Page 44 of Glad You're Here

I couldn’t drive past one of the many chapels without flooding with a feeling of wrongness. I knew exactly how they looked inside, how they smelled, the hymns sung, and the conversations that took place in the hallways between Sunday School and Sacrament Meeting. I knew what the speakers were saying and the sense of belonging that filled the building. I knew it all so well. Mormonism was in my blood and etched into my bones. It would always be a part of my history whether I liked it or not.

But it no longer belonged to me nor I to it. It had no place in my present or future.

Things with my family didn’t improve in the slightest, either. My mom still texted me on Sundays. It was usually some derivative of, “We love you. The Savior loves you. We’re praying for you.” I never replied. I also didn’t show up for Easter dinner, which warranted another angry communication from my father about how ungrateful and hardhearted I’d been. He compared me to Alma the Younger, a wicked character from the Book of Mormon who caused much anguish to his righteous father.

I wanted to laugh about it, but their messages made my chest feel tight. They filled me with anger, hurt, and profound loneliness. Then I’d cycle around to guilt followed by intense shame. I was a grown-ass man. Their bullshit shouldn’t affect me as much as it did.

The first weekend in April showed clear signs of a spring that meant to stick around. I almost felt excited when I cracked open the window in my living room to let the fresh air inside. Then, an old man’s droning yet singsong voice drifted through my open window. “My dear brothers and sisters, how wonderful it is to be alive during this time, to be members of the Lord’s one true church on this earth, to have the fullness of the gospel in our hearts.”

I groaned inwardly and closed the window. How could I have forgotten that it was General Conference weekend? Twice a year, Mormons gathered in downtown Salt Lake City to listen to the prophet and apostles speak for about ten hours. If they weren’t elite enough to score tickets for a session at the Tabernacle, they all tuned in on their TVs to listen. Some particularly fantastic Mormons would blast these conference sessions as loud as possible in hopes that some wayward soul would hear it and join the fold.

Last April, Gina and I were still married. She turned conference on at full volume, even though I’d respectfully asked not to watch that year. I sat in our bedroom with my earbuds in, trying to block out the words that threatened to drown me. I still heard them and knew exactly what thoughts ran through Gina’s head as speaker after speaker addressed apostates like me. I knew I’d instantly lost any ground I’d won in my battle to be respected and accepted.

Did these old white men have any idea of the damage they caused with their words?

This April, I wouldn’t be sticking around. I hopped in my car and headed to Snow Canyon for a day of hiking. The otherworldly swirls of orange rock and red dunes were the only redeeming thing about my hometown.

On the drive, I called Thea. She answered almost immediately. “What’s up, sexy?”

I grinned, and my chest loosened like it always did when I heard her voice. “What pet name should I call you? If I remember correctly, you hate ‘baby,’ and you’re not a ‘sweetheart’ or a ‘honey.’”

Thea laughed. “You don’t think I’m sweet?”

“I think you’re very sweet.”

“You’re correct, though. I don’t like pet names. Lenny is the only one allowed to call me sweetie or honey. She’s earned the right to call me whatever she wants.”

“But you call me sexy.”

Thea let out a long, irritated sigh. “Yeah, because someone needs to tell you! I swear you have no idea that you’re hot as fuck. It’s cute but also frustrating because, like, honestly, Levi, if you knew how sexy you are, you’d be rocking the confidence of a god.”

“So I’m sexy but under-confident?” I smiled as I drove down the almost deserted freeway.

I could picture Thea shrugging. “Meh. We’re all under-confident.” Her voice changed from her I-don’t-give-a-fuck tone to her soft, serious one. “I know you have some trauma that’s holding you back and keeping you from loving yourself. I so badly want you to feel good.”

“I want that for you, too.”

“Ugh.” Thea groaned. “I think I just threw up in my mouth. You’re making me so sappy and emotional!”

I laughed out loud. “Thea, you were always sappy and emotional. Don’t blame me!”

“Whatever.” Thea sighed. “I’m going to say one more sappy thing, and then I might have to hang up.”

“Say it, but don’t hang up.”

Thea groaned again as if having feelings for me pained her. “I miss you like crazy, and I want your body.”

She hung up. Thea couldn’t be told what to do.

She wanted my body. Sex. Things I couldn’t give her yet. I had to fix this. I had to work through my anxiety and be everything she needed and deserved. I’d look up therapists when I got back home.

Home.

I didn’t belong in Cedar City, Utah. It became crystal clear with each passing day that I could not carve out an existence here.

My life waited for me in Durango, Colorado.

twenty

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