“The fags have taken over the world,” Nana Constant said.

Coffee splashed into my sinuses which made me cough and gasp.

“What?” I said, not sure I had heard correctly.

“The fags,” she said bitterly. “Look what they’ve done.”

Nana slapped down the morning edition of the Sunday Chronicle on the Formica tabletop and sat smugly in her chair. The headline read: “Hurricane Katrina Devastates New Orleans”. Nothing new. I shifted in my chair, still uncomfortable that she phrased it so bluntly.

“Nana,” I said, reaching for the sugar, “I don’t understand.”

My grandmother had a way of reaffirming when she was right. She always swallowed hard—there it was—followed by a deep breath which signaled that her opinion was coming, stronger than any natural storm. I braced for impact.

“It’s an offense to God,” she said, her tone too light for her words, “and He’s punishing us. You know?”

I stirred the coffee slowly. I shook my head; I didn’t know. Birds chirped outside.

“Alex,” she said, “obviously you haven’t been reading your Bible. You would know then.”

Nana stood up and opened the curtains to let the sunlight in. I squinted as the too-bright sunlight ricocheted around the white paneled kitchen. I did read my Bible—every day, in fact—and nothing confused me more than my always-quiet grandmother on this crusade.

“Where does it say that in the Bible?” I said to humor her. I drank the coffee: backed-up sewer.

Nana stalled a few seconds, not sure where to begin. She methodically put dishes away—a bowl, a plate, another plate, a cup—and decided to stop. She walked briskly into the other room and came back with a white, golden-edged Bible.

“I’ll show you,” she said, flipping through the Old Testament. “The story of Sodom. Genesis 19:4-19:5: ‘But before they lay down, the men of the city, even the men of Sodom, compassed the house round, both old and young, all the people from every quarter and they called unto Lot, and said unto him, Where are the men which came in to thee this night? Bring them out unto us, that we may know them.’”

Nana Constant wore a pleased grin.

“Nana,” I said politely, “That doesn’t say anything. We’re already aware that Sodom is wicked, but it doesn’t specifically mention homosexuality anywhere. All I see are massive amounts of people who are perverted. Furthermore, in Ezekiel 16:49, the prophet Ezekiel says ‘Behold, this was the iniquity of thy sister Sodom, pride, fullness of bread, and abundance of idleness was in her and in her daughters, neither did she strengthen the hand of the poor and needy. And they were haughty, and committed abomination before me: therefore I took them away as I saw good.’”

Nana Constant paused a moment and began to speak shrilly.

“That doesn’t mean anything; Ezekiel wrote in the New Testament anyway! Let’s look at Leviticus 18:22: ‘Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.’ I think that says it all.”

I took a drink of the putrid sewer-coffee and placed it far to the side. “It says that, and I’m sure it means it, but how often do we really adhere to Leviticus? How often does anyone adhere to Leviticus?”

Nana Constant thought a moment.

“I mean, really,” I said, reading flippantly, “blasphemy punishable by stoning, mollusks and shellfish being impermissible food, and—my personal favorite—a child to be put to death for disobeying his or her parents.”

“Jesus!” she shrieked. “Jesus hated the fags!”

“That’s not true!” I said, my voice echoing around the kitchen. “Jesus preached love and kindness and would never tell anyone to hate any group for any reason. Isn’t that what he taught?”

Nana burned with rage; the vein in her forehead protruded. A rush of noise overcame me, like a train roaring past. The room darkened with an eclipse and my grandmother’s eyes burned.

“Isn’t that what he taught?” I screamed over the voice. I didn’t know.

“Alex?” a voice said behind me. “Honey, what are you doing?”

My eyes snapped open. The room was silent. My grandmother sat on the other end of the table with an expression of concern. She wore the same green cardigan and khaki pants. The gaudy gold chain around her reading glasses glinted in the morning light.

“Is something the matter?” she said. “Or did you just have a late night?”

“Nana,” I said in a quavering voice. “There’s something I have to tell you.”