------------------------------------------------------ NOTE: While this story is purely fictional, it draws on my actual experience as a former LDS missionary. (There's a story there, of course, but it's not the story you're about to read.)
For conscience's sake, I should say that my decision to submit this story to the Nifty Archive does not necessarily mean that I approve of the content of other stories in the archive. Nevertheless, I applaud the archive's goal of collecting "the diverse hopes, dreams, aspirations, fantasies, and experiences of the Queer Community." Gay Mormon experience--and fantasy-- is one piece of that diversity. ------------------------------------------------------
THE BIG MOON
Elder Cannon learned about the gay bar a few days after being transferred into the area. The bar was located six blocks from the missionaries' apartment, near the outskirts of town. Elder Pilsinger pointed it out to him as they were driving home one night.
It didn't match his mental image of a bar. There were no neon signs in the window, no people in leather jackets lined up outside waiting to be admitted by a bouncer. Nor was there anything about it that would seem to indicate it was a gay bar--not that he had any idea what to look for. It was just a modest, nondescript, one-story building. It reminded him, in fact, of the building where his family's dentist had his office, back in Utah.
"How can you tell it's a gay bar?" he asked.
Elder Pilsinger shrugged. "It's just something everyone knows. On weekends, the parking lot is packed." He shook his head in disapproval. "It's a sick world we live in."
Elder Cannon made a noise that was meant to sound like assent.
He hated being a missionary. Everyone had said it would be the best two years of his life, but a year into his term of service, he was miserable. His mission was nothing like what he had envisioned when he submitted his papers. He had thought for certain that because he'd done so well in his high school Spanish classes, the Church would assign him to a mission somewhere in Latin America. Instead he'd been kept Stateside. He spent most of his ten proselyting hours each day knocking doors. People were rude. The ones who let them in were often lonely or emotionally disturbed, eager for someone to lavish attention on them. It wasn't uncommon for someone to let them in just to argue with them. He had not yet witnessed a single convert baptism. He had not yet been assigned a missionary companion with whom he felt he had anything approaching a friendship. He sensed that the mission president disliked him, though he didn't know why. He was still a junior companion, while all the other missionaries with whom he'd entered the field had been made senior companions or district leaders--one was even a zone leader.
He was lonely and homesick. He felt like a failure. He stayed because he couldn't face the shame of going home early.
And on top of it all, there was the secret he had carefully concealed through every interview with his bishop, or his stake president, or his mission president. He hadn't had...those feelings...for any of his companions, at least not to a serious degree. But he knew the feelings were there, and he worked hard not to do anything that might give them away. It took a lot of effort, and he was very, very tired.
Something had to give. On a Friday night, about two weeks after Elder Pilsinger pointed out the gay bar to him, it happened.
According to the Missionary Handbook, "lights out" was 10:30. By 11:00, Elder Pilsinger was snoring. Elder Cannon eased stealthily out of bed and stripped off his temple garment in the darkness. He pulled on the one pair of briefs he had brought on his mission to wear while playing sports, followed by the t-shirt and jeans he wore during service projects or on their days off.
It was a warm summer night. He half-walked, half- jogged the six blocks to the bar. The parking lot was not as "packed" as Elder Pilsinger's comment had led him to imagine, but the bar was obviously having a busy night.
He had never in his life set foot inside a bar--any kind of bar--so he had no idea what to expect. It was dark and loud and smelled smoky. The bar itself was located close to the door. Beyond that, on a slightly lower level, was a small dance floor packed with bodies. Other people were sitting or standing on the periphery, checking out the other patrons.
He couldn't see a place to sit that wouldn't have required him to sit right next to someone else. So he stood against the wall, directly beneath an Exit sign, as it happened. Because he was on the same level as the bar, he had a clear view of the dance floor beneath him. He was aware that other men in the bar were looking at him. Their stares made him anxious rather than excited. He took scrupulous care not to make eye contact with anyone. He felt acutely out of place. This made him wonder if he was doing or not doing something that gave him away as someone who didn't have a clue how to behave in a gay bar.
