wants me to get whacked.”
Shawn looked at his friend compassionately, wishing there was something he could do. “Too bad you didn’t have a way to pad yourself, so it wouldn’t hurt so bad.”
Marci’s face instantly lit up. “Shawn, that’s perfect! That’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll wear extra padding. Then no matter how hard he hits me, I’ll barely feel it.”
This time Shawn laughed. “What are you gonna wear? You know you gotta wear your uniform.” The school had a uniform dress code. All of the girls had to wear their solid white school blouses with a string tie and a navy skirt. Boys wore white shirts, navy slacks, and a necktie.
“You’ll see,” she said.
The next morning when the van stopped to pick Marci up, Shawn noticed she was walking a bit funny. “What’s wrong?” he asked sympathetically.
“Oh cripes, I can hardly walk! I think the circulation’s getting cut off in my legs.”
Shawn’s mouth dropped open slightly and he furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Shawn, I’m wearing every single pair of underpanties that I own. Twenty-six pair.”
He busted up laughing, almost to the point of hysterics. “You own twenty-six pair of underwear?” he asked incredulously.
“Twenty-seven,” she stated matter-of-factly. “The pair I wore yesterday is now in the wash.”
Unfortunately for Marci, it was just as obvious to Mrs. Jensen that she was walking funny. Also when you looked at her closely enough you could see the big bubble butt which was created by the massive padding. She was ordered to remove twenty-five pairs of underwear before the board meeting, and she was the talk of the school for a few days thereafter.
Shawn loved his Marci; there was just no one on earth quite like her.
SEVENTH AND eighth grades were good years for Shawn academically. He maintained perfect grades in all of his classes. He also began to become involved in other extracurricular activities. He started taking piano lessons and had his first recital. He sang in the school’s choir. His paper route continued to grow, and he was able to save up quite a large stash of money in his savings account. He was even now teaching his own Sunday school class. All in all, he appeared to be a fairly contented, well-rounded junior high kid.
What wasn’t apparent about him, though, was the battle that was waging within his mind and heart. Emotionally he felt crippled, confused and terrified most of the time that he could never be good enough. It was as if all of his efforts to succeed were merely charades. He was play-acting, pretending to be this good little boy, when he secretly knew that he was anything but. He knew that he was flawed. He knew that there had been some critical defect in his design when God had made him, and he felt guilty that every day of his life he was fooling literally everyone.
The series of events that occurred in Shawn’s early life had established within him a set of core beliefs about himself which probably no one would ever be able to alter. He had been repeatedly told both subtly and overtly that he was not good enough, and there was no achievable goal within his life that would ever change this. Getting straight A’s wasn’t enough. Winning awards was not enough. Showcasing his academic and musical talents was not enough. Having the biggest and best paper route, keeping his room spotlessly clean, doing extra chores, obeying every rule, conquering every challenge—none of these things were enough! He still was who he was. He still was an embarrassment to his family. He still was a sinner deserving of hellfire. He was a hypocrite.
During the Christmas season of his eighth grade year, Shawn withdrew the eight hundred forty-five dollars and sixteen cents that he had in his savings account. He left five dollars in the account, the minimum required to keep it open. He was determined to make an effort to set things right, to try again to somehow bring a sense of balance into his life. It was a challenge at first, because he realized that if he went out and simply bought gifts for all the people he knew, they would be amazed and would heap praise upon him. Then he’d feel guilty again because he’d know that they continued to think of him as this perfect little angel when he was really the opposite. He needed to do something different. Something anonymous. Something creative.
He did use two hundred dollars of the money to buy his family’s Christmas gifts. He even got gifts for Mark, Max, and Marci. This left him with more than six hundred dollars. He knew of a family in his church that had two young children, a girl and a boy. The father had been injured at work and was now disabled. The mother worked two jobs in order to provide for the family, but they were barely getting by. They were in the process of seeking compensation from the man’s employer, but these efforts were being challenged at every turn. The company was denying responsibility for the injury and did not want to pay him a cent. Their name was Nelson, and in Shawn’s eyes they were some of the dearest people he’d ever known.
It seemed to Shawn that some of the people in his church did not think too much of the family. Since they were so poor, they could not afford to pay tuition fees to send their kids to the parochial school. The church had a scholarship fund for just such cases, and they utilized this. Occasionally Shawn would overhear comments about it from other students. They were obviously repeating things they’d heard their own parents say, and these things were never charitable. It upset Shawn to think that other Christians could be so stingy and judgmental like that.
He wanted to use the remainder of his money to help the Nelson family, but he was unsure of how he would be able to do it. If he went to his pastor and offered to donate the money, he feared the reverend would insist upon contacting his mother to get her permission. If he took the money directly to the family, he knew that his efforts would not be anonymous.
As was the case with most families at his church, the Nelsons had a particular pew where they sat every Sunday. He thought of a plan that might possibly work, but if for some reason the family elected to sit somewhere different on that particular Sunday, the results could be disastrous. He had to try it, though, and pray that the Lord allowed his plan to work. He sneaked into church early that morning, before Sunday school even started. He went into the vestibule and located the table which contained the morning worship program. It was a handout which was given to all the parishioners as they entered the morning worship service, and it was often referred to as the church “bulletin.” Not only did it have the worship service itinerary on it, but it also contained little tidbits of news which everyone found interesting, such things as announcements and reminders, etcetera.
