Page 1 of Gay for Pray
Chapter One
Jude
“WE’RE JOINING THE CHOIR.”
My roommate Nick levels a cocked eyebrow at me. I hop over the back of the couch to join him on the cushions, and he pauses his video game, setting the controller on the cardboard box we use as a coffee table. We’re only sophomores at Arpor Sacred Sacrament University, so we’re lucky to have a dorm with any kind of communal space at all. Last year, we crammed onto bunk beds in the tiny freshman dorms, but this year we’ve got our own rooms plus this little strip of living room.
Nick sighs. “What’s this about?”
“Okay, hear me out.” I put up my hands like a guy about to give a TED talk. “We should try out for the liturgical choir.”
Nick scowls, which is unfairly handsome on him. He pulled his black hair into a ponytail, exposing his undershave. Matching stubble shades his tan cheeks, and his dark eyebrows draw down as he narrows his eyes at my latest stupid idea. We’ve been friends since high school, but nothing more than friends. When we briefly gave “more” a shot last year, it almost ruined our friendship, and we backed off quickly, resolving never to cross that line again. Still, it’s hard being the only two out queer guys at a Catholic university, and every once in a while, out of sheer desperation, we may have…helped each other out.
That ends this year. No more swapping handies when we’re too pent up and frustrated to stand it any longer. We both needmore than that, and we’re going to find it in the choir.
“You’re out of your mind,” Nick says. “The liturgical choir sings atCatholic Massevery Sunday. Why the hell would we join that?”
“We are at a Catholic university,” I point out.
“Yeah, because they offered us free rides. We’re not here to become priests, Jude.”
“I’m not saying we should become priests.”
“But we should join a church choir?”
I scoop up his hand and clasp it in both of mine. “Just hear me out. We can’t…do what we did last year.”
His dark eyes skitter away. Those handies aren’t something we like to talk about. A moment of weakness, a moment of desperate need, but something we’re better off not discussing. I love Nick dearly, but we both know we’re too similar to date and mess around like that.
“I’m not spending my college years being a nun,” I say. “And I don’t think you want that either.”
“No,” Nick mutters at his lap.
“That’s why we’re going to join the choir.”
He finally looks up at me again, his scowl digging even more deeply into his face.
“Think about it,” I say. “Where is every queer man going to go at a Catholic university? The choir, obviously. It’s basically a magnet for theater kids, and who’s gayer than theater kids? If we want to meet people, that’s the place to do it.”
“You’re conveniently forgetting the part where we have to sing in a church choir.”
“So? We like singing. It’ll be fun.”
“Mass is at 10 a.m. every Sunday,” Nick says. “Ten a.m. Every. Single. Sunday. The day after Saturday. The day after every good party on campus.”
I roll my eyes. “What’s the point of going to all those partiesif we’re never going to get laid? Use your head. Going to a bunch of frat parties isn’t going to solve our problem. Joining the choir might though.” Besides, we’re not welcome at some of those parties. It’s no secret we’re queer, and there are definitely some people here who are fine being complete dicks about that.
Nick slips his hand free, but hesitates, and I bite my cheeks to keep from smiling because this is the surest sign I know that his resistance is breaking down and he’s about to accept my latest crazy plot. He always holds out on me as though he’s going to come up with something better, but he always gives in eventually. I’ve dragged Nick into more stupid ideas than I care to count, starting back in middle school. He’s yet to shut me down, no matter how harebrained the scheme.
He scrubs a hand through his hair, far more controlled than my mess of brown waves splotched with random streaks of old, faded out dye. In high school, I’d color it with whatever cheap dye I could afford, and I never bothered to fix it. I’d hoped it would make my plain brown hair a bit more exciting.
“I don’t know about this,” Nick says. “Do we really want to spend our sophomore year in a choir? They take this kind of thing seriously here. We might be heathens, but a lot of these people aren’t. They came here because they’re true believers. We might be the only out queer people in this whole place.”
I’ve considered that. Being gay and not particularly religious at a Catholic university isn’t the most comfortable position to find myself in. It certainly hasn’t help with me and Nick’s dating troubles. In high school, the dating pool was definitely limited, but it’s a whole different game in a place where a bunch of people have good reasons to stay in the closet. Even if we find other queer people through the choir, they might not be willing to take the risk of getting outed in a place like this. The university made us all sign a code of conduct, and while it doesn’t explicitly outlaw homosexuality, it does encourage students to “embodythe culture and values of A.S.S. Uni.,” and it’s not exactly a stretch to think those values include heterosexuality, or maybe even outright chastity. Plenty of people in my philosophy classes share a major with me because they intend to go on to seminary school after getting their bachelor’s degree.
I grimace remembering one such example. If anyone embodies this place’s “culture and values” it’s Theodore (not Theo, never Theo). The guy seems like he came out of the womb wanting to become a priest or a deacon or whatever he said his dad does. I don’t quite get how it works (aren’t priests celibate?) but from the moment I met him in Philosophy 101, I hated the guy. He’s the epitome of everything that’s making my time here difficult: he’s uptight, hyper religious, unbending and rigidly straight. He’s the reason me and Nick are going to have to join a freaking church choir in the hopes of getting any action at all.
I shake my head. I can’t think about a stick in the mud like Theodore Walsh if I’m going to put my plan into action. I have to stay focused. Nick and I can do this. The choir is our ticket to finding other queer people in this place. There isn’t even a gay-straight alliance. We could leave campus, but at nineteen we can’t exactly roll up to a club or bar. We’re stuck here, and I for one am not going to waste four of the best years of my life.
