His dad's gesture, learning to drive, was like a peace offering. Danny realized this soon afterward. He thought he would try to carry that forward and see if he could calm the mood in the house.

Danny's close friendship with Ken became a pattern other kids noticed, but no one seemed aware there was more to it than what appeared. This despite the fact neither of them was yet dating girls.

Mary had noticed it too. His friendship with Kenny seemed distinctly different from anything she had seen before. Despite the overwhelming gloom imposed by Danny's hostility to his parents, she noticed all the phone calls he had with Kenny, the visits to each other's homes, the attention and even affection they showed each other. Her brother had never had such a friend as this.

She entered and sat on his desk chair, which she first turned around to face him. He was lying on his bed reading a book.

"Danny, I know you've always loved me. You used to look out for me back when we were in primary school. So I love you, a lot, and I want you to know that. Just remember that and don't get angry at me when I ask you this.

"The thing is, you've changed so much in the last year, I sometimes think you're someone else. You're not the boy that went to Europe over a year ago. Something happened when you were away. You were different when you returned. And there have been even more, uh, changes I guess you could say, in the year since then. I'd just like to know what's going on."

He didn't answer right aware. He stared at her for a few seconds. "I can't. Maybe some day, but I just can't right now."

"Why? I heard you talking very loudly with dad about what happened to you and it sounds like that had to do with your trip to Europe. You were bullied on the trip, weren't you."

"You used to be so, uh, easy going, kind of. You weren't angry very often. Now you're like angry all the time. You won't talk to anyone. You hardly even say hello to me."

"It's because I'm angry with my parents. Our parents. It has nothing to do with you. I'm really sorry it's affecting you because I never intended that. I was trying to send them a message but they don't want to know."

"I'm angry because they sent me there. To Greece. When I was 12, they pushed the trip at me like it was something that would change my life a lot for the better. It turned out the opposite.

"Two years later I was a very different kid, and I found out things in those two years, mostly just before the trip was to go, that I hadn't known about or understood when I was 12. At 12 I was pretty innocent. At 14 I was a little more aware of some things. Mom and dad didn't seem to care. They didn't look at who was going, at the age differences or the backgrounds of all those other kids. They forgot it's their job to protect me and you. They just threw the dice and hoped for the best."

"Like the fact the kids on the trip were mostly older than me, and from families with a lot of money. That I didn't know any of them. I had nothing in common with them. But most of them seemed to know each other.

"No one explained that to me when I was 12. Even if they had, I might have still said yes because I didn't understand then just how much of a difference things like that could make. I was too young, wasn't ready to be making decisions like that.

"It was up to my parents to protect me, but they just wanted me gone. When I was 14 I had begun to understand. It wasn't fair to talk me into at 12 and then expect me to feel the same way two years later."

"Stuff happened on the trip. Bullying, every day, bullying of me and other kids. Some of that stuff is why I was stabbed two months ago. I had no idea things would get so extreme. I came home very angry at my parents and they haven't given me any reason to be less angry since then. I think they don't give a shit about me. They're willing to just put up with me until I'm old enough for them to get rid of me. Maybe one of these years they'll throw me out on the street. I just don't know."

"Like right now, I want to spend the weekend at Kenny's place, sleep over there Saturday night. You know lots of kids have friends they have sleepovers with. Why do I have to go through aggravation with them over this? My mother thinks she can tell me I'm not allowed to sleep over at my friend's place. Well, I'm doing it anyway and she can't stop me. They had no trouble sending me away for two months with a pack of strangers. Now I want to go to my friend's place for two days and you'd think something terrible was about to take place."

"No she did not! That's ridiculous. Look Danny, I'd never spy on you for her if that's what you mean. That's not what I'm doing. I love you, I'm interested in your life and I'm worried about you."

"Okay, okay. Sorry. I'm sorry," he said, "I'm suspicious of other people sometimes. I'm not angry. I love you too. I'm just so used to being angry with mom that I forgot you're not her. I care what you think. It's just, like, what did you mean by that?"

