Betrayal Revisited

The vision I’d had while I was fighting for my life in the hospital had pulled me up short. After two years of what I thought was unjustly inflicting pain upon my family, that dream had convinced me that I was deluded. Pete was gone and I had finally admitted that to myself.

I put aside the animosity toward my parents and made an attempt to go back to my life as it had been before Pete left, but I realized what the real delusion was. I had been a fool to believe that my parents really cared about me. They’d never had my best interests at heart. Mom and dad had taken the easy road for them: to deny that I was gay and that I loved Pete.

They knew when they got the first letter from him that he wanted to stay in contact with me, and based on my reaction to his departure they knew that he was important to me. Anyone who thought otherwise would have had to be blind and deaf. My parents could have prevented what had occurred in the two years and more following Pete’s departure. They could have saved me all that emotional agony and physical punishment if they had simply let me have Pete’s letters; but they chose to perpetuate the entire situation, which led to our estrangement and my eventual physical breakdown.

I hated them. Before I had hated them for not telling me Pete was leaving; but this time the betrayal was real. They knew they could have done something to bridge the chasm that had grown between us and they chose not to act. I hated them with a palpable and visceral hatred. It burned in my gut as well as my heart and my head.

Tears of impotent rage filled my eyes as I sat in the patrol car, circular reasoning continuously bringing me back to the fact that I had been a trusting, gullible imbecile. It was my fault that this entire situation had played out as it had. If I had stayed with Chris and Kathlene I would have had them there to support me when I needed it most, but I was stupid and believed everything would work out for my family. Chris and Kathlene were out of reach since David was visiting because I wouldn’t go anywhere near him. Danny was my only option.

I knew I had to get out of my head or I would turn into a real basket case. I needed something to distract me so I turned on the dome light and pulled out one of Pete’s letters.

Dear Brian,

God I miss you so much. Everything here is so messed up. Mother hooked up with this guy Curt, and the first thing she did was tell him I was gay. I don't understand why. I'm not doing anything. Now they both get on me for the slightest thing.

Curt slapped me yesterday when I told him I'd clean the kitchen after I was done watching a TV show. He told me I'd do it when he told me to or I'd get worse than a slap. Mother wasn't here when it happened, but I don't even know if she would have done anything to stop him.

I have to get out of here, Brian. I don't know how long I can take living with them. It's bad enough that Mother doesn't let me do anything or have friends, but Curt makes it ten times worse because he eggs her on.

School is going okay, I guess. I met this kid named Ray. He's pretty cool. He's got a smart mouth and says stuff you wouldn't believe, but I like him.

I brought Ray to the apartment once. Mother happened to be there, and the minute she saw him she started yelling and accusing me of screwing him. God I was so embarrassed. It was so ridiculous that all I could do was laugh at her. Ray and I walked out of the apartment and I didn't go back for a few days. Of course Curt made it his business to punish me for disrespecting him and Mother.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if you were here with me. I know that's not going to happen for a while, but I like to imagine us being together and living our lives in peace. I fall asleep thinking about that.

I hope everything is going well for you, Brian. I haven't heard from you, but I did talk to your mom. She told me you weren't at home much. Maybe she didn't tell you I called? I don't know. The only thing I do know is that I love you, and I'm going to keep loving you until I die.

People say distance doesn't matter if we love with our heart, but I can't tell because you have stolen my heart from me.

Love Forever,

Pete

My mother had even spoken to Pete and she didn’t tell me. I carefully folded the letter, placed it back in my bag, and turned off the light. Even Pete’s letters didn’t calm me. Tears filled my eyes as I sat there in the car, completely numb. The magnitude of the betrayal was unfathomable. I couldn’t get my mind to grasp the full measure of my parents’ willing disregard for my feelings and even my health. If anything had ever proven that they really didn’t love me, this was it.

A knock on the window next to me startled me. A quick look showed Danny waiting for me to open my door. When I did, I noticed a large suitcase sitting on the ground near his feet.

"I brought most of your clothes, but you’re going to have to go in to get the other things you need or want, Brian."

"I don’t want to talk to them. I don’t want to see them. They can fucking die for all I care."

"Brian, that’s not helping anything," Danny admonished me. "Your mom and dad are in their bedroom and they’re not coming out until I tell them it’s okay. By then you’ll be back here in the car. Alright?"

