The Page Turner, copyright 2008, 2009, by Etienne. All rights reserved.
If the idea of two men loving each other and expressing that love in a sexual manner offends you, then you have clearly come to the wrong place. Feel free to leave.
The Page Turner
-11-
Tom spent most of Saturday at the church. He worked assiduously at the organ until one, then swam laps for an hour. He ate a sandwich, went back to the organ, and put in four solid hours of practice.
Finally, he went home, took a shower, and went to work in his studio, playing catch up on a number of projects that involved paperwork and planning.
When Noah got home from his visit to Live Oak that evening he appeared to be extremely upset. It looked as though he had been crying.
Noah grabbed him in a bear hug and said, “God, I’ve missed you.”
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“All of my belongings are in the car.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I’ve been kicked out of the family and disowned,” he said, starting to cry.
“Sit down on the sofa, babe, pull yourself together and tell me about it.”
Noah sat, and he sat beside him and put his arm around Noah’s shoulder.
“Now,” he said, “start at the beginning and tell me exactly what happened.”
“I took a short nap after lunch because I was sleepy, and because everyone else had errands to run. When I woke up, Mom and my grandmother were home, so I went into the living room to spend some time with grandma.”
“And?”
“Dad came home from running some errand or other, and my brother was with him. Anyway, Grandma asked Bobby if he was taking his girlfriend to the senior prom, Bobby said yes, and started talking about her.”
“I’m with you so far,” he said. “Then what happened?”
“Mom asked me if I’d found a girlfriend in Jacksonville yet. I don’t know why I did it, but I said, ‘no, but I have a boyfriend.’”
“Wow, that must have come as a bolt out of the blue. What happened then?”
“What do you think happened? The shit hit the fan is what happened. My dad stormed out of the room ranting and raving about queers, and Mom got hysterical. After a few minutes, Grandma actually slapped Mom and said, ‘Mildred, get a grip, it’s not the end of the world.’ That quieted Mom down, but she was still upset and carrying on about how evil homosexuals were. Finally, Grandma got tired of it and said, ‘Mildred, I didn’t raise you to be that stupid. Your son is exactly the way God created him. Who are you to judge His handiwork?’”
“Geez, that must have been an intense scene.”
“Baby,” Noah said, “you have no idea. Anyway, my Dad came stormed back into the room and ordered me to clear out my room, leave, and never come back. He said there would be no more family help with my schooling. He actually said something like, ‘That queer organist must have corrupted you,’ or words to that effect. God, I’ve never loved Grandma as much as I did when she said, ‘Stuff a sock in it, William. You’ve been polluting my daughter’s head with your Baptist crap for twenty plus years and I’m sick of it.’”
“Way to go, Grandma. I knew there was a reason why I liked her. What did your brother do?”
“Bobby shocked the shit out of me. He and Grandma helped me load the car with everything that I’d left in my room, Grandma gave me a check, and promised to send more when she could. Bobby actually hugged me, and told me that he thought our Dad was full of shit. After that, I drove home.”
“I think you need a drink,” he said.
“Yeah, maybe. I still can’t believe Bobby hugged me. We’ve always been fairly close, but he’s never shown any overt affection.”
“I think someone once said that it takes a crisis to bring out the best, and the worst, in people. Let’s get that car unloaded and then you can unwind.”
They stood up and Noah grabbed him in a fierce hug again.
“I don’t know what I would have done,” Noah said, “if you hadn’t been here waiting for me.” He started crying again. “What am I going to do about school next year? I don’t make enough to cover everything, and I don’t think Grandma has that much money to spare.”
“Baby,” he said, “I have some very good news.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Go wash your face and I’ll tell you.”
Noah disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged, his face was freshly scrubbed and he had his emotions under control.
“So tell me,” Noah said.
“You must have had your cell phone turned off while you were gone.”
“Yeah, I don’t get any signal on I-10 west of Macclenny, so I just shut it off to save the battery, why?”
“Because Dr. Ambrose tried to call you.”
