Life did not change much after baptism. My soul was not elevated in the ways I had expected. I was still struggling with my sexuality and with feelings of guilt and self loathing. Deep down I knew that I would never be okay. Within the rules given me, I would never be acceptable or loved. I would always be an awkward soul struggling to be something I was not. Waiting to be judged as a failure.
My self hatred and disappointment made my bitterness grow. No longer was I just quietly getting low grades at school and abusing my dog. I was beginning to give my parents attitude and get in trouble with teachers. “I don’t think so,” my Social Work teacher told me following a wrong answer. “That’s because you don’t thin,” I quickly responded. Not the best choice. I quit Track & Field and began smoking. Marlboro lights were my cigarette of choice due to Jen, a fellow theater major. I was always bumming one off her after rehearsals. She was cool and I was not. She often wore tight ripped jeans, unpolished combat boots, and loved to dye her hair a beautiful teal. Elaine, the cool black goth chic from New York who hated her Maryland life, was growing increasingly annoyed as the CDs she lent me continued to come back scratched and damaged. Compared to Elaine, who got along with Vincent very well, who was I? She wore flared black jeans, faded plaid shirts, cool silver jewelry, and was somehow able to dye her hair purple with kool-aide. I had high waters, a marshmallow man green coat that my grandmother gifted to ensure warmth, a doo doo brown oversized pleather backpack from Marshalls, and purple-blue no named sneakers my mother found somewhere on sale. Probably at Marshall’s, too. I … I … Who was I? I didn’t have a clue.
Just before the school year ended, my AP English Literature teacher offered a field trip to Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. It wasn’t educational, but just an excuse to get away and enjoy the warm weather. Anyone could come. The only rule was your parents had to sign the permission slip. My parents said, no. They often said no to anything and everything that wasn’t related to the Kingdom Hall. No.
As the trip approached, my teacher began to throw hints that she would turn her head and not notice if we happened to sneak upon the bus if we didn’t have a permission slip. All of my friends were going, including Vincent. To go against my parents was a big deal to me. It meant creating a life outside of what they knew. At home, my mother began to ask a few questions about the trip. Just wanting to know more. Like, what day are they going? Wednesday, I told her. And sure enough, on the following Wednesday, I am sitting in class when the office calls over the intercom. “Sorry for the interruption. Is Lawrence in class?” My teacher says yes and I begin to gather my things to head to the office. “That’s all,” The secretary says over the intercom. I look at my teacher and both of us shrug. It takes a few moments for me to realize my mother was checking in on me. My heart burns with the thought. When home, we say nothing to each other.
That Friday, I am more than happy when I step on the school bus headed to Baltimore. Now a bit more eager to live a life unknown to my parents. I sit in the front seat and next to me is Vincent. During the hour ride, we talk with our friends around us and he introduces me to a bean pie. He says it’s really good and begins to spoon out a bite for me to eat. To take a bite with the same spoon from which he ate. Almost like a kiss, I think. But I couldn’t get myself to say, yes. I longed for such a moment, even if innocent, and could not dare to step within it. To live my dream of intimacy with him. I shook my head and said, no. It’s a no I will always regret. For I would never get another chance.
As summer break began, I entered a strange cocoon of nothingness. My mind is blank when it comes to that summer. Who did I play with and what did I do? I don’t know. By that time, my old neighborhood friends had stopped talking to me because I was no longer going to our neighborhood school. At church, I rarely socialized with anyone my own age because I feared they would figure out I was gay. I just didn’t fit anywhere. So inside I went. Always inside of a self that I hated.
Did that self hate me?
In some ways, it felt like it. For I could not control it. I could not make it bend to my will. Instead, it constantly found ways to play tricks on me. Allowing my eyes to rest too long on a guy’s smile or eyes. Or allowing my heart to flicker with joy as a waiter brushed his crotch every so gently against my back as he moved past at dinner. The cruelest joke was always caused by my tongue. It never knew when to stop.
My mother often threatened that she was going to remove me from my high school due to my grades and behavior. She hated who I was turning into and the types of people she found me with. My parents were worried that they were losing control of me, especially since we were all newly baptized. Our home was not one of peace, but of constant arguing. Deep down I still longed for a connection with God that the witnesses were unable to provide me. I feared I was moving further away from my goal instead. I wanted freedom. I wanted to live a true life. A life baptism did not seem to offer me. They wanted perfection in the eyes of God. They wanted a straight son who excelled at school and was an ideal Jehovah’s Witness. I wanted to be in love with Vincent, wear ripped jeans, listen to rock music, and give my soul over to Life itself. I wanted to be human. To know what it felt like to have someone’s flesh against mine and to not be afraid of getting dirty with the grit of life. To give my entire essence to life. Perfection in the way the Witnesses taught it made me want to die.
I can’t fully recall what day it was. Or what occurred before. But I do remember being in the kitchen. No one else was home. I must have just finished washing dishes. I stood at the kitchen sink and grabbed a knife. Prof. Wolfe came to mind from my history class. “If you’re going to cut your wrist, do it in this direction,” he instructed the class. I hated Prof. Wolfe. I placed the knife in the direction he taught and added pressure. My breath grew deeper as I dared myself to inflict pain. Could I do it? I lifted the knife and again placed it down upon my wrist. Everything was quiet. Everything accept for the sound of Napoleon’s nails clacking upon the wood porch just off from the kitchen. I could hear him pacing back and forth at the door. Back and forth. I wasn’t alone. I lifted the knife, put it down among the drying dishes and let him in.
As my parents locked down harder on me and my growing attitude, I began to counter their every move and word. Each attack upon my person chipped away at something deep within me. A spirit I did not know I had, or perhaps was too afraid to own, began to awaken. The shadow stepped into the light. My tongue grew sharper and a fire within began to ignite. It had no fear and I was afraid, no mercy. It loved me even when I did not love myself. It was tired of taking orders, so it constructed another way out.
“I thought you were going to take me out of my school,” I told my mother as the summer was about to come to an end. Pushing her. Wanting to fight. “ That’s right,” she said. “I almost forgot,” as she walked away. It was a fight I would not win. It was a fight she wouldn’t win either.
May all bare witness to this moment. For this is the moment when I created a ripple upon the waters within. As I submerged myself into my own darkness, something else took form within my skin.
When the first day of school commenced, I was no longer standing alone on the street corner. Now I had the local teens to keep me company as we waited to be bussed to our local school. I stood at the bus stop and watched as my old school bus pass and stop and wait for me. I could have done it. I could have waved and ran and got onto that bus. Got onto that bus and found Vincent waiting for me. But I knew he would not be waiting. For we never spoke that summer. I knew that I would get there and make more of a mess of my situation. Disappointed when no one came to my rescue. And so I stood and watched as the bus drove away. No one else around me knew how my heart was breaking in that moment. I just stood and watched. Silently within.