How Father Tam Ruined Ash Wednesday for Everybody
part 6: One Eye Squinted
After the anguished zoned out faces of the people, that sanitized-to-death odor is what I hate most about hospitals. Nothing conducive to life is supposed to smell that clean. Obie, Father Tam and Father Tam's parents talked in his room while Cage and I sat across the hall in a small waiting area with a tall schefflera and a fish tank full of guppies that Cage labeled 'minners'*. The hospital smell wasn’t so bad there and the air conditioner hummed a warble of about 90 oscillations per second, very relaxing. Cage played Angry Birds on his cell phone and I was using my IPad to re-read Habit of Being because it’s a book you can open up to anywhere, start reading and find something amazing. I stalled out on a line O’Conner had written about her terminal lupus: “I can with one eye squinted take it all as a blessing.” Every time I tried to read beyond it, my eyes would come back to it. I was wondering why when Obie walked by with Father Tam’s parents, very well dressed and older than I imagined.
“Joseph got a little too agitated. They just gave him something to relax him. We’re going to continue our talk in the chapel,” Obie said, leaning slightly on the word talk. “I’ll be back.”
I looked at Cage. “Gave him something to relax him?”
“Well, yeah. Confronting them with their relationship is a bad idea right now. They all should pump the brakes till the Father is better.”
A few minutes later a woman’s voice loudly echoed down the hall and there was no mistaking that she was terrified and furious with an at-the-end-of-your-rope outrage.
I got up but Cage touched my arm. “Hold on, mon coeur. Give him some space.” That lasted about 30 seconds, and then I couldn’t stand it so we followed the shrieking to the chapel. Everybody at the nurse's desk stopped working and looked. When we opened the chapel door I realized how soundproof it was; her screams were a lot louder inside than outside: a lot. They were also less garbled, so the language I thought was Korean I now heard as English: “You make him the woman! You make him the woman!” Her voice was hoarse from shouting.
It wasn't a big room, just a few square feet bigger than an average living room and her very floral perfume filled it. On the wall every few feet soft light glowed from lamps hidden in a short wainscoting, so it was comfortably dim. Obie sat in the front pew and Father Tam’s mother faced him, under a statue of Jesus coming off the cross, with his arms wide open and nail wounds healed to pinkish. I think they call those Risen Christs as compared to I suppose the more common gorier Crucified Christs. Father Tam’s father was off to one side looking panicked.
Father Tam’s mother noticed us. She pointed a trembling finger at Obie while she cried to us: “This man is evil, a homosexual! A devil! He made my son sin. Do you know he is the gay?”
Cage grabbed my shoulder as I stepped forward but I pulled out of his grip. “Yes, I do. I know that. And I know that he is one of the best human beings you will ever meet. He loves your son.”
It dawned on her that we too were "the gay" and waves of disgust disfigured her mouth and eyes. “No! Not love! Don’t tell me ‘love’. It’s sick! It’s sin! He made my son sin.”
A hospital security guard with a beaded weave opened the chapel door and poked her head in. “Y’all all right in here? Anybody need anything?”
“We’re fine, officer. Just a little emotional,” Father Tam’s father said with a shaky smile.
Father Tam’s mother called out to her. “No, we’re not fine! These are evil perverts and homosexuals! They have no rights here in God’s house. Make them go out!”
The guard took one step in and pulled the door closed behind her. She said, “Ma’am, I am sorry you are upset but you need to lower your voice. Anybody wants to come here can, and it don’t matter who as long as they not disruptive. Sounds to me like you the one has a problem, you the one being loud, you the one needs to leave.”
“We’re all right, thank you,” Obie said. The guard leaned in to Cage and me and said, “I’m Thea. If y’all need anything, I’m across the hall at the desk.”
“Shh. Shhhhhh. We don’t want to make noise in God’s house, in a hospital,” Father Tam’s father said to Father Tam’s mother. “Let’s go now.” He spoke to her gently in Korean and walked her past Obie, toward us and the door.
When she came close I saw that the disgust in her face was defeat and despair now. I wanted to say something compassionate, but nothing I could think of matched what I was feeling. So I went with “God bless you.”
