The Kiss Heard 'Round the World: Variations on a Theme from La Boheme

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Or - maybe it was....

James firmly believed that it was, that what happened was part of some Divine economy, God's evident design: Man had propositions, God made the dispositions.

Josh wasn't quite as sure. Neither were their bandmates. And Jive, and Johnny, were in a state of ill-suppressed panic.

Not that Josh was going to hang back. Whatever James wanted was the Right Thing to Do, period: that had become an article of faith for the lithe brunet over the five-plus years of their relationship. He just wasn't as blindly certain as was his jade-eyed lover, that this was somehow cosmically meant.

They'd made their relationship - their relationships, plural: with each other, their bandmates, their families, friends, and professional contacts; with, most of all, the public and their fans - into a dance on a tightrope, as dazzling as it was dangerous: subtly refusing utterly to hide, stubbornly resisting - for the sake of others - to consult their own desires and convenience over the good of the group.

No longer.

Both believed, had long believed, in giving back to their community, even in secret, perhaps especially in secret: in keeping with a Gospel text James loved to quote, both felt that it was more rewarding to do good without any taint of publicity. Both also knew when it was time to take a stand.

Funny, really, Josh mushed. It was not only okay with everybody, it was expected and encouraged that they, along with hordes of glitterati, do benefits, donate to AIDS charities, sport the red ribbon on the dinner suit lapel at certain events - but only as sympathetic straight men. It was most definitely not okay to come out, though everyone by now had learnt the steps of the dance, the choreography of peek-a-boo and tease and mixed signaling that had been a part of their lives for three years and more....

Damn funny, James tended to agree. Especially given the political arguments they had with Just and Chris, the latter a doctrinaire liberal, the former a creature of the Rock the Vote generation, and the band's Bulworth: for thirty-six days after the Bush-Gore election, until the Supreme Court ruled, the four had done little but snarl at each other (to Joey's simmering, independent-minded irritation). After all, Josh had a sentimental attachment to the Armed Forces, and tended to vote his pocketbook besides, while Lance, by God, 'may be a faggot, Justy, but I'm a good ol' boy, gun- and knife-collectin' faggot f'om Mis'sippi, son' - which had really set Chris off, Lance remembered with a sigh.

And suddenly, lightning from a clear sky, they'd been struck and shocked and, yes, galvanized.

One of the ways they'd found to help, to contribute, to the community was through the anonymity of the Net, where they could make their own hours. Both had taken counseling training on the QT. Together and separately, they helped man several boards dedicated to the struggles of queer and questioning teens and young adults, moderating, counseling, trying to make a difference. From the first day, they had felt increasing guilt about their own comparatively easy row to hoe. Their commodious and gilded closet. The protections they had enjoyed. It hadn't all been cloudless glory - each could wince in agony when certain family scars were touched - but they had been damn lucky, and they knew it.

December

'J- Joshy! Hon -'

'I'm here, babe.'

'Look,' James said, his voice thick with unshed tears. Josh, tense with concern, looked over his love's shoulder at the monitor.

The post was starkly simple, written by a young college graduate facing the ugly side of his new job:

>>>I love my friends.

I love my family.

I love my faith and my church.

And they think they love me.

Of course, they don't know me, either. Sort of the point. They wouldn't feel the way they do if they did.>>>

'Oh God,' Josh breathed, as he read on:

>>>I guess it's this way for most people, that their friends share a lot of things, traits and that sort of stuff, in common. Most of mine sure do. They think I do too.

My family members love the person they think I am. Because I am part of the family, I guess they'd try to love me if they knew who I really am. But I don't have the balls to find out. Besides, I love them, and this would hurt them. Lots. So I guess I don't tell them.>>>

'Keep readin',' James said grimly.

>>>And what about the people who I have my secret self in common with? Would they welcome me if I told? Would they help make up, with their arms held out, for the friends and maybe more that I would lose?

I know what you're thinking. If my friends are really my friends, they wouldn't reject me, and if they do, they weren't friends worth having. But they are, in a lot of ways. And they're the only friends I have.

