An Infatuation (6 page)

I squirmed on my stool. “I’m not really sure.”

“He should.”

“I’ve invited him.”

She put her hand on my shoulder and smiled. “Harold, I put you two together in lab for a reason. I sensed that you each possessed what the other one didn’t. And if you two joined forces, you would be an unbeatable team.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hunsley.” I looked out the window, wondering where Mario was, and why the Mario and Harold team seemed so beaten.

“Is everything all right between you two boys?”

I refocused. “Why do you ask?”

“You two were like molecular bonds. The positive energy between you two was atomic. Now I rarely see you two together. What went wrong with my experiment?”

“I guess the atoms split.”
Thanks to Tommy and Keith.

“Care to talk about it?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

She put a hand on my twitching knee. “You can trust me, Harold.”

I feel that I can.
“As you know I was tutoring Mario, and we became close… friends. After the thing with Tommy and Keith, Mario got frightened, and things with us… cooled off.”

“That’s what I thought.” Ms. Hunsley went to her desk, opened a drawer, and brought back a small gold plaque. “Don’t tell Mr. Ringwood I’m doing this.” She put the plaque in my hand. “I want you to have this, Harold.”

I was speechless, literally.

“There’s a quote on it from a poem by Percy Shelley. Like you, he was…
different
.”

I read the words on the plaque.

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine,

In one spirit meet and mingle.

Why not I with thine?

I looked up at Ms. Hunsley, not knowing what to say.

“You’re wondering why a chemistry teacher is quoting Shelley? There’s a lot about me my students don’t know, Harold.”

“Ms. Hunsley, the plaque is beautiful, but why are you giving this to
me
?”

She sat back down. “Harold, that plaque was given to me by someone very special to me… many years ago. A man… that I loved a great deal.” She smiled in fond recollection. “He was like Mario in some ways. A sportsman. Rugged, strong, and determined on the outside, but soft, tender, and very much in need of love on the inside.” She looked out the window. I noticed a tear form in the corner of her eye. “He hated chemistry. I hated sports. We were total opposites, but we were an unstoppable pair. We were very happy.”

“What happened, Ms. Hunsley?”

“Other people weren’t so happy.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ms. Hunsley wiped her eye with the sleeve of her lab coat and faced me. “Some people didn’t like the color of his skin.”

“So they made trouble for you, because he was black?”

She nodded. “And he got frightened.”

“Ms. Hunsley—”

She shrugged away my hand. “I didn’t tell you this for sympathy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. More importantly, don’t be afraid. And don’t let people like Tommy and Keith decide who you can
or can’t
love. Because when you are alone at night, it’s only love that matters. Tell that to Mario too. Will you promise me that you will?”

I nodded, feeling the tears brimming in my eyes.

She squeezed my knee. “You’re a good boy, Harold. Don’t let anybody tell you any differently. Including Mario.” She stood and went back to her desk. “I’ve said too much. Thank goodness for tenure. You can go now.”

I stood and walked to the door. “Thank you for the gift, Ms. Hunsley.”

“It’s only a little plaque.”

“That’s not the gift I meant.” I smiled at her and left the classroom.

CHAPTER FOUR/20 YEARS AGO

I
WENT
home and put the plaque under my pillow. I phoned Mario, but thanks to my college application essays, he was out visiting colleges. I didn’t see him for a whole week. That hurt more than my bruised nose and stomach.

My heart leapt one afternoon when he walked into my bedroom, threw his leather jacket onto my desk, and kicked his black work boots off under the bed. After our tutoring session, which just happened to end with us sitting at the edge of my bed, I started to reach under my pillow to show Mario my new plaque. Before I could retrieve it, Mario took my clammy hands in his and destroyed my life.

“Harold, I have some good news.”

Your school ring on a chain around my neck?

His smile was crooked, and his focus was on the rug. “I’m in love.”

Me, too.

“And considering… what’s been going on… I think this is the best thing… for everybody.”

Wedding bells?
“Mario, I’m in—”

“It’s Barbara Babinsky,” Mario blurted out as if vomiting. I nearly joined him.