She stopped and looked at me with eyes full of brokeness. Then I heard a loud smack and at the same time felt my head jerk to the left. The right side of my face was numb and when I gasped her perfume pushed its way down my throat. Cage and Obie were there in a blink standing between us. In his growliest voice Cage told her that she needed to leave.
“No!” she said, but the fight had gone out of her. “You the perverts who need to leave. Why you want to come to God’s house? There is no place for you.” Then she said looking straight at Obie, almost a plea: “You all die with AIDS somewhere else and go back to hell where you belong. Leave my son alone. God call him. You leave him alone.”
I was fine till I sat down and they began hovering over me with worried looks. Cage cursed at her and then apologized (to God or us, I don’t know) about cursing in a chapel. Father Tam's father hurried out with his weeping wife. The physical numbness on my cheek turned slowly into a sting and the emotional numbness went in tandem. It started feeling real: I had just met up with all the might of a mad, tough, mother who thought her child was being hurt. Then the adrenaline rush hit and my hands shook.
“I’m all right,” I said.
“Thank God you are. Thank God,” Obie said with anguish underpinning his voice. I couldn't look at him for more than a few seconds; his deep sustaining tranquility was shattered and his face registered so many emotions that it was dizzying to me, like looking at a spinning kaleidoscope image that changes so fast it's a blur. “I’m sorry Carl. I’m so sorry you’re involved in all this mess. I started this whole thing. All I wanted was for y’all to meet Joseph. You... Like the emotional drama wasn’t enough, now you were physically hurt .... I’m sorry, Carl. You so didn’t deserve… God, I’m so angry I can’t speak.”
“Shut up,” I said lovingly. “One, I’m a big boy, I make my own decisions. Two, you didn't force Father Tam’s mom to bitchslap me. And I’m a big boy, I make my own decisions.”
Cage actually looked alarmed. “Lay down a minute and let me go find you both a pop** to sip.”
“It's okay, boyo. I really am fine,” I said. Obie stepped back and held out his arms wide. We went to him and after a minute they squeezed me so hard I had to say “I really really love you guys but I can’t breathe.”
“Sorry,” Obie said. “I’m just …”
“It’s okay,” I said and rubbed my cheek. “There are worse ways to die.”
“Look,” Cage said. He pointed to a spinet the corner. He sat down at it and played a quiet chord. “Sit down and close your eyes for a little minute, cher***. Relax and breathe deep because I'm sorry but this is gonna be corny.”
He played "Inch Worm." From about the age of 12 I had sleep terrors and woke up smothering, feeling like electricity was jolting through me. If I was at my grandmother's house, she always heard me yelling and came in to sing for me. Apparently the closest thing to a lullabye that she knew was "Inch Worm." Of course it was corny when Grandma did it and it was corny now, but ridiculously sweet too. Obie sat next to me with closed eyes but I watched Cage concentrating with all his might on what he was doing and whispering “oops” every time he hit a clunker. I could hear Obie taking deep, measured breaths in time with the song: One and one are two. Two and two are four. The door opened and Thea the guard stood waiting. When he was finished she said “Aw, that’s pretty. Y'all all okay?” Cage started to tell her what happened, but I interrupted him.
"The lady was upset about something, that's all," I said.
Thea sighed. "Yep," she said. "Here inna hospital you get people at they worst. They sick. They upset. They nerves are all frazzled. Thank y'all for keeping the peace and not making a ruckus with her."
Obie wanted a few more minutes to say goodbye so we said we'd meet him down in the cafeteria. As Obie went in to Father Tam's room I tried to get a look, but all I got was a quick view of his arm in a cast and the top of his head. I really wanted to see his face. Obie bent forward and stroked his black hair then the door shut. We went down to the cafeteria for coffee which was nasty but if you loaded it up with all the non dairy creamer it could absorb, you could swallow it.
“They musta really upset the Father. Damn but he has some moche**** parents.”
“Mr. Tam seemed nice,” I said. “Since he didn’t assault me, I mean.”
