Carlos stood outside the community center, smoking a cigarette he had bummed off a stranger. He was cold to his bone, and tired beyond that. There wasn’t much rest to be found the past few nights sleeping on the street outside the downtown department stores.
The cops had left him alone, but he figured it best to get a bed at the local Salvation Army. With Thanksgiving right around the corner, he hoped to get a decent meal some time soon.
He watched the other teens standing around, laughing and whispering among each other. He wondered how long they had been homeless?
Carlos heard the doors of the community center open behind him. He didn’t want to appear too eager, so he took a final slow drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out with the toe of his boot.
He gathered up his belongings, a backpack and few plastic bags, and shuffled into the center.
The other kids were staring at him. His temper flared in a burst of heat to his cheeks, but he kept his cool.
Probably trying to figure out what support group I belong to. Not that it’s any of their business, he thought.
Carlos walked up to the kiosk, where a security guard sat filing her nails and watching a game show on TV.
Carlos said in a rough voice, “Where’s the list for the different groups?”
The security guard set down her nail file. She raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow at him. “First, there is no list. Second, don’t come in here yelling at people. You want to know something, you ask me politely.”
His cheeks burned hotter. She probably thought he was embarrassed, but Carlos knew better.
“Well, if there’s no list,” he snarled, “how am I supposed to know where to go?”
“Look, kid, I really don’t have time for attitudes today. There’s only one group meeting today. You’re either part of it, or you’re not. You know why you’re here, so take a seat and leave me alone.”
Carlos peered around to see if anyone else had overheard the exchange. From the snickers, it appeared that they had.
Fuming at the humiliation, he swung his backpack over his shoulder and prepared to walk out. As his bag careened through the air, though, the strap grazed a container of pens sitting on the edge of the kiosk. The black plastic pens tumbled and clattered to the floor, like a vexing game of pick-up sticks.
The security guard stood up slowly, fury knotted tightly across her face.
As Carlos stepped up to face her, ready for the confrontation, a man stepped in to block his path.
The man reached over to pat the security guard on her arm. “Let’s not get upset now. That looked like an accident, Sadie.”
Carlos finally noticed the security guard’s nametag and watched as Sadie’s fire melted under the new guy’s touch.
“Pat, you better talk to that kid. I don’t like his attitude,” Sadie said as she sat back down to watch her TV show.
“I’m guessing you’re Carlos?”
Carlos gave the man a curious look. “Yeah. How’d you know my name?”
“I’m Patrick, the group leader. Your guidance counselor contacted me weeks ago. I’ve been expecting you.” He flashed a smile. “What took you so long?”
Before Carlos could answer, Patrick walked away to greet the other kids.
Carlos briefly wondered if Patrick could have the same problem he did. He refused to think about it too long though, and followed the rest of the group into a nearby room.
He placed his bags on the floor before dragging a chair to join the circle. He was a bit in awe that all these kids could be just like him. He couldn’t believe it. There was no way. They all just looked so… so…
Normal.
Patrick took a seat in the middle of the circle. “Does anyone want to start?”
“Let the new guy start,” said one girl who sat chewing gum and fussing with the scabs on her arms. “He looks scared, like someone’s going to hit him or something. What’s up, new guy? Want to share first?”
Carlos glared at her, but said nothing.
“It’s easy,” the girl said in a mocking voice. “Here, I’ll go first for you. Me? I’m a big ol’ queer.”
Some of the other kids laughed, but Carlos squirmed in his seat. Was she allowed to call herself that? Couldn’t she just say she was a lesbian?
The girl continued. “My parents kicked me out of the house because I love to kiss girls. But, they made sure to hit me and spit on me and pretty much try to beat me to death on my way out. I think they thought they could knock some straight into me.”
More tittering lit up the crowd. Carlos searched their faces for some sign of disapproval but found none.
“Obviously,” the girl said in a singsong voice, “their evil plot didn’t work. And I’ve been with my girlfriend for three months last week.”
She then leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, looking very pleased with herself.
She said, “Your turn, new guy.”
Carlos stared at her in shock, trying to come up with a reply but found he had nothing to say.
Pat chuckled and said, “Thank you, Chastity, for being so open. I’m sure Carlos definitely feels like sharing now.”
He turned his attention directly to Carlos saying, “Don’t mind her. She likes to get a rise out of everybody.”
Carlos, not wanting to appear threatened by Chastity, quickly said, “You don’t have to defend me, man. I’m not even sure if I am gay–”
Laughter broke out across the room. Carlos heard mutterings of, “Here’s another one.”
“Still in the closet.”
“Why’s he even here then?”
Carlos muttered a curse under his breath. He was reaching for his bags to leave when Patrick stood.