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever," I said with dripping sarcasm.

The house was quiet when I walked in the door. No one was in sight. I picked up the pace and all but ran to my room where I gathered my books and a few other items Danny had missed. When I turned to leave, I came nose-to-nose with my mother.

"Brian, this is childish. Why are you going?" She asked.

I spluttered with disbelief, "Are you serious? You actually have to ask that question?"

I roughly barged past her to the front door.

"Get back here!" Mom barked. "I’m not done talking to you! Come back here this instant!"

I stopped in my tracks and turned on her. She almost ran into me she was so surprised.

In an icy voice, I said, "You have stabbed me in the back for the last time. I never want to see you again. Do you get that? Never!"

I held her gaze for a moment and then walked out the door. My stride lengthened as I walked to the car and threw the bag containing my possessions into the back seat. I had to hold on to the door for a moment because I was feeling dizzy. My breath came in short gasps. I knew I was hyperventilating again. I leaned into the car.

"Da… Da… Danny…."

He glanced at me and shot out of the drivers seat with a curse. After opening the trunk, he handed me a paper bag which I put over my nose and mouth.

"Try to breathe normally, Brian," Danny said calmly. "Sit down before you fall."

I did as he said, sitting on the hard fiberglass that formed the rear seat of the squad car.

"Stay here," Danny commanded. "I’m going to talk to your parents."

He started back toward our house. His order to me wasn’t necessary because I knew I wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

My breathing slowed. I looked for Danny and saw him standing near the front door arguing with my mother. My ass hurt from sitting on the back seat so I moved to the passenger seat and watched.

Mom tried to go around Danny, but he stepped in front of her, once more blocking her route to the car. I could hear them arguing but their voices were too low for me to make out any words. Both of them were obviously enraged. Danny stood more erect than normal with his fists clinched at his sides. My mother gestured wildly as if more motion would prove her point.

Why couldn’t she just leave me alone? Danny’s raised voice surprised me.

"What the hell does that have to do with it?" He asked in a furious tone.

"It has everything to do with it!" My mom spat back, then she lowered her voice and made a comment I couldn’t hear.

"What are you implying?" Danny bellowed loudly.

Mom said some other things I could make out.

"I can’t believe… I’m going to forget you said that! That’s so much horse shit and you know it, Lisa!" Danny shouted scornfully.

Their argument returned to a level that I could no longer hear what they were saying. I closed my eyes and sat back in the seat. A huge headache had formed and was throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

Some time had passed when I heard Danny again.

"Brian, she wants to talk to you," he said.

"No," I refused.

"She’s afraid I coerced you into going with me. Do you understand what she’s insinuating?"

I looked at Danny’s angry face for a moment, considering what my mom’s concern inferred.

"Is that why you want to take me in?" I asked with all seriousness.

"Brian, for God’s sake! Of course not!" Danny protested loudly.

I stared at him a moment longer, bearing Danny’s glower of disapproval and indignant outrage.

"I believe you." I said simply.

"You’re going to have to tell her yourself that you want to go with me. She doesn’t believe it when I tell her. Will you do that?" Danny asked.

"If I don’t I can’t go with you, right?"

"If you don’t then she can accuse me of kidnapping. Even if you do she could accuse me, but I don’t think she’d do that." Danny said confidently.

"All right. I’ll talk to her."

"Try to keep it calm, Brian."

"No guarantees," I warned.

"If you hit her, I’ll arrest you," Danny said before walking back to where my mom was waiting.

As they started toward the car, I got out and stood behind the door so it would be between my mom and me and still give me room to maneuver if I needed it. She approached slowly, her face inscrutable. My mom stopped a pace from the door and raised her hand to caress my face.

I leaned back out of her reach and barked, "Don’t touch me."

She looked into my furious eyes for a moment.

"I don’t understand, Brian," she said. "You must see that we were only doing what we thought was best for you. Even our counselor agreed. We only want to protect you!"

"Protect me?" I rasped in a low, dangerous voice. "Protect me like you did when you didn’t tell me he was leaving? You remember that, right? The other time I was in the hospital?"

I spoke in a carefully controlled manner, keeping my emotions out of it as best I could.

"Brian, that was a mistake, and both your father and I are sorry for that, but this is different," she claimed.

My voice cracked. "How do you figure?" My voice hadn’t cracked for over a year.

