Page 10 of White Room Virgin

“Homosexuality?”

The word alone made my heart skip a beat. Simon burst into hearty laughter at the sight of my expression and stroked his small brown curls, blown up by the wind. My composure had clearly faltered.

“Oh, come on, don’t be so uptight.”

“I … but … wasn’t the priest a bit too open about this?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.

“Why would he be? It’s quite normal these days.”

“No, it’s … unnatural.”

Simon’s expression changed and he stopped walking. His mouth twisted with concern. “Well … there are different opinions on that,” he began diplomatically. He pierced me with an inquiring look as if he wanted to find out how I felt about the words. “And the way you argue, you seem to have grown up in a very homophobic environment.”

Homophobic?“Excuse me? I’m not…”

“I didn’t say you were,” Simon interjected. “But the Christians who still proclaim that today are … homophobic. I’m sorry, there’s no other word for it.”

Everything inside me began spinning, a sensation that didn’t go unnoticed. Simon held out his hand as if to support me, but I backed away and took a deep breath.

“In the town where I grew up, it’s considered the eighth deadly sin. And everyone there agrees with it. You can’t imagine …”

“What a shock that sermon just was?” Simon completed the sentence. “No, I really can’t imagine. But I’m sorry for you.”

“I mean, how can you be so relaxed about it?”

Simon shrugged his shoulders. “My uncle is gay. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You’re still in contact with him?”

“Of course!” Simon laughed. “He’s my uncle. What do you think? That we should disown him? We live in the 21st century.”

I didn’t know what else to say. I hadn’t been at all prepared for a conversation like this, especially for stumbling across this topic in a church service. Simon noticed my discomfort and offered me a kind smile.

Usually, Mass always had some kind of liberating effect on me, but this time, I felt miserable—even the fresh breeze didn’t help.

“Don’t worry so much,” Simon said as we arrived at the courtyard entrance to my apartment building. “You’re here in Zurich. Besides, this is the city of Zwingli.”

“A reformer doesn’t change the fact that I obviously grew up with homophobic hillbillies.”

Simon ignored the side blow. “You’ll find a way.”

I stared helplessly at the floor for a while. When I glanced back at Simon, he had tilted his head slightly to one side and was peering past me toward the entrance.

“Who’s that?” he asked, scowling. “Does he belong here?”

I turned around, followed his line of sight, and had to look twice to be sure. “Lu?” He didn’t even notice me, so I walked over to him. His face was white as chalk, with only dark shadows under his eyes. He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, reaching into the depths of his pockets.

“Are you just coming home now?” I asked, pulling out my keys.

Lucien cocked his head to the side as a low grumble escaped his lips. His legs buckled, but I was able to catch him in time. “Ohman, you can hardly stand up straight.” While I was supporting him, I opened the front door. “Can you make it up on your own?”

He nodded and staggered past me into the stairwell.

“Was that your roommate?” Simon asked in shock as the door closed behind Lucien.

“Yes. One of them.”

“Okay …” Simon widened his eyes. “Um, let me know if you’re looking for somewhere else to stay. We’ll have a room available soon.”

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