Excerpt: Why Can’t Relationships Be Like Pizza?

Ch 8, 809 wds

We went to the big rock by the stream; the rock you can climb on and look out over the horizon. We sat there enjoying the view over the trees to the distant hills. It was cold, but there were only a few patches of snow on the grass. The bright sun had melted almost everything away. “Just looking up at the blue sky and puffy clouds makes me feel good about life,” I said.

Mark bundled himself further into his jacket. “You’re so lucky,” he said. “If I had a spot like this near me, I would come here every day. Even though it’s cold, this place makes me feel protected and happy. Like the crazy world won’t get me.”

“Yes! That’s how I feel. Protected and happy.”

We continued to sit quietly, gazing out into the distance. It reminded me of the times I sat here quietly with Bobby, not saying anything, but feeling so connected to him. It made me sad.

I tried to push the sadness out of my mind. This place was too beautiful to think about being sad. Not on this gorgeously sunny afternoon.

“Do you believe in God?” Mark suddenly asked me.

I shrugged. “Yes and no,” I said. “How’s that for an answer?”

Mark nodded. “I get it. I feel the same way sometimes.”

“But you’re a born-again Christian. All you guys believe in God, don’t you?”

Mark turned to me. “There you go. Stereotyping again. Born-again Christians are people, just like everybody else. Strictly speaking, we’re Pentecostals,” he added. “My family belongs to a denomination called Assemblies of God. That’s the world’s largest Pentecostal group.”

“Oh.” All this was new to me.

“And we’re not all crazy, backward types,” Mark continued, obviously still offended by my comment. “Pentecostals were one of the first religious groups to ordain women.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “It’s easy to stereotype people, isn’t it?”

“It’s okay. You’re not the only one who thinks that about us.” He was silent for a bit and then added, “Many people would probably want us to be all the same. But we’re not. We’re just not.”

I could see something was on his mind, so decided to say quiet. Didn’t want to upset him again.

I glanced over at Mark after a few minutes. He was frowning

“You okay?” I asked. “You look upset.”

Mark shrugged. “A little, I guess.”

I waited for him to continue.

“I’m having an argument with my parents,” he finally said. “They want to sign me up for a summer camp next year, and I don’t want to go.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, not at all. Summer fellowship camp is a big deal for us. Prayer meetings, Bible study, volunteering, I’ve gone since I was a kid, though I took a break this past summer, like I told you.”   . . .  I felt bad seeing how upset Mark was. “I wish I could say something to make you feel better,” I added.

“It’s okay. It’s my cross to bear, as we say in fellowship circles. It’s not like I hate everything about the fellowship,” he continued. “There are great people there, and we do great things. I like the Saturday morning discussion groups we have, for example. Today’s was especially good. About how to succeed in modern life but still keep our faith.”

“Yeah. Keeping faith. I think about that too.”

“Yes, me too. A lot.” Mark still looked agitated. He shook his head. “It’s just there’s so much fellowship in my life. It’s like I can’t breathe sometimes. Or have time for other stuff.”

“Exactly how I feel!” I said. “I like a lot of Lith things. But I’m trying to make room for other things.” I shook my head too. “Maybe it’s the immigrant thing, but the big word for my parent is heritage. ‘It’s your heritage. It’s your heritage.’ Well, I’m trying to figure out my own heritage.”

Mark was nodding. “Yes. Don’t you feel like you want to break away from your life sometimes?”

I laughed. “Are you kidding?” I told him about my crazy family and all the arguments at dinner and my brother acting out. “And then the gay thing. Some days, if I knew how to break away, I would. But I just don’t know how or to what.”

“I guess we’re both stuck until we figure things out,” Mark said. “At least it’s good to know other people are stuck too.”

I told him about Mr. Aniso, trying to think of something positive to say. “Maybe you could find someone like that. Someone who knows what you’re going through and is happy to listen to you. Being friends with him has helped me a lot.”

“Yeah, that would be good. Someone who left the ministry. Wouldn’t that be something. Mom and Dad would just about die.”

Andy V. Roamer grew up in the Boston area and moved to New York City after college. He worked in book publishing for many years, starting out in the children’s and YA books division and then wearing many other hats. This is his first novel about RV, the teenage son of immigrants from Lithuania in Eastern Europe, as RV tries to negotiate his demanding high school, his budding sexuality, and new relationships. He has written an adult novel, Confessions of a Gay Curmudgeon, under the pen name Andy V. Ambrose. To relax, Andy loves to ride his bike, read, watch foreign and independent movies, and travel.

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