His eye was caught by one of the dancers, a young man who looked to be just a few years older than himself. The young man had dark hair, conservatively cut, and a pleasant, clean-shaven face. He struck Elder Cannon as someone who would turn out to be both athletic and smart--someone who was equally likely to be found playing basketball with friends on a Saturday or reading a book at a bus stop. Elder Cannon watched the young man dance, wishing he knew how to approach him and strike up a conversation.
Suddenly, the young man noticed Elder Cannon was watching him. Their eyes locked. The young man smiled and nodded in greeting. Elder Cannon looked away, flustered. When he got up the nerve to look back, the young man was looking somewhere else. Elder Cannon resumed watching. After a while, the young man looked at him again. He didn't nod this time, but he smiled a little. Elder Cannon willed himself to keep looking. The young man kept looking back. Several seconds inched by. They kept looking at each other.
Then, abruptly, the young man stopped dancing. He began working his way through the mass of bodies toward the stairs leading up to Elder Cannon's level. Elder Cannon experienced a wave of panic mixed with anticipation.
"Hi. I'm Joel."
After a year of missionary service, Elder Cannon's automatic response was to offer his hand. This seemed to take Joel by surprise, but he shook hands, looking amused. Elder Cannon almost introduced himself by his missionary title; at the last moment he remembered to answer, "I'm Wayne."
"Can I get you something to drink?"
Another wave, this time of pure panic. "I don't drink," he answered, feeling like an idiot.
Joel didn't miss a beat. "How about a Sprite?"
"OK."
"I'll be right back."
Joel returned with two bottles of Sprite and handed one to Elder Cannon. "Cheers."
There was an awkward pause, which Elder Cannon thought he ought to break. Since he couldn't think of anything else, he said what he was thinking at the moment. "I didn't know you could buy Sprite at a bar."
"What?" It was hard to hear over the music.
Elder Cannon stepped closer. "I didn't know you could buy Sprite at a bar," he repeated.
Joel flashed a kind of sideways smile that made something stir deep in Elder Cannon's groin. He said something that Elder Cannon couldn't quite make out.
"I'm sorry?" Elder Cannon said.
"I said, I take it the bar scene isn't your specialty." Elder Cannon had heard the words this time, but he wasn't sure what Joel meant by them. Joel tried again. "This is your first time in a bar?"
"Yes." He thought he ought to explain. "My family doesn't drink."
"Mine neither. Teetotaling Baptists." Joel jerked his head in the direction of the door. "Why don't we go outside where we can talk easier?"
"OK."
There was a waist-high cement planter just outside the door, littered with cigarette butts. Joel swept the butts aside so they could sit down. "That stuff'll kill you," he said. "Do you smoke?"
"No."
"Good. Same here. The Baptist upbringing again. Though I should add that an aversion to tobacco and a general avoidance of alcohol are probably the only things I took with me from my Sunday School days."
He's smart, all right, Elder Cannon thought. He felt intimidated, plus he was afraid that Joel would inquire about his own religious background. He needed to change the subject. It occurred to him to shift into the "Building Relationships of Trust" mode he used whenever he met new people as a missionary. "Is your family from here?"
Joel shook his head. "Austin, Texas. I'm here going to grad school."
"What do you study?"
"American Studies." Elder Cannon didn't know what that was. "It includes literature, history, culture, that kind of thing, all rolled up into one."
"So you want to be, like, a professor?"
"Hopefully. I'm just getting started. I've got a long ways to go still. What about you? Are you going to school?"
Elder Cannon blanked. He hadn't thought to work out an alibi in advance. He latched onto the memory of an investigator from a previous proselyting area. "No. I actually live in Colorado. I'm just here for a few months, living with my grandparents. My grandfather's recovering from a stroke, so I'm here to help out."
"Wow. That's great--what you're doing I mean. I'm sorry about your grandfather. Is he recovering all right?"
"Oh, sure. It'll just take time, is all."
Joel nodded sympathetically. "So where in Colorado are you from?"
He fumbled for a brief moment. "Boulder."
