NINE

 

Most people probably didn’t go on their first date when they were his age. It was probably a little bit pathetic that he had waited this long, but the truth was, until Will, Judah had sort of just assumed that it wasn’t going to happen for him. That no one would ever even know Judah was into men at all, that he would quietly grow old in the church and that it would be his family and his life as well as his work.

And now, here was Will, asking him out. It was a date, right? Judah was hardly going to claim to be the expert on that sort of thing, but it sort of seemed like a date to him. He had no idea what people wore on dates, though. It was rare that he wore anything but the black dress pants and the Roman collar.

He did have some other clothes, though he felt sinful and strange as he pulled on the gray-blue shirt that he’d had for years, since before he had been ordained. Looking in the mirror, Judah thought it was strange to see that he looked nothing like a minister, nothing like anything but a normal man, nearing thirty, not the sort of person who would stick out in most places, he thought.

Well, that was the hope. He needed to fly under the radar if he was going to be dating someone from the town, and it was strange how that thought got to him, made his heart flutter uncomfortably. Dating. What would everyone say? Maybe that didn’t matter much since no one would ever know.

But what would Stephen say? The child would have no idea, probably wouldn’t even think it possible, that his pastor and his father were together, if he and Will could even be called that. Would they have to tell Stephen? Eventually? Judah shook his head. He was borrowing trouble, and he had quite enough of that already.

No one would find out anything, not with how careful they were both being. It was actually pretty touching, how Will was respecting him so much on this. There had never been any pressure from him to talk about whatever was going on between them, and maybe that was just because Will didn’t want other people to know, but Judah still appreciated it.

Neither of them was picking the other up, for instance. The town was small, and there was always the chance that someone would see it happen. If that did happen, it would be all over town in about ten seconds flat, so they had arranged to meet in Austin, a big enough city that the chances of them running into anyone they knew were negligible, but it was still close enough for them to both get there easily.

Was it normal to feel this flutter in his stomach, for his mouth to be desert dry, for his heart to pound? It was November, and not all that warm, for Texas, anyway, but Judah felt his palms sweating against the steering wheel. It got worse and worse until he wondered if maybe he shouldn’t just call Will, he had his number now, and tell him that something had come up. Or be more honest with him, tell him it couldn’t work.

Because it couldn’t, but he had the sense that Will knew that, anyway.

He parked his car outside the restaurant where he and Will had arranged to meet, and then all of his uncertainty faded away. He was still nervous, but not in the same sick, almost panicky way, like his guts were trying to crawl out of him through his mouth, as he had been before.

Will was there, waiting outside, dressed casually but nicely in a dark red shirt that made his eyes darker and his pale skin almost seem to glow. Even through the barrier of the car window, Judah felt the connection of their eyes as Will glanced up as if he had somehow known that Judah was looking at him. Slowly, Judah got out of the car, and Will came to him, a slight smile of welcome on his face that Judah knew Will didn’t just give anyone. In fact, Will so often looked grim and stern, Judah could only imagine that he was a teacher both feared and respected by his students.

But there was another side to him, a side that got through all of Judah’s own defenses. He had always prided himself on being a good minister, someone who would listen without judgment, but the relationship between himself and the members of his congregation was a one-sided one. He gave, he listened, but he always held something of himself back.

So then, how had Will gotten to him? Judah shook his head as he went to him, as he, feeling daring, took Will’s hands in his own and squeezed them lightly, right out on the street where anyone could see.

He half expected people to stare, or maybe to say something. But he’d always heard that Austin was a pretty progressive place, and no one showed much interest. A few curious glances, but that was about it.

How very strange.

“Hey,” Will greeted him, and Judah nodded, swallowing nervously. But Will didn’t take offense at his silence, and they turned together, Will’s hand warm and sweet on the small of Judah’s back as Will guided him into the restaurant.

Was this normal? This way of feeling good about himself, benevolent about the world in general, just because of that sweet hand on the small of his back? The way Will opened the door for him and guided him in?

