For Rent or For Real

Chapter 3-2

Ted found it hard to concentrate for the rest of the day. In most of his classes they were reviewing for finals which would start the next day. He checked the wall clocks frequently, and was quick to look to the door if it opened, or at the teacher if the classroom phone rang.

It wasn’t until the end of the school day that he got the word that his parents had arrived. He made his way nervously to the main office, pushing his way through the throngs of students who crowded the halls once the final bell rang. Many of his friends had asked him why the normally outgoing and personable Ted had been so quiet and aloof during the day. He had avoided their enquiries, only sharing with Erik at lunch what was going on. Erik seemed to be nervous himself, as he was involved in all of this. His parents had dismissed the issue it seemed, but Erik was worried what Ted would say to the counselor. Ted assured Erik he would keep him out of it if at all possible.

Mr. Jennings’s secretary told Ted to go right in when he arrived at the office. His mother and Harold were already there. Mr. Jennings rose from behind the desk and greeted Ted, indicating he should take a seat next to his folks. Ted’s mother turned and looked at him, matronly concern etched on her face. Ted could tell from the redness of her eyes she’d been crying. Harold sat rigidly in his chair and didn’t look in Ted’s direction. Instead his gaze was fixed on the wall behind Mr. Jennings’s desk.

Mr. Jennings took his seat. “Mr. and Mrs. Davis. Ted tells me you’ve told him he is no longer welcome to live at home.”

“And did he tell you why I threw him out?” Ted’s stepfather asked, his voice showing the strain of resisting an outburst.

“Ted mentioned you had the notion he was gay and that it went against your religious beliefs.”

“What the hell? Notion?” Davis said, his voice rising. “When you catch the little queer, half-naked on his bed with his hands all over his fag boyfriend’s…uh…business, there ain’t no notion. It’s a fuckin’ fact.”

“Harold,” Mrs. Davis said, looking embarrassed at her husband’s use of profanity in front of the counselor.

“Mr. Davis. Just because young people of this age experiment with s*x doesn’t necessarily mean they are gay.”

“The hell it don’t! I know perverted behavior when I see it and that’s what it was. Perversion!” Harold glared at Ted in disgust. “A clear violation of God’s law and an invitation for Satan to come into your life and my home! Him and that little faggot Erik Blake were going at it like s*x fiends.”

“It’s Hendersen, dear,” Mrs. Davis said, almost in a whisper.

“What is?” Harold shouted.

Mrs. Davis cowered. “It’s Erik Hendersen. Hendersen is his last name, not Blake.”

“What the Hell difference does that make, woman? Blake, Hendersen, a queer’s a queer. Don’t matter what the hell his damn name is. You keep your trap shut and let me handle this.”

Ted winced. After all, he’d hoped to have kept Erik’s name out of this.

Mr. Davis went on, “I shoulda known Ted was a fairy. Him wanting to be in all them plays and singing and dancing. No wonder he was a second stringer on the football team!”

“I don’t agree that instances of teenage experimentation necessarily constitute an indication of s****l preference,” Mr. Jennings tried again to insert some reason into the conversation.

Ted didn’t think Harold had any understanding of what the counselor was saying. His words were all polysyllabic.

“But be that as it may,” Mr. Jennings continued. “There is still the question of Ted needing a place to stay. He slept in the park in the woods last night.”

Mrs. Davis let out a small gasp. “Oh, Teddy, no!”

“That’s not a safe place for him,” Mr. Jennings went on.

“He ain’t a minor no more!” Ted’s stepfather said forcefully. “I know my rights. There’s no law that says I have to support him. He turned eighteen last week!” Mr. Davis crossed his arms over his chest as if in his mind the discussion was over.

“That’s true,” Mr. Jennings went on. “But do you really want your son to live on the streets?”

“He ain’t my son! I adopted him and gived him my name ‘cause she insisted on it before she’d let me move in, and that’s the thanks I get. He has queer s*x right there in my Christian home.”

The fact it was Ted’s mother’s home in the first place seemed to be lost on the man.

Ted wondered if Harold’s reaction would have been different if the s*x had been with a girl.

“He has no means of support at this time,” Mr. Jennings said.

“Let him join the army!” Mr. Davis retorted. “They let queers serve now. He’ll have a roof over his head and three meals a day, thanks to the fact that we got a uppity black man in the White House who’s a fag lover.” Harold didn’t try to hide his bigotry or his disdain for the president and apparently he hadn’t taken notice that the man sitting behind the desk was also a black man.

Mr. Jennings didn’t react. Instead he tried to stay the course of finding a solution for Ted’s dilemma. “Is there anything we can come up with that would allow Ted to return home?”

“I won’t have a faggot living in my house!” Mr. Davis shouted.

“Harold, please,” Mrs. Davis spoke up. “We don’t know that Teddy is…uh…is what you say he is. Maybe Mr. Jennings is right. Maybe it’s just a phase. Please, we can’t let him go without food and a bed.”

Mr. Davis just set his face and turned away from his wife.

“Harold,” she continued. “Remember last year, Reverend Lambert told us about that clinic where people with problems like this can go and get fixed?”

Ted’s stepfather wrinkled his brow and turned to his wife.

“What if Teddy agrees to go to that clinic and he gets cured? Then could he come home?” she asked pleadingly.

Ted didn’t know what his mother was talking about. He turned to Mr. Jennings.

“I think your mother is talking about conversion therapy. It’s a very controversial treatment that claims to allow people to change their s****l orientation.” Mr. Jennings turned his attention back to Ted’s parents.

“I don’t need therapy. I’m not gay,” Ted insisted.

“The hell! I know what I saw!” Harold roared.

Mr. Jennings intervened. “Mr. and Mrs. Davis. First, we don’t know for sure that Ted is gay. Second, this form of treatment is not proven. It is widely accepted that people are born either homosexual or heterosexual and—”

“The s**t they are! God don’t make people like that, the devil does!” Harold turned to Ted. “But if you agree to go get fixed you can come home until we can call Reverend Lambert and get you into that place. But you’ll be grounded. You won’t be able to see that queer Erik Blake…Hendersen or whoever he is. You can’t go anywhere but to school. That clear?”

Ted didn’t know what to say. He surely didn’t want to go to any treatment program. However, he didn’t want to live on the streets either. He looked at Mr. Jennings. But the man had an expression of resignation on his face. Ted sighed. “Okay.”