It was two weeks ago. 'B' had called me and told me to meet him by the creek where we used to play with each other as children. As I neared the creek my first immediate action was to scream. Even from far away I could see the bruises, cuts and scars on his face.
         "Hey Amp, what's up man." His visage was a shambles; his left eye was swelled shut; his nose bent and crooked like his jaw. I wanted to take him hold him, heal his wounds, take care of him. He was shaking as he spoke and I wondered what other sores lied hidden beneath his clothes.
        I managed to subdue my shock and spoke. "Nothing." I stammered.
        He smiled and my heart crumbled to pieces. This was not the same beautiful smile that I used to wait all day to see. This was not the same gorgeous gleam that could bring me to the heights of happiness no matter what mood I was in. Now, most of his teeth were missing and the ones that were left were smeared in blood as if they had been through a war. " As you can see I've had my better days."
        We both laughed at his joke and it broke the barrier that was between us. There was a moment of silence and shuffling feet until I spoke. " Who did this to you?"
         "Junior and his crew." He sounded grave.
        In high school Junior had tormented him with a heavy barrage of cut-downs and beatings. And at one time 'B' suspected him of knowing. If Junior knew or thought he knew then…then God help us.
         "I thought he was still in jail?" I asked incredibly.
         "Well, he ain't." Otis pointed to his eye. "Cause him and his hoods got me outside," Otis stammered and fell silent.
        I gently put my hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. I'm here with you."
        Otis took a deep breath. "They got me outside Paulie's."
        At that immediate moment there was an explosion in my chest. My heart was plastered in thick globs all over my rib cage. My breath in quick gasps; I felt like the world was closing in on me like a trap. Otis grabbed my hand, I felt like I was going to faint.
         "What were you doing at Paulie's anyway? You know what kind of people go there so why in the world would you go there?" My words were so filled with rage that they burned my throat.
         "I was feeling kinda, well, you know," He paused and shuffled his feet before speaking again. "And I just thought I could bring home a good man and get satisfied." He looked up into my eyes. "I didn't know they were going to be there that night, headhunting fags." He smirked. "If I had known that you know I would have stayed miles away from that place."
        That didn't make the situation any better, I remembered thinking. They still know and they probably know about me too or you wouldn't have me done here. Part of me wanted to ask the question, the other half just wanted to scream, cry and curse all day.
        I mustered up all the courage that I could. "Do they know about me? I mean… us?"
        By the look in Otis' eyes I could already tell the answer. "They beat me up bad Amp. I don't know what made them ask, and at first I didn't say anything Amp, I didn't say a damn thing but," His voice quavered and tears rolled down his cheeks. I don't know what came over me in that moment, maybe it was sympathy or maybe it was those old feelings. But whatever it was the feeling was strong, almost like instinct. I gently rubbed the tears from his face, it was the same face that I had kissed when I young. Even with the bruises and cuts his beauty still shone through like a beacon in the storm. I held him like a baby in my arms as he cried. He felt so fragile, so small and I wanted to protect him from the horrible winds that would soon come upon his frail frame. The hot, hellish winds that would come from his father the deacon; the cold, icy winds that he would receive from his former friends and associates, and the all consuming winds of fury that he would get from the community. But I knew I couldn't protect him and in the end he couldn't fend off the storm long enough to live.
        He gave up.
        His own father didn't attend the funeral.

        I hear thunder in the distance; a storm's brewing. I get up to close the window and survey the landscape. Barren, desolate fields lie in the front of the house. I remember a time when the fields were flowing with corn as tall as a man. It seems so long ago as if in a past life. I remember a time when the local children would play in the backyard. I smile as I think back to those Saturday evenings, sitting on the back porch watching them frolic in the maze of corn. I always loved those days because it was then that I felt the urge to be a father the strongest. To have a child of my own would be a greatest accomplishment that could achieve in my life.
        Bittersweet memories flood my mind as I think back to my wife, Sandra. She was a proud woman, she looked and acted as a royalty. I know it hurt her pride and broke her heart when she found out. I think back to that day. Maybe if I had said this she would have stayed, maybe if I had held her, kissed her, my God something! Maybe then she would have stayed.
        The thunder comes at quicker intervals, now coupled with bright flashes of lightening. My heart goes out for her, Sandra, she was never very strong. I worry about her now as someone worries about a child. Will she make it? Will she hang around the right crowd to support her? My mind aches with anxiety as I think of her on her own.

