Leo pushed through the tangled vines, creepers, and sawgrass toward the tiny clearing
deep inside the willow grove. The pungent smell of things rotting filled the air. A little creek that
spread out through the trees kept the ground sodden. Breathing hard, Leo followed Weiner, his
friend\u2019s face split in a jester\u2019s grin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCome on, hurry up, I gotta pee,\u201d Weiner said.
\u201cYeah, yeah. Hold your horses, I\u2019m coming.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Leo and Weiner had spent all Saturday afternoon at The Plunge, Santa Barbara\u2019s
municipal pool, sharing the summer heat and tepid water with a packed crowd of kids. Weiner\u2019s
real name was Oscar, but everybody called him Weiner after the maker of hot dogs. Exhausted
and bleary-eyed from messing around in the highly chlorinated pool, they had crossed Cabrillo
Boulevard and headed home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHey, you wanna go looking for tennis balls?\u201d Weiner had asked.
\u201cWhere?\u201d
\u201cIn that grove next to the courts.\u201d Weiner pointed. \u201cPeople knock \u2019em there and are too
lazy to find \u2019em.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat\u2019re we gonna do with a bunch of tennis balls?\u201d<\/span> The following day, Leo and his father, mother and older sister drove to church in their There, he had gotten it all out without stumbling too much. Leo held his breath, hoping Leo rattled off the prayer as he had done since he was seven. He rose and pushed through Leo\u2019s fear of being homosexual faded to an occasional outburst, replaced by good old- Leo never told Louisa about the clearing or Weiner. His childhood friend had faded into Oscar answered. His voice had a musical lilt, not rushed but thoughtful, and yet firm. Leo \u201cTell us something about your work history and what abilities you could bring to this It was Leo\u2019s turn to ask a question. \u201cDo you have family here in Santa Barbara?\u201d The other interviewers glared at Leo, knowing that these questions were unscripted and \u201cYes. My partner was just hired by the City.\u201d Oscar relaxed in his chair. \u201cI love this community, the mountains and the sea, the Spanish \u201cDifferent than the last place you lived?\u201d As a partner, Leo seldom made contact with Oscar. But two months after the young man Leo cleared his throat. \u201cI . . . I wanted to tell you that you were very brave during your Francisco, the bartender, grinned. \u201cSorry, Leo. Something should open up soon. You Leo tasted the cold golden elixir and scanned the room, looking for familiar faces and Leo felt wary about joining them. He was positive that he didn\u2019t know them, and no \u201cYou look tired, old man. Would you like to join us?\u201d \u201cGlad to meet you gentlemen. I\u2019m Leo. Say . . . Sheldon Cooper. Isn\u2019t that the name of a Sheldon laughed. \u201cDon\u2019t get me started about priests.\u201d The silence grew. The duo sipped their drinks, with Leo thinking back to that afternoon \u201cWill . . . will my questions ever go away?\u201d he murmured. Leo nodded. The silence grew again. He tilted his wine glass back and frowned when he Finally, Leo asked, \u201cSo . . . so what do you guys do?\u201d Sheldon grinned. \u201cYeah, coming out to my parents was the worst. Mother probably knew \u201cI think the old priest that I confessed to would disagree with you.\u201d From across the room Francisco motioned to Leo that a space had opened up at the bar.
\u201cClean \u2019em off and sell \u2019em, stupid.\u201d
\u201cYeah, right. I knew that.\u201d
\u201cThen why\u2019d ya ask?\u201d
\u201cShut up!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They now stood apart in the clearing, bathed in sunlight, in the heart of the dark jungle. In
the background the grumble of traffic on Cabrillo sounded like the surf off Leadbetter Point.
Weiner unzipped his jeans and watered the ankle-high crabgrass. Leo felt the back of his
neck go numb with an excitement that a seventh-grade boy shouldn\u2019t feel, surely a mortal sin
that he would need to confess to Fr. Beckett before Sunday mass. How the heck am I gonna do
that? Leo thought. What\u2019ll I say to that old Jesuit, that I thought about . . . about touching
Weiner . . . and more? I don\u2019t even like him that much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat are you staring at?\u201d Weiner asked.
