Page 113 of Theoretically Straight

After dinner, I perform my required chores. Load the dishwasher. Take out the trash. Put away the leftovers. Then I go back to my room.

I can stomach a routine as long as I don’t have to interact with Dad.

At some point, while I’m working on homework before bed, there’s a knock at my door.

“Theo?” Nathaniel’s gravelly voice comes from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, come in.”

Nathaniel quietly enters, shutting the door behind him. He’s not carrying his Switch, which is surprising. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He watches me for a moment before he speaks. “Are you okay?”

I snort, looking back down at my Chromebook. “Really?”

“Yeah, it was a dumb question,” Nathaniel says, sighing as he sits on the edge of my bed. “I’m…I’m really sorry.”

I shrug. “I knew it was only a matter of time.”

Nate is quiet for a while, and I almost ask him what he wants, but he speaks first. “I think it’s bullshit.”

His swearing startles me a bit. I’m so accustomed to filtering, feeling guilty about, and second-guessing everything that comes out of my mouth that I even get second-hand anxiety on my brother’s behalf, worried someone might have heard him. That’s how deep this bullshit goes, I suppose. I smirk. “Yeah. It really is, isn’t it?”

“Is Grace really going to get proof from her school about homosexuality and the Bible?” Nathaniel asks. “Like to show Dad that it’s actually okay to be gay?”

I have to look away. Nate looks so…hopeful. Like he believes it’s actually possible that something Grace brings home from Emory University is going to change Dad’s mind about anything Biblical. It stings. “I don’t know, Nate,” I answer honestly. “I don’t doubt she’ll build a case. She will. But I just doubt it’ll change anything.”

Nathaniel considers this for a moment. “It might. It might at least convince Mom, maybe?”

“If it doesn’t convince Dad, it doesn’t matter. Mom believes whatever he tells her to believe.” I frown, then look back at Nate. “Which is also bullshit, by the way. Mom should be able to think for herself.”

“Yeah,” Nathaniel mutters. “I know.”

The two of us sit in silence for a few minutes, and I try to focus on my homework again. There’s nothing more to say, and thinking about it just makes me feel worse.

“I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing,” Nate says eventually, standing up from my bed and making his way toward the door. “But I wanted you to know that I think Dad’s wrong. There’s nothing…wrongwith you. For liking boys.”

I sigh. The inclination to cry is there. The desire to feel warm and fuzzy about my younger brother accepting me for who I am is definitely in there somewhere. Unfortunately, it’s too far beneath the heavy weight of apathy to make its way to the surface. “Thanks, Nate,” I say as earnestly as I can. “It means a lot.”

And with that, Nathaniel leaves the room.

About an hour later, as I’m about to climb into bed, my phone buzzes to indicate a text message. I shouldn’t get a jolt of hope that it’s Caleb because of course it isn’t, but it happens anyway. Fortunately, though, it’s Grace, so I open the message.

Grace

how are you holding up, champ?

got a minute to talk?

Theo

I was just about to go to bed actually. I’m really tired.

Grace

that’s fair, no worries. I just wanted to let you know I’ve been thinking about you all day and I’m hard at work putting something academic together to show Dad this weekend. I know it might not go very far with him but I’m determined to try. I’ve got a few other friends, classmates and even one of my TAs helping out too. we’re all victims of religious trauma in some form or other so your situation has inspired some serious academic mobilization.

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