MY FAVORITE MONTH IN OHIO was September which started off with a lingering heat from August but teased the promise of fall weather with every passing day. September was the start of football, hoodie, and pumpkin spice season, and although I loved all of those things, nothing made me happier than the beginning of the Queen City Rogues Bowling League mid-September of each year. I couldn’t remember a time I was more excited about the team I assembled. This time last year Andy was still pining after Milo, the Frat Boys “had better things to do,” and I hadn’t met Keeton or Milo, who was the best bowler out of us.
So, every Tuesday, I had an extra pep in my step because it was bowling night, but on this particular Tuesday, I was extra peppy with excitement for our first league night. I wasn’t going to let anything bring me down, not even missing Archie.
I’d honored his wishes and stayed away from Queen City Divas on Wednesday evenings and stopped calling or texting him. I tried to delete his number from my phone at least two dozen times over the lonely month of separation, but I couldn’t do it. I wish I could say my dreams and fantasies about him disappeared too, but a pastor didn’t lie. I might crave the touch of a man who didn’t want me, and sometimes the numbness an illicit substance could give me, but I wouldn’t lie about their existence. I wouldn’t say my craving for one fueled the desire for the other, but they were equally as powerful, and both would cause me irreparable harm if I gave in. It was best if I just left well enough alone and avoided running into him.
“Hello, is this Pastor Oliver Knight?” asked a timid voice when I answered my cell phone.
“Yes, this is Pastor Ollie. How can I help you?” I was expecting the man to ask about NA meetings, but it wasn’t the reason for his call.
“Is HIV a plague God has placed on gay men? Does he hate me?”
I have to say the question caught me by surprise, not because I hadn’t heard the claims before, but because the man sounded so fearful of my answer. I knew this was a pivotal moment in the man’s life, and I couldn’t mess it up. I needed to speak with conviction, not only to reaffirm my beliefs but maybe to help him believe too. I didn’t expect my answer to be a cure-all, but maybe a step away from the ledge.
“What’s your name?” I asked gently.
“I…um—” His words broke off like he was afraid to tell me.
“You don’t have to say, or you can just give me your first name if you like.”
“My name is Henry, Pastor Ollie.”
“Henry, HIV isn’t a plague God has placed on gay men, and he most certainly doesn’t hate you.”
“My mother doesn’t agree, Pastor Ollie.”
“Forgive my boldness, but your mother sounds like an ignorant woman. Does your mother have the direct phone number to dial up God in heaven?”
“Uh, she believes her Bible is her direct line to God.”
“Perhaps she’s not interpreting the scripture correctly, or perhaps some ignoramus has done his or her part to guide your mother in the wrong direction. To me, misrepresenting God’s love is the biggest sin of all.”
“How do you know God loves me?”
“Let’s pretend the scripture doesn’t spell it out, even though it does. I know God loves you, a gay man, because he loves me. I feel his love in my life; it uplifts me and gives me hope. If God hadn’t wanted gay people, then there wouldn’t be gay people.”
“So, he wants war and cancer and serial killers too?”
“Are you honestly comparing healthy, loving relationships between consenting adults to war, cancer, and serial killers? Do you think that’s an apple-to-apple comparison, Henry? I sure don’t.”
“Okay, you make a good point, but you didn’t necessarily answer my question.”
“Well, it’s not an easy question to answer.”
“So, you don’t have an answer then. You’re like my mom who spouts her beliefs without anything to back them up.”
“No, I do have answers, Henry. Its just not something I can surmise in a few sentences. Are you willing to sit down and talk to me in person?” I felt Henry needed more than just a phone conversation. It felt like he was on the verge of…giving up. “I can meet you anywhere, and I’ll bring coffee, tea, or anything you’d like to drink.”
“Um, I don’t know,” Henry answered after a long pause. “I feel silly.”
“Were you recently diagnosed with HIV or did you just recently inform your mother?”
“New diagnosis and I came out to her because of it,” he said softly.
“Henry, it’s very possible she’ll come around once the news has time to settle.”
“Not likely, Pastor Ollie. Her preacher advised her to throw me out so she wouldn’t catch it too. Do you believe people are still so ignorant?”
“Unfortunately. I’m also aware of how ignorant many clergymen are when it comes to homosexuality and HIV. Listen, Henry, I don’t want you to feel like I’m going to pressure you into believing something you don’t want to, and I don’t have a prepared sermon to share with you. I will, however, offer you friendship and an ear to bend. I’m a great listener. I also know of some excellent support groups which can help you. I know receiving an HIV diagnosis is scary, but it is not a death sentence, Henry. You can live a long, happy life as long as you do what your doctors tell you to.”
