The Altar Boy

by Grayce Connors

After what seemed like an hour, Chuck's head continued to bob at a furious pace causing an excruciating sensation Christopher could barely stand. In the porn movies he had just been shown, the recipient always put his hands around the other man's head, encouraging his ministrations, but Christopher could not bring himself to touch Chuck even in disaffection. A look of utter distaste must have been plastered on his young face for he suddenly heard Chuck say "Aw, knock off the guilty routine Altar Boy, you know you like it."

What was difficult to accept was not the fact that he was letting Chuck touch him this way, or the fact that Chuck was practically old enough to be his father and probably the most repulsive man he knew, (unwashed, missing teeth, callused hands and all) or even that he was certain Hell was going to be involved somewhere in his afterlife due to this. No, what he found most difficult to accept was the simple fact that his creepy next door neighbor was right. He did like it. Christopher realized at that moment with as much shrewdness as any young kid his age is allowed, that he would remember those words forever.

"Hey, Altar Boy, we're gonna head out to Weinkeller after rehearsal, you comin' with?"

"Naw, you know I don't drink beer Steve."

"No problem. Tommy and I here will teach you how."

"Thanks anyway, but I gotta get right home after rehearsal. I'm serving seven o'clock mass all this week."

Whether his choir mates remained silent in awe of his seemingly unwavering dedication to his parish or they just thought getting up early to serve mass at seven a.m. was plain stupid remained unclear. Christopher pretended not to notice their silence by rummaging through his choir folder and searching for a non-existent piece of music.

"HEY GIRL!"

"George, I've told you a gazillion times not to call me that! Especially here O.K.?"

"All right, all right butch queen, move over."

George sat down next to Christopher, his six foot six and who-knows-how-many-pounds frame taking up a large portion of the other half of the delicately carved mahogany pew. The front of his black tee-shirt was covered with several mini-tubes of Crest toothpaste and toothbrushes pinned all over it with very large diaper pins.

Christopher looked at his attire with complete dismay. "What is that crap all over your shirt?"

"Oh, you know me. If I like something I wear it no matter what it is! God, you are an uptight queen today!" George replied as he rummaged for his own folder from the stack next to him.

"I am NOT a queen George."

"Honey, you don't know what you are yet."

"Well, at least I’m not wearing my medicine cabinet on my chest as a fashion statement and, may I remind you, we are in a church, so don't say God. I mean not in vain anyway, O.K.?

"So all right already…"

George had spotted Christopher in the halls on the first day of high school with the uncanny ability most gay people have of instantly recognizing their own kind. Christopher knew no other gay people so he reluctantly accepted George's friendship but it was a love-hate relationship from the start that would drive him crazy more often than not. George's completely uncensored wit and his outrageous flamboyance dually awed and embarrassed Christopher at every possible turn. And yet, a year out of high school, here they were, still friends, bickering as only he had seen old couples do. George had a thing for Catholic boys so he always joined Christopher's church choir every Lenten season for the Good Friday service men's choir, which was open to all.

"Oh my GOD..."

Christopher instantly fixed George with his best "You are totally treading on thin ice" look. Chastised, George continued. "I mean, oh my. What about THAT one?"

"The one in the glasses?"

"No, the one next to him, the redhead."

"My, my George, our standards have certainly fallen this year haven't they? That cute little piece of jail-bait is Nick Barron. He's a junior at St. Sebastian, a varsity wrestler and hopelessly straight."

"Yeah? Well, for a straight guy he sure picks some interesting friends."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, his little friend next to him is looking at you like a starving dog looks at a can of Alpo."

"George, will you quit with the games? I know you want me to look over there and when I do I’m gonna get a ‘Ha ha, made you look’ or some other… " He stopped mid-sentence and found himself instantly blushing a fierce red when curiosity forced him to look up and he found himself under the friendly gaze of the very boy in question.

Christopher instantly turned away and pretended to look for sheet music. "George you ass. He really is looking at me!" he whispered furiously. "I hate you so much right now you have no idea. Aren’t you Jewish? Don’t you have temple or something to be at right now?"

"See? Boy, you wouldn't notice a man if he fell on top of you. Go over there and introduce yourself." Christopher would no more introduce himself to a handsome stranger than he would place himself in front of a moving train, the train in his opinion being the less harmful of the two. He secretly hoped over the years that some of George's outgoing nature would somehow rub off on him but he continued to remain to a large degree, the same child that would hide his face in his mother's skirt at the sight of a friendly stranger.

"You know, you're always complaining about how you never have a boyfriend, but whenever anyone so much as even looks at you, you stick your head right in the sand! When you see someone you like you won't do anything about it. I swear to the supreme being Christopher, I'd eat your shoe if you would make the first move just once..."

Christopher's attention was suddenly diverted for into the choir loft walked the singularly most beautiful man he had ever seen in real life. Christopher's sudden intake of breath could not have been sharper had he been stabbed in the heart which in his case, was not too terribly far from the truth. The angel stood in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his white overalls benevolently smiling at the assembly. The choir director waved him over from his place at the organ and he came down, rolling up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt up to the elbows. He stood conferring with the director and while he spoke his eyes wandered about the group settling briefly here and there. Christopher suddenly realized that at any second this man was going to make visual contact with him, and as he stood there in a complete panic, he suddenly found himself completely enveloped in a calming sea gray-blue. He could think of nothing else but the beautiful liquid color that surrounded him, gently burning his skin with its ultraviolet warmth. Christopher unconsciously returned the angel's steady gaze, momentarily lost in the playful hypnosis.

His sophistication in most other matters belied his complete inexperience in matters of the heart. There was no way for him to know that ice and storms also came from the same place that this warmth and calm came from, that he was toying with a beautiful force that had the power to create as well as completely devastate. That this was indeed, love at first sight. He was well aware however, that he wanted more, that he would have more of whatever the angel was offering him in the implicit contract of his stare...

"Does anyone have extra music they can share with Alex here?" the director asked the group at large.

"He can share with me." Christopher suddenly realized that his hand was raised and that the words had come from his own mouth. The angel moved towards him. "I'm Alex" he said as he removed one hand from his pocket and offered it to be shaken. "I’m Christopher. Have a seat. Move over George."

Christopher noticed that the only way George's jaw could be any closer to his lap would been to surgically disengage it. "You know Alex, we traditionally go out to the Weinkeller after rehearsal. You think you might like to come along with us?"

"Hey, that'd be nice. I'd like that."

After rehearsal was over, Christopher removed his penny loafer and handed it to George who reluctantly accepted it. He waited until everyone had left before carefully placing it in his mouth and biting down hard, leaving a perfect dental imprint which remains to this day.

The End

COPYRIGHT 2000