He had this horrible premonition that Joel was going to say, "Oh, I've been in Boulder. Which part of town do you live in?" But Joel just said, "Hm." Another awkward pause followed.
Joel broke the silence. "How old are you, Wayne?"
"Twenty. And you?"
"Twenty-five." Another pause. It occurred to Elder Cannon that at age twenty, he might have broken the law simply by having entered this bar. Growing up LDS, he'd never really thought about how close he was or was not to the legal drinking age. He wondered if his age would also make it illegal for he and Joel to do what he was hoping he and Joel were going to do.
"I don't mean to pry," Joel said carefully, "but I guess I want to be clear where this is going and what we might be on the verge of getting ourselves into. Are you out?"
Elder Cannon's ears turned hot. "I don't know what that means," he admitted, shame-faced.
Joel laughed a little, nervously it seemed. "Well, I guess that answers my question." He turned serious again. "What I mean is: do your grandparents, or other members of your family, know you're gay?"
Elder Cannon didn't respond immediately. He realized that in order to answer Joel's question, he had to indirectly make a very significant admission about himself which he had never made before to anyone. "No."
Joel's voice dropped a couple notches in volume to suggest that he was trying to probe gently into intimate territory. "Have you ever...been with a guy?"
"No."
"Hm." Joel looked at Elder Cannon, apparently mulling a decision over in his head. "Would you like to come back to my place?" he asked finally.
Elder Cannon had to swallow before he could answer. "Sure."
Joel flashed his sideways smile again. "Where are you parked?"
"I walked. I live..." He gestured vaguely. "Just a few blocks away."
"So we'll both go in my car, and I'll bring you back here afterwards?"
"OK."
Joel drove a battered-looking used car; he's a college student, Elder Cannon remembered. Elder Cannon had no idea what to say during the drive, but Joel seemed content to travel in silence. At one point he reached over to take Elder Cannon's hand. It was the first time Elder Cannon had held hands with a man in a romantic way. They didn't let go until they pulled into the parking lot outside Joel's apartment building.
Joel lived in a tiny studio apartment. "It's cramped," he apologized. "But it's private, which is important to me. No roommates to work around--or to get rid of," he added with a sly version of his sideways smile.
The only furniture was a desk and chair, two small bookcases packed to capacity, a dresser with a television on top, and the bed. Joel kicked off his shoes, put his wallet and keys in the top drawer of the dresser. "Make yourself comfortable."
Elder Cannon bent down to unlace his shoes. He suddenly felt extremely embarrassed. When he straightened back up, he found Joel sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him. "Come sit here next to me," Joel said. His voice had become soft but intense.
Elder Cannon obeyed. Without thinking, he clasped his hands nervously between his knees as he sat down. A second later he realized how silly this must look.
Joel took one of his hands. "Are you nervous?"
"A bit."
"We can stop whenever you want. And if you don't like something we're doing, just say so." He began to run the fingers of his free hand slowly up and down Elder Cannon's spine. Elder Cannon closed his eyes and gave himself over to the sensation. He opened his eyes again a minute or so later, when he heard Joel shifting on the bed next to him. "Turn to face me more," Joel instructed. He did. Their faces were so close that Elder Cannon could see himself reflected in Joel's pupils. With one hand, Joel stroked Elder Cannon's hair, while with the other he stroked Elder Cannon's cheek. "You have such an innocent face," Joel said and moved in to kiss him.
When their lips met, Elder Cannon felt as if a wave was rushing over and through him. For the first time in his life, he understood why people like to kiss.
Afterwards, they cuddled on top of the sheets naked-- "spooning," Joel called it. Joel was breathing drowsily into the back of Elder Cannon's neck. Elder Cannon craned around to look at the desk clock perched on top of the television. It was after 1:00 in the morning.
He turned to face Joel. "I really need to go," he whispered.
Joel opened his eyes, smiled, and closed in for another round of french-kissing. Finally he pulled back. "I wish you could spend the night."
"My grandparents..."
"I know. I'm just saying."