“Who’s he?”
“Dr. Ambrose is head of the Music Department at UNF,” he said, “and she was my advisor when I was working on my Dissertation. She was also my voice teacher.”
“What did she want? For that matter, why would she have my number?”
“She called me and asked me for it the other day. Anyway, when she couldn’t reach you, she called me.”
“And?”
“Babe,” he said, “she was at the Elijah performance, and you impressed the hell out of her. If you want to major in music, a full scholarship is yours for the asking. She said she’d have called you sooner, but it took her a while to juggle the budget and come up with the money for another scholarship.”
“Holy shit.”
“Just so. I assured her that she would hear from you first thing Monday morning.”
“You know I’ve been in a quandary about what my major should be, right?”
“Yep, and you’ve been thinking about music, haven’t you?”
“I guess that decision has just been made for me, hasn’t it?”
“Don’t do it, babe, unless you are absolutely certain.”
“How else will I get through two more years of school?”
“Need you ask? What’s mine is yours and there are student loans available, so I repeat, don’t do it unless you are absolutely certain that’s what you want. Ask yourself if you would be happy and satisfied with a career in music.”
“What would I do with it?” Noah said.
“Teach, do solo work, conduct - there are a lot of choices. You’d never get rich, unless you became some sort of major recording star or concert artist, but you would certainly have a satisfying and comfortable life.”
“Baby,” Noah said, “as long as I have you, I already have a satisfying and comfortable life.”
“Thanks for that, but you still need a satisfying career.”
“I’ll call her Monday,” Noah said, “I’ve really enjoyed all the solo work I’ve done since we met, and you know there weren’t any other career choices that really appealed to me.”
“Okay,” he said, “now let’s get that car unloaded. Then we can celebrate in the time-honored manner.”
Which is precisely what they did. Later, as they lay in bed cuddling, Noah’s stomach began to growl.
“I guess I was so upset that I forgot to pick up any food on the way out of Live Oak.”
“We can take care of that. Follow me.”
He opened a can of soup and started to prepare it while Noah sat quietly at the kitchen table, watching.
“Tom,” Noah said.
“What?”
“What if my dad calls Father Cullen and raises hell?”
“We’ll take care of that in the morning before the rehearsal.”
“How?”
“We’ll go and have a little chat with John, and give him a heads up on things.”
“Okay, if you think so.”
“I do.”
They talked about what to say to Father Cullen while they ate their soup and consumed a glass of wine.
Sunday morning he led a visibly nervous Noah to the church offices.
“The eight o’clock service has been over for a while,” he said, “so John ought to be at his desk.”
They walked up to the open door of the Rector’s office. He tapped on the door frame and said, “Got a minute, John?”
The Rector looked up and said, “For you, Dr. Foster, always. Come in and have a seat.”
He led Noah into the room and closed the door behind them. John raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.
“You know Noah, don’t you, John?” he said.
“Of course,” John said, “he just finished my confirmation class. Now what can I do for my two star musicians?”
“To put it plainly,” he said, “we wanted to let you know that we are a couple.”
“That’s great,” John said, “and you’re a good-looking couple, but I don’t think you closed the door just to tell me that.”
“Hardly. The thing is, Noah drove over to Live Oak yesterday to visit his parents. He managed to let it slip that he was gay, and his father not only raised the roof, but threw him out and disowned him. He made it quite clear that all parental support with Noah’s education was at an end.”
“Let me guess,” John said, “your parents are Southern Baptists, right?”
“Yes sir,” Noah said. “My father turned into a raving maniac and my mother got hysterical until my grandma shut her up.”
“How did she do that?” John said.
“Basically, Grandma slapped Mom. Then she told her that her grandson was God’s creation and asked her how dare she question His handiwork.”
“Your grandmother is a smart lady,” John said. “Somehow, I suspect your Grandmother isn’t a Baptist.”
“No sir,” Noah said, “my maternal grandparents are Presbyterian. It’s my dad’s family that are Southern Baptists.”