“Hey, hey!” For the first time, the group leader seemed out of patience. He said, “None of you are in a place to judge. This is a support group; just remember that. We’re all here to support each other as we deal with our evolving sexualities. Whether that means gay, straight, bisexual, pansexual, whatever feels right for you. If you want to judge, you can find another group.”
“He’s right,” said one guy with a piercing above his eyebrow. “Not the new guy, but Patrick. Some of us took years to come out.”
“I’m sure that’s all great,” said Chastity, “but why do we got to talk about this today? Isn’t this supposed to be a Thanksgiving party-planning meeting? We can talk about how hard it is being gaynext week. Let’s talk about food now!”
The other kids laughed and nodded their agreement.
With the room chilling out, Carlos gently set his bags back on the tile floor.
Pat said, “We can talk about whatever you guys want to talk about.”
“Well, I agree with Chastity,” said the kid with the eyebrow piercing. “Unless the new guy has something to add, let’s just plan our potluck.”
Everyone turned and waited for Carlos to say something.
He spoke in a rough whisper. “My name isn’t new guy. It’s Carlos.”
“Well, Carlos,” Chastity said, a sardonic smile playing on her painted lips, “welcome to the group.”
She turned away from him, their encounter already forgotten, and said to the others, “Now let’s get that list together, huh?”
Grateful to have the pressure off him, Carlos sank back into his chair. he didn’t know exactly what he thought group was going to be like, but he really wasn’t ready to discuss his sexuality with these strangers.
Carlos also couldn’t understand how these other high school kids were talking so openly about being or possibly being gay. It was like they thought it was okay or something.
He almost laughed, bitter. If being gay was okay, then his parents would have never have kicked him out.
Carlos made it through the rest of the half hour session by not saying much, just looking down at his shoes, and listening as the group discussed what Thanksgiving was like at their home. Some of them asked if they could bring their boyfriends or girlfriends to the party, or if they should decorate the hall.
“Hey man,” said another kid as he approached Carlos. The kid had acne scars that hadn’t quite healed yet. “Carlos, right? What are you bringing?”
“I don’t know,” Carlos answered with a shrug. He was still looking for a job and didn’t have much money. Quickly, he thought of the cheapest thing he could get that would still be helpful. “Anyone bringing, uh, cranberry sauce? I can do that.”
“Cool. I’ll put you down for two cans,” the kid said as he walked away.
Eventually, with everyone signed up for some part of the potluck and Patrick promising that they had a turkey planned for delivery the night before, the gang all filed out.
Chastity almost plowed into Carlos as she ran out the door.
“See you later, losers!” She smiled at Carlos as she said it. He thought that might be her customary way of saying goodbye—a lot of aggression mixed with a hint of sweetness.
He picked up his bags, waved goodbye to Pat, and was on his way out when he noticed Sadie, the security guard, locking up.
Grudgingly, he turned to her and said, “I’m sorry about knocking your stuff down earlier.”
She barely grunted in reply.
Carlos sighed and began to walk away.
“You going far, kid?”
Carlos turned back to the guard. He was surprised she had actually spoken to him. “Uh, actually yeah. I’m heading over to the Salvation Army…”
“That’s on Louisiana Street, right? I’ll take you there if you want. I live out that way.”
Carlos considered the half hour it might take him to walk against the five minutes alone in the car with the security guard whose temper seemed about as even as his own. One of those didn’t look too appealing.
He said, “I don’t mind walking.”
“Don’t worry kid. I don’t bite.” She finished with the lock and turned away from him, quickly walking to the parking lot.
He hurried to catch up with her. “Thanks, ma’am. I really appreciate it.”
“Oh, now you call me ma’am!” Sadie laughed. “Earlier today you were ready to fight me.”
Carlos hung his head. “I’m sorry about that. I’m just… I don’t know what’s up with me.”
“I get it. You’re confused,” Sadie said as they got into the car. “Hurt. Questioning. Angry. And feel, for the most part, alone?”
Carlos climbed into the passenger seat. He was all of those.
They drove along in silence until she pulled up in front of the Salvation Army’s building.
“Well, Carlos, your palace awaits,” she said, gesturing towards the building.
Carlos grinned as he heaved his bags out the car. “Thanks, Sadie.”
“You’re welcome. And kid?”
He paused before closing the car door.
“You’re not alone. I promise.” Sadie smiled at him. “See you next week? Maybe you can knock something else off my desk.”
Carlos swallowed hard, trying to stop the lump from forming in his throat. Next week? That was their Thanksgiving party. He thought for a long moment, especially about the two cans of cranberry sauce he’d promised he’d bring.
Maybe, if he just went and listened again, it could be a nice change of pace. Plus, he would have something to look forward to on Thanksgiving.
“Yeah, Sadie, for sure,” Carlos said. “See you next week.”