"He's become a close friend to you, that's all. Danny, you've never had a friend like him."

She stood and walked to the closed door. He said, "Wait, don't go. It's okay, I'm sorry. I'm not angry with you. I just, uh, I don't really know. I'm pissed off with mom as usual. I do not trust her. Please stay."

She stopped at the door and turned around. "Look, there's nothing wrong with it. And mom's not going to hear a word from me. I'm just saying…"

Mary stood and looked at him. "I don't understand it, it's so different and unexpected, but it's what I see. You and Kenny, it's like you're in love. When I see you together. Just the way you are with each other. You look at each other. A bit like mom and dad are like together."

He felt his face getting hot, he knew his face must be flushing, she'll see, he realized, but he couldn't stop it. He felt a slight sweat break on his forehead. He quickly wiped away a tear.

"Danny, it's okay. If you're worried I won't think well of you, you're wrong. Anything that helps make you feel better than you have been is a good thing, far as I'm concerned. Anything. I'll always love you, Danny, no matter what. I accept you, and nothing about you can change that."

Danny looked down, then back up at her. He felt the tears swelling in his eyes. He told her softly, "Thanks, Mary. You couldn't have said anything nicer. Thanks. I love you and I always will."

She placed her arms around him. "If you ever want to talk to me, about Greece or anything else, I'm here, okay? You can trust me, nothing you say will go beyond me unless you say it's okay."

Sex didn't interfere with Kenny's curiosity about science specifically and about the world in general. He had finished near the top of his class in grade 10, and now was doing the same in grade 11.

Nor did it interfere with Danny's ability to play football. In the third week of November, with Danny fully recovered from the stabbing, the football team won its last game of the season, beating Fleming Park high school 21-13. Danny caught five passes, two for touchdowns. Mike threw ten completed passes, a real achievement at the high school level, especially for a sophomore quarterback. Mike knew no fear as a team leader. He remained calm on every play, quick to react to a whole range of situations. He had an instinct for the game, notable confidence, quick reflexes and a decisive mind.

The victory gave them a winning season, finishing tied for second place in their division, a major turnaround from the previous winless season. It was a big achievement for their new coach.

He heard somewhere that psychiatrist offices have a couch you're supposed to lie on when you go. He wondered why.

He sat alone in the waiting room. It was quiet. A few minutes before his appointment time, a tired looking middle-aged woman walked out of the doctor's office and closed the door behind her.

Danny had thoughts of cancelling the appointment. He was nervous, for he had no experience with doctors like this and didn't know what to expect. In the end he decided to go, though he felt he was no longer depressed. It seemed rather like having an appointment about a pain, only to find that a day or two before the appointment the pain has vanished.

What was his mother trying to accomplish with these appointments? he wondered. What was in it for her?

Was she still trying to remake him into some idealized image of a son that existed only in her imagination? It sometimes seemed to him she'd been doing this his whole life.

Did she truly believe he could magically turn into a ladies' man? begin politely dating a different girl every week? a charade of a parade of unknowing young gals? that would supposedly prove to all who cared that Danny Stavros was a normal heterosexual teenage boy on the road to genuine manhood?

All so his mother would be reassured, stop worrying about his life, and begin worrying about something else?

Is this what gives her life meaning? he wondered. Is she conjuring up problems that only exist in her own mind? Then she can invent solutions that make her a hero in her own eyes but no one else's. All that to give meaning to her life.

Maybe I should study psychology in university. I seem pretty good at analyzing my own—

The door opened and a tall, handsome, rather young man looked out at Danny. "Hello, what's your name?"

Danny stood and walked past Dr. Margol into the office. Wow, he looks young, he thought.

Dr. Margol closed the office door. "Have a seat, Danny, I'll be with you in just a moment."

There were two comfy looking padded chairs, with a third chair some distance away facing them. Behind that and off to one side was a desk. He sat on the chair closest to him. He watched the doctor sit on the third chair, his legs crossed, writing on a notepad.

