Page 18 of Forgive Me Father: For I Have Sinned

“Yeah, but it’s a fake,” I told them.

Daniel stood. “Thank you for being honest with us. We have some paperwork for you to fill out, do you have your birth certificate or social security card by any chance?” he asked me.

“No, my dad didn’t give me any of that when he…” I trailed off, not sure why I was going there with total strangers.

“Say no more, I’ll be right back.” Daniel stopped me before leaving Marcus and me alone.

“I was one of the lucky ones, my parents didn’t balk when I told them I was gay. Daniel wasn’t so lucky. We’ve made it our life’s mission to help those in the community when we can. How long have you been on your own?” He surprised me with his candor. No one ever took the time to get to know me, not since Cole and the boys that is.

“Since I was fifteen.”

“That couldn’t have been easy. We’ll help you get copies of the documents and a real I.D.,” he smiled.

Daniel returned with paperwork in hand. “Like we said, if you want the job it’s yours. It’s not much, but it gets you off the streets. Are you interested?”

All those years I searched for real work, and no one batted an eye my way, then here out of the blue these two guys enter my life. Was this for real? “Um, yes please.” He slid the paperwork in front of me along with a pen.

“Fill them out as best you can. If your current living situation goes south the extra room upstairs is yoursif you want it. And again, we expect nothing but honesty in return. Things will get better Jamie, I promise.” Daniel reached across the table, putting his hand over mine. The warmth in his touch and the kindness of their offer filled me with the sense of hope I’d long since lost. Silently, I filled out the application and handed it back to him. They insisted on feeding me lunch as we chatted and got to know each other.

“My parents kicked me out when I was sixteen after the abusive conversion therapy the church elders subjected me to didn’t work,” Daniel told me, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich. Marcus reached over, snagging one of his fries. “Hey,” Daniel complained, but there was no heat behind it. The smile shared between the two of them had me wishing I had someone who could love me.

“Daniel and I went to high school together,” Marcus chimed in. “My parents adored him. When he showed up at our house late one night, covered from head to toe in burn marks from the physically abusive therapy they’d subjected him to, my mother called the cops.”

“Marcus parents went with the cops and me back to my house where my parents proceeded to tell them they no longer wished for their gay son to live under their roof. Marcus’ father told them it was their loss because he did. His parents went inside, packed up my belongings and moved me into their home. Marcus and I have been together ever since.” He spoke with such fondness, and love for the people who weren’t his blood relatives yet without a second thought took him in as one of their own. While I’d not been subjected to conversion therapy, I’d suffered through my own version. It was much easier recounting it this time as it happened so long ago. The pain of rejection was still there, and I’m sure always would be, but physically they could no longer hurt me.

I shared my story with them, and as the hours dwindled away the bar began to fill, and the night time staff came on shift. They introduced me to each employee, and we agreed I’d start the following day. They insisted on driving me home, but I told them goodnight from inside the car, not wanting them to see the inside of the run-down building I lived in. It was time to change more than just my employment status.

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