Dim Sum Diaries

Trouble Comes A Courtin'

I woke up crying. Again. Have you ever had such an intensely bad dream that you cried because you thought it was real? Luckily my roommates were already gone so I didn’t have to deal with their curiosity. I wiped the tears from my face and padded over to the bathroom. While the water was running, I scrutinized myself in the mirror as I waited for the water to warm up. I’d been having a lot of these kinds of dreams lately. I thought it might have something to do with my mom’s accident a few years ago. The one where she almost died and was in a coma for the better part of a week. I splashed water on my face and pushed the depressing thoughts aside. I’d deal with it later, I thought to myself.

I was supposed to meet Jack for breakfast this morning and I was running late. I hurriedly got dressed and went out the door. He wanted to eat “out” this morning, instead of meeting at the studies program dining commons as we usually did. This was unusual, but no big deal, I decided. I met a somewhat depressed looking Jack at the restaurant and after the waitress took our order, he gave me a desolate look.

“I have something to tell you. I’m royally screwed.” he said grimly.

“What, isn’t that a good thing for you?” I joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Be serious, will you? My roommates have accused me of being gay,” he said.

Damn. I immediately knew the implications of his statement. The studies program we were both enrolled in didn’t tolerate homosexuality, drinking or premarital sex. In fact, we had to sign a “honor contract” promising we wouldn’t “engage” in these things. If we did and got caught, it was grounds for expulsion.

“Those bastards! That’s slander! You should kick their asses!” I said angrily.

“I’m supposed to meet with the Studies Program Director today,” he continued.

“What are you going to say?” I asked.

“Deny it, of course,” he said. “What else can I do? I can't tell them I really am gay. I can’t afford to be kicked out because I need the credits to graduate college. Plus I don’t think that my school (Jack attended a private, religious college too) would take to the fact that I’m gay either.”

I spent the rest of breakfast trying to reassure Jack and cheer him up. I don’t think it helped much, as I was pretty pissed myself. I couldn’t believe the narrow-mindedness and intolerance of the people in the program I was associated with. Jack and I both went to our internships afterwards. When I got back from work, D came into my apartment without knocking.

“What’s up?” I said.

“Rumor has it that the Studies Director wants to “talk to us” in class today,” she said. “You know what that means, someone is in hella trouble!”

I wondered who that someone would be.