Then There Was Chuck.

During the time I spent as a counselor at a residential treatment center for juvenile services kids he was on my caseload.

Along with a serious drug problem and an arrest record for possession with the intent to distribute Chuck was a graffiti artist, who had spent much of his time spray painting his art on brick walls, bridge abutments and any other surface he could embellish with his sometimes violent portrayals of life on the streets, which he signed with his trademark “Chucky.” And that’s where the story begins.

My first day on the job with Juvenile Services was spent meeting the ten kids who were on my case load. Most of the morning had been spent talking with sixteen to eighteen year old car thieves, purse snatchers, and young con artist who even at their age had fashioned a way of telling a story so smooth that for my own well-being whatever they said had to be considered a lie unless proven otherwise. But then there was Chuck.

When he first came into my office I wasn’t sure if he was the kid I was waiting for or a staff member I hadn’t met. He was about six foot tall with a thin build, light brown hair, a kind of large nose and the bright blue eyes. He was neatly dress in designer cloths, which I found out later he had bought with money he had earned by keeping his room neat and doing odd jobs around the residential center.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m Chuck.”

As our eyes met the gaydar meter was about to go off the scale. When he sat down in the chair he slouched stretching his long legs out placing his body in a suggestive pose. We talked about his artwork and he was surprised I considered it such. I had some photographs of several of his creations. It was obvious to me what they were about but I wanted to hear what he had to say. His enthusiasm in explaining his feelings was evident until we got to the last photo.

“You trying to set me up man!”

“No.”

“Then why are you showing me that picture? I see my folder on your desk so you must know I’m queer.”

“The way you responded was what I figured I was going to hear. I’m sorry if you thought it was a set-up.”

“That photo is why I’m here. I got scarred when I saw Homos Must Die panted across my work and made a deal for some kind of protection if turned myself in. Coming to this center was not what I had in mind. But I guess it’s better then turning up dead.

    “I heard about you before I came in here. The other guys are making fun of you, calling you a faggot just like they do me. I think they’re right.”

This was not the way I wanted to start off my new career, coming out to some kid, but I knew I had to if I was going to earn his respect.

“Yeah, Chuck they are right.”

By the look on his face I knew I’d said the right thing. And then he broke out into a smile.

“That’s cool man. You gonna let me go out with you this weekend?”

His eyes had that passionate look and I knew his own con act had started.

“Now you’re setting me up!”

Chuck got angry, stood up and slammed the chair he had been sitting on against my desk.

“I thought you were different man, but I can see it gonna be the same old thing.”

He turned around and left my office meeting the director at the door. She stepped aside as he barreled through.

“I was standing outside your door and heard your conversation. You handled it well.”

That’s all that was said as she turned and went out the door. I felt a sense of relief. All my fears about being gay had vanished because I was honest with a kid who wasn’t sure until then what the truth was.