“Eh, coullion***** ,” he said. “Lemme ask you. Is it bad I don’t feel sorry for her?”
“No, it’s not bad,” I said. “But I bet you feel sorry for her at least a little bit, right? She’s dealing with stuff way, way out of her comfort zone.”
“I don’t care. We all gotta do that once in a while. Fritch.****** If your life is so sweet that you never have to punch [sic] the envelope, you sure as hell shouldn’t have a fit when something happens. But ... I do feel a little bad because I don’t feel sorry. I think that should count.”
“It definitely counts, boyo.”
“You notice what seemed to aggravate her worst of all? That the Father was ‘the woman’ in their relationship.”
“Yeah. It makes you wonder what she imagines they do in bed.”
“That’s messed up. Does a straight couple’s mama go around thinking about what they do in bed? It’s two dudes anyway, there’s no woman. That’s kinda what makes it ‘gay’ huh?” He put air quotes around it.
“My dad thought the same way,” I said. “He couldn’t think of a couple any other way than male/female. So he assumed all gay male couples are a man and a kind of pseudo-woman something. Obviously that’s what was foremost in the mind of Father Tam’s mom – that Father Tam was being a woman in some way. Obie’s younger. It’s interesting that she didn’t assume he’s the woman.”
“Obie's tall. And probably heavier,” he said. “Maybe she thinks Peep forces him.”
“She probably can’t let herself think anything else because she assumes gayness is all lust. My dad’s unconsidered opinion was that if it’s two men or two women, that’s all it can be, never love. Like I was gay because I was too hyper-sexual to stick with one gender, that any hole will do because I was so eaten up by lust.”
“Yep, that’s how they think. Either that or we got demons in us,” Cage said. “One time in Lake Charles I worked with this super-religious lady. She once told me that because I didn’t act nelly, I could be straight if I just tried a little harder.” He laughed. “But then before too long she started going ‘God bless you’ when I would cough. Not just when I sneezed, but when I coughed too. Me, I take all the blessings I can get, so I didn’t think too much about it. Not till my bud told me she was blessing gay demons out of me.” He laughed again and shook his head with good natured disbelief. He stroked his close cropped beard twice but the third time the stroke became a pinch and pulled at a patch of hair. I noticed but I didn't say anything.
Obie called my name and motioned to us from the cafeteria entrance, waving us over like it was urgent and we didn't hesitate. Trotting to keep up with Cage’s long legs’ strides I scanned Obie's face, but his serenity was back and I was never so happy to be totally unable predict what we were hurrying about.
“The Father is okay?” Cage asked.
“He’s fine, but y’all need to see this.” When we got back to the elevator the UP button was already pushed. I asked, “Did you or Father Tam even get to discuss anything with his parents? Did you get to explain about ….” I didn’t know how to finish my question. “… your love for him?”
I saw it click for Obie. He realized I knew their relationship wasn’t sexual and he looked relieved. The elevator door opened and we filed in.
“I was tempted to," Obie said on the ride up. "It's not my place to discuss the specifics of her son’s sex life. Or non-sex life. If Joseph wants to tell her, fine. All I said was that I loved him and he loved me and I was sorry about their disapproval, but it wasn’t going to keep me away from Joseph. And we do other stuff that they probably wouldn't be happy about, like we kiss a lot. My God, that man can kiss…. And on those rare occasions when we can spend the night together, we sleep in each other’s arms. But sleep, no sex. We hold, we touch, just nothing below the belly button. But that’s still nobody’s business but ours.”
Cage squinted at Obie and his lower lip plumped out; that was his consternation face. “For real, Peep? You and the Father kiss and hug but don’t have sex?"
"We don't," Obie said simply.
"At all?"
"At all."
"Ever?”
"Never."
Cage scratched at his ear with an index finger. “Fil de putain*******. The Father must have some cast iron self control, that’s all I got to say.”
“That silver tongue, Frawn Swass," he said with a smile in his voice. "For now this is what’s right for us.”
Before I could work up the courage to ask what ‘for now’ meant, we were on the 5th floor and out of the elevator. At Father Tam’s room he pushed the door open and a nurse with beautiful red hair put up her hand and came toward us.
