Burns knew there was going to be trouble when his mother brought out the good tablecloth. “Are we having a get-together?” he asked with a hesitant voice.

She smoothed the cloth down with the flat of her hand. “Just a little one. Not a big party, don’t you worry!”

Too late. He was already worried. “Who’s coming over?”

She didn’t look at him, just smiled down at the table. “A few friends from church. Grover and Maggie Pelham. Oh, and Reverend Ron and Delia!”

“Again with Delia? I thought we agreed you were going to give that up.”

She put the two wooden candlesticks in the middle of the table, then wrinkled her brow, and replaced them with the faux crystal ones. “Give what up? Reverend Ron is a family friend. Why can’t I have my friends over? You certainly see yours enough.”

Yeah, and if you did with Reverend Ron what Karl did to me last night, I would need therapy for a thousand fucking years.

The drive home last night had been utterly silent. What could he say after that? When the aftershocks of his orgasm had worn away, while Karl had come down and lay with him in the reclined driver’s seat, Burns had realized they hadn’t solved anything, not really. The fight was still there, it was just hidden.

It gave him a fear, deep in the pit of his stomach. Maybe I am not ready for this, no matter how right it feels.

Now, watching his mother arrange the place-mats, this terrible urgency came over him.

Tell her. Tell her now.

“You understand Delia and I aren’t going to get together,” he said.

She brushed him aside and began to set chargers around. “I’m your mother, Tommy, not your match-maker. If you don’t like Delia, what can I do?”

“You could stop having her and Reverend Ron over every five minutes.”

She looked up from her work and sighed. “This is an apology dinner, Tommy. You won’t stop breaking the girl’s heart.”

“Oh my god. Does she tell her dad everything that happens between us?”

“Twice now you have walked out on her. Even if you don’t feel a spark, that’s just wrong.”

He gripped the back of a chair. What was wrong with that family? What was wrong with his, for that matter? If he could keep a secret for years and years, why couldn’t Delia keep her mouth shut about these meetings? She hadn’t seemed heart-broken. She had all but demanded he come out to her, using her trauma over her religious upbringing as a hook to draw him out.

Why would she tell Ron about that?

Maybe he forced her. She seemed strong and confident, but how did things work in that family, when the door was closed? Did he threaten her, if she didn’t tell him about Burns? Did he make demands, tell her she was a bad daughter, a sinner, bound for hell?

Burns couldn’t imagine. There had to be some reason this kept coming up.

All he knew was, it was interfering in his life. Maybe, if she and the reverend weren’t involved, it would be easier to tell his mother the truth about Karl.

Or maybe you’re just so scared of what she’ll do, that you’ll use any excuse to put it off.

“Can Karl come tonight?”

She frowned. “Certainly not.”

“He and Delia get along. It’ll give us somebody to talk to who isn’t a hundred years old.”

“Why do you do this to me, Tommy? Why can’t you just be a good son?”

It was like twisting the knife. Everything I’ve ever done was to be the good son. You keep pushing it further and further, asking more and more.

That’s why he knew he couldn’t tell her.

* * *

“Thank you,” he said to Karl. There was a moment’s hesitation between them. The natural thing would be to kiss him hello. Touch his hand, hug him, show some sign of connection. Karl glanced past Burns into the room of people.

“Was I supposed to bring something?”

“Come in.”

“I might burst into flame. Your mom agreed to this?”

“I didn’t give her a choice.”

“Brave man.”

There were the usual mildly uncomfortable introductions. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Pelham, from my mom’s church.” Nothing too horrible, just the usual stress of bringing together two generations that had no interest in each other.

“And where do you go to church?” asked Mrs. Pelham.

Burns froze up, terrified of Karl’s answer, please don’t lecture them, please don’t tell them religion is the opiate of the masses, please don’t say anything. His brain scrambled trying to find some way to short-circuit this line of conversation, some way to change the topic.

“We go to First Methodist,” said Karl with a warm smile.

“Oh, we know people there, don’t we Grover? Anna Link and her husband?”