Dr. Margol began to explain some things about the purpose of the meeting and how psychiatrists work. Then he said, "Danny, I have some notes from Dr. Churchill and I've been through them. But I'd like you to tell me in your own words why you've come to see me today."

So he started talking about himself yet again. His parents. The trip. The bullying. The knife attack.

The doctor made notes but didn't interrupt. Danny talked for a long time. When he finally finished, he felt tired. He took a quick peek at his watch. 30 minutes had passed.

"I told you why Dr. Churchill wanted me to see you. I'm a homo. I hope you'll believe me on that. I wouldn't make up stuff like that, I'd be nuts to pretend such a thing, because it's felt like a curse from the very start.

"I'm not really sure why I need to be here. I'm angry with my parents for sending me on the trip. I feel embarrassed talking about what happened on the trip, but I don't really understand why. It's a terrible memory that makes me deeply sad. I came home angry about it, angry with my parents. So I don't talk to them. I can't tell them what happened because I don't trust them. Especially my mom, I know how she'd react."

He went on to relate the arguments he'd had with his father and that out of anger he had acknowledged his sexuality to Alex. He talked about himself and his friendship with Ken.

"My parents had to know a situation like that might turn out bad for me. Especially my mother, she knew I have trouble making friends, but she keeps kidding herself otherwise. I don't do well with strangers, or kids who don't take life seriously. I've been raised with rules about behaving myself. I take things seriously and literally. It's how I am. I don't cause trouble. I avoid people who do that.

"I need an orderly life with adults who care about me, people my age who are enthusiastic about what we are doing, who take it seriously. I need good teachers. I know I'm only 16, but I managed to figure all this out by talking to Dr. Churchill and my friend Kenny and by thinking about myself as honestly as I can.

"That's who I am right now, Dr. Margol. By the way, you know I started keeping a diary in a standard notebook, and now a year later it's two notebooks over a hundred pages long full of all kinds of thoughts and ideas and memories, bad memories. Sometimes I feel like I'm my own psychiatrist."

"Well, I don't like to put labels on things like that, but if you like, you can tell me about your sexual feelings."

"I'm not attracted to girls. I've never felt that. I'm strongly attracted to other boys, especially good looking ones."

"I didn't tell my mom. I can't talk to her about anything important. She turns everything against me looking for someone to blame. She definitely does not accept that I'm a homo. She thinks it can be changed. That's why I'm here. So you can change me. She thinks you have the power to change my feelings so that I'm attracted to girls. That's what I came to see you for. She thinks it's easy, you know, like fixing a dislocated elbow, one good push and it's fixed. She doesn't even ask me about it, she thinks I'm still a little kid.

"Two years ago, when I just turned 14 in grade 9, all this sexual stuff was a huge mess inside me. I never spoke to anyone about it. I'd never been teased or bullied over it. It was a giant secret I kept from my parents and friends. It troubled me endlessly but I managed to suppress it and was able to live a pretty happy life.

"The trip to Greece ended that. I left feeling scared. I came home angry. A very different kid.

"My parents will tell you what I was like when I came home. I went silent. I can't talk honestly to my them because they'll just use it to hurt me, to criticize and find fault. So I went silent and still am.

"There's no forgiveness there, from them, no acceptance. There's just blame and guilt and shit like that.

"Before the trip wasn't much different, but I just absorbed it the, one after another of my mom's insults and sarcastic comments. But now she wouldn't dare, and she knows that, which upsets her. She doesn't consciously realize, but I think she senses, she has lost some of her control over me. I've become a dominant person at home. I still live mostly within her rules but she wouldn't dare get me angry because she knows I'll give it right back to her, which is something I never used to do. That's new for her and she can't accept it.

"Anyway, it's time my parents ease up on their rules including this need they have to send me to you to have you convert me or whatever you're supposed to do."