“Well,” John said, “if it’s your education you’re worried about, the church has a little scholarship money laying around.”
“That’s the good news,” Tom said. “The head of the music department at UNF called me yesterday. She was at our Elijah performance and has offered Noah a full Music scholarship at UNF. She can’t wait to get her grubby little hands on Noah’s voice.”
“The Lord moves in mysterious ways, doesn’t He?” John said.
“What does that mean?” Noah said.
“Your father disowned you and ended his support for your schooling,” John said, “and at the same time, you were offered a full scholarship. To repeat, He moves in mysterious ways.”
“I guess so, when you look at it that way,” Noah said.
“So,” John said, “what’s the problem?”
“Noah’s father thinks that I probably corrupted his little boy,” he said, “and there’s a very good chance that you will be hearing from him. We wanted to give you a heads up as to that.”
“If, and when, that happens,” John said, “I’ll handle it. I’ve been dealing with that kind of bigotry for years.”
“Thank you,” Noah said.
“Anyhow,” John said, “the two of you make an attractive couple, and you certainly make beautiful music together.”
“We sure do,” Noah said with a grin. Realizing what he had just said, he clapped his hand to his mouth for a minute. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I said that. I apologize. That just slipped out.”
“All I said was that you two make beautiful music together,” John said, “I don’t get..... Oops, yes, I do get it.” He laughed and said, “My words had a double meaning, didn’t they?”
“I’m embarrassed,” Noah said.
“And you’re actually blushing,” John said. “That’s kind of sweet. Most young people these days have lost the capacity to blush. Don’t worry about it. The fact that I wear this collar doesn’t preclude my having an earthy sense of humor, and I’m certainly not too old to remember what it’s like to be young and in love.”
“Thanks,” Noah said.
“Tom, do the members of the choir know about you and Noah?” John said.
“Yes, sir. At least most of them do. I invited them over for wine and cheese a few nights after the big performance and most of them came. During the course of the evening, Sylvia Blanchard gave me one of her famous looks and said, ‘Tom, honey, don’t you have something you want to tell us?’ I said ‘excuse me,’ and she said, ‘what I meant to say is don’t you and Noah have something you want to share with us?’ It turns out that most of them had figured things out for themselves.”
“Good,” John said, “there’s absolutely no reason to hide who you are, at least not around here. Let me think a minute. Noah, when you go to the altar rail to receive communion this morning, I want you to step quietly to one side and wait until Tom gets off the organ bench, then I want you to go and kneel beside Tom. I’m going to give the two of you a special blessing after you commune. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Noah said.
“Thanks, John,” he said. “We’ve got to go to rehearsal.”
On the way up the stairs, Noah said, “I can’t believe what just happened.”
“Why?”
“I’m not accustomed to ministers being quite so open about things.”
“Babe, this is the twenty-first century and you’re in an Episcopal church. You should expect nothing less.”
“Are all Episcopal churches like that?”
“Sadly, no. A few of our churches skirt around the fringes of a sort of Episcopalian version of fundamentalism, mostly because they’ve become infected with what I like to call the charismatic cancer, but they’re the exception that proves the rule.”
“Charismatic cancer?”
“You know, waving your arms around in the air during the service, speaking in tongues, and all the rest of that holy roller crap.”
“Oh. I don’t think I’d like that.”
The morning service went well, as usual. As he left the bench to go to the altar rail and kneel, Noah stepped quickly forward and knelt beside him. They waited side by side, elbows almost touching. John gave each of them the wafer with the usual blessing and followed it by saying, “Father, we ask your special blessing on these two young men who give so much of their time and talent to making the worship service more meaningful for everyone.”
John placed his free hand on Tom’s head, and then Noah’s head as he said these words. When he stood to go back to the bench, he noticed that Noah’s eyes were moist. So, for that matter, were his own.
Sunday evening Noah had gone to his desk to use his computer. He came into the studio with a smile on his face.
“What’s up?”
