Out Through the in Door by Ed Hilow Read Free Book Online Page B

inevitable, but that truth offered little comfort. I was a failure.  
              For two years I had lived a lie. I tried to be something I wasn't. I may have fooled others, but in the end I could not fool myself. At twenty-five, I was closeted. Despite being a late bloomer, within a month of my breakup I was now cruising the Block, a well-known gay spot in the city, looking for comfort in the arms of stranger. Its seedy reputation especially at night and on weekends drew me out of the closet.
              On Friday night I would hit the local gay bar, find a corner and drink until I was drunk and then drive around the Block. Like dozens of other gay men, I put too much mileage on my car looking for a hookup. That's all there was at the Block: meaningless sex, dashed hopes and empty promises. Sadly, my first lesson was that being gay was synonymous with being lonely.   
              This is where I met Brian. We drove around each other for a while playing a game of tag until he pulled over. Nervously, I walked up to the driver-side window and we chatted for a few minutes before he invited me to sit inside. We talked. He was intelligent, curious and interesting.
              It wasn't until the sun started coming up that we realized what time it was. Strangely, sex never entered the equation. He gave me his phone number. I held out little hope the first time I called and was surprised when he actually answered. It was start of something completely unexpected. As spring turned to summer, we spent a lot of  time together – some of my happiest memories. 
              Brian's dark blue eyes were filled with kindness. His smile took up half his face and radiated warmth. He always kept his dirty blond hair cut short and neat. Overall, he was a very handsome man. His build was slight giving him meek appearance. And while he was gentle his presence was powerful.   
              His deep spiritual side – no doubt from his days as a seminary student – captivated me. His inner peace was alluring. He taught me that being gay and Catholic were not mutually exclusive or incompatible. He also taught me that answers often came in quiet stillness and patience.
              I was at a crossroads in my life, trying to understand what I was becoming, and through friendship he offered me guidance, kindness and understanding. He slowly changed my view of life from eternal damnation to hope. For the first time in months, my mind was without conflict and my heart light. Brian had become more than a friend – he was my mentor.
     
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                  Now, I sat back on the couch and stared at the envelope. I ran my finger along its edge. As I recalled, the note had caused me anger, confusion and sadness. I wondered what became of Brian. How did life unfold for him? I remembered our time together fondly. Most of all, I recalled our long walks. Rarely a day went by without one.  One time in particular remained vivid to me.
              It was a beautiful summer day, an early Saturday afternoon in June. The trees were rustling in the light breeze. We stopped at the top of a hill overlooking the city. I felt Brian's eyes on me. When I looked at him he leaned in and kissed me. I froze – unsure how to react. I'm certain my shocked expression made him to pull away. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at me as if he was embarrassed. The rest of the walk was in silence.
              For days I didn't hear from him. I couldn't imagine how he felt taking that chance. The truth was I didn't know how I felt. The kiss lasted only a few seconds but its effect lingered. It was soft and welcoming and ran through my body like an electric current. It held wanting and hope, desire and possibility. And it scared me. I finally summoned the courage to call him, for Brian's absence was far more