“Sorry,” she said. “Only three in the room at a time.” There were exactly that many people around his bed: a tall balding man in slacks, shirt, and tie; a pony-tailed woman with her back toward us; and a crying woman who was talking to Father Tam in a very animated way. Against the wall on the floor stood a silver and black vase 15 inches or taller with at least 24 white roses fanning out from it.
“Lisa,” I said. The girl with the pony tail turned at her name but the nurse shooed us back and shut door.
“Yes,” Obie said.
“Who?” asked Cage. He pulled a few hairs out of his beard, caught himself then shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets.
“The jogger Joseph saved in Karitz Park. It turns out that her last name is Venn.” Blank stares from Cage and me. “Her father is Bill Venn.”
“Ex mayor of Austin Bill Venn?” I said. “I voted for him."
“Damn,” Cage said. “He came over to thank the Father and look at those roses. That spray is big as a peacock tail.”
The line of Obie’s mouth had (I think) a tenseness to it. ”Father Tam must be uncomfortable with all the attention," I said, fishing.
“Yes,” Obie said. “But that’s not all. They want to thank Joseph by giving him money and they asked permission to use the story in the media. With his name and picture and everything.”
Cage and I blurted at the same time:
[Me] “The media? TV or paper?”
[Him] “Money? How much money?”
“I don’t know,” Obie said.
“Can priests even take money?” Cage wondered. He tugged at his beard again, and this time didn’t he catch himself. I thought No, no.
“They can, but he won’t,” Obie said. “If he accepts anything, he’ll give it to the diocese. And he won't let them have his picture for the media at all.”
They filed out of the room. Mr. Venn nodded to us with red eyes, Mrs. Venn (one supposes) openly weeping, backed out of the room saying “God bless you, God bless you, God bless you,” then Lisa came out last. Her cheek had an ugly purple bruise but she was still startlingly beautiful. She grabbed Obie’s hand.
“Toby! Thank him again for me,” she said. He didn’t correct her. “I’ll come back tomorrow to say hi when he won’t be so groggy. I’m not sure he understood what was going on. If he didn’t, tell him later, okay? Take good care of him.”
“Tell him what?” I asked.
“Tell him to please let my father do this for him. Dad needs to give him something, that’s just how he is,” she said and disappeared around the corner. Cage was still plucking at his beard so I took his hand gently and pulled it away from his face.
The red haired nurse came out and said Father Tam was asleep. Obie wanted to stay and we had to convince him that we wouldn’t go without him before he'd leave. The ride home was quiet and he was more tired than he thought; he lay down on the back seat and put one arm over his eyes.
Cage looked back at him and then grabbed my right hand and kissed it.
“What’s that for?”
“For you, beau coeur. You know I love you.” He sighed and turned his face to show a red and bare spot on the side of his chin.
“I know, boyo, and I love you too. This’ll pass. It always does.”
I knew both of us were despondent about what was coming but determined not to let the other see, which was hard because I was tearing up fast. Neither of us spoke for a long time until he said, “You know when I was little my mom and all my aunts wanted me to be a priest.”
I smiled at him lost in his memory. “Father Francis. You’d have made a good one.”
“Poo yie, no I wouldn’t. Looks like it’s not as easy as they made it sound in catechism,” he said, adorably pretending to be utterly serious.
____________________
* His approximation of the word "minnows."
**There is one small enclave in southwest Louisiana that uses the yankee-ish term 'pop', while the rest of the South uses the term 'Coke' to mean any carbonated drink. It leads to confusing conversations such as "You want a Coke?" "Yeah, a root beer."
*** Which means "dear" I'm sure you know. What you might not know is that it definitely does not, according to Cage, sound the same as the "Cher" of movies and song. To pronounce it correctly say the word "shack" but leave off the final 'ck' consonant.
