365 Days Of Me: January 8 -- Out On The Roof

13 year old boys have as many secrets as girls the same age.  While girls write them down in a journal, or tell their best friend, boys tend to keep them to themselves until someone comes along who is trustworthy enough to share the secret with.

My first relationship was too innocent to refer to him as my boyfriend, but was too complicated to say we were just platonic.  The innocence of our relationship had less to do with our awkward fumblings when we were alone (which never went past mutual masturbation and heavy kissing), and more with the secrets we shared, and the massive mushroom cloud of emotions that would soon become the Fallout of our Sexuality.

At 13, we were both socially awkward, and that was one commonality that drew us close together.  The only time I didn't feel awkward was when we were in each other's arms, and the world around us just seemed to make more sense.  We rarely spoke, fearing that the sounds of our voices would break the trance and that we would be awkward again.  We reveled in each other's warmth and presence, and we reveled in the fact that we were able to find someone that was like the other.

He was a reckless boy, always attempting stunts on his bike or skateboard.  I didn't have an interest in either, but I was happy to watch him attempt various tricks.  I was afraid he would break his neck, and I told him as much on more than one occasion, but he would always say to me, "Relax.", knowing that I wouldn't be able to do any such thing.

That reckless nature seemed to take place in everything that he did.  He discovered Professional Wrestling, and was always asking me to help him perfect a move.  I think the only reason why I didn't end up with a spinal injury was that once we got to rolling around, it was no longer wrestling.

Then there was his bedroom, where he did the riskiest thing of all.  It was something that I hated so much, that I would occasionally have nightmares about it.  He never knew that fact, though, and I made sure he never found out.

We were sitting in his bedroom, which was on the second floor, and he walked over to the window and looked out.  He lived directly across the street from the Indy 500 track, but since it wasn't racing season, the track just looked deserted and creepy, even though it was well kept.

"You know what I like to do?" he said, still staring out the window.

My mind raced, and I tried to come up with something that didn't involve him stripping naked and climbing on top of me.

"What?" I said, looking at the handheld video game that was devoid of all batteries.

Instead of answering, he opened the window and stepped out.  I groaned, knowing what was going to happen next.  Sure enough, his head popped back into the window and beckoned me out.  

Sighing, I put down the useless video game and went to the window, my pulse quickening in a rabbit-like panic.

His window not only looked out toward the Speedway Racing Track, but also overlooked the rooftop for the extended porch below us.  That rooftop was his solace, where he went for privacy to think about himself, God, and how to make the two mesh better together.

He had invited me out to the roof one time before, but I didn't stay out there long.  I began to panic and asked to be let back in.   He looked at me perplexed, but let me back into the house, concerned when I had tears in my eyes. I then had to explain to him about my fear of heights.  His mother was home, so he gave me just a gentle pat on the shoulder when I began to shudder as I sat on his bed.  Had his mother not been home, he would have held me, which probably would have made me cry, but the gentle pat was better than nothing.  Eventually, I pulled myself together.

This time I was determined that I wouldn't panic, nor would I let it show if I did.  The odds were against me, but I would have done anything for him in that time.  

Years later, in high school, I had to read Romeo and Juliet for class.  One of the other students commented on how the whole thing seemed stupid, that two kids would act so crazy over a relationship.  I looked at him, and thought, "You, my friend, never found love at a young age, did you?"

---

I stood at the window, and found my boyfriend standing there with his hand out.  His face had a comforting smile and he didn't say a word, nor would he if I decided I couldn't do it.  At least, that's what his eyes said, and I trusted those more than anything.

I took his hand, not really needing it, but didn't have the heart to disregard the sweet gesture.  As my hand passed to his, it shook with fear, but when I grabbed on, I felt the fear subside and my shaking reduced down to a frightened tremble. 

Climbing out was awkward, especially after the romantic gesture that he expressed to me, but I fumbled out somehow.  I kept crouched down, afraid to stand up.  He laid down on the roof gently, and patted the area next to him.  

I hadn't had time to look before, but there was a lot of room to move up on the roof.  The front porch spanned across the entire front of the house, and the roof was just one large, flat area angling downward enough to me nervous, but not enough to be treacherous.

I lay down next to him, trying not to make noise.  If his mother knew we were on the roof, she would order us down and it would be one more thing that we wouldn't be able to do when she was home.

I took a deep breath, trying not to think about the fact that I was on a roof, and he asked me if I was OK.  I said yes, my cracking voice betraying me. He chuckled and looked into the sky, which was already beginning to show mild signs that dusk was approaching.

We lay there for a few minutes, not saying a word, and I didn't like the tension.  The only sounds I had to listen to were the traffic driving by, which was heavy but uneventful, and the sound of my own heartbeat.  I tried to think about something else, but the only other things available on file in my own mind was kissing and touching, and that simply wasn't in the cards that evening.

Finally, he said, "I think we have a problem."

I froze. I imagined the shingles sliding from our weight, and having only a moment to think before breaking my neck on the ground below.  "What?" I squeaked.

"I read in the Bible that what we are doing is bad.  God doesn't like it." he said.  

At first, I thought being on the roof was what he meant, and I was more than happy to repent and change my ways in that regard.