They drove back to the bar. Joel had referred to the bar as "the Big Moon," so Elder Cannon finally knew what it was called. "You know, I can take you straight back to your grandparents' place," Joel offered.
"No, that's OK. It's just a few blocks."
"Which is precisely why it's no problem for me to take you all the way."
"I'd rather walk."
Joel gave him a knowing look which said: I understand. You're not comfortable having me know where you live yet. "At least let me drop you off a couple blocks away so you don't have to walk so far."
"All right."
He had Joel drop him off a block away from the apartment, where--he hoped--Elder Pilsinger was still snoring the night away undisturbed. Before Elder Cannon got out of the car, Joel passed him a slip of paper. His phone number.
"I want to see you again," Joel said.
Elder Cannon didn't know how to answer.
"Good night," Joel told him.
"Good night." Just before he closed the car door, he added, "Thank you."
He did not feel guilty, the way he had anticipated he would. On the contrary, he felt better than he had at any point since entering the mission field. He basked in a glowing pride. He had had sex. He had enjoyed it immensely. And apparently Joel had enjoyed it, too, because Joel had asked to see him again. He was wanted. That knowledge was extremely satisfying.
Through the long days of knocking on doors and teaching the occasional abortive first discussion, he would let his mind replay the events of that Friday night, paying only enough attention to what was going on around him to take over his part of the door approach or the discussion on cue. At night, lying awake in the dark, he smiled as he remembered. He did not allow himself to masturbate. Before, he had resisted the temptation to masturbate because he felt guilty: self-abuse would offend the Spirit, the mission president had warned them. Now he resisted because he was "saving up" for the coming Friday.
On Friday night, after Elder Pilsinger was asleep, Elder Cannon changed his clothes and called Joel from the living room. He was afraid Joel might not be home --at the Big Moon again, perhaps--and was relieved when Joel answered. Joel sounded pleased to receive the call.
"I was beginning to think I wasn't going to hear from you. How are you?"
"Good." Elder Cannon had to keep his voice down for fear of waking up Elder Pilsinger. At the other end of the line, he could hear the TV playing in Joel's apartment. "I was wondering if we could...get together again."
"You mean tonight?"
"If it isn't too late..."
"No, no, it's Friday. The night is young. Shall I pick you up at the same place I dropped you off last time?"
"If you don't mind."
"No problem. I'll be there in a few minutes."
Joel seized Elder Cannon's hand as soon as he got into the car. "So where do you want to go?"
"Um...Can we just go back to your place?" He added apologetically, "I can't be out really late. I have to get up early."
Joel was visibly disappointed. But he said, "Sure, whatever you want." There was an awkward silence as they drove. Then Joel looked over at Elder Cannon and flashed his smile. "It's so good to see you again. You look great."
Elder Cannon was flattered but didn't know how to respond.
When they reached the apartment, Joel kicked off his shoes, turned on the TV, and lay down, still clothed, on top of the bed. "Come watch some TV with me," he told Elder Cannon.
They watched Jay Leno, who was interviewing an actress Elder Cannon had never seen, talking about a movie Elder Cannon vaguely remembered having heard of. As a missionary, he couldn't go to movies or watch TV. He wasn't even supposed to read the newspaper. When Joel asked him, "Have you seen that film?" he could only shake his head and hope that Joel wouldn't pursue the subject. He lay with his head resting in the dip where Joel's shoulder and chest met, one arm flung across Joel's stomach while Joel cradled his side. He hoped Joel was planning to do more; but still, this was very comfortable.
When the show was over, Joel got up to turn off the TV. Back in bed, he started tracing Elder Cannon's facial features with a single finger. Elder Cannon decided to be more aggressive, untucking Joel's shirt so he could put his hands on Joel's stomach. "You learn fast," Joel said with a smile.
They did different things this time than last. Elder Cannon was eager to learn, and Joel seemed to enjoy teaching him. Afterwards, they lay on their sides, facing each other, embracing. He likes me, Elder Cannon thought, and the thought made him hug Joel tighter.
During the drive back, Elder Cannon got the feeling that something was wrong.
