I accept the bag from Carl and pour into my hand about a dozen or so chocolate chips which I dutifully pop into my mouth, since now the thrill is almost gone. It is now quite dark outside and I can hear the hooting of a great horned owl in the murky distance. I am turning a couple of pages in Kenny's diary.
"Hey, listen to this", I say to Carl.
July 7. Today we had our big showdown. I took the rector of St. John's aside in the coffee room just after the service and I fully came out to him. Jim has respected my privacy long enough, and while I fully appreciate his discretion and kindness, enough is enough. I have to tell those righteous idiots my full story, and tell them I did. Well, to the big priest anyway. I sat him down at a table still unoccupied, and I told him everything. My sexual orientation, my career as a hooker, my life in drag. I did not hold one single punch. So he gives me this rather blank but thoughtful look, then after some hesitation, says that there should be counselling available for me. Counselling for what, I asked him. He said, counselling to help you come to terms with your sexual preference and also to help you affirm your masculinity. That was when I let him have it. I said there is nothing wrong with my sexual attraction to men, and there is certainly nothing wrong with my sense of gender. He again turned on me that dumb blank kind of look and said, well, I'm sorry then, but there is nothing further I can do to help you. But I am not looking for your help, I said to him, almost shouting. Then what did you come to me for anyway, he wanted to know. And with that bit of stupidity, I simply got up and walked away in disgust. Jim says I should be patient and try to accept that not everyone is going to agree with me. I told Jim to go to hell. At dinner I apologized...
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