**** Rhymes with "gosh": it means evil in a petty ignorant way.
***** An affectionate form of 'silly' or 'goofy'; think of the Cajun equivalent to the Black "You so crazy."
****** Crap; pronounced like it looks.
******* Literally, male offspring of a prostitute.
part 6: One Eye Squinted
After the anguished zoned out faces of the people, that sanitized-to-death odor is what I hate most about hospitals. Nothing conducive to life is supposed to smell that clean. Obie, Father Tam and Father Tam's parents talked in his room while Cage and I sat across the hall in a small waiting area with a tall schefflera and a fish tank full of guppies that Cage labeled 'minners'*. The hospital smell wasn’t so bad there and the air conditioner hummed a warble of about 90 oscillations per second, very relaxing. Cage played Angry Birds on his cell phone and I was using my IPad to re-read Habit of Being because it’s a book you can open up to anywhere, start reading and find something amazing. I stalled out on a line O’Conner had written about her terminal lupus: “I can with one eye squinted take it all as a blessing.” Every time I tried to read beyond it, my eyes would come back to it. I was wondering why when Obie walked by with Father Tam’s parents, very well dressed and older than I imagined.
“Joseph got a little too agitated. They just gave him something to relax him. We’re going to continue our talk in the chapel,” Obie said, leaning slightly on the word talk. “I’ll be back.”
I looked at Cage. “Gave him something to relax him?”
“Well, yeah. Confronting them with their relationship is a bad idea right now. They all should pump the brakes till the Father is better.”
A few minutes later a woman’s voice loudly echoed down the hall and there was no mistaking that she was terrified and furious with an at-the-end-of-your-rope outrage.
I got up but Cage touched my arm. “Hold on, mon coeur. Give him some space.” That lasted about 30 seconds, and then I couldn’t stand it so we followed the shrieking to the chapel. Everybody at the nurse's desk stopped working and looked. When we opened the chapel door I realized how soundproof it was; her screams were a lot louder inside than outside: a lot. They were also less garbled, so the language I thought was Korean I now heard as English: “You make him the woman! You make him the woman!” Her voice was hoarse from shouting.
It wasn't a big room, just a few square feet bigger than an average living room and her very floral perfume filled it. On the wall every few feet soft light glowed from lamps hidden in a short wainscoting, so it was comfortably dim. Obie sat in the front pew and Father Tam’s mother faced him, under a statue of Jesus coming off the cross, with his arms wide open and nail wounds healed to pinkish. I think they call those Risen Christs as compared to I suppose the more common gorier Crucified Christs. Father Tam’s father was off to one side looking panicked.
Father Tam’s mother noticed us. She pointed a trembling finger at Obie while she cried to us: “This man is evil, a homosexual! A devil! He made my son sin. Do you know he is the gay?”
Cage grabbed my shoulder as I stepped forward but I pulled out of his grip. “Yes, I do. I know that. And I know that he is one of the best human beings you will ever meet. He loves your son.”
It dawned on her that we too were "the gay" and waves of disgust disfigured her mouth and eyes. “No! Not love! Don’t tell me ‘love’. It’s sick! It’s sin! He made my son sin.”
A hospital security guard with a beaded weave opened the chapel door and poked her head in. “Y’all all right in here? Anybody need anything?”
“We’re fine, officer. Just a little emotional,” Father Tam’s father said with a shaky smile.
Father Tam’s mother called out to her. “No, we’re not fine! These are evil perverts and homosexuals! They have no rights here in God’s house. Make them go out!”
The guard took one step in and pulled the door closed behind her. She said, “Ma’am, I am sorry you are upset but you need to lower your voice. Anybody wants to come here can, and it don’t matter who as long as they not disruptive. Sounds to me like you the one has a problem, you the one being loud, you the one needs to leave.”
“We’re all right, thank you,” Obie said. The guard leaned in to Cage and me and said, “I’m Thea. If y’all need anything, I’m across the hall at the desk.”
“Shh. Shhhhhh. We don’t want to make noise in God’s house, in a hospital,” Father Tam’s father said to Father Tam’s mother. “Let’s go now.” He spoke to her gently in Korean and walked her past Obie, toward us and the door.
When she came close I saw that the disgust in her face was defeat and despair now. I wanted to say something compassionate, but nothing I could think of matched what I was feeling. So I went with “God bless you.”