“Yup, my mom is good friends with Mrs. Link,” said Karl.

It was like looking in a fucking funhouse mirror. Karl, calm and assured amongst people who should have been the enemy.

Why isn’t he torn apart by this? Doesn’t he know all the traps that are being laid for us tonight? Doesn’t he feel the stress?

“Karl Bowden,” said Burns’ mom, “I swear I only see you when I’m laying out a dinner party.”

“I hope you saved me a plate,” he said.

Burns wanted to scream, When did you all become friends? His mom hated Karl, yet here she was, giving him a tray to set out on the coffee table.

It made his stomach twist inside. He’d asked Karl here to protect him from his family. Not to join with them.

The doorbell rang and his heart sank.

His eyes met Karl’s. Do you feel it? Give me a signal. Tell me you feel this tension in the air.

“There you are!” said his mom, opening the door for Reverend Ron and Delia.

“Just like old times,” said Ron.

Delia glanced at Burns, her face unmoving. Oh shit, she can’t be mad at me. Why would she be mad at me?

She brightened when she saw Karl. “I can’t believe they still let you in to Chez Burns!”

“They like me just fine, as long as I don’t say anything. Or do anything. Or breathe too much,” said Karl, accepting a kiss on the cheek from her.

That should be me kissing you, not her, thought Burns.

“Excuse me a second,” he said, and headed toward the stairs.

Before he got halfway up, Karl was at the foot of the stairs, looking up at him.

“Don’t do it,” Karl said softly.

Burns looked back down. “Do what?”

Karl glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “Don’t drink the stress away. It’s not good for you.”

“That’s not what I—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. They both knew it would end up being a lie. Why not? I lie about everything else.

He came back down the stairs.

“Why don’t you tell me why I’m here?” asked Karl, his voice almost inaudible.

“Moral support. I can’t be in the same room as these people anymore. Every look they give me, it’s like it stabs me in the heart. Like they know.”

Karl put his hand on Burns’ arm. “If they know, then there’s no problem. You see that, don’t you? Once they know, this burden is off your shoulders.”

“Dude, I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“I support you. Even Delia supports you, although she’s been shooting daggers at you since she walked in. You could do it. Doesn’t have to be a big deal. By the way, Karl’s my boyfriend.”

“When are you going to understand I can’t do that? Especially not in the middle of my mom’s dinner party?”

“Ooh, are you telling secrets?” asked Delia, who had noticed their conversation and come over. “You’re like two spies over here.”

Burns attempted a smile. “No secrets here.”

“I have a little bet with myself,” she said. “Now that you can’t run away from a conversation with me, I bet you’ll suddenly fall ill or have to run an errand. Anything to get away from me.”

“Awkward!” said Karl, nudging Burns as though it were all a big joke. Delia might not have seen the pain in Karl’s eyes, but Burns did.

“Dinner is served!” said Mrs. Burns.

* * *

“We’re bringing back the summer camp ministry,” said Ron, lifting his glass. “I’ve really missed having the boys out at the campground every year.”

“Trust me, the girls miss having the boys gone too,” said Delia to polite laughter around the table.

“But that’s wonderful,” said Mrs. Burns. “Summer camp did a world of good for Tommy, didn’t it?”

“It sure seemed to,” said Ron, looking down the table at Burns. “Although maybe he needs a recharge.”

Beneath the table, Karl’s foot touched his. Just a little touch. A show of support.

“Maybe Tommy ought to come to the camp as a counselor,” said his dad. “Keep him from lying around all summer.”

“Now that’s an idea,” said Ron.

My whole life, people have been talking about me, instead of to me. I’ve always been a problem to solve. Something someone needs to do something about.

Beside him, Karl seemed to have lost some of that polite ease. His lips were pressed together, as he looked down at his plate, spearing a circle of carrot.

“Burns as a camp counselor?” said Delia. “You don’t think he’d have all the kids feeling slow and inadequate? He’s so big and muscular.”

“Boys love that,” said Ron. “Gives them someone to look up to. Something to aspire to.”