"I don't want to be just fuck-buddies, Wayne," Joel said before Elder Cannon got out of the car. "I want to go on a real date with you--dinner and a movie and all that. I know that things are tricky, what with your grandparents. But couldn't you tell them...I don't know...that you're going out with some friends or something? I want to spend some real time with you."
"I can't," Elder Cannon said. He groped desperately for words.
Joel must have seen how distressed he was, because he backed off. "I'm not saying we can't keep seeing each other the way we are now. What I'm saying is...I want more than this. I want to find a way to make that happen."
Elder Cannon was becoming used to the strange feeling of being frightened and flattered at the same time.
A few days later, he and Elder Pilsinger were given a referral by one of the local Church members--the address of someone who apparently had expressed interest in meeting with the full-time missionaries. On the basis of previous experience, Elder Cannon suspected that the member had pushed the person to accept an unwanted visit. Sure enough, no one answered the door at the address they'd been given. It was 7:30. Two hours before the missionaries could call it a night and go back to their apartment.
"Well..." Elder Pilsinger looked around. He was the kind of missionary who went around reciting proverbs like: If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. "Shall we tract out that apartment building across the street?"
It was the building where Joel lived.
Joel lived on the second floor. They started tracting on the first floor. Some people obviously weren't at home. Others came to the door, peeped at them through the spyhole, and then pretended not to be home. Those who came to the door turned them away, some more or less politely, some rudely.
They started on the second floor. Soon they were standing in front of Joel's door. Elder Pilsinger knocked. Please, Elder Cannon prayed silently, don't be home.
Joel opened the door, a book in his hand and a pencil clutched in his teeth. He took the pencil out of his mouth. "Yes?"
Elder Pilsinger launched into his door approach. "Good evening. I'm Elder Pilsinger, and this is my companion, Elder Cannon. We're missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and we're going door-to-door sharing a message about how people can come to know our Heavenly Father's plan of happiness."
"I don't think so, guys," Joel said and started to close the door. As he did so, his gaze fell on Elder Cannon. He stared. Then he looked back at Elder Pilsinger. "I'm sorry, who did you say you were again?"
"Missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints," Elder Pilsinger repeated.
"That's Mormons, right?"
"Many people call us that, yes."
Joel shook his head as if chastising himself for some mistake. "I'm sorry. I thought you were Jehovah's Witnesses. Please, come in."
Elder Pilsinger flashed Elder Cannon a covert thumbs- up as they followed Joel into the apartment. Elder Cannon forced a smile in return.
Joel had been lying on the bed, studying. He gathered up his books and papers, brushed down the bed cover, and invited the missionaries to sit. "I don't have much furniture," he apologized.
"That's quite all right," Elder Pilsinger said.
Joel sat in a chair in front of them. He avoided looking at Elder Cannon. Elder Cannon was vividly aware that Elder Pilsinger was sitting in the same spot on the bed where he himself had sat that first night in Joel's apartment. "So," Joel said, inviting Elder Pilsinger to proceed.
"Well, if you don't mind my asking first," Elder Pilsinger said, "what do you already know about Mormons? Why did you decide to invite us in?"
Joel shrugged vaguely. "I had a friend who was Mormon once." He glanced briefly at Elder Cannon as he said this.
Elder Pilsinger latched onto this opportunity to Build Relationships of Trust. "How interesting. Would you like to tell us about that?"
Joel fumbled. "There's not really anything to tell. It was...a long time ago. We were just kids. I knew he was Mormon. That's all. We never talked about it or anything." He moved to change the subject. "I've seen the spots your church runs on TV, though. Very... positive. Very family-oriented."
Elder Cannon expected Elder Pilsinger to ask more about Joel's impression of the TV spots, as a way of moving towards Helping the Investigator Feel and Recognize the Spirit. But Elder Pilsinger let it drop. Elder Cannon wondered if Elder Pilsinger could sense that something strange was going on.