"We should have let you say goodbye and let you have some time with him. After he left, we decided, based on what we knew about Brenda and the situation, that he was gone for good. We didn’t want you clinging to false hope, honey! We were trying to protect you from this. We wanted to help you avoid all the anger and pain you’re feeling right now. If he hadn’t summoned you to court, you wouldn’t even be going through this!"

"Oh, no. Don’t you blame him. This isn’t his fault; it’s yours! You made the choice to hide his letters from me, and not tell me he called." Her face paled as I continued. "You weren’t thinking about me at all! All you were thinking about was yourself and what would be the easiest way for you to deal with how I feel about Pete. You didn’t think about me for one fucking second!

"Well, you’ve had your chances. More than I should have given you. You fucked me over."

I sat back down in the passenger seat, having said all I was going to say.

"Brian," my mom pleaded, "you can’t want to do this."

"You better believe I do! You betrayed me— for the second time! I won’t give you a third chance."

"But where will you go? You can’t stay with Danny for the rest of your life."

"My problem, not yours. Why pretend you care? Just go back inside and enjoy the family you really wanted."

"Brian, I’m your mother. Of course I care. You’re part of our family…"

I shot to my feet and barked, "Not any more! Family doesn’t do what you did to me! Mothers don’t do this to their kids! Just leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. We’re through."

I sat again, ripped the car door out of her hands, slammed it closed and locked it in one motion. She was knocking on the window and calling my name- first in an exasperation and then pleading with me, begging me to reconsider. I just stared at her until I saw tears in her eyes, when I turned away from her and stared at my hands in my lap.

Danny put his arm around her shoulder and gently pulled her away from the car. She immediately started arguing with him, telling him he had no right to take her baby away from her. Danny spoke to her calmly and quietly for a few moments. Mom looked into his face for a few moments and then collapsed into him, crying. Sickened, I tore my eyes away from them. Tears formed in my own eyes. It didn’t matter what I did. Everywhere I went, pain and misery followed.

Danny came back to the car moments later. He drove us to his house, muttering under his breath the whole way. I sat quietly, lost in thought.

No matter how I tried, I just couldn’t see the situation from my parents’ point of view. When they didn’t tell me Pete was leaving, they saw my reaction and lived through over two years of aftermath. If I’d been in their position and was receiving letters from Pete, I would have given them to me. What was the worst that could have happened? Pete and I might write to each other a couple times a week. The likelihood that we would actually get together was small, and the benefit to my mental health would have been tremendous. But that’s not what they did. They hid them from me until they had no other choice.

Two years and more had passed since I’d last seen Pete. He’d been a beautiful thirteen-year-old boy. Now he was fifteen and sure to be almost grown while I still seemed more like a boy instead of a man. Two years was a long time. Would I still love him as I had loved him then? Would he still love me once he’d seen what I’d become? And if we did feel the same, how could we possibly be together?

"We’re here, Brian."

"Huh?" I’d been so deep inside myself I hadn’t heard what Danny said.

"We’re here."

I blinked a couple of times to regain awareness of my surroundings.

"I thought I lost you there for a while," Danny said with a touch of humor.

"You did. I was trying to figure out how to deal with all of this," I said dejectedly.

"Well, let’s get you inside and get some food into you," he suggested. "That’ll make you feel better. Then I’ll give you the tour and get you settled in. How does that sound?"

"Fine," I sighed, and I followed him into his home.

Danny’s house was a traditional ranch house with one level, four bedrooms, and a den. It didn’t seem to me that Danny needed all that room, but it wasn’t any of my business and I didn’t ask.

We went through the dining room straight into the kitchen where Danny put a large pot of water on the stove.

"How does spaghetti sound to you?" He asked.

"I love pasta," I listlessly responded. Food was the last thing on my mind and, quite frankly, the thought of food made me queasy.

"I have yet to meet a boy that doesn’t. Come on. I’ll show you your room."

Danny led me through the family room and down the hall to the left.

"The bathroom is straight ahead. I don’t use it except when I’m home during the day, so feel free to leave your things in the shower. Do you need soap or shampoo?"

I nodded.

"Did you remember to bring your toothbrush?"

I shook my head.

"Trust a kid to forget the important things," Danny said with a chuckle.

Instantly irritated, I said with heat, "I kind of had other shit on my mind!"