"Alright. Danny, I will tell you right now, there is no such thing as conversion. Some psychiatrists imagine otherwise, but no such procedure has done what they want it to do. They've tried hypnosis, electrical shocks, certain drugs. Psychological conditioning. Self-discipline. Those things either have no effect or are very harmful, mostly they're harmful.

"I will not try to change your sexual feelings. That's not something you can change. You might be able to have sex with a woman, but it would mean a woman helping manipulate your body parts to bring about that arousal. There would be no attraction involved, no feelings, it would be merely a mechanical exercise.

"My function is to help you accept your sexuality. Help you adjust to the man you're becoming. This is a pretty new approach, it was not recognized widely in the past. But it's being used more and more. The key is to accept who you are for better or for worse, and then do what you need to do within the bounds of legality, safety, good health, to live your life that way as best you can.

"Another way to describe all that in one word is authenticity. You want to live an authentic life. That's the life with the best potential to bring you love, joy, meaning, happiness.

"To achieve authenticity, you have to figure out who you are. What you like. What you want to do with your life. What really makes you happy. And figure out how you can hold up your head and be yourself, be proud of yourself, instead of denying it.

"At the very foundation of that search for who you are is acknowledging your sexuality. And being open about those things with the people you love and trust. That's what I can help you with. If you feel you need that help."

"Well, I'll tell you, sir. Right now I think that as long as I have Ken in my life, and my mother keeps her mouth shut, I feel good. I'm pretty happy. I'd be happier if my parents came to me, apologized, explained themselves, promised the future would be different, that they'd accept me. Then I could at least try to start talking to them again."

"Here's the thing, Danny. Your mother came to see me a week ago. She believes you suffer from what she terms a mental disease called homosexuality and need specialized treatment. She wanted to make that clear to me before I saw you.

"I explained to her there is no such disease. Based on what Dr. Churchill has told me, the problems you may have, at least as far as I can see right now, would be first, trauma from your summer away from home, and second, possibly some depression. I've already explained to your mother much of what you've just said. She jumped on depression as being either cause or symptom of an underlying condition. I explained that in the cases of homosexuals, it's often caused by a need of many men to live a secret life. She didn't want to hear that.

"But I ended telling her I would see what I could do. So that she would give you a chance. But between you and me, it's something else. For now, you're my patient, let your mom keep her illusions and let's see how it goes.

"Ask your dad to call me here during the day. I think he should get involved. I can try to understand how he looks at this if he wants to talk. You're his son, if he has feelings for you I think he needs to get involved, not just leave it in your mom's hands.

"Well, I feel good these days. My friend Kenny and I have strong feelings for each other. We get together as much as possible. You know what I mean, privately. We love making love. By making love I mean, we use our hands and are trying to use our mouths. We're learning slowly like Dr. Churchill said. He's become easily the best friend I've ever had. Never mind that it's turned into a love affair. Yes, it's true, even if it shocks you: we're in love. The most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. I feel like he saved my life. And he loves me, he says that a lot.

"And my mom has all this going on right before her eyes and has no clue. Neither does anyone else. Except my friend Mike, though I haven't said anything to him, I think he's figuring me out. Mike's a good guy, I trust him."

"You're quite a young man. From everything I've been told and from what you've told me, I can see that you're pretty special. I don't see young people like you that often. If it weren't for your mother, I'd suggest we only meet once a month if you wanted. Hasn't she noticed your improved mood?"

"She's so wrapped up in herself that she doesn't notice anything. She needs a psychiatrist more than I do."

"I'm concerned she could find a way to force you against your will to get so-called conversion treatment. Which is nonsense. So I suggest you come here every other week at least until next fall when you'll be 17. That way you appear to be doing what she insisted on, so she has nothing to argue about.

"I can monitor things in the meantime, try to keep an eye on your mother and help keep you from becoming depressed again. That's my major concern. We can talk about anything you like, it will be up to you.

"Fortunately your mother isn't in a position to determine what's in your best interest. That's for you and me to discuss, assess and act on. You're old enough, 16, to make your own decisions about your medical care even though technically your parents still have the final say. After you turn 17 your mother can no longer order you to have psychiatric treatment.