"Well," Elder Pilsinger said, "as we said, we're sharing a message tonight about how people can come to know our Heavenly Father's plan of happiness. If you have time, we'd like to share with you a 45-minute presentation--a discussion, really--about God our Father, and about our Savior Jesus Christ, and the method God uses to teach his children about his plan."
"Sure, that'd be great." Joel glanced at Elder Cannon again. "I'm really interested in hearing what you have to say."
"Let's start by introducing ourselves a little. As I said at the door, I'm Elder Pilsinger. I'm from Lansing, Michigan. My family joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was four years old. I feel very grateful to the missionaries who introduced my family to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ; and I'm thrilled to be able to serve as a missionary myself now, helping to bring the same joy that my family found into the lives of others."
It was Elder Cannon's turn. He felt flushed, and he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his head. "I'm Elder Cannon. I'm from Salt Lake City, Utah, and I've been a missionary now for a little over a year."
"From Utah," Joel echoed. "How interesting."
"What about yourself?" Elder Pilsinger asked.
"I'm originally from Austin, Texas. I came here to attend grad school."
Elder Pilsinger asked the inevitable questions about what Joel was studying, the same questions Elder Cannon had asked at the Big Moon. Elder Pilsinger also learned that Joel had been raised Baptist, was grateful in many ways for having received a religious upbringing, but had stopped attending church when he graduated from high school and moved away from home.
They began the discussion. Elder Pilsinger moved quickly through the sections on God and Jesus Christ. When he asked Joel to share his own thoughts, Joel said that he wasn't certain there was a God but was open to the possibility. He added that if he were going to embrace a belief in God, it would have to be the unconditionally accepting God that Jesus had taught about. Elder Cannon could tell that Elder Pilsinger was filing this information away in his mind to hash out in a later discussion. But for the present, Elder Pilsinger simply thanked Joel for sharing his thoughts and moved on to the next part of the discussion. He explained that throughout the ages, God has called prophets to teach his plan and has sent the Spirit to confirm to people the truth of what the prophets taught. "And now," Elder Pilsinger concluded, "Elder Cannon will explain about a prophet called to teach people in modern times."
Elder Pilsinger turned to look at Elder Cannon. Joel did likewise. For a second, Elder Cannon wondered what would happen if he got up and walked out of the apartment. But he knew he didn't have the strength or courage to do that. He took a deep breath and launched into his part of the discussion.
Starting was the hardest part--like breaking through a wall. After that, it was merely a question of stringing out the familiar words like beads on a string, one after another. How many times had he taught this story in the past year? In 1820, Joseph Smith was a 14-year-old boy. He was confused because of the many different ideas taught about religion. Surrounded by competing voices, each loudly proclaiming to have the truth, Joseph did not know who to believe or what to do.
Elder Cannon paused, reaching automatically for his Bible as he continued to speak. "One day Joseph read a passage in the Bible which told him how he could come to know the truth. Would you mind reading the passage that Joseph Smith read?"
Joel seemed caught off-guard but answered, "Sure."
Elder Cannon passed Joel the open Bible. They both seemed to be taking care not to touch one another. Joel read aloud from the Authorized Version of James 1:5. "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally"--Joel grimaced briefly, presumably at the sexist reference--"and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him."
There was a pause; Joel seemed to be reading the passage to himself a second time. He looked up from the Bible at Elder Cannon.
"Joseph decided to ask God for wisdom, the way the Bible taught," Elder Cannon continued. "One morning in the spring, he went to a grove of trees near his home. He knelt down and began to offer a fervent, heart-felt prayer. He had faith that God would somehow show him what he needed to do. In Joseph Smith's own words, this is what happened next."
Elder Cannon recited the words from memory. "I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me. When the light rested upon me, I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other--This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!"
There was a palpable tension in the air. Elder Pilsinger held his knee hard against Elder Cannon's. This was his way of letting Elder Cannon know that he was feeling the Spirit--that he thought the discussion was going very well. Elder Cannon felt as if he were trembling inside. He wondered if he were visibly shaking. He continued with the memorized discussion. "God the Father and Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith in answer to his prayer. Joseph became a prophet, just like the prophets of the Bible. Joseph Smith is an important witness of Jesus Christ in our own day. Joseph's experience shows us that there is a God who hears our prayers and wants to make his plan known to us."
