Chapter 26
To be gay and closeted is bad enough; to be gay and closeted in the boonies while you’re a gangly teenager is hell on earth. Dave, you see, wasn’t the only bully. Others had sensed my differences, had seen me in school plays, had heard me singing with the chorus. They, like him, had pounced like a carnivore on fresh prey. In other words, high school was no walk in the park. Which was why Bing was an oasis in the desert, my one true salvation.
Minutes later, I found myself on the football field. Ironic, I know, that I’d wind up there. I sprawled out and stared up at the azure sky, remembering it all, remembering Bing, the memories triggered by the locale, the smell of the lawn, all of it.