"Whoa, Brian," Danny said, his hands fending me off. "Calm down. I didn’t mean anything."

"Sorry." I said contritely.

"I’m off work for the next four days, so we can go get the things you need after school."

Danny led me into the room right by the bathroom, the last door on the left. It was a fair sized bedroom with a double bed and a dresser along one wall with a closet next to it. The room was mostly bare but it still felt lived in..

"Is this going to be okay for you, Brian?"

"I guess."

I picked up the suitcase Danny had brought in. It was heavy. After opening it, I mechanically began to unload my clothing into its appropriate place, either in the dresser or the closet. Danny watched me for a bit before walking back out to the front of the house. He came back just as I finished.

"Brian, let’s get something straight right now. You’re not a guest here. This is your home for the time being. If you need or want something, tell me. I won’t bite, so use your voice. It’s okay to talk, you know."

I dropped my eyes back to the suitcase, feeling every inch the beggar living off of Danny’s largesse. I flinched as he placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently.

"I know you have to be angry and hurting, Brian," Danny said quietly, "and that’s okay. If you need space, I’ll give it to you, but you have to tell me. I can’t read your mind. Okay?"

"Too much," I whispered. "There’s just too much. Mom and dad betrayed me again, finding out Pete has been trying to get in touch and is still in love with me… I have to take it all in."

"What can I do to help, kiddo?"

I looked into Danny’s eyes and saw real concern there, but I still didn’t know if I could let him in. I shrugged in response to his question.

"Okay, Brian. I know it’s hard right now. When you figure out what you need, let me know. I’m here for you this time, and I’m not going to let you down again."

With a final squeeze of my shoulder, he walked out of the room. I followed him to the kitchen where the water was boiling. I sat at the kitchen bar and watched Danny work with practiced efficiency while I tried to determine his motivation for taking me in. Did he just want to help out? Did he feel guilty for not doing something two years ago? Because I was gay? Did he want me to be the son he never had? The possibility that he could want something more from me hadn’t completely left my consciousness, either. He’d said it was nothing like that, but my pessimism was running pretty high.

Danny said, "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes." Again he gave me that odd, piercing look. "Are you sure you’re all right?"

I nodded and then remembered what he’d said about using my voice. I answered him even though I didn’t feel like talking that much.

"I’m okay. Just thinking."

"About what?" He asked.

"This whole… fucking mess I’m in. No home, no family, no money, nowhere to go."

"Until something changes, you live here with me."

"Why?" I asked.

"Pardon me?"

"Why? Why would a gay man like you want to take in a gay boy like me?"

"Why? Because you’re right. You have nowhere else to go. You won’t let Kathlene take you in again. Anyway, I doubt your parents would give her money like they did last time after what happened to you, and you cost a lot to keep."

"My parents must be thrilled with how much money they’ll save," I said sarcastically.

Danny’s expression reflected his annoyance at the suggestion. "That’s not what I meant and you know it. And I know for a fact your parents aren’t at all happy this has turned out like it has."

"I bet," I said caustically. "All they want is for me to forget about Pete and go straight!"

Danny looked at me for a moment, his expression softening. "Regardless of what you think you know, your parents love you. Yes, they made another huge mistake…"

I snorted.

"… and, they are sorry they made it. They’re only human, Brian."

"So what do you want me to do?" I demanded. "Kiss and make up? Pretend that Pete never existed? That none of what happened after he left took place? How many times do they get to shit on me before I can say ‘enough’? They made a mistake, all right: the same mistake they made two years ago, only this is worse. They deliberately kept Pete’s letters from me! It’s wrong. It was wrong then, and it’s wrong now. You even admitted you fell the same way!"

"I do feel they made the wrong decision in both cases," Danny responded. "However, I’m not certain that you leaving your family was the best thing for any of you. I’m fairly sure that no court would emancipate you just on these two things, especially since it is a gay relationship we’re dealing with. Even if I thought they might, and even if I was willing to support you in suing them, you’d have to get a lawyer, and I just can’t afford that."

"I’m not going back home. I can’t trust them. It was stupid for me to try in the first place." I pinned Danny with a glare. "I don’t even know if I can trust you."

Danny tried to say something but I interrupted him.

"Look. I really appreciate what you’re doing for me. I really do. But I…."