“Wow, you sound a lot like Dr. Kent.”
“Dr. Kent probably wants you to live your best life, and I know I do.”
“Why? You don’t even know me?”
“I would like to know you if you’ll let me.”
“I don’t own a car, but I have a few dollars left to take a cab or hire a Lyft.”
“I’ll come to you,” I assured him. “Save your money. All I need from you is the location you’d like to meet and what you’d like to drink. It doesn’t have to be a warm beverage. I’m sure there’s a coffee house near you, and I can bring you an iced coffee or one of those frozen, flavored numbers.”
“Claire’s is around the corner from where I’m staying. She makes the best white chocolate mocha and banana nut muffins.” I heard the wistfulness in his voice and decided to add the muffins to the order. Henry rattled off his address, and I jotted it down on a sticky note pad I found hidden under the open Bible on my desk.
“I’ll be there within the hour, Henry. I’m just wrapping up the sermon I’m planning for Sunday.”
“Okay.” I detected a note of uncertainty like maybe he thought I wouldn’t show up. I’d prove him wrong and show him some people could be counted on.
I set my phone aside and finished my sermon notes within thirty minutes then started out the door to meet Henry. I looked at my reflection in the mirror as I passed it by and worried the stark black shirt and clergy collar might put Henry off and make him feel uncomfortable. I changed out of my church clothes and put on a pair of soft, weathered jeans and a cream flannel shirt with various shades of blue crisscrossing with thin lines of deep purple and pale aqua. It was the softest shirt I owned and my favorite. My outfit said I was a man like any other rather than an uptight clergyman sent from heaven to be judge, jury, and executioner. I wanted to put Henry at ease, not make him feel worse than he already did. I hoped to find out the name of his mother’s preacher by the end of our conversation so I could send the impostor a scathing letter.
Claire’s wasn’t too busy at two o’clock in the afternoon; I was in and out in fifteen minutes or less with a salted caramel mocha for me, a white chocolate mocha for Henry, and a dozen mixed muffins for us to nibble on. I’d leave the extras for Henry because the last thing I needed was to wolf down half a dozen muffins or more. I didn’t google the property owner of the address Henry gave me, but I recognized it as a residential area. I wished I’d done my homework when I parked my car in front of the large, two-story structure and saw the wooden sign in the yard that said: Ryan’s Place.
“Lord, help me,” I said out loud. What exactly did I want the lord to do? Give me strength not to make a fool of myself in front of Archie by popping an erection or dropping to my knees and begging him for…anything?
I promised Henry I would meet with him, and I would never go back on my word. It didn’t mean my palms weren’t sweaty enough to drop the drink carrier as I made my way up the sidewalk leading to the house or prevent me from nearly tripping on the final step before I reached the porch. I inhaled a calming breath and slowly exhaled before I rang the doorbell. I tried to convince myself I didn’t want Archie to answer the door, but the disappointment when an older lady opened the door proved how wrong I was.
“You must be Pastor Ollie,” she said cheerfully. She was the tiniest thing. I bet she wasn’t even five feet tall, yet the joy and happiness she radiated made her seem like a giant. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“What gave me away?” I asked, looking down at my clothes.
“The goodness in your character. Henry called in a time of need, and you answered. Please come in. I’m Mrs. Grimaldi, but you can call me Esther or even Mrs. G if you’d like.”
“Thank you, Esther.”
The great hall was neat and tidy with polished wood floors, a warm, soft gray paint on the walls, and a staircase leading to the second story. Esther led me past the stairs toward the back of the first floor. We passed two large, open rooms on either side of the long hall. One was a large dining room featuring two rectangular tables with eight chairs tucked around each one. The other appeared to be a living room with older furniture that looked both comfortable and inviting, or at least, the three men lounging around watching a popular soap opera helped give it the appearance.
“She’s going to take the asshole back,” one of them said.
“Of course she is,” the other two replied.
Esther snorted when she overheard the conversation but kept on walking, so none of the men were Henry. We passed two closed doors with signs that read: Private Residence and Manager’s Office. I knew the two rooms across the hall from each other were Archie’s private domain without asking Esther. The urge to open the doors and discover something about the tempting man was strong, but I wouldn’t invade his privacy.