The restaurant was nice, if a bit trendy, but to Judah, it seemed to almost sparkle. Will could have probably taken him for fast food and Judah would have loved every moment of it. As they were seated, Judah slid his foot under the table and let it brush against Will’s, giving him a small smile.

There was some small talk, but not much, and neither of them was that good at it, really. It died down quickly, and once the meal was ordered, Judah found himself utterly at a loss for what to say. The times they had been together before, it had been secret and brief, and there had been a lot more kissing and groping involved.

“I have to ask you something,” Will finally admitted, “and it’s probably going to come off as pretty rude, so I apologize in advance.”

Judah tilted his head to the side, looking at him curiously. How could he not be curious? That was definitely an interesting way to introduce a conversational topic, but that just intrigued Judah, who had been accused of being pretty blunt himself.

“Go ahead,” he allowed, his foot still pressed against Will’s. It was like he needed to have some sort of connection between them, like part of him couldn’t believe that he was here with Will on a date at all.

“Why a minister?”

Maybe he should have expected that. In fact, he almost certainly should have, since Will had never made a secret of how he felt about the church. Judah frowned, not because he was upset, but rather because he was trying to figure out how to put it into words.

“It’s a calling,” he said slowly. “I imagine it’s a lot like how you feel called to teach. You could be making a lot more money doing something else because you’re clearly brilliant, but it wouldn’t fulfill you in the same way, right?”

He was making a guess. He actually couldn’t be sure, because he had never seen Will teaching, but when Will talked about it, his eyes lit up and sparked with satisfaction, deep joy. So it was a guess, but call it an educated one.

“Right, but you seem so smart. So reasonable. I guess it just doesn’t make sense to me.”

Judah considered that and then sighed softly.

“My parents, I guess they started the whole thing. But they thought I’d be a bit more …” His voice trailed off as he tried to think of how to put this delicately. “A bit more like how you seemed to assume I would be.”

Which was putting it mildly. He could have said other words. Rabid. Intolerant. Unforgiving. Rigid. But how could he say those things to this man who was already looking at him with judgment in his eyes?

“So your parents pushed you into it?” Will seemed eager to grasp onto the explanation, but Judah just shook his head and sighed softly.

“No. It might be easier if they had so that I could walk away. But I really do feel like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.” And he did. It was just, as a gay man, he wouldn’t have chosen to be nearly as inexperienced as he was. He had always kept himself away from temptation because he was going to have to be alone for his life.

So he’d always assumed.

Will was silent, and Judah looked at him, trying to read the expression on his face. Was this topic always going to be such a sore one between them? Would Will be able to forgive Judah for something which Judah wasn’t even seeking forgiveness about?

“Is there a reason it bothers you so much?” Judah finally came right out and asked. Subtle wasn’t his strong point, and he could mostly keep his mouth shut, but this was bugging him, niggling at him, a little too much for him to be able to let it go.

“Your religion?” Will asked, but he was continuing before Judah even nodded his agreement. “I suppose I just believe in reason. Logic. I don’t have faith.”

Judah frowned a little bit. To him, something about that rang false, and he couldn’t have even said why. There was this slight slipperiness, a glassiness, to the surface of Will’s eyes, which could look so warm and welcoming but seemed reserved at the moment. Will was evading him, and Judah shook his head a little.

It was true, he was sure of it, but at the same time, it was usually a good idea to be a little bit cautious before you outright called someone a liar. Years of people coming to him to talk had given him a sort of sense for these things.

“Is that all it is?” Judah asked carefully. Will looked at him sharply, and for a moment, Judah was certain that he had gone too far, that Will might actually leave the restaurant and call off their date right now. But Judah couldn’t help who he was.

Anyway, then Will relaxed a little, and very slowly, he shook his head. He looked at Judah, and maybe Judah was getting better at reading him because he could almost swear that he was able to tell what Will was thinking.

Can I trust him?

Judah sensed it was a tricky question for Will because he obviously didn’t trust very many people. But all Judah could do was wait and see what side of the fence Will came out on, and meanwhile, he sipped at his drink and tried to be patient. He barely knew Will, really, and forcing confidences never worked.

