An Infinite Number of Parallel Universes by Randy Ribay Page A

day. The rows of men. Dante’s profile. Dante’s refusal to deny any of it. His grandpa’s words drip with shame.
    Dante’s heart races. He prepares himself for what’s to come. He knows the arguments that will probably be made, the Bible verses that will probably be quoted. He knows it all. During his years of confusion, he’d read them all dozens, if not hundreds, of times. He’d read the commentary and the debates and made up his mind. He’s been secretly preparing for this moment for years, and he is ready to refute anything if need be.
    Pastor Paul takes a deep breath and then touches the tips of his fingers together like a steeple. He leans forward and meets Dante’s eyes. He looks profoundly disappointed.
    “You are not a homosexual, Dante,” the pastor says in his sonorous Nigerian accent.
    His grandma starts crying quietly, and all the fight leaves Dante. He drops his eyes to the floor. He examines the carpet tiles, a visual white noise of patternless flooring meant to mask stains. “I’m not?”
    “You are
not
a homosexual, Dante.”
    “Um.”
    “God does not make homosexuals, Dante. You are being tempted by the Devil. You must overcome these temptations, Dante.”
    Dante shifts his weight to his other foot. He swallows hard. He wonders why the pastor keeps saying his name. “Why would God do that?” he asks after a few moments.
    “God tempts us to strengthen us, Dante. Fire forges steel. Struggle forges souls.”
    Dante considers this for a few moments. He does not disagree on that point.
    “You can overcome these temptations, Dante—with prayer, with the support and love of your grandparents, with Jesus. ‘With God all things are possible.’ Matthew. Chapter nineteen. Verse twenty-six.”
    Dante nods.
    “How should we punish him?” his grandpa asks.
    The pastor exhales. “Hate the sin, love the sinner. You must continue to love this child. Jesus still loves Dante, and Jesus does not want the Devil to win Dante’s soul. Pray for Dante, and watch over Dante. Do what you can to shield Dante from temptation. This is a battle with eternal consequences, a battle Dante cannot afford to lose.”
    His grandpa nods. “No computer.”
    Dante looks up, hating that everyone is talking about him as if he weren’t even there, as if he were a gremlin. “Why is it a sin?” he asks, working up at least some measure of defiance.
    His grandpa looks taken aback at the question, but Pastor Paul maintains his composure. He waits a beat before responding, and when he does, his words are slow and somber, like mourners walking home from a funeral. “‘Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.’ Leviticus. Chapter eighteen. Verse twenty-two. Let us lay hands on this child.”
    As if that completely settles it, his pastor and grandparents all rise. They put their hands on Dante’s shoulders and bow their heads. Dante keeps his eyes open. He stares at a crack in the wall.
    “Dear, Lord,” the pastor begins. “Here is a beloved son. We raise him up to you. We ask that you bless him. Give him the wisdom to walk the righteous path. Give him the strength to resist temptation. Give him the courage to be whom You created him to be. In the name of Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior. Amen.”
    “Amen,” Dante says.

You Made Me Strong, But I Am Weak
Monday
    “I’m gay,” Dante tells his friends.
    In his head.
    In real life, he stands at the sliding glass doors of Mari’s house and gazes into the backyard of the neighbor’s house. A bunch of little kids are playing some chaotic form of football. One of them tosses the ball high into the air, and the others fight to catch it. The one who succeeds then runs the ball back to an imaginary goal line while everybody else tries to tackle him.
    Mari and Archie sit at the table talking about something. Dante takes slow, controlled breaths. His arms are folded over his chest to still his hands from shaking. For the last half hour he has