“That’s such a good idea,” said his mom. “That’s just what you need, Tommy.”

“I don’t think I could be a camp counselor,” he said. “I hated camp growing up.”

His mother said, “Oh, but you were so different then, growing out of all your clothes because of being stout. We had to look for husky boys’ clothing, as they called it back then.”

That made Delia laugh. “See, Burns? You could inspire other husky boys.”

Karl’s foot was firmly pressed against his now. The glance Karl gave him was heavy with meaning.

They’re talking about my past like they don’t know what happened. Maybe no one does. Maybe no one at this table understands what that camp was for, other than me, and Ron, and Karl.

Grover Pelham spoke up. “I remember that little Lewis boy, you remember him, Maggie? Little prissy thing?”

“Oh my, the Lewis boy. He could have used that camp,” said Mrs. Pelham. “Always prancing around…you know.”

She cast a significant look around the table.

“You ever get one of those boys in the camp, Reverend?” asked Mr. Pelham. “Little sissy boy like that?”

Ron didn’t look over at Burns. Nobody looked at Burns at all.

“I believe, if he’d come to our camp, we could’ve made a man out of him,” said Ron. “The devil lays many traps in a young boy’s way. Many temptations. We can’t remove Satan’s snares, but we can teach young men to recognize them, and give them what they need to resist them.”

“What’s your success rate with that?” asked Karl.

Burns froze in place, his hand still clutching his fork. Karl, no.

“Pardon me, Karl?” asked Ron.

“I mean, we’re talking about gay kids, right? I’m not misunderstanding? Sending gay kids to a camp, so they come out straight again?”

Everyone at the table suddenly looked very, very uncomfortable. Except Delia, who sat there with a smile of delight on her face.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that at the table,” said Mrs. Burns. “It’s not polite.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. You’re right. It’s just…do you know what that does to people? You, Reverend, do you understand? You’re talking about conversion therapy, ex-gay therapy.”

“I’m talking about bringing misled young boys back to the Lord,” said Ron. “I don’t believe that anyone is born gay, or whatever you would like to call it. It’s no different than alcoholism, an addiction to something harmful. We have to love the sinner, help him get past it, and the best time to do that is when they’re young.”

Burns grabbed Karl’s wrist. “Chill out, man,” he whispered.

“Dude, I am not going to chill out. What he’s describing is dangerous. Are you kidding me? Do any of you realize what that does to a kid? To be told that some fundamental part of you is broken, and that you’ve got to try as hard as you can to fix it, but if you can’t fix it, it’s your own fault? But it’s like trying to change being left-handed. The kid is inevitably going to fail, because he’s trying to fix a part of himself there’s nothing wrong with.”

A pained silence fell over the table. No one would look at Karl for a while. Finally Mrs. Pelham spoke up and said, “These potatoes are delicious.”

But Reverend Ron wasn’t backing off either. “Tell me this, Karl. You seem to know an awful lot about the subject. Do you have personal knowledge of it?”

Oh shit, no, no. Karl, please calm down, don’t answer.

“Jesus, Dad!” said Delia.

“Don’t you use the Lord’s name in vain,” he said to her. “What about it, Karl? You have some stake here? Why do you care if we try to help these kids, to save them from being homosexual?”

Karl lifted his napkin to his lips. He turned his head, looking at every person around the table, before returning the napkin to its place beside his plate.

“I care because you’re killing them. I care because you’re taking little boys who are confused, finding themselves in a world that doesn’t understand or support them, and you’re offering them a false choice: Change something you cannot change, or suffer the fires of hell. I care because I was one of those little boys, and if my parents had believed anything like you’re preaching, I’m not sure I would have made it to adulthood.”

“What did he say?” asked Mr. Pelham.

“I think he’s saying he’s a gay,” said Mrs. Pelham.

“I thought he was a Methodist!”

“Would anyone care for more potatoes?” asked Mrs. Burns, her cheeks burning red.

“Holy shit,” Burns muttered under his breath.

Reverend Ron had scented blood, and now he was coming in for the kill.