“No. That’s not all.” Will sighed and then there was a silence which seemed to stretch on forever, because it was right then that the waiter brought them their meals with that supreme lack of good timing which seemed to be something that went along with the job. Finally, the guy left, leaving them alone together with this moment that felt both excruciating as well as deeply important.

Judah didn’t speak. He wouldn’t have spoken for anything in the world, not until Will finished.

“My ex. Stephen’s father. He was, well, the sort of Christian that I think would get along pretty well with your parents.”

Judah blinked, startled. Had he given that much away? He hadn’t meant to, but at the same time, it wasn’t exactly the biggest surprise in the world that Will had noticed that. He seemed to pick up the subtle layers which lay under the most seemingly insane of statements, his gaze pitiless, but not cold.

It was like being under a microscope.

Meanwhile, Will was continuing, and Judah picked at his food, which was nothing short of exquisite. But he only barely tasted it, utterly enthralled, fascinated, by the man sitting across from him.

“He was ashamed of me. It was sort of a mess. I overlooked it, and then, when Stephen was born—we used a surrogate—Jack started drinking.”

It was, undoubtedly, the most intimate thing that Will had ever said to him. The story of his past, or part of it, anyway, a part that he had kept locked up tightly until now. More than anything, Judah wanted to say something. Something brilliant and insightful, something that would take away some of the pain which it was far too clear that Will was feeling.

He had nothing. In the course of his job, he had counseled numerous people. There, he had known what to do, but in every single last one of those cases, those people who he could barely remember, most of them, he had always had a sort of protective layer over himself. It had always made it easier to do his job.

With Will, he didn’t have that. No barrier at all and that robbed Judah of his speech. So he did the only thing he could think of to do. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and even though he had always been the one to push the secrecy thing, he reached out and took Will’s hand over the table, squeezing it lightly.

No one here knew them, but the truth was, Judah might have done it even if the whole town had shown up. Will was suffering, and that wasn’t something that Will, Judah knew, shared lightly.

Will squeezed his hand back, and Judah knew that he had made the right call.

 

* * *

The movie was over, and Judah couldn’t have actually told anyone what it had been about. He had been sitting there, physically present, for the whole thing, but it had all flown over his head. It had been a comedy, and the other people in the theater had been laughing, so it was probably a pretty decent one, but Judah couldn’t have cared less.

Early on, Will took his hand, and Judah sat in the darkness and tried to figure out how he had been missing this for so long. How he had even been getting through life without this excitement. At that moment, Will was everything to him.

After, they looked at each other, standing outside the theater. They should both go, and Judah knew it, but he also somehow couldn’t make himself be the one who walked away, or even looked away, first.

His eyes, desperately searching, found something which might help. A cafe, a late night one, still open. Will followed his eyes, and Judah tilted his head at him in silent question. They could draw this out. They could keep this date going for a few hours more.

“We could,” Will murmured, picking up Judah’s meaning effortlessly. “But I have coffee at home if that’s what you want.”

Whatever Judah could have expected, it wasn’t that. Will had been jealously guarding his privacy, and Judah had let him do it. But just like that, Will tore down that barrier and tossed it away, and it wasn’t until he did that Judah realized just how much he had been wanting, waiting, for that to happen.

“It’s not coffee that’s the main attraction,” Judah admitted, and his eyes caught and held Will’s, something wordless passing between them, something that started off tentative from both of them but which quickly spread from eye to eye, filling the air between them, making the very molecules seem to tingle and sparkle.

“Come home with me,” Will whispered like he was slightly breathless, and neither of them even tried to pretend anymore that it was anything but what it so obviously was. It was an invitation to do things that Judah had never even come close to thinking that he would ever do.

It was an invitation that Judah knew that he couldn’t turn down. Whether he should try to or not, this was happening. He could try to resist, but he knew it was pointless. Just like he could try to hold his breath, and succeed, it was only for a little while. This was the same thing.

If Will wanted him, he could have him.