So my cozy twosome has become a messy threesome.
“The cheerleader?”

Mario sounded like a cult member at the pink lemonade table. “That’s not the only reason I love her. She’s beautiful. She’s sexy. And she don’t stuff her blouse with tissues like the other cheerleaders.” He hit the literature book against his head. “I mean,
doesn’t
.” Mario continued his diatribe like a job interviewer with a fabricated resume. “I thought of you when Barb and I made out for the first time. It was in the
coach’s office
.”

How nice of you.

He walked to the bookcase and held up the books that
we
studied together. “Me and Barbara…. Barbara and
I
… are like Romeo and Juliet, or George and Emily.”

Yeah, and look where they all ended up.

Like a first-time visitor to a mental institution, I approached Mario and rested a shaky hand on his broad shoulder. “Mario, it’s me. You can stop this. You can tell me the truth.”

Mario’s shoulder contracted and my hand flew back to my side. “I know it’s really soon. But I can tell. I love her, Harold. My hand to God.”

“But what about
us
?”

He sat at my desk like a child playing teacher. “I’ve been doing some reading, Harold.”

Since when?

“I read a pamphlet… from church.”

Ah, a highly regarded psychological study.

“A lot of guys, at our age, go through… what we went through.”

“And what is that?”

“You know, messing around a little, experimenting with each other.”

Before I could faint, I sat on the desk.

“But, Harold, don’t worry.”

And why is that?

“Just because we…
experimented
, that doesn’t mean we are gay. It’s actually pretty normal, because at our age our hormones are raging.”

I’m raging all right.
I somehow got out, through a mouth as dry as the Sahara, “Who told you this?”

Mario looked at me for the first time all evening. “Father Ryan at church.”

“Did he touch you or…?”

“No, Harold, I went to see him. He was really nice. He explained everything to me.”

“Well, I hope you can explain
everything
to me.”

Mario paced the room like a college professor in front of the tenure committee. “See, God has a plan for all of us.”

“Which is?” I knew I wouldn’t like the answer.

“As Father Ryan explained it, the plan is for us to get married and have children.”

Sounds good to me.
“So why can’t you marry a man and adopt children?”

“Because, as Father Ryan explained, that’s
unnatural
.”

“So is using a computer and driving a car, but Father Ryan does both.”

“Harold, two men together. It’s against God.”

“You’ve talked to God lately?”

Mario sat me on the desk chair and kneeled next to me with a pious look on his face. “Father Ryan showed me in the Bible. It’s an
abomination
.”

“We’re Catholic. We don’t read the Bible.”

“Can you be serious, please?”

“You want to be serious? Okay. Many people believe the anti-gay line in Leviticus is a mistranslation for a pagan prostitution ritual with eunuchs.”

“What’s a eunuch?”

“What Father Ryan is trying to make you.”

“Stop talking shit about a priest. He’s a man of God.”

“Tell that to the altar boys.”

“Stick to the subject, Harold.”

“Okay, the Bible says a lot of things are an abomination: eating shellfish, women wearing jewelry, women not lying outside in the fields during menstruation, not stoning to death your unbelieving neighbor, wearing clothing made from more than one fabric.”

He stood and glared down at me. “Stop confusing me, Harold.”

“You’re confused all right. The Bible is various books written thousands of years ago in different languages about a different place and time, and rewritten by many people over the centuries. It isn’t a rulebook. It’s meant for spiritual reflection. People who pick out and parrot certain verses to hurt other people are hateful, whether it is to support slavery, decline women the right to vote, or ban interracial or same-sex love and marriage. How can harming other people be godly? Didn’t Jesus say not to judge one another, and to love your neighbor as yourself?”

He put his hand over his ears. “Stop it!”

“Jonathan and David were a couple. On the cross Jesus told his mother that John, his most
beloved
disciple, was her
son
too.”

“Shut up!” Mario had fire in his eyes.

“If being gay is so abominable, why didn’t Jesus say anything about it in the Bible stories? Why did he eat with, preach to, and love everyone,
everyone
, Mario, even the outcasts… like
us
?”

