Hold My Hand by Michael Barakiva || Excerpt
Author Michael BarakivaTitle Hold My Hand
Genre romance, ya
Number of pages 272
Published May 21st, 2019 by Straus and Giroux (BYR)
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Synopsis
Alek Khederian thinks about his life B.E. and A.E.: Before Ethan and After Ethan. Before Ethan, Alek was just an average Armenian-American kid with a mess of curly dark hair, grades not nearly good enough for his parents, and no idea of who he was or what he wanted. After he got together with Ethan, Alek was a new man. Stylish. Confident. (And even if he wasn’t quite marching in LGBTQ parades), Gay and Out and Proud.
With their six-month anniversary coming up, Alek and Ethan want to do something special to celebrate. Like, really special. Like, the most special thing two people in love can do with one another. But Alek’s not sure he’s ready for that. And then he learns something about Ethan that may not just change their relationship, but end it.
Alek can’t bear the thought of finding out who he’d be P.E.: Post-Ethan. But he also can’t forgive or forget what Ethan did. Luckily, his best friend Becky and madcap Armenian family are there to help him figure out whether it’s time to just let Ethan go, or reach out and hold his hand.
Hold My Hand is a funny, smart, relatable take on the joy and challenges of teenage love, the boundaries of forgiveness, and what it really means to be honest.
Excerpt
“Have you, or anyone in the whole church
for that matter, ever thought about what it might be like for someone who
doesn’t subscribe to these heteronormative standards to be part of this
congregation?” Alek hadn’t meant to out himself to the reverend father. But as
the words came tumbling out of his mouth, they both realized that he had done
so.
“Oh! I see.” Reverend Father Stepanian
exhaled gently as he realized what Alek was telling him. “I see,” he repeated,
without judgment.
“So what—now you think I’m a bad Armenian?”
Alek pressed.
“How long has your family been coming to
St. Stephen’s?” “I’m not sure; since before my brother was born?”
“So almost twenty years.” “At least.”
“I remember baptizing you. You were a very
good baby— no crying at all. Unlike your older brother, Andranik. He made such
a fuss, you should’ve heard him. Screaming at the top of his lungs. I’ve known
you your whole life, and I know you are a good boy, Alek. And a good Armenian.
Learning this isn’t going to change any of that.”
“Thank you, Father.” Alek leaned back in
the pew and released the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding.
“The world has changed in many ways since
you were born—mostly for the good, I’m happy to say. But the church takes a
long time to catch up. That’s why I ask you to understand my position. I
adore your family, even though I know that I can count on you to be at least
twenty minutes late.”
The reverend and Alek shared a smile at his
own joke. “After service, your mother’s dolma is always the best at the
buffet.”
“My father’s dolma, you mean,” Alek
corrected him. “Excuse me?”
“My father makes the dolma.”
The reverend father smiled, sheepishly
running his hand over his immaculately trimmed beard, which showed the
slightest signs of graying. “My apologies—I suppose it was foolish of me to
make that assumption. We learn so much about our- selves by the things we take
for granted, don’t we?” He started again. “Your family’s dolma is always the
best. But the church is very clear about its doctrine. Homosexuality is a sin.”
“Do you have any gay friends, Reverend
Father?” He regarded Alek. “Of course I do . . .”
“And do you believe, in your heart of
hearts, that your gay friends can lead upstanding lives, but when they get to
heaven’s gates, they will be denied entrance for being gay? If I died right now
in some freaky alien invasion, would I go to hell?”
“What I believe is not relevant here, Alek.
The belief of the church is what’s important.”
“So your beliefs are different than the
church’s?”
The reverend father smiled. “You’re not
going to trick me into an admission, Alek. We pastors wrestle with this all the
time. But the church’s position is that love and sex are special gifts from God
to be enjoyed within the sacrament of marriage. I say therefore to the unmarried
and widows, it is good for them if they abide even as I: But if they cannot
contain, let them arry: for it is better to marry than to burn. 1 Corinthians,
7:8-9. All sex outside of marriage is considered the sin of fornication.”
“So if Ethan and I got married, everything
would be all right?”
Sadness crept over the reverend father’s
face. “I’m afraid not. Romans chapter one, verses twenty-one, twenty-two,
twenty-six, and twenty-seven make it very clear that the special gift of love
is reserved for a man and woman. So does Leviticus.”
“Leviticus also says not to eat shellfish
or the fat from a goat, lamb, or sheep. And I’m sure I don’t have to remind you
about good ol’ Leviticus’s stand on mixed seeds or fabrics. Who gets to decide
which passages in the Bible you have to take at face value and which ones you
get to interpret? And how?”
“That’s the whole point of the church, at
least the Armenian Church. We priests have spent our lives studying the Bible,
Alek—its writing, its interpretation, its meaning. That’s our job.”
“From where I’m sitting, mixing fabrics is
much more shocking than me having a boyfriend. Why, just last week, I saw your
wife sporting a cashmere pashmina over a wool jacket. And I think her blouse
was made of cotton. I prayed extra hard for her that night, Reverend Father.”
Father Stepanian laughed heartily. “It’s
nice to talk to you like this—and see how passionately you feel about it.” The
reverend father leaned in, confiding. “To be honest, between you and me, I
think the church’s view on some things could use updating. But it takes time,
Alek, for a ship this size to change direction. You have to remember, the
Armenians were the first people to convert to Christianity, and it is my job to
uphold the church’s beliefs. You know, a heretic is not someone who doesn’t
believe. He’s someone who picks and chooses which doctrines he follows and
which ones he doesn’t. But true faith doesn’t work that way. It’s not a buffet
that you can sample at will. You have to sign up for the whole deal.”
“So single-fabric outfits for everyone from
now on?” Alek asked.
The reverend father laughed again. “From
now on, for simplicity’s sake, let’s make it easy, okay? Just keep your
personal life personal. I will think about this conversation, Alek, and I hope you
do, too.”
Anie
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