Family? "If they love you they'll love you unconditionally" and all that stuff? OK. Sure. If I love them, why should I hurt them like this, either? Why should they have to deal with this? Why should I have to risk finding out some of them can't manage to deal, or can't manage to love me as much as we all thought?

Look, I can't face what it could be for me.

And besides. It's tough enough just getting through a day. Especially alone. Maybe taking a stand would be easier if - I can't talk about that. Sorry. It just hurts too much.>>>

Josh and James exchanged a glance, blurred by tears, each one. They unconsciously held each other as they read on:

>>>But what the hey. It all hurts.

What I was thinking was maybe it would all be easier if I had someone to stand up with me. If I wasn't so alone.

If I ever had someone - you know - I'd have to take a stand, I guess. With friends and family and anyone I wanted to have be a part of my life, if my life included having someone to share it with. But if that was what was happening, it would be worth taking a stand, wouldn't it?

I mean, I'm guessing here, because I've never had that. But I've thought about it. A lot.

It's kind of - what's that phrase? Catch-22? - though. I might have the strength, or at least a reason, to, well, do what I can't do even in this stupid post until all the way down here into it. I might have the guts to tell people I'm queer if I had a guy to share it with and be there for me when things got ugly, as I'm pretty sure they would: real ugly, real fast. But as long as I'm hiding, how am I going to find him? And do I really have the guts, even if I found him, to risk everything for him?

I mean, maybe if we were far enough along that I knew I could count on him and that what we had was strong enough to make the risk and the pain worth it, I could get through the whole coming-out thing. But how will I ever get that far, far enough that I could manage to make a stand, without having first made a stand? You can't, I wouldn't guess, manage to get that far, still being in the closet.

I mean, while I've been all this time playing Mister Nice Straight Boy, jocking around, hunting and fishing and talking about baseball and, uh, women, how many chances at finding the guy I need have I pissed away?>>>

James and Josh shuddered, simultaneously, each remembering their own road. They scrolled down:

>>>But.... Things hurt so bad right now, why in the name of God would I want to make it worse and be the laughingstock of the whole damn Eastern Shore?

And why would I want to run the risk, trying to find someone, of it going wrong and me being found beaten to death up against a fenceline? That would kill my family. But you know as well as I do it could happen. It's always possible, around every next corner.

I mean, why would I do that - for nothing?

But, well, look, it would be kind of cool, I guess, to be able to stop pretending to laugh at the boss's "fag" jokes (Jesus, he has a lesbian activist daughter, you'd think he'd have some decency). To not have to hear Matt talk about how open-minded he is but "they" still make him uncomfortable. To not be confronted all the time with having to stick up for a mutual friend - Chad - who is out, and who the guys are nice enough about but kind of insensitive. To not have to stick up for Chad while sweating about whether I'm coming across as a little too loyal, hint, hint (not to mention - OK, this is embarrassing - that I've got a massive crush on him and he's not interested). To not have to deal with Mike's stuff about how as a libertarian, he figures "they" should do what they want, but as a conservative he doesn't want to have to know about it. And Curtis's kind of annoying, and maybe a little too emphatic, insistence on "us straight guys."

I mean, that really gets on your nerves.

So does the marriage-grandkids-settling-down-soon-dating-any-nice-girls stuff from the family. And all the cooing over the family breeders.

If I were out, would I have to listen to my family and friends go on and on and on about schools and diapers and what little Jason's up to now? Or would it at least not hit my buttons the way it does now?

Or would I miss that - once I no longer had family and friends who would even talk to me?

Even the news tells you about the suicide rate for gay teens and young adults. Even straights know about it. Do they care? If they care, why aren't they caring? Do they have any idea how bad this hurts, all the time? We've all heard the line about "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" and that's why (I mean other than if you care what the church says) it's a no-go. Hello? Shouldn't we all try and fix the problem first? At least make it feel like it is just temporary?

Because hurting every day and every night this way, year after year after year, well, that's a killing thing too.

I don't know what to do. I'm too much of a coward to off myself. Sure, I'd like to say I'm too gutsy to take the easy way out, but I'm not, if I thought it was easy, and if I could bear to hurt my family that way, I'd have done it years ago. But I'm too scared, so I don't do that.

OK. What do I do? When all the choices suck, what do you do?