She stopped and looked at me with eyes full of brokeness. Then I heard a loud smack and at the same time felt my head jerk to the left. The right side of my face was numb and when I gasped her perfume pushed its way down my throat. Cage and Obie were there in a blink standing between us. In his growliest voice Cage told her that she needed to leave.
“No!” she said, but the fight had gone out of her. “You the perverts who need to leave. Why you want to come to God’s house? There is no place for you.” Then she said looking straight at Obie, almost a plea: “You all die with AIDS somewhere else and go back to hell where you belong. Leave my son alone. God call him. You leave him alone.”
I was fine till I sat down and they began hovering over me with worried looks. Cage cursed at her and then apologized (to God or us, I don’t know) about cursing in a chapel. Father Tam's father hurried out with his weeping wife. The physical numbness on my cheek turned slowly into a sting and the emotional numbness went in tandem. It started feeling real: I had just met up with all the might of a mad, tough, mother who thought her child was being hurt. Then the adrenaline rush hit and my hands shook.
“I’m all right,” I said.
“Thank God you are. Thank God,” Obie said with anguish underpinning his voice. I couldn't look at him for more than a few seconds; his deep sustaining tranquility was shattered and his face registered so many emotions that it was dizzying to me, like looking at a spinning kaleidoscope image that changes so fast it's a blur. “I’m sorry Carl. I’m so sorry you’re involved in all this mess. I started this whole thing. All I wanted was for y’all to meet Joseph. You... Like the emotional drama wasn’t enough, now you were physically hurt .... I’m sorry, Carl. You so didn’t deserve… God, I’m so angry I can’t speak.”
“Shut up,” I said lovingly. “One, I’m a big boy, I make my own decisions. Two, you didn't force Father Tam’s mom to bitchslap me. And I’m a big boy, I make my own decisions.”
Cage actually looked alarmed. “Lay down a minute and let me go find you both a pop** to sip.”
“It's okay, boyo. I really am fine,” I said. Obie stepped back and held out his arms wide. We went to him and after a minute they squeezed me so hard I had to say “I really really love you guys but I can’t breathe.”
“Sorry,” Obie said. “I’m just …”
“It’s okay,” I said and rubbed my cheek. “There are worse ways to die.”
“Look,” Cage said. He pointed to a spinet the corner. He sat down at it and played a quiet chord. “Sit down and close your eyes for a little minute, cher***. Relax and breathe deep because I'm sorry but this is gonna be corny.”
He played "Inch Worm." From about the age of 12 I had sleep terrors and woke up smothering, feeling like electricity was jolting through me. If I was at my grandmother's house, she always heard me yelling and came in to sing for me. Apparently the closest thing to a lullabye that she knew was "Inch Worm." Of course it was corny when Grandma did it and it was corny now, but ridiculously sweet too. Obie sat next to me with closed eyes but I watched Cage concentrating with all his might on what he was doing and whispering “oops” every time he hit a clunker. I could hear Obie taking deep, measured breaths in time with the song: One and one are two. Two and two are four. The door opened and Thea the guard stood waiting. When he was finished she said “Aw, that’s pretty. Y'all all okay?” Cage started to tell her what happened, but I interrupted him.
"The lady was upset about something, that's all," I said.
Thea sighed. "Yep," she said. "Here inna hospital you get people at they worst. They sick. They upset. They nerves are all frazzled. Thank y'all for keeping the peace and not making a ruckus with her."
Obie wanted a few more minutes to say goodbye so we said we'd meet him down in the cafeteria. As Obie went in to Father Tam's room I tried to get a look, but all I got was a quick view of his arm in a cast and the top of his head. I really wanted to see his face. Obie bent forward and stroked his black hair then the door shut. We went down to the cafeteria for coffee which was nasty but if you loaded it up with all the non dairy creamer it could absorb, you could swallow it.
“They musta really upset the Father. Damn but he has some moche**** parents.”
“Mr. Tam seemed nice,” I said. “Since he didn’t assault me, I mean.”
“Eh, coullion***** ,” he said. “Lemme ask you. Is it bad I don’t feel sorry for her?”