It was time to ask the investigator what he thought or felt about the Joseph Smith story, then to move into an explanation of the Book of Mormon. But before Elder Cannon could say anything further, Joel leaned forward. "Do you really believe this?" he asked. His voice had the same quiet intensity it had had that first night, when he invited Elder Cannon to sit next to him on the bed.
Elder Cannon couldn't meet Joel's gaze. "There are a lot of things I'm not sure of right now," he said in a hoarse voice. "But there are some things I know without any doubt. Joseph Smith actually saw God the Father and Jesus Christ. The Book of Mormon is the word of God." He was getting ahead of the discussion, but the words were pushing out of him of their own accord. "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is led by a living prophet and is the only church on earth with God's authority. I know that."
He hadn't realized until that moment how inexorably he believed in everything he had just said. He ought to be feeling a spiritual rush, he thought. Instead he felt empty.
Joel leaned back in his chair. Elder Cannon was still looking at the floor, but in his peripheral vision he could see Joel turning his attention back to Elder Pilsinger. "I'm a gay man," Joel said. His tone was harsh. "The Mormon Church has been pouring millions of dollars into so-called Defense of Marriage acts and other political initiatives all across this country, trying to deny gay and lesbian people equal rights in society. I can't for the life of me imagine why any gay or lesbian person would have anything to do with your church." He stood up. "You need to go now."
Elder Pilsinger appeared to be dumbstruck. Finally he stood. Elder Cannon followed suit, still looking at the floor. "I'm sorry we took up your time," Elder Pilsinger said tightly.
Joel said nothing in reply. He was grim as he showed them to the door. Elder Cannon caught a final glimpse of him as he shut the door behind them. Joel did not return his glance.
Elder Pilsinger fumed in whispers; Elder Cannon had never seen him so angry. "Can you believe the nerve of that guy, leading us on like that? I should have known from the beginning he was a fag. The way he moved, the way he talked...Hey...Elder...what's wrong?"
Elder Cannon was crying--quietly, but his whole body heaving. "Please," he gasped, "I need to go back to the apartment."
He realized he was leaving this building for the last time in his life.
Elder Pilsinger looked concerned, but he didn't say anything to Elder Cannon during the drive home, and he made a point of staying in the living room, studying, while Elder Cannon cried in the bedroom. Elder Cannon wasn't sure if Elder Pilsinger wanted to give him privacy or simply didn't know what to make of his companion's behavior.
At 10:30, Elder Pilsinger came into the bedroom. Elder Cannon had his face turned toward the wall. "Are you okay, Elder?" Elder Pilsinger asked. Elder Cannon didn't reply. Elder Pilsinger stood waiting beside Elder Cannon's bed for a while, then gave up and turned out the lights. Elder Cannon heard him undressing in the dark, kneeling down for his personal prayer, and then climbing into bed. Perhaps ten minutes later, Elder Pilsinger was snoring softly.
Elder Cannon crept into the living room, still dressed in his proselyting clothes. Joel picked up the phone after just one ring, as if he'd been waiting for the call.
"Hello?" His voice sounded tense.
"It's me," Elder Cannon said.
"Jesus, Wayne." Joel didn't sound angry, just disturbed and perhaps worn-out. "What am I supposed to say?"
"I need to see you," Wayne said.
"That's not going to happen, Wayne. It's best for both of us that you not call here again."
"No, wait, please," Wayne said, a little too loudly. He froze, straining to listen for any sound from the bedroom. He continued in a whisper. "Please. I know it's for the last time. But I...I have to see you. Please, Joel."
He felt like a moron. But he didn't know what else to say. He was desperate.
There was a long silence. At last Joel said, "Fine. I'll meet you at the Big Moon."
Elder Cannon was afraid to go back into the bedroom to change, so he walked to the Big Moon in his proselyting clothes, though he removed his nametag and his tie. He waited by the parking lot entrance. Joel arrived about ten minutes later. He pulled up next to Elder Cannon, leaning over to unlock the passenger door. Elder Cannon climbed inside. Neither of them spoke.
