Page 65 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

“You realize you’re not going to change any of their minds, right?”

“I will. I’m gonna have Meadows find a way to ban Fox News from all their televisions. Gonna force them to watch endless left-wing podcasts. Gonna indoctrinate them the way their nearly departed fearless leader indoctrinated them.” He smiles at the crowd. “Like Tatum says, too bad, so sad.”

After two excruciating hours of Darren attempting to explain the difference between bisexuality and demisexuality to the members of our church, he gives up, flinging his hands in the air.

“Fine. Fucking fine. Every single one of you are being purposefully ignorant right now, and we’re about to nip it in the bud. I’m giving you homework,” Darren growls, breathing life into the silent crowd. The congregation’s words stumble and tumble together, bouncing around the room and echoing off the walls. The noise comes to a stop when Darren stomps his foot. “Tonight, I expect every one of you to stream Brokeback Mountain. You will watch it, and you will cry your eyes out. When you’re done, I want each of you to film a reaction video for me. I’ll start a group chat for you to send them to. I expect everyone to follow through. No exceptions.”

A man in the back raises his hand. “Son? Is there a lot of homosexual romance in this film?”

“You bet your ass there is. There’s also a bit of sodomy in the middle. I don’t want to hear a single complaint about it either, Lonnie McLaughlin.” He points an accusing finger at Brother McLaughlin. “Do you understand me?”

He shakes his head, looking horrified. “No, that’s not what I meant. I think you might be right. Maybe love is love.”

Darren turns and smiles at me. “One down.”

chapter twenty-two

Once the chapel is empty and only Darren and I remain, I take his hand. “Would you come out back with me?” His breath hitches, and I know he’s probably shocked, because we bothknow what’s out there. An unused playground, since we don’t have any children in the congregation anymore, a large field, and just past the trees in the distance, my parents’ final resting place.

“Yeah,” he breathed, looking so dang proud of me I almost can’t stand it. “Of course.”

As we journey outside, we pass the overgrown playground, then make our way toward the tree line. It’s just past the field where Tatum and Scotty recently erected their bonfire. Standing beside the halfheartedly assembled bonfire, Meadows is roasting what appears to be a large hog. Well, it's orange like a hog, at least, and it's pretty plump. The scent doesn’t make me think we’ve been successful in making bacon great again, but that’s okay.

“Thank God,” Darren says with a smile.

Past the trees, there’s an old chain-link fence. Opening the gate, I usher him in, and then we make it toward the back. Above us, there’s a canopy of trees, and little light beams filter in through the gaps, giving this place a magical feel.

I spot my father’s grave marker first and quickly look away. The air feels a lot thicker now, and I’m having trouble catching my breath. All these years later, and just the sight of his name in stone is enough to send me back to that night. Darren places his hand on my back, guiding me to my mother. We kneel next to each other, my hand finding his.

With the hand not holding his, I run my fingers through the patch of grass that grows above my mother. She loved me in her own way, I think. She never said the words, but there was always a sparkle in her eye when I entered a room. I like to think in some alternative universe, there’s a version of us that broke free from the rigid confines of evangelism. That somewhere, there’s another Miles Brooks who never lost his way. Who never had his future stolen from him before it even started. A happy, unbroken man who loves with his whole heart, just the way God made him.

I think I’d like to meet him one day.

“Hey, Mom,” I whisper, raking my fingers through the grass. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. I don’t have an excuse other than I can’t stand being out here.” I give my father’s grave a quick glance, and it suddenly feels like my chest is caving in.

William Brooks, it says, and underneath, Beloved father. That’s not true at all though. I have no love for my father. My heart didn’t hurt when he died. It felt like someone had lifted weight off my shoulders.

“I almost left,” I whisper, and whether the words are meant for my father, Darren, or God himself, I’m not entirely sure. “After Dad died, I packed a bag, and I took the money I had saved from my part-time job at the Pick-n-Save. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew if I didn’t leave then, I never would, and this would be my life. Hiding myself away. Marinating in my trauma. I had a chance to leave, and I didn’t take it.”

He squeezes my hand. “Why didn’t you?”

I startle, because in my head, I’ve been talking to my mother. For a moment, I forgot Dare was beside me, and I curse myself, because he’s the reason I chose this life. He’s every reason. “You came to check on me. I was putting my bag in the car, and you ran up and threw yourself into my arms, telling me I was going to be okay.” My breath hitches. “I think I knew you were like me. Or at least that you were a little too sassy for your own good. Especially for Tallulah, Texas. I couldn’t leave you, because if I left, you would have been all alone, and I knew how hard it was going to be for you.”

“Oh, Miles. I’m sorry. You could have been free. You could have lived the life you always wanted.”

I shake my head decidedly. “I have zero regrets, Dare. Zero. I wouldn’t do a single thing differently, because knowing you—loving you—has been worth it.” I turn and glare at my father’s grave. “I’m gay. Trying to beat it out of me didn’t work. Tryingto rape it out of me didn’t work. Being shoved into a role I never asked for didn’t work. I was born gay. I’ll die gay. You broke me, but I’m still here. I’m done trying to preserve your image. This church is going to be my legacy. I’m going to preach the things I believe in. I’m going to do everything I can to make this church a sanctuary for everyone.” I lean forward, almost expecting him to crawl out of the grave and lunge for me. “And you can rot in Hell.”

“Jesus,” Dare whispers, and when I look at him, he’s got this look of absolute amazement in his eyes.

“Do you think Meadows can get his hands on a backhoe?” I ask, but he just raises a questioning eyebrow at me. “I want him gone. I don’t care where he ends up, I just need him gone. It feels like his hatred is tainting the air, and I want this to be a place of peace.”

He nods. “I can have him handle it tonight.” He chews his cheek, wanting to say more, but he’s censoring himself.

“What?”

“What about . . .her?”

Whatever bravado I may have felt dies with the question, and I have to close my eyes. I knew I’d have to face her. Darren knows she’s buried here. It still feels like a sucker punch. “I don’t know if I can go back there,” I admit, feeling like that same little boy, crying out to God, pleading for it to stop.

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