Leo grinned. \u201cNothing much.\u201d
\u201cScrew you. Come on, let\u2019s look for balls.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The boys combed the clearing but found nothing. After slogging through the muddy
undergrowth, scratching bare arms and destroying shoes and jeans, they came away with only
three dirty tennis balls. Scraping slime from their Keds at the curb, they headed home to San
Andres Street and its Magnolia trees with virgin-white flowers. They didn\u2019t talk much, Leo
pondering what he had seen in the clearing, about the sun shining off Weiner, his hair ablaze,
blue eyes gleaming. He shivered and forced himself to think about something else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
year-old \u201958 Studebaker. They always attended 9:15 mass at Our Lady of Sorrows, sat in the
same pew, mumbled the same prayers, and listened to their stomachs growl from fasting before
taking communion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI gotta go to confession,\u201d he muttered to his sister, Elsa.
\u201cWhat nasty little sins have you committed this week?\u201d she whispered.
\u201cNone of your business.\u201d
\u201cI hear you thrashing around and moaning in bed at night.\u201d
\u201cShut up!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He left the pew and walked to the rear of the church where confessional booths occupied
one wall. A line of kids and adults waited outside the curtained-off compartments, one on either
side of the center one where Fr. Beckett most likely sat. Leo joined them, shifting from foot to
foot. Jerry Vasquez from his class stood at the head of the line. He looked back and grinned. Leo
closed his eyes, memorizing what he would say to the priest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When it came his turn he pushed through the curtain and knelt, facing the closed partition
window. He could barely hear mutterings from the person confessing their sins on the other side
of the priest and the good father giving absolution. Yes, it was crotchety old Beckett. Finally, the
partition slid open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGo ahead,\u201d Fr. Beckett said.
\u201cBless me Father for I have sinned. It\u2019s been three weeks since my last confession.\u201d Leo
always wondered why they wanted to know that. Was there some time limit for confessing sins?
\u201cFather, I talked back to my parents, I lied to my fifth period teacher, and . . . and I had
impure thoughts about a boy in my class.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fr. Beckett wouldn\u2019t have any questions. But alas . . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat was the nature of these impure thoughts, my son?\u201d
Holy hell, does this guy want me to draw him a picture? \u201cI . . . I wanted to touch him.\u201d
\u201cI see. Did you act on these impure thoughts?\u201d
\u201cYou mean, did I touch him?\u201d
\u201cYes, my son.\u201d
\u201cNo, that would be too weird.\u201d
\u201cGood, good. You must be mindful of any such transgressions, either in thought or deed,
and avoid the occasions of sin.\u201d
\u201cYes, Father.\u201d Leo tried to remember what an \u201coccasion of sin\u201d was from his catechism
class.
\u201cFor your penance say three Our Fathers and three Hail Marys and make a good act of
contrition.\u201d
\u201cYes, Father. Oh my God I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and …\u201d
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the curtain, feeling light, a great weight having been lifted, his sins washed away and God\u2019s
grace flowing into his soul once again. But as he made his way back to the pew and his family, a
cold fear tightened his chest. Would he feel that way again about a boy? Was it a one-time thing,
something natural that boys go through? Should he stay away from Weiner? Was his friend, in
fact, an occasion of sin?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Reaching the pew he climbed over his sister, knelt, and focused on saying his penance,
the prayers forcing out other thoughts. But fear firmly implanted itself within him, and that night before sleep, visions of the sun-drenched clearing returned and he struggled to rid them from his
mind.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
fashioned lust for women. In the years to come, he made many trips to the confessional,
mumbling to some supposedly celibate priest his sins of licentious thoughts, self-abuse, and later
actual sex. But it got harder and harder for Leo to feel \u201cheartily sorry\u201d about any of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When he thought about the clearing and Weiner, he inwardly cringed and felt disgusted.
This revulsion morphed into a distrust and resentment of gay people. After all, if he could see the
error of his ways, why couldn\u2019t they? They must be weak, or worse, Godless with no moral
compass.
