I skip dinner to go outside and sketch by myself at one of the picnic tables. Between my private prayer sessions with Bishop and being publicly shamed by Rhonda, all I want to do is curl up and die.
I put pencil to paper and look out across the horizon. The sky is a swirl of oranges and blues. Sailboats make little pinpricks on the surface of the ocean. All this beauty and I don’t feel connected to any of it. I should be praising God for his gifts, but I feel nothing. It scares me.
“I brought you something to eat,” a voice from behind me says.
I turn around to see Paul holding out a sandwich on a plate and a bottle of water.
“You didn’t need to do that,” I tell him. “I’m not that hungry.” But I take the plate and bottle.
“You say that now, but you’ll regret it after they close the mess hall for the night.”
“Thanks. You’re too nice to me.” I take a bite of the sandwich and then another. “I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”
Paul puts his hand on my arm. “Don’t let Rhonda get you down.”
I look at Paul’s hand on my wrist. The passage from the camp handbook about excessive touching flashes through my mind. I pull my arm away, and pretend to wipe mustard off my face. I can tell Paul isn’t fooled.
“Rhonda was right,” I tell him. “A real friend would have defended her.”
“It’s not your battle, Adam.”
“It is though. I don’t like how the Bible is being taught to us either. I wish I had Rhonda’s strength. I’m sick and tired of hiding from my feelings.”
“Rhonda will come around. You have to believe that everything is going to be all right in the end. Secret handshake?” Paul holds up his hand.
I want to touch him so much that I almost can’t dare to. But if I don’t start being my true self now, when will I? Our thumbs lock around each other, and our fingers flutter in the air like the wings of a bird. We stretch our hands up in the air until our arms can’t reach anymore.
“I needed that,” I tell him.
We sit silently for a couple of minutes. Then Paul says, “Did I do something to offend you? I get the feeling you’re avoiding me.”
“It’s not you, it’s me. I’ve had a lot on mind.”
“Does this have anything to do with your private sessions with Bishop?”
“Yeah.”
“I wish you would tell me why you’re meeting with him. I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends. This is different though.”
“Different how?”
I want to tell him how I feel, but I’m afraid. Every time I’m honest about my feelings, it ends up making things worse. But Paul is my friend. I can’t keep giving him the cold shoulder without some sort of an explanation.
“Let me show you something,” I say. I open my sketchbook and flip to some sketches.
Paul looks at the pictures, his eyes widen and soften. He turns the page, absorbing each sketch one at a time.
“These are of me,” he says. “When did you draw these?”
“Early in the morning before everyone woke up. Or by the light of the moon through the window when I couldn’t sleep.”
“Why me? Why not Martin or Randall?”
“I have a crush on you on Paul. Can’t you tell?”
“Deep down maybe. But I don’t think of myself as attractive to people.”
That’s exactly one of the reasons I have a crush on him.
“You’ve done a really good job of hiding your feelings.” he says finally.
“Not good enough. Someone told Bishop they suspected I like you as more than a friend. That’s why I have to meet with him every day to pray.”
“Do you know who told?”
“It had to be Randall. He’s the only one who cares enough to say anything.”
“That makes the most sense. Do you have proof?”
“What difference does it make? It doesn’t change how I feel for you.”
“Does that mean the prayer sessions with Bishop aren’t working?”
“Do you want them to?”
Paul looks out over the horizon. The wind plays with his hair. I try to focus on how I will draw that later.
“I don’t know,” he says. “This is so confusing. I thought you didn’t like that I was being so clingy.”
“I didn’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”
“I guess I always knew you liked me as more than a friend. I didn’t see the harm in it. It’s not like we were doing anything bad. No one — girl or boy — has ever had a crush on me before. Not that I know of anyway. I like the way it makes me feel. I like the way you make me feel.”
“I didn’t mean to put you in this position. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I know.”
It’s do-or-die time. “How do you feel about me?”
Paul takes a deep breath and looks away. This is not a good start.
“I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way,” he says.
A weight lifts from my chest. I wish I could hug him, but I’m afraid someone will see us.
“For years now, I’ve felt a bit off. It was like something in my brain wasn’t clicking,” Paul continues. “That first night we met and we sang karaoke together it was like all the pieces fell into place.”
“You don’t know how happy you’re making me feel right now,” I confess.
“But I don’t want to be gay,” Paul says.
“But you said you feel the same way about me as I do for you.”
“I do. I really do. And it’s a relief to finally say it. But this is a sin, Adam.”
“Love is not a sin.”
“No, but romantic love between two men is. I care for you. But my loyalty to God is stronger than my feelings for you. I can’t throw away a lifetime of devotion for a teenage crush.”
“I never asked you to!” I say. “You asked me why I was avoiding you and I told you the truth. Should I have lied?”
“Let me explain —” he starts.
“You don’t need to explain; I understand perfectly! This is typical of Christianity. You tell the truth and then you get shunned or sent away to some stupid camp on the top of a mountain.”
“I don’t want things to change between us,” Paul says.
“Too late for that.”
“It’s not like we can date while we’re here.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not even sure I like you anymore.”
“You would be lucky to have me as boyfriend,” Paul says, getting defensive. “I would treat you like a king.”
“Well I guess we’ll never know for sure will we?”
“No. I guess we won’t.”
I know I should slam my sketchbook shut and storm back to the lodge. At the same time, I don’t want to leave him, not like this. I’m surprised when Paul speaks first.
“Why is it that I’m really mad at you right now, but I want to kiss you?”
All my anger vanishes. We really are feeling the same thing. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I feel the same way?”
“Yes it would.”
“Well I do.”
“What are we going to do?” Paul asks.
“We just admitted our feelings to each other. Maybe if we get to know each other better, we might realize we don’t really like each other that much.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“The only thing that’s changed now is that we’ve talked about it. Normal couples don’t date right away, do they? They wait and see how they feel about each other. Why don’t we wait until camp is over. If there are still feelings, we can figure it out from there.”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Will you be my date for movie night?”
“I’ll pick you up at the foot of your bunk bed.”
The screen door of the lodge opens and Martin steps outside.
“There you guys are,” Martin says. “Randall has been looking all over for you. He’s convinced you’re up to something.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I say.
“Anytime,” Martin says.
“We should go back to the room one at a time. You go with Martin,” Paul tells me. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”
Paul and I have just made our first date and Randall is already trying to break us up.