Lace Lovers

Prologue1986 The house is full of family: his parents, grandparents, aunt and uncles, and a few of his cousins. Brenton isn’t thrilled to be spending his Saturday afternoon with them when he could be out with his friend, maybe hanging out at the record store or something. But his mom said he couldn’t skip out, and her word is law. They’ve had lunch already, and now they’re all crammed into the back yard, on all available garden furniture and a few chairs from inside. Brenton isn’t having the worst time. He’s mainly just bored. Then everything abruptly takes a turn for the worse. His uncle tells them a family at their church is having trouble with their son because he has come out as gay. “Wouldn’t stand for it in my house,” Uncle Mike finishes. “That poor boy’s family, his mother.” Brenton’s mom sighs, pouring iced tea into his father’s glass. A sick feeling creeps into Brenton’s stomach. He tells himself he doesn’t know why, because he isn’t gay. That one kiss with Adam doesn’t mean anything, and they’d promised not to talk about it ever again. Brenton’s dated girls, and he likes it; it feels right. He’s what his mom calls a typical fifteen-year-old boy. He’s obsessed with girls, really. Girls on TV, in movies. He likes nude magazines. He hasn’t gotten that far with a girl yet, not past making out, but when he’s with a girl, he wants to do more. But kissing Adam…It’d been different, strange, but good. It’d turned him on. He’d been terrified after. They still talk now, but it’s not the same. It’s like they’re not friends anymore, but Brenton is sure Adam will keep their secret. “It’s disgusting, is what it is,” Uncle Mike says, and his wife Lisa hums in agreement. “They should send him to one of those camps where they make kids straight again, fix them,” his grandma adds. Fix them. Like gay kids are broken. Brenton doesn’t agree, but he can’t bring himself to open his mouth. His family keeps talking about the boy and his family, and you’d think the kid had done something awful, like murdered a baby, the way they talk. Brenton won’t lie and agree with them. He won’t. He’s stronger than that. He won’t betray his own beliefs, but he’s scared. He won’t ever tell them about his kiss with Adam. And he won’t let it happen again, at least not while he lives at home. “You might want to cut your hair. It’s getting a bit long. You don’t want people thinking you’re a queer,” Mike says, reaching out and ruffling Brenton’s slightly long golden-blond hair. “He’s right, honey. It is getting a bit long. I know it’s fashionable, but you don’t want to give the wrong impression,” his mom says. “I’ll cut it.” Brenton thinks of his dad’s hair clippers in the bathroom. He’ll shave it. He’ll shave off every strand, see what they think of that. It’ll look cool anyway. His mom will hate it. She says rock stars with shaved heads look like thugs, drug addicts. But she never thinks they look gay. Brenton can’t have his whole family turn on him for something he isn’t even sure about. One kiss doesn’t make him gay or bisexual. Brenton is sure plenty of people experiment without it meaning anything. Eventually, Brenton’s family starts to leave. He hugs them goodbye because, despite the way they can be, their bigotry, he loves them. They’ve always been good to him. Still, it’s a relief to be alone in his bedroom, his weights in one corner, his drum kit in the other. Brenton feels at home in his room, safe. He works out a little, trying to work through some of the tension he’s feeling from what his family said, not knowing it applied to him. But exercising doesn’t seem to be helping at all. He’s not allowed to go out running at this time. Instead, he goes over to his drum kit. It’s eight P.M. now. He can only play till nine, but an hour is better than nothing. He likes to practice every day. He has drum lessons at school twice a week, and outside of school at a music store once a week. His mom wants him to join marching band, but that isn’t the kind of music Brenton’s interested in. He likes rock. He wants to make his living playing music for people. Brenton knows he’ll have to get over his fear of playing in front of people if he’s going to be in a real band. He wants to play music. He doesn’t want an office job. He doesn’t want to wear a suit to work every day. The only way his parents will accept him playing music for a living is if he does really good at it. So he needs to practice. He needs to be the best drummer there ever was. He so wants to make his family proud, while staying true to himself at the same time. He doesn’t want to lose himself to his family’s idea of who he should be. He just doesn’t know how to get the balance right. But one thing he does know that feels right is the feeling of his drumsticks in his hands as he hits the skins. Music speaks to him. It’s part of him, and he’ll play till the day comes he loses that love. He prays that day never comes.