"Fatherhood and Stephen Christopher Harris..."

Early in our relationship, Stephen revealed to me his desire to be a father… and although this is problematic when you’re gay, it’s not impossible.

He knew at that time that I had adopted and raised a son on my own. My son, Marvin had gotten married the summer before I met Stephen. As I listened to Stephen talk about wanting to know the joys of fatherhood as we lay in bed on a crisp fall morning, I knew that I too wanted to again know the happiness of being called father and the joy of loving and raising a child. When I finally spoke to what he was saying, I told Stephen of all the ways his dream could come true… I said we could adopt a child. I told him he could also be a biological father if he wanted that as there were many women willing to be surrogate mothers for gay couples. I went on to tell him of my own struggles in being a single parent to an adopted son and how much easier and more joyful I thought the experience could be for two.

As we talked about this, I marveled at the gentleness of his tone and how he seemed to be in deep reflective thought about what we were discussing. As I gazed into his eyes, I could see they were becoming heavy with wet tears which were about to fall. When I asked Stephen what was wrong, he told me he was thinking about his own child. He had never before spoken of a child and I was in shocked silence while waiting to understand what he meant… He went on to explain about a woman from his past that he’d gotten pregnant. He said she aborted his child when he refused to marry her. He said he’d been wracked with guilt about it ever since, and he said he wondered if God would forgive him for allowing his child to die.

As I softly stroked Stephen’s cheek and brow, I shared with him more details about my own marriage and desire to have children. I told him how well I understood what he was feeling and my thoughts about how I believed God viewed what had happened to his unborn child. As we lay in each other’s arms, a tear or two fell from our both of our eyes as I comforted him and assured him that together, we’d have children of our own to love and to love us. Finally, he began to smile as he looked into my eyes saying, “Yes, we’ll have children, I love you, Christopher…” That was late in October of 2006, just before we decided we’d get married.

Thursday, Stephen called me for the fourth time this week and we talked for a while… He again asked me for my forgiveness of his wrongdoing and even asked for me to show him mercy… As I listened to him talk about being a “broken man” and of conversations he says he has recently had with God, I was remembering that chilly October morning almost three years ago. Although I thought to remind him of his promises to love me always and that we’d have children someday, I didn’t, I just listened and wondered in my mind if he remembered.

Today at work, as I was thinking about these things, I remembered something that occurred on Sunday, July 29, 2008. Stephen had promised to call me early that evening, but didn’t… Around 7 p.m. I sent him a text message expressing my disappointment and my hope that all was well with him in Charlotte. I told him I was “waiting by the phone” for his call. At 7:40 his reply came: “Ok dear, I am in class.” I wondered about that, as he’d not told me he was taking any classes and I wondered what kind of class he could take on a Sunday evening. Around 9:30 he finally called. I asked him how his class went thinking he’d tell me what type of class he was taking. He said, “It went well.” and he said nothing more about it. I realized that there was no point in asking more, because although I didn’t know why, I could somehow tell he was going to lie to me about it.

When it came to Stephen Christopher Harris and secrets, I had learned to accept that this was simply his way and because I loved him, although it was very hard to do, I simply let it be… That day, I forgave his keeping of another secret as I had so many others... Secrets, lies and deceptions from Stephen were nothing new to me. I ended our call that night as I always did with my renewed declaration of true love for him and the promise of my abiding faith in his heart. In December 2008, his secret was revealed to me when I discovered what class it was that he’d taken.

I talked about this in part today with a client… My client and I were talking about “house husbands” and I told her of how when I was in Charlotte with Stephen, I’d clean the “Dream House” every day from top to bottom. I told her of how I’d vacuum the carpets at the end of the day after doing the laundry, and cleaning the bathrooms and other housework and then not walk on them so that they’d be pristine for the arrival of my “beloved one.” I wanted things to be so perfect that his footsteps would be the only ones he’d see when he looked about him when he came home from work each day. I talked about how I’d also worked hard to make the “Dream House” a home by painting, fixing and repairing things, buying decorations, plants, lamps, shades etc. And as I was speaking of this, it reminded me of a day in December last year when I decided to unpack some boxes that were in the closet in the study. One of the boxes had school papers of Stephen’s in it… As I looked through the papers, there was a certificate of completion from a state mandated parenting class for potential foster and adoptive parents. Looking at it, I took note of the date and I realized that that was the class he’d been in that Sunday evening in July.

Although, Stephen’s was the only certificate in the box, I nevertheless knew without knowing that he’d not taken that class alone. In my mind’s eye, I clearly saw Stephen and Alonza in class together. And at the time, I was deeply hurt to know yet again that another of the promises he’d made to me was being kept with someone else. After thinking about what I’d just learned, I put the certificate away in one of the kitchen cabinets, knowing at some point, I would ask him about it. Then I faithfully cleaned the house and cooked his dinner. Later, as I did every day, I turned on the outside lights at dusk and I sat near the door on the hardwood floor (so as not to leave any impressions on the freshly vacuumed carpet) to wait for his arrival. I greeted him at the door with, “I love you, Dearest” and I didn’t mention what I then knew about the class he’d taken.

It was several weeks later, after our mutual suicide attempt on December 10th that I finally took the certificate from the cabinet one day and I asked him about the parenting class. Before I showed him the certificate, I asked Stephen if he remembered the many times we’d talked of having children. He said he remembered. I asked him if that was still a promise he was going to keep… After a lengthy silence, he finally said he didn’t know. I showed him the certificate and I asked him why he’d taken that class. At first his face was awash with the very familiar look of fear that overcomes him when he’s confronted with the truth. Then he said he had considered adopting a child, but decided not to for fear that the child might prey on the other neighborhood children if he had been molested himself. I reminded him of that Sunday in July and I asked why he’d not told me about it… He was silent until I asked, “Who did you take the class with?” At first, a shocked look flashed across his face and then he put on his most innocent look as I saw his mouth poised in an all too familiar stance as he prepared to tell me another lie. Before he began to spin his tale, I said, “You took the class with Alonza didn’t you?” The innocent look on Stephen’s face faded away like snow on a summer sidewalk. He said nothing, but his now guilty look said everything. I didn’t say anything more to him that evening until we went to bed, when I said, “Good night, Stephen, I love you, Dear.”

As I drifted off to sleep in his arms that night, I was thinking about how much it hurt to acknowledge that another promise had been broken, and another dream was now deferred and perhaps lost forever. Yet I still loved him, and I believed that somehow, someday, he’d keep his promises and we’d know the happiness he promised would be ours. As I listened to him over the phone on Thursday, almost sounding as if he were in tears, I again wondered why there is no truth in Stephen Christopher Harris... "Fatherhood would suit him well, if he could only learn to tell the truth. "

“Fear Eats the Soul”