Option Four

This is for Kay Peter Dekker, who first got me through it, and for Caraway Carter, who brought me back to it.

* * * * *

Hello

My name is Donner Charles Carhart.

Sometimes, in my more cynical moments, I wonder what possessed my parents to name me that. I mean, Donner’s a great name, sure—for a reindeer.

Okay, so it was my mother’s maiden name. Couldn’t they have given me that for a middle name? It would have made my life so much easier.

Most people I know call me Donn. My mom and dad call me Donny, which is fine, if you like being called a name that hasn’t been in serious use since before I was born, by a guy with the last name Osmond. You might have heard of him. Singer, mostly known for his big teeth that reflected every light on the stage?

Personally, I’d rather have toothpicks stuck under my fingernails or endure the Chinese water torture than be called Donny, but they’re my parents, and I can’t tell them to stop calling me that. So I live with it.

Anyway, my name is Donner Carhart, and like I said, most people call me Donn. I’m fine with that. Donn’s an okay name. It’s a get-along kind of name. People don’t spit on you or stick KICK ME signs on your back just for having that name.

Not that I speak from experience, or anything.

I’m seventeen years old, and I’m in the middle of my junior year in high school. And that’s what I want to talk to you about. You see, I’m different. It’s not just my name.

Ready for a shock?

Brace yourself. Okay. I’m going to write it down now. First time in my life I’ll have ever written this down.

Writing it down makes it real.

That may be why I haven’t written it down yet. I’ve been sitting here with the pen hovering over the paper for five minutes, gearing up for it.

Okay. Here goes.

I think I’m gay.

Well, actually, I’m pretty sure I’m gay. There’s some margin for maybe in there. I had a girlfriend once, but she came out as a lesbian about three months after we broke up, so I’m not sure that that counts. I mean, if she was a lesbian when we were dating, then were we really dating?

I suppose it doesn’t matter.

Where was I? Oh, yeah.

When someone comes out to you and says, Hey, I’m gay, the way I see it is you have three options. You can say, That’s sick! Get away from me! You can say, That’s…interesting… which really means, Don’t tell me that, I didn’t want to know that! Or you can say, Tell me more, whatever you feel comfortable with, and I’m glad you trusted me with this. I kind of hope for that third option.

Well, in my wildest dreams, I suppose there’s a fourth option too, but that’s never happened to me yet.

I suppose it would also help if I told someone I’m gay, but I just haven’t had the nerve. Yeah, so, I’m gay. Or maybe bisexual, but like I said, I’m not sure that counts.

Noreen counted as a girlfriend, since she came out as a lesbian. And since I’m only attracted to guys, usually, I guess that means I’m gay. The dreams I have certainly don’t leave much question.

Point of order: when a straight guy lets his gay friend kiss him, it’s said he has had a homosexual experience. Does that mean when a gay guy kisses a female friend, he’s had a heterosexual experience? What about if the female friend is a lesbian? Does that make it a lesbian experience? I wish I had someone around to tell me these things.

Obviously, my mom and dad don’t know I’m gay. My mom, product of hippie liberalism though she is, would probably cry and beg me to reconsider my decision. She’s weird that way. She thinks everyone decides who they’re attracted to. I know, because I’ve heard her talk about my lesbian aunt with some disdain. She doesn’t like people who are that way, as she puts it. For a liberal, she can really be a prude.

My dad would probably throw me out, which is why I’ve been prudent and not told him. He’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t understand. He owns a construction company and he votes Republican, usually, and he sits in front of the TV with a six-pack of Bud and watches the football game every weekend. I’m sure you know the type. I love my father, but I’m kind of scared of him, and I don’t want to push it and find I’ve blown my only chance to be close to him.

Since this is my first introduction to you, I suppose I should tell you a bit more about myself than just my name and my orientation. I’m an only child, sadly; I think sometimes if I’d had a younger brother or sister—or an older one, for that matter—I wouldn’t feel so alone now. I always envied Danny and David their friendship. They were real friends, and I don’t think it was just because they were twin brothers, either.

I live in a little town called Tustin in California, near the same place that spawned the Traditional Family Values Association. I go to Chase Valley High School. I spend a lot of time with the Astronomy Club. I’m not sure what I want to be when I graduate from college, but I’m thinking some kind of science looks like a good route to take.