I'm in so much pain all the time. And there just aren't any options that would work. I'm scared, and I hurt, and I want it to stop, and I've said that every day for years and it doesn't. All the options bite, but going on like this is just too much. And I don't know what to do.

Does anyone have any ideas?>>>

James and Josh looked at each other, crying openly now. They didn't even need to say it. They had an idea, all right, and they knew they had to go through with it now, for the kids on the boards and all those who felt the way that young man - a young man their own age, but without the shields and securities they had had handed them on a plate.

Some weeks later

Chris, oddly, had panicked the most. Justin had been bitter, but cocksure that he at least could survive the wreck, if a wreck there were, of 'N Sync. Joe had been supportive, at one point physically shutting Chris up.

All three were still asking one question, though: one James and Josh hadn't answered, yet. The question of Why? Why now? Why, with their run not yet over? Why?

They answered that in Johnny's office, with Clive sitting in like a specter at a feast. They simply handed around copies of the young man's post.

Everyone read in silence - until Chris, of all people, started sniffling halfway through.

When they were all clearly finished, James spoke, softly. 'Josh and I have counseled Ma- well, no names. We haven't made him an explicit promise; but we've made ourselves one. No more. No more hiding, no more denials, no more silence that's complicit in the bashing and the jeering and the hate. Never again.'

'Never again,' Josh said firmly. 'Never again a lack of role models. Never again an attitude of shame and self-loathing. Never again the environment that made Matthew Shepard a target for hate.'

'But DAMN it,' Johnny exploded, 'what about - look, you have to be reasonable, I admire your principles, but the business -.' Until now, James had always been controllable by mentioning his duty to his bandmates and his colleagues: duty was an easy button to push, with a Southerner.

James looked at him coolly, and quietly asked a question heavy with historical irony. 'Johnny ... aren't you glad the Freedom Riders, and Rosa Parks, and James Meredith, and Dr King never thought that way?'

Johnny stared at him, mouth open, then walked stiffly out of the conference room.

A Few Weeks After That

TRL just wasn't right for it. Regis, ditto. And they'd never forgiven Howard Stern for screwing Joe over, trying to sucker Joey into outing them. Rosie had the clout, the empathy, and the ratings share, and they could trust her.

It was halfway through the interview. Their families, all the families, were in the front row, ready to join them onstage, in what would be the hardest gesture of their lives, especially for Jim Bass and Roy Chasez. The guys, who had stood by them closer than - well, than they'd done in years - ever since that transforming meeting, surrounded and framed them as James and Josh sat on two chairs placed side by side in front of the other three (the stage hands had bitched, but complied). Josh had dragged Brit and Chrissy along as well, one last favor called in from the MMC Mafia.

'Now, boys, what's goin' on, anyways?' Rosie could make the Apocalypse sound brassy. 'I hear you two are doin' some community work, huh?'

'Yes, ma'am,' James said quietly. 'Both Josh an' I went and got counseling certificates so, in our down time, we could help moderate Web boards for at-risk youth.'

'And it's really changed a lot of things for us. There was this one young man we remember especially well, who was going through so much and felt so incredibly alone ... partly because, well, there just isn't the support, the role models, the sea change in attitudes there ought to be. MRZ in Maryland, you know who you are and what we mean. And that need for change is gonna change -' Josh grinned slyly - 'this we, ahem, promise you.'

'The suicide rate for teens and young adults who are in his risk group ... it doesn't hardly bear thinking of. We have to do better, all of us.'

Rosie looked at them with well-simulated confusion. 'Yo, Lance, I'm not gettin' this.'

'Weeeeeel,' James smiled, standing up carefully, palms sweating but head high, 'maybe we should just show y'all what we're drivin' at.'

Josh looked at his family, then at his friends and bandmates, who nodded and gave him a thumbs-up, and stood tall.

'Hey, love,' he said quietly to James, holding his arms wide; and as they had done thousands of times before in private, James slid into the welcoming circle of his arms and their mouths met, as they kissed with tender passion before the watching world.

There was a moment of stunned silence and then a clamor - within the studio and across the country. It was, as the AP wire put it within minutes in a three-bell flash bulletin, 'The Kiss Heard 'Round the World.'