***
In his early forties, Leo became a partner in an environmental consulting firm. Life had
been good: he\u2019d avoided the Vietnam War and married Louisa, a woman he\u2019d met at UCLA and
loved dearly. They had the requisite three children and with two professional incomes could
afford to live and raise a family in Santa Barbara.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the past, barely remembered as a face in a crowd of school kids banging lockers shut and
hurrying down hallways. But he did remember something from his Catholic education, a
fragment from an epistle written by St. Paul to the Corinthians, \u201cWhen I was a child, I used to
speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.\u201d Leo told himself that the clearing and Weiner were childish things that should
be forgotten or at least repressed. Over time, his efforts failed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A week or so before Easter, Leo volunteered to help interview people for an engineering
position with the firm. As senior member of a five-person panel, he sat in an airless room, behind
a table in a three-piece suit, and helped question each candidate. The hours dragged. All the
applicants seemed to have studied proper interview etiquette from the same playbook, with no
standouts, until the very end.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As the young man seated himself, Leo opened his folder and stared at his resume. His
name was Oscar and he had grown up in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo tell us why you applied for this job?\u201d the first interviewer asked.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
studied the man: dove gray three-piece suit, light rose colored shirt, burgundy print necktie, gold
cufflinks, manicured fingernails, perfectly coiffed blond hair.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
firm?\u201d the second interviewer asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Leo didn\u2019t listen to the answer. His mind drifted back to the clearing, to the other Oscar.
He shuddered, trying to shake the image. This man looked nothing like Weiner. Yet he knew this
Oscar was gay. How did he know that? How could he know that? And why would it matter?
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo. My partner and I just moved here.\u201d
\u201cYour partner?\u201d
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
might get the firm in trouble.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cReally. What department?\u201d
More stern looks from the other panel members.
\u201cPublic Works.\u201d
\u201cWell, having some connection to the City could be an asset to our firm,\u201d Leo said. \u201cHow
do you like Santa Barbara?\u201d
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
architecture, no snow.\u201d He chuckled. \u201cAnd the people seem friendly and . . . and more
accepting.\u201d
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh God, yes. The AIDs scare really shook that community and anyone that was . . . was
gay was looked on as some kind of leper, like in Biblical times.\u201d
\u201cBut even Jesus befriended the lepers,\u201d Leo said.
\u201cYes, he did. But I\u2019m not certain mainstream America is ready yet. Maybe someday.\u201d
\u201cYes, maybe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Before Leo could ask anything else, the other members jumped in with the normal and
safe questions. Afterward, they discussed the eight candidates and argued about who should get
the job. Leo pushed hard to hire Oscar and after an hour, he\u2019d won over the two holdouts. Oscar
became the panel\u2019s unanimous choice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Leo kept staring at the new-hire\u2019s resume, wondering how a morally questionable person
could be so successful, so poised and adroit, so accomplished in his profession. But then, did
Oscar\u2019s gayness matter? Why did it matter to Leo? Was he threatened by it? Did his religious eliefs allow him to judge? And what about \u201cJudge not, least ye be judged\u201d? Judging others
seemed so natural to Leo. But maybe it shouldn\u2019t.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
was hired, they found themselves in the break room drinking excremental coffee.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
interview \u2013 telling us you were gay.\u201d
\u201cI know it was a risky thing to do. But I didn\u2019t want to hide anything. I figured if the
interview panel couldn\u2019t accept me, then maybe I didn\u2019t want to work here.\u201d
\u201cWell, we\u2019re glad you\u2019re here.\u201d
\u201cSo am I. But I have to ask, did you hire me because I\u2019m the best person for the job or to
convince yourselves that you accept gays in the workplace?\u201d
Leo grinned. \u201cFor me it was both.\u201d
\u201cThanks for telling me. And by the way, you asked the best questions.\u201d
***
Children moved away and begat grandchildren, fulfilling careers became repetitive work,
bodies deteriorated, life goals simplified, lives slowed and some stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On Sunday, Leo left his car in the parking garage and hobbled to his favorite restaurant
on State Street. Tourists crowded Santa Barbara\u2019s main boulevard, searching for eateries to enjoy
brunch and hide from the hot Santa Ana winds. Leo ducked into a dark and cool caf\u00e9. It had been Louisa\u2019s favorite and ever since his wife\u2019s death he made it a point to eat there on Sundays. He\u2019d
stake out the corner stool at the bar, have a glass of wine then a couple Bloody Marys, watch the
big screen TV and shoot the bull with the other old men and women who showed up on Sundays.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But today was different. With wobbly legs, he leaned on his cane and stared around the
room. A crowd of young people occupied every barstool, with all the tables and booths filled.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
want a glass of wine while you wait? On the house.\u201d
\u201cThanks, some Chardonnay would be nice.\u201d
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
finding none. Two middle-aged men sat at a table against one wall, leaning back in their chairs
and sipping something dark from martini glasses. The taller one caught Leo staring. He smiled
and waved Leo over, pointing at an empty chair.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
stranger had ever offered to share a table before. But his legs were giving out. He shuffled to
their spot. The tall one spoke first.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI . . . I would. My pipes are killing me.\u201d Leo gulped his wine, slumped onto the chair
and adjusted his jeans and ratty denim jacket, feeling self-conscious about his scruffy clothes
compared to his tablemates. The two looked like they\u2019d just come from church, wearing their
Sunday best. Leo hadn\u2019t been to church in years.
