I grew up going to a Methodist church, and I've always had a strong Christian faith.Chris's father was a Southern Baptist minister who preached fire and brimstone, and Chris was taught that being gay was the ultimate sin—an absolute sentence to hell. After we watched the movie , Chris said, "I think I could marry you." I was speechless, wondering if I was living in a romance novel.
When Chris spoke to a health official who called to check on me (my case had been reported to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta), he realized our baby was at risk for premature birth and newborn pneumonia, and he became hysterical, as though he were having a nervous breakdown.
But I kept quiet and thought, I've held up as long as I could. Both of us grew up in the small-town South, and Chris was in the military.
Yet I finally understood that our entire married life, except for our children, whom we both loved completely, was built on a falsehood.
Then, after he kissed me good-night, he shocked me again, saying, "No matter what you hear, I'm not gay." In fact, I had heard other students say that everyone in his fraternity was gay.
But in the world we lived in, people often claimed a guy was gay if he wasn't a jock or really macho, so I didn't want to judge someone because of who his friends were and what he did. Besides, he'd taken a girl—me—out on a date, so how could he be gay?