"You don’t trust me. If I could change that, I would, but the past is the past. I can’t change what I did, and I can’t change what your parents did, but if you ever hear anything I say, hear this: I know what you’re going through. I’ve been where you’re at."

I frowned, wondering what he meant. He sighed and sat down in the stool next to me.

"I figured out that I was gay when I was twelve years old. Back then you didn’t talk about it and you didn’t do anything to arouse anyone’s suspicion. If you got outed, you were treated like a pariah. I had this real good friend. Tommy and I were as close as two guys can be and not be twins. All of our interests were the same; we played the same sports, read the same books; we did everything together. When we were thirteen, we started to have sex, and eventually we fell in love. The morning of my fifteenth birthday, my father found us together in my bed, naked, holding each other.

"He went crazy on us. I won’t tell you the details, so don’t ask. Anyway, my father forbade us to see each other. He told Tommy’s parents what had happened, and transferred me to another school. My free time, if you can call it that, was spent in or around the house. Dad watched me like a hawk, making sure I wasn’t turning into a queer. He searched my room and closet almost daily. I didn’t have anything to hide, except a Playboy or two; he found them, and he punished me for them.

"The worst part of it is I never saw Tommy again. His parents moved shortly after they found out about us, and I have no idea where he is now. I’m afraid to track him down. But I never stopped loving him. I still do.

"Remember that this was quite a few years ago. We didn’t have all of these experts warning us about hitting your kids. My dad used his belt on me constantly. He whipped me for the smallest thing, saying he had to ‘toughen me up’ so I could be a real man like him. He liked beating me, I think. And it went on for years.

"About the time I turned 18, my father decided I’d done something wrong. He pulled off his belt and told me to bend over. I simply said, ‘No.’ The next morning, I was out of the house with a suitcase and the clothes I was wearing. At the time, I didn’t know what else to do, and I didn’t have any relatives or friends who would or could take me in. I didn’t have to worry about it, though. I was drafted about a week later."

"Losing my parents like that was one of the worst things I ever had to go through. I haven’t spoken to them since, and I want to spare you that experience. Think about it."

I listened to his story, trying to put it into perspective and compare it to the events in my life. Our situations were conversely similar in some ways. His parents rejected him, I had rejected my parents. He lost his love, someone he had slept with, and they had been together for over a year. I hadn’t slept with Pete, and we were only together for four days. I wasn’t sure his story had made me feel better, but I knew Danny might be able to understand me.

As we ate dinner, Danny and I made small talk, not mentioning the current situation in any way. When we were done eating, I helped Danny do the dishes and we went into the family room to watch some television.

"Do you have any homework, Brian?" He asked.

"Not really. I’ll finish it tomorrow morning like I always do."

"How are you doing in school? Is everything going all right?"

Danny’s questions annoyed me. "About the same, I guess."

"And that means…"

"Danny, what do you want? If you have a real question, ask it," I said.

"All right, I will," he said. "Brian, nobody knows what happened to you when you lived with Kathlene and Chris. I’ve asked them but they won’t talk about it."

"I don’t want to talk about it either," I stated with finality.

"Why not?" He questioned me curiously. "Was it that bad? Did you do something you’re ashamed of?"

I didn’t respond to his questions. Instead, I stood up.

"I’m going to bed," I informed Danny as I walked down the hall.

"Brian, wait," he called.

I wanted to ignore him, but something in his voice made me turn and face him. The tears running down his face surprised me.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push it. Please, come sit with me for a while longer. I won’t ask you about it anymore. Okay?"

I did as he asked against my better judgment. This was not something I wanted to deal with at that moment. I took a seat across from him. He seemed disappointed.

"Brian, this is unfair to you," he began earnestly, anxiety coloring his tone. "I’ve always wanted to have children, but I know that will never happen. I’ve never had a chance to be around kids, and I guess I don’t really know how to deal with them… with you. What just happened… I think I tried to fit in twenty years of parenting into twenty minutes, and I’m sorry."

I watched Danny as he spoke. Every word was sincere. I could understand where he was coming from and, strangely enough, it resonated within me. A feeling of longing struck hard at the center of my being. Tears filled my eyes once more as my throat constricted, making speech difficult.

"I’ve never really had a dad, Danny. Maybe we can figure this out together?"