“No, it’s not bad,” I said. “But I bet you feel sorry for her at least a little bit, right? She’s dealing with stuff way, way out of her comfort zone.”
“I don’t care. We all gotta do that once in a while. Fritch.****** If your life is so sweet that you never have to punch [sic] the envelope, you sure as hell shouldn’t have a fit when something happens. But ... I do feel a little bad because I don’t feel sorry. I think that should count.”
“It definitely counts, boyo.”
“You notice what seemed to aggravate her worst of all? That the Father was ‘the woman’ in their relationship.”
“Yeah. It makes you wonder what she imagines they do in bed.”
“That’s messed up. Does a straight couple’s mama go around thinking about what they do in bed? It’s two dudes anyway, there’s no woman. That’s kinda what makes it ‘gay’ huh?” He put air quotes around it.
“My dad thought the same way,” I said. “He couldn’t think of a couple any other way than male/female. So he assumed all gay male couples are a man and a kind of pseudo-woman something. Obviously that’s what was foremost in the mind of Father Tam’s mom – that Father Tam was being a woman in some way. Obie’s younger. It’s interesting that she didn’t assume he’s the woman.”
“Obie's tall. And probably heavier,” he said. “Maybe she thinks Peep forces him.”
“She probably can’t let herself think anything else because she assumes gayness is all lust. My dad’s unconsidered opinion was that if it’s two men or two women, that’s all it can be, never love. Like I was gay because I was too hyper-sexual to stick with one gender, that any hole will do because I was so eaten up by lust.”
“Yep, that’s how they think. Either that or we got demons in us,” Cage said. “One time in Lake Charles I worked with this super-religious lady. She once told me that because I didn’t act nelly, I could be straight if I just tried a little harder.” He laughed. “But then before too long she started going ‘God bless you’ when I would cough. Not just when I sneezed, but when I coughed too. Me, I take all the blessings I can get, so I didn’t think too much about it. Not till my bud told me she was blessing gay demons out of me.” He laughed again and shook his head with good natured disbelief. He stroked his close cropped beard twice but the third time the stroke became a pinch and pulled at a patch of hair. I noticed but I didn't say anything.
Obie called my name and motioned to us from the cafeteria entrance, waving us over like it was urgent and we didn't hesitate. Trotting to keep up with Cage’s long legs’ strides I scanned Obie's face, but his serenity was back and I was never so happy to be totally unable predict what we were hurrying about.
“The Father is okay?” Cage asked.
“He’s fine, but y’all need to see this.” When we got back to the elevator the UP button was already pushed. I asked, “Did you or Father Tam even get to discuss anything with his parents? Did you get to explain about ….” I didn’t know how to finish my question. “… your love for him?”
I saw it click for Obie. He realized I knew their relationship wasn’t sexual and he looked relieved. The elevator door opened and we filed in.
“I was tempted to," Obie said on the ride up. "It's not my place to discuss the specifics of her son’s sex life. Or non-sex life. If Joseph wants to tell her, fine. All I said was that I loved him and he loved me and I was sorry about their disapproval, but it wasn’t going to keep me away from Joseph. And we do other stuff that they probably wouldn't be happy about, like we kiss a lot. My God, that man can kiss…. And on those rare occasions when we can spend the night together, we sleep in each other’s arms. But sleep, no sex. We hold, we touch, just nothing below the belly button. But that’s still nobody’s business but ours.”
Cage squinted at Obie and his lower lip plumped out; that was his consternation face. “For real, Peep? You and the Father kiss and hug but don’t have sex?"
"We don't," Obie said simply.
"At all?"
"At all."
"Ever?”
"Never."
Cage scratched at his ear with an index finger. “Fil de putain*******. The Father must have some cast iron self control, that’s all I got to say.”
“That silver tongue, Frawn Swass," he said with a smile in his voice. "For now this is what’s right for us.”
Before I could work up the courage to ask what ‘for now’ meant, we were on the 5th floor and out of the elevator. At Father Tam’s room he pushed the door open and a nurse with beautiful red hair put up her hand and came toward us.
