I did it, act two

After much discussing, planning, rehashing, fretting, and the stomach upset from hell, The Plan™ has finally come to fruition. I told Sister that I am gay at 10:30pm on Sunday night.

I had decided, upon advice from the ever-insightful Nicki, to do it over the phone so as to give her a week away to digest the information before she had to “face” it in person. The added bonus to this situation is that should she have a total meltdown, she could do so away from me so that I wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of it. After consultations with a few people it was all mapped out: I would tell her on Sunday or Monday night over the phone, wait a week for the danger to subside, deal with any arguments from Sister upon her arrival home the following week, and then flee to Lala and Cal’s to escape her objections to my “chosen lifestyle”.

In all the planning that went on, and there was a lot, it was never ascertained who would be making the call. It was the one, albeit rather crucial, detail that no one thought to entertain. By about 9:30, I was starting to think that perhaps she wouldn’t be calling. While this would usually be a welcome turn of events I was forced to try calling her mobile at a little after 10pm. She rarely answers these days because her mobile phone is usually in her room so I hung up and waited for her to call back.

Suddenly I became very dizzy and a little nauseous as I felt bats flying around my stomach; I felt a tide of acid rise in my stomach, threatening to burn a hole through it into my chest. Two swigs of bi-carb water later, I lay in bed and waited. The phone rang. It was her. Thank goodness for caller ID. I called out to Mum to answer the phone, because I knew that if Sister needed to talk to Mum and/or Dad about anything, it would be best that she did it first. Twenty minutes later I was handed the phone. Had I known that being so magnanimous would result in twenty minutes of agony, I might have thought twice.

I took the phone, exchanged a loaded look with Mum, and went outside for a cigarette. I sat on the chair outside and made small talk with Sister for ten anguished minutes. “So, any other pressing news?” she asked. “Well, since you mention it” I said, willing my head to cease spinning, “there is something I wanted to discuss with you.”

Knowing that this would end very badly if I didn’t sit down soon—likely in a rather spectacular episode of vomit and unconsciousness—I sat on the dirt of the driveway, my back against the back wheel of Mum’s car, and tried to breathe evenly. “You see I did want to do this face-to-face” I began, hoping that I would be forgiven this one little white lie for the sake of both our sanities, “but I guess this is the next best thing”—breathe, Dan, breathe—“so yeh, I’ve been meaning to tell you in person but ...”—come on, you’re so close!—“but, well, what I want to tell you is that ... I’m gay.”

“Oh ok” she said, shocked. But not disgusted. This was a good sign.

“Yeh” I said, aware that I probably should give her a chance to at least begin thinking about approaching the task of digesting such a monumental piece of news

“So what does that mean?” She asked. After my mind stopped going “Huh?” at the top of its little voice, I voiced my confusion: “What do you mean ‘what does that mean’? It means what it means.”—Right Dan. Clear as mud. “Well ...” she began, clearly choosing her words carefully, “you have these same-sex attractions ...”—more thinking on her part, more reeling on mine—“but are you going to act on them?”

“Yep.”

“Ok. What do you think God thinks about it?” This is more what I was expecting. “Well ... I think it’s ok because I was made in His image” I said succinctly. “Well it’s true that we are all created in His image, but that doesn’t make everything we do right”. I was going to point out that there’s a difference between being and doing, and the dizzyingly circular logic of you can’t have sex outside of marriage, but we can’t get married so we have to have sex outside of marriage, but you can’t have sex outside of marriage, but I decided to pick my battles and leave this for another day.

After a lengthy silence, which was probably all of five seconds long in reality, she said “you know I love you, right? No matter what, I’ll always love you.” The acid in my stomach subsided; the bats flying around in my stomach took to their perches; the dizziness abated. I always knew that she would never, ever, stop loving me but I always feared it nonetheless. I said “I know, Sister, I love you too”. I explained that I realised this was a huge shock to the system and something she would want to think about and pray about. I suggested we call it a night and would discuss this further, if she wished, when she got home. She agreed, told me again that she loved me and hung up.

I slumped down, totally relieved, utterly exhausted, and lit another smoke. It was the first breath of fresh air in a long time.