Joel finished pulling into the parking lot and turned off the engine. They could dimly hear the dance music playing inside the Big Moon, in front of them. They sat for a while without looking at each other.
"So," Joel said finally, indicating that it was for Elder Cannon to speak.
Elder Cannon hadn't come prepared to say anything. He had wanted to see Joel again; he hadn't thought this meeting through any farther than that. Joel was waiting. Elder Cannon shrugged and shook his head helplessly.
Joel breathed a heavy, tense sigh through his nose. "Wayne," he began wearily, then cut himself short. "Is that even your real name?"
He nodded, smarting under the accusation. "Wayne Cannon."
"Fine. Wayne, you have major issues to work through. You do realize that, don't you?"
Elder Cannon didn't say anything.
"I mean...what would happen to you if they knew?"
Elder Cannon had deliberately not thought much about that. "They'd send me home from my mission, I guess. And they'd probably...excommunicate me." It was hard to say the word "excommunicate."
"What does that mean, exactly?"
"I wouldn't be a member of the Church anymore."
"So they'd kick you out?"
"Yeah. I guess."
"What would that mean in terms of your relationship with your family?"
Elder Cannon shook his head. He knew that if he tried to speak, he would start crying again. He wanted to reach out and grab Joel's hand, but he didn't dare. He wished Joel would take the initiative to touch him. But Joel just sat in the driver's seat. At least now Joel was looking at him.
"What is this, Wayne?" Joel made a motion in the air, tracing a connection between Elder Cannon and himself. "Is this...Am I some kind of experiment for you? A secret vice on the side?"
Elder Cannon felt his face go hot.
Joel shook his head as if to clear it. "You know what? I withdraw that question. I promised myself this wasn't going to be about me." He tried again. "You can't go on living this secret double life, Wayne. It's extremely unhealthy, emotionally. I realize you're in a difficult position. But you have to make some hard choices, and right now you're avoiding making them. You can't be Mormon and gay any more than I could be Baptist and gay. You have to choose one or the other."
Don't preach to me, Elder Cannon thought, enraged. But he continued to sit in silence. Even though it made him furious to have Joel talking to him this way, something inside him told him that Joel was right.
"I really like you, Wayne. I wanted to keep seeing you. I thought..." He stopped himself, then proceeded more carefully. "I was eager to see where things between us might go. But I can't be whatever I am to you right now. I can't be with you given where you're coming from. You have an incredibly hard journey ahead of you. I can't even imagine how hard this is going to be for you. I dealt with some pretty serious shit when I came out, but nothing compared to the shit you're dealing with."
Elder Cannon stared down at his own hands, clenched in his lap. He was feeling even lower now than he had when he and Elder Pilsinger left Joel's apartment. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to curl up in a ball and tell the whole world to fuck off and leave him alone.
"I was thinking about that Bible verse you had me read," Joel said. "The one about asking God if you need wisdom. Maybe that's what you need to be doing, Wayne. You told me you believe that there's a God who answers prayers and who wants to teach people his plan. It looks to me like you're still trying to figure out what God's plan for you is. That's something only you can figure out. And you've got to figure it out. You've got to make a definite decision about who you are and how you're going to live."
There was another long silence.
"I have to go now, Wayne," Joel said, gently but firmly.
Elder Cannon waited as long as he dared. Then he opened the car door. He eased his legs out of the car and then waited again. He knew he was merely postponing the inevitable. He stood up and stepped away from the car. He hadn't done something that felt so difficult or decisive since walking away from his family at the Missionary Training Center a year before.
"Good luck, Wayne," Joel said. He started the engine.
Elder Cannon shut the door. Joel did not look back or wave as he pulled out of the parking lot. Elder Cannon suddenly realized he hadn't told Joel good-bye. The thought made him want to cry again. But he was too empty to cry. Behind him was the Big Moon. In an apartment six blocks away, his companion was sleeping peacefully.