\u201cMy name is Sheldon,\u201d the taller one said.
\u201cAnd I\u2019m Cooper,\u201d the other chimed in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
character on that TV sitcom?\u201d<\/span>
<\/span><\/strong>\u201cYes, yes, we get that all the time,\u201d Cooper said. \u201cBut the guy playing that part is so
flaming. It hurts just to listen to him sometimes.\u201d
\u201cFlaming?\u201d Leo raised an eyebrow.
\u201cYou know, super gay. We\u2019re gay but that guy just gets on my nerves. The writers should
have butched him up before he married that woman in the series.\u201d
\u201cYes, I always thought that was strange,\u201d Leo said.
\u201cYou don\u2019t think we\u2019re strange?\u201d Sheldon asked. He had reached across the table and
taken Cooper\u2019s hand.
\u201cNo, no. I don\u2019t know you fellas.\u201d He stared at his empty wine glass and sighed. \u201cBut . . .
but when I was a boy I was scared that I might be gay.\u201d
\u201cWhy?\u201c Cooper asked.
\u201cThere was an incident and it has stuck in my head.\u201d
\u201cLet me guess,\u201d Sheldon said. \u201cYou lusted after some boy?\u201d
\u201cWell . . . \u201d
\u201cRelax, we\u2019ve all been there. But few have done something about it. You didn\u2019t do
anything did you?\u201d
\u201cThe priest I was confessing my sins to asked me the same question, seventy years ago.\u201d
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
in the clearing with Weiner. Was it just a flash of hormones? But why would it stick in my head
for all these years?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cProbably not,\u201d Cooper said. \u201cBut don\u2019t worry about it. The questions shouldn\u2019t stop you
from drinking life to the lees.\u201d
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
found it empty. Sheldon raised an arm and signaled Francisco to bring another round.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cooper answered. \u201cWe\u2019re fashion designers up from LA. Taking a break. And you?\u201d
\u201cA retired engineer . . . living the good life, you know.\u201d
Cooper smiled. \u201cI would have pegged you as some old rancher, in town to enjoy the big
city lights.\u201d
\u201cYes, I kinda dress the part. I wore Armani suits to work for years. Thought I\u2019d try a
different tack.\u201d
\u201cSo I take it you don\u2019t have many gay friends,\u201d Cooper said.
\u201cNone that I know of. And in the old days it seemed that few wanted to come out. My
family lived next door to a guy for thirty years and we never knew.\u201d
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
all along but Dad just freaked out. We used to do all the manly things together: sports, camping,
playing poker, shooting guns, all that stuff. But over the years he\u2019s learned that we\u2019re not Satan
out to corrupt anyone\u2019s soul.\u201d
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey should talk. Let he who has not sinned . . . \u201d Cooper said and the pair of them
laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Leo grinned and shook his head. He thought about the clearing, without the coldness that usually
accompanied such reflections. The clearing was clearing up, and for the first time he felt he
might be able to live with those nagging unanswered questions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n