When I have the time, which isn’t often, I do a lot of reading. Books are my main way of getting information. Unfortunately, as far as I can see, there’s no book telling you how to be gay in the school library, so I have to just sort of go it on my own and hope I don’t screw it up too badly.

I wish I at least knew how to tell when another guy was gay. I still haven’t figured that part out yet.

So that’s me in a nutshell. Oh, there’s more about me that I’m sure you’ll want to know, and I promise you’ll get to know it as time goes on. But for now, that’s where I’m going to stop. I’m writing this under my blanket with a flashlight to light the pages of this new notebook I just bought today, and I’ve already smeared the ink twice.

You’ll hear more from me tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be the best friend I have this year, since Mike moved to New Mexico and David and Danny’s family moved to Pensacola, Florida. Noreen’s still around, but she and her new girlfriend Kaithlin are thick as thieves, and we don’t talk as much as we used to.

See you tomorrow.

* * * * *

Guys

So I woke up today with a weird thought. Why are there no gay clubs at my school?

There’s clubs for just about everything else. There’s an astronomy club, a drama club, a couple of Bible study groups, a club for every foreign-language class, a math club, a science club—but nothing for the queer kids.

The more I thought about it, the more curious I got. Why shouldn’t there be a gay club on campus? Was there any reason? Had people tried before and been told no?

Of course, I can’t ask about it. That would mean coming out. I’m so not ready to do that yet, even though some people have made jokes about Noreen and Kaithlin, wondering what was wrong with me that I would fall for a dyke.

You know, I don’t like that word very much. I wonder if it makes Noreen feel the way I feel when I hear someone say Oh, that’s so gay! I wonder if she winces when they say that.

Jeff Redfield said that the other day in chemistry class about something the new kid, Alex Ammanson, had done. Oh, that’s so gay!

I think Alex had lisped, or something. I can’t even really remember, but I wish I could, so I could avoid doing whatever it was he did.

I was angry inside but I held it in. I do that. If you let people know they’ve made you mad, then it’s all over. You’re a target. But Alex didn’t deserve to be called gay right out in front of the class. Mr. Timmons shut Jeff down, but everyone in the class was snickering.

I like Alex. He’s a transfer student, came in late in the year. He moved here from New York, and he’s got that whole accent thing going for him. He and I talk sometimes. He asked to copy my chemistry notes the other day because he was out sick on Monday.

It occurs to me he’s kind of cute. Not really the type I usually go for. He’s tall and thin and really effeminate—listen to me—the type I usually go for? I’m still in the closet! I’ve never even had a boyfriend or even a kiss from a guy. But I know the type that attracts me is, I guess, what I’m trying to say.

For example, there’s this one guy in my history class who I’ve lusted after ever since I realized I was gay in my freshman year—Thad Tramont. He’s got dark hair, dark eyes, and a wrestler’s body. He’s on the football and wrestling teams, and he was class president our freshman year. He’s funny, he’s talented, he’s an honors student. Everyone likes him. Truly a BMOC.

Of course, he’s also got a girlfriend. Lauren Mendoza. She’s like his carbon copy, only female. She’s just as accomplished in her own ways as he is in his. They’ve been going out since they were sophomores, and the word is they’re Really Serious about each other.

Just my luck. Meanwhile, I sit in history class while Mr. Dell rambles on about the Greeks and Romans and cover my lap with a book when I get up because I’ve been thinking about Thad all through class and haven’t heard a word of the lecture.

He always hangs out in the school’s junior quad—it’s this cement area that’s just for the junior class. The seniors have a really nice quad, with a low wall and a little stage and everything, and we get this cement slab. Still, it’s better than not having any place to go at all, and Thad’s definitely the center of attention there. He has dozens of friends, he always has Lauren hanging on his arm, and I just sit on the other side of the quad and pretend to study or read a book when really I’m looking at him over the top of it.

I don’t think anyone’s seen me looking. I hope not. If they had, I’d be so nervous I’d probably have to hide on a remote mountaintop somewhere.

Anyway. How did I get onto that subject? Oh yeah, I was discussing my type of guy. And Alex.

Alex isn’t my type, but I think he and I could be good friends. Of course, I’d never tell him I’m gay. And since I don’t know how to tell if someone else is gay, I’m not about to risk telling this new kid who I don’t really know and can’t really trust.

