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In what was once the undercroft of a long-demolished church, the dim lighting lends a sense of calm to the club members as they move about. In an alcove sit two figures, both somewhat paler than the usual nighttime inhabitants of this establishment. The older of the two presses the younger for full details of events that had taken place earlier that day. Well, one has to deal with gossip, doesn't one?
Okay, then I'll tell you—but no interruptions and no questions! I really didn't want to participate. Marcus, however, was persistent. He said we should stand up for our own kind and argued that we had to do something to avoid being discriminated against. Not that I'd experienced that much discrimination—at least not since I admitted what I was.
OK, there was a time when my family realized what I was, and after that they took me out of the house and would have nothing to do with me again. Well, that was hard for me—especially since I hadn't yet come to terms with who I was. Well, we find it hard, don't we? Is there any of us who can truthfully say that we've never tried to deny what we are; that we just want to be 'normal' (whatever normal is these days)? I mean, I've never met anyone who hasn't been in denial at some point.
Anyway, as I said, Marcus was persistent. As he said, I don't know who found out about the meeting. Well, actually, it's not the kind of thing you can announce in the local press or by posters on lampposts. The local paper, however sensitive it may be to the views of local people, wouldn't accept the advertisement for fear of alienating its readership. Did they never think we might be among their readership? As for the posters on the lampposts, they would soon be torn down. Can you imagine how Brother Michael in the Church of Christ the Born Again, and his fate as a fundamentalist Christian, would react to the idea of us holding a meeting? I strongly suspect they would have come and occupied the Assembly Hall with us in it. You know... you hear about this kind of thing, don't you?
That was another reason I didn't like going—I thought there might be trouble. And what I didn't want was trouble. I mean, I'd just gotten my life nice and settled. I was having a really tough time coming to terms with who I am, and it wasn't easy. Then I met Marcus, and the two of us got on brilliantly... well, maybe that's not the best. Given my earlier comment about the fire, that's not a good way of putting it, but you know what I mean. We'd found this wonderful place, with neighbors just like us, and we'd settled in well. I know we're not a big community at this end of town, but it's nice and comfortable, and we all support each other. All right, I'm complaining about Trixie's dog. I'm sorry, but I don't think it's right to have a dog in a place like that—there just aren't any facilities for it—but I have no problem with Trixie and her partner. I actually get along pretty well with her partner, who, by the way, shares my opinion of the dog, but for God's sake, mention that to Trixie. She's absolutely infatuated with the mutt.
As I was saying, after a few hard years, I've got it all sorted and I'm happy with who I am. Well, darling, you must be, don't you? If you're not, you'll soon find that you're isolating yourself. It's like the two old ladies in St. Cuthbert's. Everyone knows what they are, but they're in denial all the time. They try to act as if they're perfectly normal and you can see the strain it puts on them. Like they... I don't know if they've managed to go on for so long. I know I couldn't have, but then again, I'm not a Christian fundamentalist - or any form of Christian, for that matter.
Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Christians. I've met some very nice Christians in my life, and some who truly understand the concept of Christian love. I just can't understand how people like us can reconcile who we are with what the Bible says. In my opinion, the two simply don't fit together, but that's just my opinion. I'm sure you have your own.
Anyway, Marcus dragged me to this meeting, and I mean, dragged me. It was in this assembly hall just off Brown Street; used to be an old chapel. You wouldn't normally find me down there. Part of town, you know the reputation it has. But Marcus insisted we go. Well, it's fine with him; he's 6'4" and built like a tank. No one seeing him would suspect for a moment what he is. They probably think he's a rugby forward out for a night on the town. As for me, well, darling, you really can't mistake me. I don't try to look the part; it just happens. I told Marcus I wasn't happy living in this part of town. Well, you heard what happened to that poor lad in April—that was just off Brown Street, as I explained to Marcus. He told me not to worry, he was with me. He was right; who's going to take on Marcus? No one with half a brain. The problem is that some of these gangs that hang out there, part of the city, seem to have significantly less than half a brain between them, let alone each individual.