“Karl, there’s room in the kingdom of heaven for even one such as you.”

“Really? But only if I give up who I am, right? If I give up who I love?”

“Love? Boy, you don’t know what love is. Love is between a man and a woman. What you’ve had so far is nothing but a sick shadow of that, a mockery of what God set up back in the Garden of Eden.”

“I don’t know what love is,” repeated Karl. He glanced at Burns.

Please god no, Burns thought. Can’t you let it drop?

“What’s your take on all this, Burns? You went to Ron’s camps, didn’t you? Do you think a gay kid might benefit?”

He said, “Dude, please leave me out of this.”

“Leave you out of it? Are you sure? Because your preacher there is making some pretty strong points about me, and I just thought, if you’re my best friend—”

“Don’t drag Tommy into all this!” cried his mom.

“Maybe we should go,” said Delia. She was no longer enjoying this either.

“No, I would like to hear what Tommy has to say about this!” said Karl. “I would like for Tommy to say what he believes. Right here, in front of everybody: What do you believe, Burns?”

“Fuck this,” said Burns, pushing his chair back.

“Tommy! Language!” said his mom.

He wanted to say something to her, to all of them, to tell them to stay the hell out of his business, out of his life, but he felt tongue-tied by anger, so furious that he couldn’t speak. He left the dining room.

Karl caught up with him on the stairs. “Burns, I’m sorry.”

Burns spun and faced him. “No you’re not. You did that on purpose. You engineered it.”

“What the fuck?”

“I invited you here to defend me. To run interference, because I can’t handle this topic being talked about. But you just saw it as a way to push me into coming out. Admit it.”

“Dude, he started talking about his fucking camp, he’s going to be hurting kids—”

“And you’re hurting me!” His whisper was harsh. “Stop pushing me to do something I’m not ready for!”

“Stop being such a goddamn scaredy-cat!”

“Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you. You’ve never had to be scared a day in your life. You’re so fucking confident, aren’t you? You’ve got all the answers. You know what’s best for everybody in the fucking world. When are you going to get it through your head, Karl, that you don’t know anything? You grew up in this comfortable little bubble where everybody loved you and took care of you, where nobody cared about any of this shit. You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand? If you would just tell them, then you could deal with their reaction, instead of just fearing their reaction your whole life!”

“It’s not your business to order me around, dude. This isn’t your life, it’s not your family. You don’t get to lay down the law.”

Maybe it was his words. Maybe it was his tone. But something he did had an effect on Karl, because he’d never seen this look on Karl’s face before.

A look of defeat. Shoulders slumped, face expressionless and tired.

A slow nod. “You’re right, Burns. You win. I was out of line.”

“Thank you. If you would just listen—”

“I’m sorry for ruining your night. I’ll go home now.”

“Come on, don’t be like that. We’ll get through it. I’ll go apologize to everybody, that’s just Karl the hot-head, and then tomorrow we can—”

But Karl shook his head. “There isn’t a tomorrow, dude.”

“What…what do you mean?”

“This isn’t healthy. Not for you, not for me. I was so fucking excited when it started happening between us…but everybody was right, I wasn’t paying attention, I wasn’t protecting myself from getting hurt.”

His heart freezing over, he said, “Everybody was right? Christ, Karl, who did you tell?”

“That’s it, right there. You’re always going to hide. That’s fine. It’s your life, your decision. But that means we can’t be together, because I’m not going to hide, Burns. What I felt for you was so special, it would be a sin to hide it.”

“Wait, come on now, let’s go get a beer and talk this over.”

The smile Karl gave him was so sad it made Burns want to weep. Karl reached out, grabbed his shoulders. “We’re past talking. Have a good life, Burns. I hope you figure out a way to be happy.”

In the stunned silence, as he watched Karl walk out the front door, he could not move. Could not reach out, as much as he wanted to. Could not say a word.

The door closed, and the only man he’d ever loved was lost from him, forever.

At some point he realized Delia had come to stand beside him. “Burns,” she said, “I am so, so sorry.”