Flip/Flop

I was so curious about Mormonism and the power it held over the Mormon. He talked little about it but would answer questions when I asked. He told me that as a kid he used to wander the property his family lived on and beyond hoping that he'd be the one to find the Golden Plates of Joseph Smith. These engraved tablets were given to Smith by the Angel Moroni (no comment) and from these Smith translated the Book of Mormon. He then returned the tablets to the Angel.

The Mormon thought that if he retrieved the plates, if he found them again, if an angel came down and gave them to him, he would be chosen. He would be seen. He would be wanted. And I realized that he so wanted that still; to be seen, wanted, chosen. And I wondered if my seeing, choosing, wanting him was enough. I didn't dare ask the question though. Why? Why didn't I ask the question? Because I knew the answer was 'no' and I didn't want to hear it.

So I started reading the Book of Mormon; looking for clues or insights into the Mormon's personality, into his behavior. I didn't get very far. The first book is all who "begat" who for pages and pages followed by the same people "smiting" other people. I couldn't bear it. I couldn't fathom how any religion could hold power over a human spirit. I understood the need to belong to something. But why belong to something that doesn't want or accept you for who you are?

I was confused. And the Mormon seemed to flip-flop back and forth between wanting nothing to do with Mormonism and craving its acceptance.

I went over to his apartment one week day evening to have dinner. I let myself in and took the stairs up to his apartment. I opened the door and I could hear voices talking quietly in the living room. The Mormon was deep in conversation with another man who was approximately the same age as him. Tall, handsome and youthful, this other man's eyes were filled with pain and sorrow. I shook his hand and introduced myself since the Mormon didn't. The Other Man said, 'I should be heading home. She'll be worried about me.' He gathered up his things and left saying a furtive goodbye to me.

I looked at the Mormon for an explanation.

"He's an old friend from Utah. He's married. Lives in Park Slope with his wife. He used to be gay. When the feelings get too strong and he wants to act on them, he calls me and comes over to talk himself away from them. She knows. She knows that he wants to be better and that God wants to help him. And that I can help him. I should call her and let her know he's been here and he's on his way home."

Did you have a relationship with him?

"No. No, we were never like that. Just friends."

Do you think that's ok? What he's doing?

"I think it's what he wants and needs to do."

But he's lying to himself and to his wife. You think that's ok?

"He tells her."

But he's denying who he is. You think that's ok?

"I think he's trying to be the best person he can be. And he wants to be straight."

An uncomfortable feeling started to grow in my stomach and spread to all my limbs.