"Think about talking to your dad. The fact he's been quiet about your feelings and situation so long suggests he's not angry and might be open to talking, understanding and helping you. If he turns out to be on your side, that could really help you."

The weeks after they saw the last of the detective passed quietly. The weather turned cold as winter crept in. There was a deep snowfall that didn't melt. School and life went on.

On a frozen Saturday morning in mid-December, he was at home watching TV. What was available on TV on Saturday was stuff like cartoons (which he used to like but now found boring), old episodes of westerns like the Lone Ranger, pro wrestling matches, and the Three Stooges.

He must have found Danny's number in the phone book, it was the first time he'd ever phoned Danny. They had long been school friends, but that day he invited Danny to play ball hockey with a bunch of other guys up at his place. Danny told him yes, of course. He was happily surprised, in fact secretly thrilled, by the call.

He liked John a lot because, unknown to John, they shared the unhappy experience of having been bullied by some pretty mean people. Danny felt guilty about what happened to John long ago, especially now that he knew what it felt like. The bullying of John because of his height perhaps explained the psychological shell that made him consistently quiet, ever friendly but not a socializer, ladder climber or braggart. He was careful about who he got close to. Danny sensed it, because by his nature he had been like that long before he went to Greece, and since that summer had subconsciously harboured a subtle qualm over new introductions. He needed an invitation. That day, John invited him.

He told John he would be there at 1:30 and asked if he could bring Kenny. John said yes. Danny called Kenny, yes he would come. So he found his old hockey stick, went by Kenny's house on the way and they walked the six short blocks to John's house.

The bullying of John was in the past. If anyone ever tries that now, he told himself, I will definitely be heard from. It was too late for such bravado. He hoped perhaps John had forgotten what Danny did or left undone, but maybe he just needed another body today for the game. Danny still harboured a slight doubt about nearly everyone.

In 1965, practically every Canadian boy had a hockey stick by the time he was ten years old. Even boys like Danny who couldn't skate loved the game. Boys who learned ballet or flute had hockey sticks. You either played ice hockey on skates with a puck, or ball hockey on the road or your driveway with a tennis ball.

Gray, Owen, Barry, Mike, Johnny's brother Ralphie and a couple of Ralphie's friends would all be there. All were guys Danny and Ken knew from school.

After they arrived, teams were picked and they spent the next two hours playing on the street. Pickup games of ball hockey on side streets were pretty common around there. John hosted these games because he had two goal nets. They set up the nets about 75 feet apart on the street in front of John's house. The rules were pretty informal, they could body check each other with shoulders and hips within reason, as long as it wasn't done too hard and no one got hurt. They were there to have fun, not to injure each other.

It was a side street without much traffic. When a boy saw a car approaching, he would call out 'car' and the goaltenders removed the nets right away. Occasionally they would give the finger to an aggressive driver who honked or mouthed off at them: they were just a bunch of teenagers having fun, not hurting anyone, dealing drugs or stealing cars, so slow down and take it easy, mister. Sitting in front of a TV screen all day didn't appeal to any of them.

Playing ball hockey was Danny's first exposure to Gray outside school. He knew that Gray took life seriously, was smart and had little patience. As it turned out, Gray even took pickup ball hockey seriously. He wasn't there just to have fun, and he demanded perfection from his teammates.

Gray was the only one who brought cleats. Steel-spiked cleats designed for ice and snow, that provided decent traction in the inch or two of packed snow that covered many side streets at that time of year. As far as Danny knew, Gray was the only guy who even owned cleats.

And he just had to win. His teammates had better try as hard as he did, and care as much and be as aggressive. If one of Gray's teammates wasn't paying attention or made a mistake, Gray chastised him loudly. So much for a friendly pickup game. Danny thought him a little bit nutty. He was definitely angry about something other than ball hockey. Maybe because, as Barry had told him, Gray's brother was sick.