Shawn quickly read through the itinerary and located the names and numbers of the hymns which were to be sung during the service. He smiled when he realized that the last song was “Trust and Obey.” Perfect, he thought. Then he quietly crept up to the fourth pew from the front of the sanctuary, the exact place where the Nelson family always sat, and slid into the seat. He pulled out a hymnal from the rack in front of him. Oh dear, there were four hymnals in the rack, and he knew that they’d likely only use three of them. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson usually shared one hymnal while each of the kids took their own. Again, this was all going to require a little bit of help from above. Please God, let them pick the right hymnal!
Shawn pulled out an envelope which he had neatly tucked in his suit pocket and opened the hymnal to song number 384, “Trust and Obey.” He slid the envelope into the book, reading the inscription he’d carefully printed in bold, block letters on its face: “TO THE NELSON FAMILY WITH LOVE, FROM ONE OF GOD’S ANGELS.” Shawn had felt a little guilty when he wrote those words, knowing that the reference was to himself, but he also realized that they’d never know it came from him so it was okay. They’d believe it did indeed come from an angel. Inside the envelope he’d placed six crisp one-hundred dollar bills.
His hands trembled just a bit as he slid the song book back into its holder. Then he crept quietly out the back of the church. Just as he was exiting the building, he heard his name. “Good morning, Shawn! You’re here bright and early this morning.” It was Pastor Walden.
“Oh, good morning, sir.” Shawn tried to sound calm, but his nervous laughter might have betrayed him. “I rode my bike in today. Guess I thought it’d take longer to get here than it did.”
The pastor smiled at him. “How’s the Sunday school class going?” he asked. He was referring to the one that Shawn taught, of course.
“Oh, I love it, sir. It’s going just fine. Do you think we’re gonna have a white Christmas this year? I can’t believe we haven’t gotten any snow yet.”
“Maybe we should say a few extra prayers in that regard, huh?” The pastor laughed at his own attempt to be humorous.
“Yes, sir, maybe we should.” Shawn laughed obligingly. “I think I’m gonna go get some air for a bit, if you don’t mind.”
“Thanks for everything you do here, Shawn,” the pastor said very seriously. “I want you to know how much I appreciate it.”
Shawn looked up at the man before him, though just briefly, and then quickly looked down at the floor in front of him. “I appreciate you saying that, sir. It’s my pleasure.” The pastor then placed a firm hand on Shawn’s tiny shoulder and gently squeezed. It was a rather safe masculine gesture of affection.
Usually Shawn sat near the front of the sanctuary, but this particular Sunday he chose a seat more in the middle. He wanted a clear view of the Nelsons, simply so he’d know whether or not they’d found his gift. His heart raced a bit when he saw them walk through the doors that morning. He was glad they were not late, because he was afraid someone else might end up taking their seat. As he’d hoped, they filed into their usual pew and sat there quietly. He wondered if they would pick up their hymnals at all before the service started. He kept glancing over to them, trying not to stare.
The service began as normal with the invocation, followed by announcements, and then an opening hymn. Then there was the scripture reading, followed by a second hymn. A soloist then performed a song which seemed to take forever, and finally it was time for the final hymn before the morning’s sermon. The song was “Trust and Obey.” Shawn’s heart was racing as the congregation stood together to sing. Fortunately, he had a clear view of Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, but he couldn’t see which hymnal they had chosen. Even if one of the kids got the envelope, the plan would work.
Just as the pianist hit the first note of the introduction, Shawn noticed that Mrs. Nelson had stopped. She’d found the envelope and was reading the inscription. She leaned over and whispered in her husband’s ear, and then he said something back to her. Neither of them was singing. Shawn wasn’t singing, either. He just stood there holding his own songbook while trying to see their every move. Suddenly Mrs. Nelson placed her hand over her mouth and gasped, letting out a barely audible cry. It was just a tiny sob. She leaned into her husband and hugged him, showing him the contents of the envelope as she did so.
Shawn smiled and then began to sing. A single tear trickled down his cheek as he stood there. Mission accomplished.
SHAWN HAD not realized that he wasn’t alone that morning in the sanctuary of his church. Pastor Walden had been in the building and was in the nursery at the time. It was a room directly behind the sanctuary that had a large two-way-glass window. Mothers with infants could watch the services from there without fear of their babies disturbing the other parishioners. The reverend had wondered exactly what it was that Shawn was doing, coming in so early and sneaking in that way. The boy had seemed to be on a mission.
After the service, when the Nelsons shared the news of their miracle with the pastor, he knew the truth. He did not betray Shawn’s anonymity. He decided not to even tell Shawn he knew. He had such hope for that boy; he was so very special. Certainly God had blessed his church by placing someone such as young Shawn in their midst. He marveled at the mysterious ways that his Creator worked, and he couldn’t wait to see just exactly what God had in store for this amazing and generous young man.