“I just got an e-mail from Bobby,” Noah said.
“Bobby, as in your brother Bobby?” he said.
“The same.”
“What did he have to say?”
“The preacher and his wife came to dinner Sunday after church,” Noah said. “Evidently my dad had told him about me and there was a lot of bad stuff said about homosexuals during lunch. Bobby says that Grandma kept her mouth shut as long as she could, but finally she had enough, and let both dad and the preacher have it with both barrels, calling them names he didn’t think she knew.”
“As I said, way to go Grandma. What else?”
“Grandma told them it would be a cold day in hell before she ever visited that house again. She packed her bag and went home to Gainesville.”
“What else did Bobby have to say?”
“Not much. He offered to try to talk to Dad about things, but I wrote him back and told him not to. He doesn’t need to get dad mad at him because of me. Besides which, I told him I might have a scholarship and he shouldn’t worry.”
He was sitting at the organ Monday morning, hard at work on a difficult piece. As the last note died away a voice said, “That sounds great. It also sounds vaguely familiar, what is it?”
Startled, he jumped and looked around.
“Good morning, John,” he said. “I was so deeply into the music I didn’t even know you were there. To answer your question, it’s the finale from a piece by Louis Vierne.”
“It has all the makings of a wonderful postlude,” John said.
“That it does, and so it will be in a few weeks. What can I do for you?”
“I just got a telephone call from an irate father, who accused my evil and homosexual (he pronounced it ho-mo-sex-u-al, turning each syllable into a separate word) organist of taking all manner of vile liberties with, and totally corrupting, his little boy.”
“I’m glad we gave you a heads up. What did you do?”
“Put him in his place, firmly but politely,” John said. “My God, those people really tick me off.”
“Thanks.”
“By the way,” John said, “Noah surprised me Sunday morning.”
“How so?”
“He went through the receiving line after the service,” John said, “but instead of shaking my hand, he hugged me and whispered ‘thank you’ in my ear.”
“I’m not surprised. Noah was really touched by your blessing. Actually, we both were, but he’s not accustomed to that kind of treatment from Clergy.”
“He’s a remarkable young man,” John said. “You have no idea how rare it is these days to find someone that age who isn’t totally jaded.”
“That’s true. Both of us really appreciated what you did yesterday during the communion service.”
“Remember that, the next time you get a job offer,” John said.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“But you do get offers, don’t you?”
“I get a nibble from time to time, but I’m not tempted. For one thing, I like it here, and I like Jacksonville. There isn’t another church in town that could entice me away.”
“Not one?” John said.
“Well, to be perfectly honest, if someone from the Cathedral called me, it would take me a while to say no, but I think that’s what I would ultimately say. Besides, their new Organist is only a few years older than me, and he’s not going anywhere.”
“Good,” John said.
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re not planning to run off and leave us any time soon, are you?
“I’m not planning to,” John said. “I suppose if another Diocese dangled a Bishop’s mitre in front of me, I’d be tempted, but other than that, I don’t think so.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to break in a new Priest in charge.”
John clapped him on the back, laughed, and said, “I’ll leave you with your music.”
Before he got back to work on the music, his cell phone rang.
“Hi there,” Noah’s voice said in his ear.
“What’s up, babe?”
“I have a four o’clock appointment with Dr. Ambrose,” Noah said. “Can you go with me and introduce me to her?”
“Sure. Want me to pick you up at work? We might be able to beat the rush that way. You can leave your car downtown.”
“No problem,” Noah said, “the parking lot has security.”
“See you a few minutes after three.”
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-To be continued-
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Your feedback, as always, is appreciated, be it good, bad, or indifferent.
My stories may be found on the following site:
http://tickiestories.us/Etienne_m.htm
My thanks as always to the tireless Rockhunter for editing this material.
Special thanks go to Roger who agreed to become my beta reader in order to keep this amateur musician in line concerning matters musical, and who has also provided many useful and helpful suggestions regarding plot strengths and deficiencies.
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