        Her leaving was as an inevitable as the stars fading from the sky at the first light. The day she left was filled with a certain feeling, a feeling that things could only get worse. By this time the whole cursed community knew about me and 'B'. It felt as if everyone was watching me, staring at me like a circus animal. That Sunday after 'B' was buried the Reverend Thomas had a sermon on the sin of sodomy. His words of hellfire and brimstone set my soul afire. I remember reaching for Sandra's hand during one particular searing tirade and she pulled it back on her lap.
        When we returned home from church I could tell I was going to lose her. She was in the kitchen cooking dinner, her music filling the house with the soulful voice of Aretha Franklin. I watched her from the hallway as she stirred, pasted and baked. I wanted to reach out and touch her, yet she was so far away. This was my wife, the woman who I had shared parts of myself that I had only wanted her to know. This was the woman who I had made passionate love to before, the same woman who I loved to please. I wanted to tell her that what I did with 'B' was an experiment, something I had never tried since and never will. I wanted to tell her that 'B' was the fleeting pleasure but she was my everlasting joy.
         "You need some help?" I asked meekly.
        I had startled her and she jumped a little. "Oh, I'm fine." She took a bucket of potatoes to the sink and ran water over them.
         "Are you sure?"
        She nodded her head without turning around. I sighed and continued to watch her, as she finished washing the potatoes and still when she began peeling them.
         "I wonder what the boys are having at Mother's for dinner?" I was trying to make small talk, trying to find a doorway to tell her how much I cared for her.
        Sandra shrugged her shoulders.
         "Sandra," My voice got lodged in my throat. "I-I still love you." It wasn't the eloquence that I wanted but I prayed it would do.
        Sandra slowly put down the knife. "How can you say that?" The contempt in her voice cut me in pieces. "You don't love anybody but yourself!" She turned towards me with tears in her eyes. Pain on her face killed me. "You hurt me so much Anthony. I thought you loved me. I shared everything with you, everything."
         "Baby, I did share everything with you." The tears I had been trying to hold back were now trickling down my face. "I opened parts of you that I never had never shown to anyone."
         "No you didn't," she yelled. The bitterness in her scream made me cry more. "You didn't tell me everything or you would have told me this!"
         "Baby that was so long ago, and for so short of time that…that it didn't matter. It was a fling," I went to hold and she shyed away. "You're the real thing. You're the love of my life please believe me!"
        Sandra folded her arms and walked towards the other side of the kitchen. Wiping her eyes she spoke. "Were there other flings Anthony? Did I satisfy you enough?" She was pleading, grasping for something firm to hold onto in the whirlwind she was caught in.
         "When I married you there were no others but you." Again I tried to hold her. This time she reluctantly gave her body to me. "I love you more than anything in the world. That's the truth."
        Sandra apparently didn't believe me. The next morning I woke up to the empty embrace of a letter neatly placed on her pillow. In it she expressed her need to 'get away' and 'deal with things' - code for 'I'm leaving you. Please don't follow.' I cried a cry so that only Job could understand my pain. My children and my wife were gone. When I thought of what she would say to my boys - "No, we're leaving Daddy because he's a faggot" - I cried more. I knew no matter what I did I could never have a relationship with them again. It was severed completely.

        The storm outside is now coming in full force - a torrent of rain and wind lashed against the house. In the distance a truck toiled along the dirt road outside my house. I watched as the headlights disappeared into the haze of rain. That's what I would need to do - disappear. I open the closet in my room and fumble in the dark until I find my shotgun. I check to make sure the ammunition is ready for the exercise. Gently, I ease the gun into my mouth. Tears roll down my cheek as I thing of 'B'.
         "Don't worry man," I say softly. "I'll be with you. I'll be with my favorite boy."
        For a second a warm feeling comes over me. A feeling of peace and well being. It's almost as if 'B's angel is with me, comforting me like he did so many times when he was alive. The tears stopped coming. My heartbeats slower and my breath comes easier.
        Thunder crashes.
        Lighting sets the sky ablaze.
        I pull the trigger.