Sometimes I wish I knew for sure if Jeff was right about him, though. If nothing else, it’d be nice to have a gay friend.

I hope my mother never finds this notebook. Let’s not even talk about my father.

I’ve got to talk to someone about this.

* * * * *

Alex

We had a chemistry test today. Alex seemed to be doing fine on it. I, on the other hand, was completely lost. I like science, but chemistry isn’t science to me, it’s math. And I don’t like math.

After class, I got up the nerve to talk to Alex. I don’t know why I was so nervous when I wasn’t really all that attracted to him, but maybe it was just because it’s so scary to try to talk to someone when I don’t know them. That makes it kind of hard to make friends; I don’t know how Thad manages it, but somehow he’s able to make friends with all these different people from all these different backgrounds. And there I was, shaking like a leaf trying to talk to a guy who I’m not even really attracted to.

There has to be something wrong with me, don’t you think?

Or maybe it’s because I knew if he did tell me he was gay, I was going to come out to him. Like I said in my last entry (two weeks ago!), I need to talk to someone.

*

Anyway, I went up to Alex after class, as lunch period was starting, and I said hi. I was so nervous the single word was all I could get out.

Hi, Donn, Alex said, pushing a wisp of black hair behind one ear and shuffling his books in his arm to keep them from slipping. How do you think you did on the test?

I managed a small smile. To be honest, I think I flunked it. Chem’s pretty tough for me.

You too? Alex said with a laugh. It took me a while to get the hang of it—I’m repeating it this year because I got a D in it at my last school.

Oh? What helped you get the hang of it? I felt myself start to relax as we walked toward the cafeteria.

Alex laughed again, and I was struck by just how comfortable he seemed in his body, despite being tall and lanky. I wish I could achieve that—I never feel quite comfortable in my body, despite being healthy. I always feel like I’m all knees and elbows. Anyway, he said, My boyfriend tutored me for half a year and through the summer so I’d understand the foundation of it. Turns out some of the algebra hadn’t made sense to me, either, and once I got that sorted out, I was okay.

I hadn’t really heard anything after My boyfriend. I looked around to make sure that others weren’t overhearing us, and said in a low voice, "Your boyfriend?"

Alex stopped short under one of the large live oaks that shade the senior quad. Yeah, my boyfriend. What, do you have a problem with gays? His voice had become tight and quieter suddenly, and I was sure I’d blown it. I tried to cover, but I don’t think I did so well—I stammered out something about never knowing any guy who was gay before. What a crock. I knew me, didn’t I?

But he relaxed and smiled a bit, and started walking toward the cafeteria again. You wouldn’t believe how often I get that reaction. Everyone here in California seems so hung up on appearance. I don’t get that. I’m from New York, you know—we don’t do appearance there. Well, except in the Village.

We laughed as we reached the cafeteria line. Then I asked him, Aren’t you afraid that you’ll, you know, get beaten up? For being…you know.

"For being gay?" Alex said, and I flinched as the kid in front of us, some dweeby freshman I didn’t know, looked at us kind of strange.

All I could say was, Yeah, that. It was weird. I found I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

It’s not a disease, you know, Alex said, his eyes suddenly hard and flinty. It’s just a word. A label, really.

I’m going to try to reproduce what I said here, but I’m not sure I can. I stammered something like, I—I know. I’m just—

Phobic?

No. I— I stammered for a moment more, trying to find words, then gave up and opened my backpack. I grabbed a notebook and a pen from it, put my backpack back on, and flipped to a blank page, and I wrote, I’m gay, and I don’t know what to do about it. I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

Alex just looked at what I’d written for a minute, then nodded and said to close the notebook. I told him I just couldn’t talk about it in public yet. I wasn’t ready. And I’m not, you know. I’m really not ready to talk about this in public yet.

We went through the cafeteria line and got lunch, and for the first time since Mike and Danny and David moved away, I had someone to sit with, someone to talk to. The difference was, I could talk about the stuff that mattered to me, instead of just sticking to sports and girls and schoolwork.

We found a place to sit that was sort of away from people. Not my usual place in the junior quad watching Thad. We sat on the steps of the auditorium and he was nice enough to keep his voice down while we talked. I told him about Thad, and he said every gay guy he’s ever known has had that kind of a crush at some point.