“Sorry,” she said. “Only three in the room at a time.” There were exactly that many people around his bed: a tall balding man in slacks, shirt, and tie; a pony-tailed woman with her back toward us; and a crying woman who was talking to Father Tam in a very animated way. Against the wall on the floor stood a silver and black vase 15 inches or taller with at least 24 white roses fanning out from it.
“Lisa,” I said. The girl with the pony tail turned at her name but the nurse shooed us back and shut door.
“Yes,” Obie said.
“Who?” asked Cage. He pulled a few hairs out of his beard, caught himself then shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets.
“The jogger Joseph saved in Karitz Park. It turns out that her last name is Venn.” Blank stares from Cage and me. “Her father is Bill Venn.”
“Ex mayor of Austin Bill Venn?” I said. “I voted for him."
“Damn,” Cage said. “He came over to thank the Father and look at those roses. That spray is big as a peacock tail.”
The line of Obie’s mouth had (I think) a tenseness to it. ”Father Tam must be uncomfortable with all the attention," I said, fishing.
“Yes,” Obie said. “But that’s not all. They want to thank Joseph by giving him money and they asked permission to use the story in the media. With his name and picture and everything.”
Cage and I blurted at the same time:
[Me] “The media? TV or paper?”
[Him] “Money? How much money?”
“I don’t know,” Obie said.
“Can priests even take money?” Cage wondered. He tugged at his beard again, and this time didn’t he catch himself. I thought No, no.
“They can, but he won’t,” Obie said. “If he accepts anything, he’ll give it to the diocese. And he won't let them have his picture for the media at all.”
They filed out of the room. Mr. Venn nodded to us with red eyes, Mrs. Venn (one supposes) openly weeping, backed out of the room saying “God bless you, God bless you, God bless you,” then Lisa came out last. Her cheek had an ugly purple bruise but she was still startlingly beautiful. She grabbed Obie’s hand.
“Toby! Thank him again for me,” she said. He didn’t correct her. “I’ll come back tomorrow to say hi when he won’t be so groggy. I’m not sure he understood what was going on. If he didn’t, tell him later, okay? Take good care of him.”
“Tell him what?” I asked.
“Tell him to please let my father do this for him. Dad needs to give him something, that’s just how he is,” she said and disappeared around the corner. Cage was still plucking at his beard so I took his hand gently and pulled it away from his face.
The red haired nurse came out and said Father Tam was asleep. Obie wanted to stay and we had to convince him that we wouldn’t go without him before he'd leave. The ride home was quiet and he was more tired than he thought; he lay down on the back seat and put one arm over his eyes.
Cage looked back at him and then grabbed my right hand and kissed it.
“What’s that for?”
“For you, beau coeur. You know I love you.” He sighed and turned his face to show a red and bare spot on the side of his chin.
“I know, boyo, and I love you too. This’ll pass. It always does.”
I knew both of us were despondent about what was coming but determined not to let the other see, which was hard because I was tearing up fast. Neither of us spoke for a long time until he said, “You know when I was little my mom and all my aunts wanted me to be a priest.”
I smiled at him lost in his memory. “Father Francis. You’d have made a good one.”
“Poo yie, no I wouldn’t. Looks like it’s not as easy as they made it sound in catechism,” he said, adorably pretending to be utterly serious.
____________________
* His approximation of the word "minnows."
**There is one small enclave in southwest Louisiana that uses the yankee-ish term 'pop', while the rest of the South uses the term 'Coke' to mean any carbonated drink. It leads to confusing conversations such as "You want a Coke?" "Yeah, a root beer."
*** Which means "dear" I'm sure you know. What you might not know is that it definitely does not, according to Cage, sound the same as the "Cher" of movies and song. To pronounce it correctly say the word "shack" but leave off the final 'ck' consonant.
**** Rhymes with "gosh": it means evil in a petty ignorant way.
***** An affectionate form of 'silly' or 'goofy'; think of the Cajun equivalent to the Black "You so crazy."
****** Crap; pronounced like it looks.
******* Literally, male offspring of a prostitute.
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