As I expected, Esther took me to a cozy kitchen with cheerful yellow walls, white cabinets, and modern appliances. “This is my domain,” she proudly said. “I retired from nursing five years ago after more than forty-two years on a hospital floor. It turned out you could take this old nurse out of the hospital, but you couldn’t take the nurturer out of this old nurse. I got to spend three wonderful years devoting all my love and attention on my Morty before he passed away.” She gestured for me to take a seat at the small table tucked in the corner, so I did. “It was about the same time Ryan passed away, leaving this big ole house to his friend, Archie. I’d never seen such opposite friends in all my life, but their friendship was a work of beauty. I still feel their connection every day when I walk in here.”
“You work here every day?” I asked. The lady had to be pushing seventy years old.
“I volunteer here six days a week, only taking Sunday off. I love fixing the food and helping take care of these boys, and they need nurturing and love. It keeps me young. Archie won’t allow me to do any of the cleaning or laundry, but I do oversee the tasks to make sure it’s done properly.”
“He’s lucky to have you.”
“I’ll go upstairs and get Henry for you. I’m pretty sure he’d convinced himself you weren’t coming.”
“I suspected he felt that way. I hope he’ll learn to trust me in time.”
“I’m glad he called you, Pastor Ollie. You’re a good man.”
“Please just call me Ollie,” I told her.
I pulled my cup of coffee out of the carrier and took a sip. Suddenly finding myself alone in the kitchen gave me too much time to think. I hoped it didn’t take Esther long to coax Henry downstairs, and I also hoped Archie wasn’t home because running into him on his turf wouldn’t go over well.
Luckily, Henry came downstairs within a few minutes, smiling tentatively at me when I stood up and extended my hand to him in greeting. “Please have a seat.” I removed his drink from the carrier and set it down in front of the empty seat across from me. “I brought a dozen muffins, none of which I’ll be taking home with me.”
“Mind you don’t ruin your appetite,” Esther said from somewhere nearby.
“Yes, Mrs. G,” Henry replied then lowered his voice. “No one messes with the woman who enforces the house rules.”
“You bet they don’t,” Esther said boldly. “Reggie, don’t mix your dark work pants with your white clothes. You’ll end up with light blue underwear and shirts and tie-dyed socks.” By supervising the laundry tasks, she meant teaching the residents how to do it properly themselves.
“No one is going to see my underwear and socks, Mrs. G,” Reggie said dryly.
“Not with your negative attitude,” she admonished affectionately.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“See,” Henry said, nodding his head in the direction of where the voices were coming from. I must’ve missed the door to the laundry room because I was too busy wondering what Archie’s office and bedroom looked like.
“Okay,” I said after another drink. “You had questions about war, cancer, and serial killers.”
“Not really,” Henry said then shrugged. “I can see it was a silly comparison. I mean, wars are the result of actions and paths people choose, we could discuss whether cancer is genetic, environmental, or both all day long, and serial killers are psychotic and in a class all their own. Being gay isn’t a choice, it isn’t environmental, it could be genetic, but it isn’t the result of a mental disorder.”
“We agree one hundred percent,” I told him. “Did you spend a lot of time in church growing up?”
“I did,” he said, nodding. “I loved the positive messages of love, hope, and helping people in need. I didn’t like the fire and brimstone messages though. If you listened to Preacher Daily, you’d think everyone was forging a blazing path to hell except him and his precious family. I feel bad for his son.”
I knew just who he was talking about because Preacher Daily and I had gone numerous rounds over the past few years. It seemed we’d be going another round soon. “Your sympathy lies with his son because…?” I let the sentence hang, hoping he’d pick it up.
“His son is as gay as I am. He was my first boyfriend, although a secret one.”
“I see.” I suspected as much when I met with the volatile preacher at his church, and his son stepped between us to keep the verbal altercation from becoming a physical one. I had no intention of hitting the preacher and would’ve called the police had he struck me as he’d threatened to do. His son’s hands seemed to linger on my biceps longer than was required after his father backed down.
“Geoff is a good guy, but he’ll never be free as long as his family is in the picture.”
“You’ve stayed friends?”
“We have, even after I told him I was HIV positive.”
“Did you think there was a chance he was positive also?” I asked.
“No,” Henry said, shaking his head. “I just needed to hear a friendly voice to silence the hateful ones I’d heard. That’s why I decided to call you.”
“Geoff gave you my number?” I asked.
“No, I did.”
I pivoted in my chair and found Archie leaning in the doorway. He wore gray sweatpants low on his narrow hips, a T-shirt with a unicorn on the front, and nothing on his feet. I’d never found bare feet sexy until then. Archie watched me with an unreadable expression in his nearly iridescent, green eyes.
“Hello, Pastor Ollie,” he said coolly.