Title: Unstraight
Author: John Thurlow
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 09/13/2022
Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex
Length: 114800
Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, children, cleric/priest, coming of age, coming out, college, established couple, friends to lovers, humorous, hurt/ comfort, in the closet, over 40, psychic/medium, religion, religious extremism, reunited, soulmates, tearjerker, therapist, slow burn
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Description
David Sterling lives the suburban life. He has been married to Carrie for fourteen years and they have two daughters. To the onlooker, life behind the Sterling’s picket fence looks perfect, and in many ways it is—save for the fact that David carries a burdensome secret…one that he has guarded well since he was a teenager.
David’s life is unravelling and he cannot carry the burden any longer. To make peace with himself and his world, it is time to tell the truth, a gamble that may lose him all that is precious. But he needs to be released from the shame, the guilt, and the fear.
In the pain and hurt of the aftermath, this deeply personal journey is driven by David’s desire to hold on to those he loves, while at the same time revealing who he really is to them and the world.
Unstraight
John Thurlow © 2022
All Rights Reserved
CW: Bullying, homophobia
13 May 1980
It was the week before half-term and I was playing on the playground before the morning school bell. We were playing Chinese jump rope—which we called elastics. It was an unusually cold morning for that time of the year and there was a soft drizzle. In my school uniform, I was over-dressed for this game which combined the skills of hopscotch and some hand motions. A group of girls were chanting: “England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales. Inside, outside, puppy dog’s tails.” As the chant grew louder and louder with each repetition, I was jumping and completing the sequence inside and outside the elastics that were held in place by Lucinda’s stubby legs and Lisa’s skinny ankles. I was hot and sweating, but there was adrenaline pumping inside me. I was enjoying the sequence, how good I was at it, and also all of the attention.
I noticed a group of boys move closer. Not exactly the group I would have chosen to spectate my jump rope skills. It was Michael Carlson, Gerald North and Anthony Milligan. These boys thought they owned the playground and they had a reputation for being troublemakers. I was mostly scared of Michael. He was devilishly handsome, and he knew it. He looked like a boyish Tom Cruise, only taller. I always found him nice when he was alone, but as soon as he had his posse with him, he became mean and nasty. It was always so hard to understand how he could be these two different people. Gerald was square and burly and he had a massive mop of curly, auburn hair. He was an interesting person, because despite being big and bulky—there was definitely something effeminate about him. His large frame and the fact that he played rugby and hung out with Michael Carson made him a misnomer of sorts. I didn’t find him attractive at all—but I could see why others might. I preferred the look of boys who had dark hair and continental features. Boys like Michael Carlson and Tom Cruise. The final of the horrible trio was Anthony Milligan. He was more of a hanger-onner, than anyone to be afraid of. He was a leech who wouldn’t have had much of an identity if Michael and Gerald hadn’t given him some kind of space in which he could belong. He was their bitch—he did what he was told and he knew his place in the pecking order.
“He’s a fucking poofter!” The words hit me like a cricket bat to the back of my head. Michael smiled smugly at the words he flung across the playground.
“Yeah, he is. He’s a queer!” Anthony tried to make himself sound tough, but it didn’t work. By now the chanting had stopped and I felt like I was in hell rather than in ‘England, Ireland, Scotland or Wales’.
“No, he’s not,” retorted Lisa, who was unravelling the elastic from her delicate ankles. She may have been the shortest girl in the class, but she was a fireball. Principled and direct. Lisa continued, “How dare you, Michael Carlson? You’re just a bully!”
“Oh, really Lisa Prestwick—I may be a bully, but he’s a poofter!” Then it was Gerald’s turn to enter the conversation. He looked at me with an air of cool calm intimidation and then he spoke.
“A shame you have to play with girls. Not cool enough for the boys,” he sneered.
“I guess that’s what Nancy-boys do,” Michael added.
“Damn right!” interjected Anthony. I tried to speak, but my mouth was dry, and the words wouldn’t come out. To be honest, I didn’t know exactly what to say. Lisa walked up to him, stood right before him and looked up at his handsome face.
“Just get away from here before I report this all to Mrs Lumsden,” she threatened. Mrs Lumsden was the intimidating Year 6 teacher at Forest Primary, and everybody was terrified of her and her quick tongue—except for, it seemed, Michael Carlson.
“Oooh scary, scary,” Michael responded sarcastically. Lucinda was now standing next to Lisa and she was uncharacteristically mad.
“Listen to me, Michael Carlson—you and your sweet little gang don’t scare us—or David for that matter. Why can’t you just leave us alone?” she instructed. There were a few seconds of silence and then Gerald jumped in before Michael could respond.
“There is no place for poofters in this school.” He was sticking his chest out in an effort to make himself look bigger than he actually was. Suddenly my throat felt clearer and I found my voice. I was calm but clumsy:
“You’re entitled to your opinion, which isn’t the same as mine—or Lucinda’s or Lisa’s,” I rebuffed. “I don’t think I’m a nancy, or a queer, or a faggot, or any other name you want to call me.”
“Oh, shut up,” Anthony interrupted, trying to assert his intimidatory position in the gang.
“I’m not finished, Anthony,” I continued—shocked by the attention I had gained from the other two and also by the silence on the entire playground. “You can call me whatever you want, but I know who and what I am—so I really don’t care.” The girls, and one or two boys, beside me and behind me, started to clap and cheer. I felt like a hero—a humiliated one, but still a hero. Michael flung his middle finger in the air as the three of them turned and walked away in a perfect v-formation. It was flawless and almost looked rehearsed.
‘You can call me whatever you want, but I know who and what I am—so I really don’t care.’ These words echoed in my head. They were my words—but they were all a lie. I had no idea of who or what I was—and I cared a lot about what other people thought. A lot more than I should have. I wasn’t as brave as I would have liked to have been.
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Born in Zimbabwe and raised in Zambia and then South Africa. John now lives in Henley-on-Thames in the United Kingdom.
John started out his career first as a primary and then as a secondary school teacher. After twelve years of teaching, he moved into the education development sector where he continues to manage a variety of education programmes that support teaching and learning in underprivileged communities. He holds a PhD in Education.
John loves chocolate and travelling… sometimes he likes running and walking. He always likes telling stories, with the characters based on his own personal experiences and interactions. Human relationships are super important to him and his family is the centre of his universe.
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