Page 5 of Gay for Pray
I think about lying, but a laugh bursts out before I can compose myself. “No, not really.”
The scowl returns. “Exactly. So why bother joining a church choir? If this is all one big joke to you…”
“It’s not a joke to me. Can I simply enjoy singing?”
He only scowls deeper.
“This is one of the best places for me to sing at this school,” I continue. “It’s the biggest choir, and you get to perform every Sunday. I’m trying to actuallyenjoymy college years, okay?”
I don’t add that I’m hoping I’m not the only queer person attracted to the liturgical choir. It will only cement everything he already believes about me.
“College isn’t about enjoyment,” Theodore says.
“That is genuinely the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Of course it’s about enjoyment.”
“We’re here to study.”
“You can have fun while you study.”
His pouty mouth says he disagrees, but he doesn’t fight the statement. He doesn’t have to. Disapproval rolls off him in waves, a cloud passing before the sun.
In spite of myself, pity stabs through my chest. I knew Theodore was sad; I didn’t know he wasthissad. It’s like the guy has never had a single day of fun in his entire life. One day he’s going to wake up middle-aged with a wife and three kids and wonder what happened.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” I say, “but it’s not a sin to have fun. Never saw that one in the Bible.”
“I’m not debating theology with you,” Theodore says.
He refuses to say anything further, apparently considering the matter closed. Part of me wants to believe he’s scared I’ll actually sway him. If someone like me could shake his faith, everything he’s ever known, everything he’s built his life around, would collapse like a house of cards.
He turns off the broad main path, and I follow. This path is also cobbled and quaint, but more narrow, a tributary branching off from the main river flowing through campus. It twists and curls, and then, around a bend, we finally come to the church.
It feels wrong to call this thing a church. My hometown has a church. It’s a little building with a single room. This is achurch. It towers, two stone spires flanking a central structure. Massive windows arch around it, freckled with stained glass. Stone steps lead up to big, heavy wooden doors that open into a space like a cavern.
The interior is no less magnificent. Pews march toward a dais at the far end of the church. The crucifix behind the dais towers, the Jesus hanging there far taller than me. There’s an area to the side for the choir, as well as carved images along the sides of the room. I think they might be Stations of the Cross or something, but I’d have to actually understand what that is to say for sure. Columns create shaded recesses at the sides of the room, the arches between them vaulting toward a ceiling made for perfect acoustics.
This is an incredible place to sing…minus all the religious stuff. I can set that aside and appreciate the beauty of the structure, however. There’s no denying that Catholics are on point with their aesthetics. If I believed at all, this place would probably be even more awe-inspiring than it already is.
Theodore is apparently so accustomed to it that it doesn’taffect him at all. He marches on ahead while I’m still standing in the doorway gaping. A few people speckle the pews, and a woman is singing on the dais. I shake myself and follow Theodore up the central aisle between the pews as the woman belts out her audition.
I spot Nick among the people waiting to try out and slide onto a pew beside him.
“Dude, this is insane,” he whispers. “Are we seriously doing this?”
I can’t fault him for balking. Now that I’m actually here, my silly plan is feeling a lot more slippery. My lack of belonging grates on me. It’s a fly buzzing around my head. Maybe any other queer person tempted to join this choir felt the same and bolted.
“It’s gonna be fine,” I whisper back.
The woman on the dais finishes up her song. No one claps or reacts. A man I assume is the director thanks her and calls out another name.
Nick is up. He glares at me as he passes me in the pew, but when he gets up there and sings, his voice rings out through the church. He absolutely nails the audition, so he must not be as skeptical about this as he seemed. He could have tanked it and claimed nerves, but instead he belts out some song about Jesus or whatever and returns to the pew triumphant, apparently intending to watch my audition.
Right after Nick is Theodore.
I brace for some reason, as though I actually care about how his audition goes. I don’t, of course. Why would I? Yet I watch him stride onto that dais with a confidence I’ve never witnessed in him. He’s a completely different guy than the one I walked over here with, instantly transformed. He stands straighter, showing off his height, his shoulders back and relaxed instead of hunching. He doesn’t scowl at the world, but wears an almost peaceful expression that makes his whole face lighter.
I shake myself. He’s probably just happy to be on his home turf. The religious nut should feel at ease in a church compared to a classroom.
Nick nudges me with his elbow.