After the game, Danny thanked John and said he'd like to play again if they needed someone. John said he'd let Danny know next time. After that day, Danny and John would grow closer and would remain friends for a very long time. Over the next few years they played plenty of ball hockey together.

Danny and Ken said their goodbyes to everyone and left together. Danny's parents and sister were out and not expected home for a while yet, so they went back to his house to grab a drink and something to eat. It was around 4 p.m.

They were in his bedroom looking at a new issue of Road & Track magazine with a new Ferrari coupe on the front cover. Danny had the idea. They were sweaty from the game and needed a shower. "Hey, no one will be home for at least another hour. You want to shower with me?"

"Yeah, they went out to drop off my sister at her girl friend's place, she's going to a movie. Then they had to go downtown for a 4 p.m. appointment with my uncle at his office, he's a lawyer downtown."

"Yeah, I guess he does because that's where they went. Law is his whole life. Remember I think I told you a little about him?"

Kenny reached over, took Danny by the shoulder and drew him close. They kissed, gently. "What a darling boy you are," Danny whispered, "I have such feelings for you, I can't even describe how deep they are." They spent a few minutes kissing and making out.

Then Kenny said, "I love you, Danny, through and through. It, like, it feels like forever."

Thoroughly aroused they rapidly removed each other's clothes, were up and off the bed walking naked to the little bathroom and found towels. Danny bent over with one leg in the tub and the other outside it on the floor and started the water while Kenny goosed him. Danny screeched and fiddled with the water temperature, loudly moaning aah, aaah, finally he straightened up and stepped into the tub.

Kenny, right behind him, closed the shower curtain, then quickly Danny ducked down real low to pull the lever to start the shower while shouting at Ken to stop playing with his ass unless… he pulled the little lever while remaining in a squat near the front of the tub, waiting… The first short spray of icy water from the shower hit Kenny square under the shower nozzle.

"There's nothing like that first spray of cold water to cool you down a trifle, horny boy."

The two of them wrestled and caressed under the shower for a long time while they soaped each other down, eventually bringing each other to hot, sweet orgasms in a very slippery way.

A premature spring arrived as the winter weather began to fade in early March, the snow melted, and yes, Danny started driving lessons. He hoped to have his licence by the summer.

For his first lesson, Alex dropped him off at the driving school's office, where he met his teacher Sal Copetti. After showing Sal his new learner permit, they walked out to the instructor's car, a new 1966 turquoise Chev Biscayne two door sedan.

"Yes, my dad took me to the school parking lot last Sunday morning when it was empty, and I drove around there for about 30 minutes. He then let me drive home. Everything went well until he had me park the car in the driveway."

"Well, I parked it in the driveway but the car was pretty far down the driveway, not at the street, more like half way between the street and the garage. So he told me to move it forward. So I did except I used too much gas and couldn't stop quite on time. I got really upset." Danny looked uncomfortable and felt pretty small.

"Not much, I braked at the last second, dad nearly went through the windshield, it was kind of sudden. He was actually laughing pretty hard. I thought he'd be angry but he wasn't. Left a small dent in the garage door. It's the usual metal door. It didn't go off its track so it still works fine. Anyway, he saw how upset I was. He tried to assure me it was okay. Fortunately he didn't tell my mom, she'd have, um, oh, just forget it."

Sal looked at him for a moment, then smiled. "Okay, Danny, we'll try to avoid problems like that. You go ahead and get in the driver seat and we can get started."

Danny opened the driver's door and sat in the driver seat. Sal handed him a key. "You know where to put this, I take it?"

"One important thing you forgot. For the rest of your life, every time you get in a car, whether as driver or passenger, the first thing you will do after entering is fasten your seat belt. Always before you start the engine. You'll leave it fastened until the engine is turned off. Understand?"

They were together for the next hour. By the end, Danny was well aware he had much more to learn.

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The Nonconformist

by Ken Cohen

Chapter 9

Friends