The man stood and sat next to me, a smile on his face. I fell into him and we shared an embrace that did nothing to quell our tears.

After a week of living with him, I decided to trust him with everything. Even now, four years later, I can’t tell you why. We sat down on a Saturday morning and I told my tale from the beginning. With frequent interruptions for tissues, toilet, and food, I related everything that had occurred up to that day. Danny asked questions as I spoke, some of which I could answer, and others I could not or would not. He respected my openness and my privacy in that regard. When it was over, it was Saturday evening.

Getting all of that out was a sort of release for me, but it also emphasized how stupid I’d been and how cruel my parents were, so the release didn’t really help me at all. In fact, I believe it made things worse for me mentally.

As the days passed we grew to know each other well. He put up with my frequent bouts of anger and depression, and I put up with his frequent snoring and flatulence. I made it a point to talk with him about what was going on with me, what I was thinking, and what was happening in school even if I didn’t really feel like it.

Life with Danny was good. He never pried into my life but he was always there if I wanted or needed to talk, and I took him up on it quite frequently. We grew close as the weeks passed and fell into an easy friendship.

For their part, my parents left me alone. Danny talked with them often, as Kathlene had been, but he never mentioned them to me.

Chris and I remained close as well. After David left, I began to spend my afternoons with him instead of having Danny pick me up after school. It made things easier on both of us, and I had Chris back as a sounding board and a brother. I still felt safest when I was around him, and our relationship continued to deepen. Nothing sexual ever entered into it, but there was a feeling of closeness; a feeling of being loved that I’d missed since I had decided to move home that June. It felt like coming home.

The Forns asked me to move back in with them but I declined. There were still too many memories for me to live there full time, and too much time alone at night to think. There was another concern, and I’m sure Chris knew this was the real reason I refused to stay. I was still very much attracted to him. Now that I knew Pete was out there and waiting for me, I didn’t want to put myself in a position where I would be tempted, even though Chris wasn’t interested in me that way. Working out with him and hanging after school was more than enough time with him and already pushed my limits.

On Monday, two weeks after opening up to Danny, I was called to the school office in between classes. Sergeant Manerra handed me an envelope. It contained a summons to Pete’s hearing. I would be going to Portland, and I would be seeing Pete again soon.

Epilogue

Two-and-a-half long, hard, brutal, grueling years. Thirty months of psychological, physical, and emotional torture inflicted upon me by my parents and by myself. Was it all worth it? With everything I’ve experienced, I have asked that question frequently. How do you judge if what you’ve done is worth what it took to get you where you are in life?

For example, let’s say an athlete trains his body to the point of damaging himself. Upon reaching the peak of his abilities, he wins a national championship or maybe an Olympic medal. All his hard work has paid off. Then begins the inevitable decline that age brings to all of us. At age forty, the former athlete learns that the pain in his legs is the result of spinal cord damage suffered in his youth, and that it will continue to worsen until he loses the use of his legs. Is all his hard work still worth it when he loses something so basic as the ability to walk? Only he could answer that question.

The concept of worth is very subjective. What is extremely valuable to one person may be worth nothing to another. Here in the United States, the majority of us take food for granted, but to the homeless it is all too often a luxury. Some people use money as a measure of worth. Others use emotional gratification. Still others use accomplishment.

What does worth mean to me? A difficult question. I’ve gained and lost so much in my short life: Friends, family, dreams…. It’s difficult to put a price on any of those because their worth can’t be measured in any tangible way. The only measure I have is the pain or the joy that these things bring into my life.

The worth of life in and of itself is immeasurable. Monetarily, our bodies are worth about one dollar for the minerals in our cells, but of course who would measure the worth of one’s life by the value of chemicals in body tissues? Lives are measured in both tangibles and intangibles. A man brokers a peace treaty and saves millions of lives. Another man murders someone for a car. Which man’s life is more valuable? Would the answer be the same if we asked the killer’s family?

Whether or not our experiences are "worth it" to get to where we are at any point in time is an individual assessment. Some may look at my life and think that I was insane to go through all I have, but those people don’t have the authority to judge my life or me. The authority to approve or condemn my life on this earth lies within me and me alone. The authority to judge me afterward belongs to God.

Was it all worth it? All I have to do is look into Pete’s eyes to know, without a single reservation, that it most certainly was.

Brian Andrew Kellam

March 19, 2003

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