Then, he went on and recited the Bible Verse that I would hear over and over again from various sources for the rest of my life, thought I didn't know it then.

He knew it by heart, and he said it quietly, worried that someone would hear him.

"Thow shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is an abomination." he said, then, "Leviticus 18:22"

"It *said* that?" I asked, shocked.

"Yeah, I was just reading and I saw it." he said, traces of shame in his voice.

I didn't say anything.  I didn't like to make judgments on a situation without investigating.  What he said made no sense.  I knew that he was taking it literally, but my mind couldn't just accept that verse on its own.

I looked over at him and asked, "So, you wanna stop?"

Instead of answering, his face turned red and crumpled.  I was stunned at how quickly things had changed.  One minute, he was smiling and offering his hand in assurance as he led me out onto the roof, and the next, he was in turmoil. I only had a second to wonder if this was why he wanted to come out here.

Suddenly, and without warning, he rolled onto his side and put his arms around me.  His face buried into my neck and just convulsed with silent sobs.  I realized that there was more to this, more than just the verse and what it meant.  This wasn't an anguish that came from a discovery of a Bible Verse, but rather from a confirmation of what he had been told before by people he trusted and cared for.

I know that now.  But then, I just knew there was more than just the verse to blame, and even though I was confused, I returned his embrace, even though we were exposed to the entire world it seemed.

A woman with two children once told me that a mother can always tell when something is wrong.  It is almost telepathic, and the compulsion to investigate was uncontrollable.  I told her that I already knew that, and it was because I had seen it before.

He and I lay there, him silently crying, using my shoulder as a muffler for any noise he might make, when I heard the front door of the house open and close.  His mother's voice, full of concern, came up from below.

"You on the roof again?" she asked.  

My boyfriend couldn't respond, not in his condition, and I didn't know what to say.  I knew one of us had to say *something* because if we didn't, she would investigate further.  

Finally, I said, "We're OK."  I tried to sound like everything was OK.

"Is R____ up there with you, Billy?" she asked.

If I said that he was, she would want to know why he wasn't answering her call.  If I said that he wasn't, she would come to his room.  Either way, she would discover that something was wrong, and then things got complicated.  

So, I decided to take the honest route.  At least, partially honest.

"R____ is just having a bad day.  He's just sad and mad." I said.

R____ pulled away from my neck and said, "I'm OK, Mom."

There was silence from below, and she went back into the house.  We went back to his place on my shoulder, no longer crying.  I was scared that she would come up to check on us anyway, but she didn't.  By the way R____ acted, it wasn't the type of thing she would do.  He might have to do some explaining later, though.  

We stayed like that for a while, making small talk, listening to the traffic pass by.

I knew nothing of being in the closet, of activism or gay rights.  I didn't understand what was going on with me specifically, but I knew for certain that in that moment, things couldn't have been more natural.  

At 13, I can't say I loved him, I had yet to mature enough to love anyone in any serious way, but I had a very deep affection for him, and I could tell that he felt the same for me.  The only problem was that we were beginning to discover that we might be on our own in this venture.  If God really did say that it what we were doing was bad, then we had a problem on our hands.  A big one.  A lot of people followed God, and they were going to give us all kinds of trouble if they found out.  His mother especially.

The exposure of our affection began to make us uncomfortable as the moment passed, and soon we were back to lying next to each other.  R____ had gained control of himself again, and we went back to talking about stuff 13 year old boys did.  He would talk about wrestling, and I would talk about video games.  Each of us had an light interest in what the other had to say, but we didn't share those passions equally, so it was a sort of conversational ping pong.  

Life went on around us, and the roof felt like an island, and I felt like I could be there forever.  While I was still afraid of being up that high, being with him made it all better somehow, and I could ignore the rest of it.  

His mother came out onto the porch again to announce that dinner was done.  I was, of course, invited but I declined because, quite frankly, I hated her cooking.  Besides, I wanted to give the two of them time to talk.  My being there would only stifle anything his mother had to say to him, making things tense.

"Thanks." R_____ said and we began to stand up.  He went first, then he helped me up gently.  I waddle to the window with him, and he went in first.  I looked at his face, and saw that his eyes were still puffy, but the explanation that I gave to his mother earlier would explain that.  

Like the gentleman he was, he held out his hand and helped me in.  I stumbled a bit and he made to catch me even though I wasn't falling.  It was just a ruse, though, because in that move he kissed me, mouths exploring each other with urgency.  My mind melted with the love of it, and I didn't want to leave then, just continue what we were doing, no more, no less.

But he pushed me away and smiled. Nothing else was said.  We left the room, went downstairs.  I only said goodbye as I left and his mother returned the farewell, but not with the usual sweetness as she did.  I wasn't sure what that was about, but I paid it no mind.

I gave one last look to R_____ and smiled as I left.

---

As I walked home, I thought about what had just happened.  I knew I was going to have to investigate this bible verse myself, even though it would be a couple more years before I took anything from the Bible seriously.  But at the time, I just wanted to know what it was that hurt R_____ so badly.  Maybe there was a verse that came after that threatened him with torture in Hell or something.  

I had no idea.

One thing was for certain, whatever it was that was to come, I was going to face it with him.  Or perhaps I was willing to face it *for* him.  I didn't know, and I didn't care.  I *was* going to face it.  

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