Mario pushed me onto the floor. He quickly sat next to me to make sure nothing was broken. Everything was in one piece, except my heart. “Harold, I’m sorry. I’m a piece of shit. Sometimes you make me so crazy.”

I sat on the rug next to him, wishing I had a magic wand to bring back my Mario. “Mario, don’t mess up your life because of what some priest said.”

“I’m not.” He looked so cute when he pouted.

Trying a different tactic, I asked, “Mario, do you remember Kinsey from psychology?”

“No, does he go to our school?”

I wish then he could help me here.
“Kinsey is a famous psychologist who conducted a study with lots of people, then created a scale.”

“Who cares about some guy who weighs people?”

“He’s famous. The Kinsey Scale.”

“He named a scale after himself?”

I sat up on my knees so we were eye to eye. “Mario, Kinsey studied people’s sexuality.”

“So he was a pervert?”

“He was a social scientist who theorized that every person’s sexuality can be categorized on a scale of zero to six; zero being totally straight, and six being totally gay.”

“So he
was
a pervert.” He turned away.

I grasped his shoulders so he would face me again. “No, Mario, Kinsey believed that not everyone is a zero or a six. That some people fall
in between
.”

“You mean they’re bi… confused?”

“Maybe. Or maybe not. Perhaps with all the different factors that make up our sexuality… nature, genes, nurture, hormones… sexuality isn’t as simple as we think.”

“Or maybe he’s full of crap and got rich off gullible nerds like you.” He stood up.

I jumped up. “Or maybe sexuality isn’t only about gender. Maybe there’s a possibility for
any
two people to.…”
Say it.
“…fall in love.” I took out Ms. Hunsley’s plaque and read Shelley’s poem to Mario.

After a pause, he said, “Harold, I agree with you, and with
Shelby
. I fell in love. It’s the real thing, Harold. Grover’s Corners stuff. Heading down the aisle material.”

I’ll ask my father to give me away. We know he’ll be on time. And Hannah can be my Best… Hannah.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Harold. I know it’s fast, but I fell in love… with Barbara. And someday I want to marry her.”

My stomach dropped to the floor. I grabbed onto his arm like a life raft. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me, Harold… if you want to be my friend.”

“You’re just trying to prove you aren’t gay.”

“I’m not gay, Harold. We’re different. I’m not like you.”

A tear landed on my cheek.

“Please, stop trying to psychoanalyze me, Harold, and just be happy for me. Be happy for me… and Barbara.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I don’t want my future best man looking sad.” He smiled like a cartoon character before a great fall. “When the time comes, I want you to write out the invitations for our wedding. You’re a good writer. You can help us pick out the food too. I want my favorite, Italian. We can give the caterer my Nonna’s old recipes. We’ll play bocci ball at the wedding. And everybody will get drunk off their asses.” Mario brought me into his massive chest for a tight hug. “Harold, you’re my best friend. You’re my Rock of
Gibraltic
. Believe me. Be happy for me. Support me in this, please.”

“What if I can’t?”

“Then I’ll make you.” Mario swung me in a circle, and kissed my cheek.
So that’s how Jesus felt with Judas.
“I’m in love, Harold. I’m really in love… with Barbara Babinsky.”

Wait, it gets better. The next day in the courtyard at school during lunch, Mario looked happy to see me. I wanted to throw myself into his arms.

“Harold!”

“Mario. Hi.”

There was so much electricity between us, Ben Franklin could have put a kite and a key on us. Then I noticed Barbara Babinsky, channeling Hester Prynne, as she clutched onto Mario’s arm like an albatross in heat.

“Hi, High.” Barbara tugged at the underpants under her cheerleading skirt to make sure her lower butt cheeks were visible, then rested her bleached blonde locks on Mario’s glorious dark curls.

“Hi, Barbara. Good game, Mario,” I said, as if I paid any attention.

“I threw that last pass for you, pal.”

“We played ‘We Belong Together’ for you, Mario.”
If I ravage him in public, there will be too many witnesses.