Young, gay and thrown away

"When I found out what Hope House was, I thought, 'Oh my god, just think of the people who'll think that we're turning all these little children into homosexuals and lesbians, and we have our little secret house, and we're brainwashing them into being little queers and dykes.'

"It's amazing," McCue adds. "Texas is always the wrong color in those little colored charts that you see in magazines--for the largest percentage of people who believe that homosexuals shouldn't join the military. In every poll, we're on the wrong end of the scale!"

Describing himself as a "behind-the-scenes type of guy," McCue takes pride in the space he's created for himself at Hope House. Complete with its own TV, VCR, microwave, refrigerator, dining area, and elegantly styled bed, it is, as he calls it, his "sacred space," and his only compensation, outside of benefits, as a Hope House staff member.

Still, he looks forward to weekend supervisor Star Eaddy's stint as live-in counselor. After all, the residents--whom he refers to sarcastically as his "lovely children"--can drive him nuts. His job is to make sure that the residents, among other things, do their chores. It's a struggle at times, because the youths think that their chores are "the godawful end of the world."

McCue tries to explain to the residents that someone is extending a hand to them, and they should be respectful by doing what is asked. "It's not any monumental task," he says. "It's not like we're asking the kids to maim themselves with a broom!"

Sam remembers his 16th birthday vividly, and it wasn't sweet. His mother approached him in his room and asked him flat-out, "Are you gay?"

Five years later at Hope House, Sam, a motor-mouthed, seemingly naive young man, wonders how she knew. It's true he hadn't dated any girls yet at 16. But probably the biggest clue was the constant flow of phone calls from men, especially the one who left a message saying, "Hey sweetheart! How ya doing? I love you."

These days, Sam doesn't conceal his sexual identity. Magazine ads of Giorgio Armani models and young men in statuesque poses line the walls. One looks like the Statue of David in Versace underwear. The only woman on his walls is Madonna.

Sam didn't act on his feelings toward men until his family moved to Texas when he was in his early teens. It was here that he began going to gay bars. He'd met women who were attracted to him, but couldn't bring himself to fake being straight.

"I couldn't stop the feelings," he says. "It was like, 'I'm still a good person, and if that's the only thing that stands in your way of getting to know me and love me, then I can't do anything about it.'"

Sam ran away at 16, wandering from place to place, working odd jobs, and staying with friends or roommates. After several "horrible" living situations--one of his roommates was schizophrenic--he found himself on the go again, without a home.

He went to the Cathedral of Hope after reading about Hope House in a gay newspaper. When he arrived, however, the church had started the mentor program but hadn't acquired the house yet. After staying temporarily with several different people, including Ivancic, he eventually became one of Hope House's first batch of residents.

But, he explains, he hadn't "wisened up yet," and didn't get to stay long.
"I used to go out and do all kinds of things, you know, party all night long, and I wouldn't go to school," Sam says. "I was, like, stupid."

Several times, Sam returned home to stay with his family, but it never worked out for long because he and his mother would always argue about being gay.

Nonetheless, Sam's mother tracks him wherever he goes. Sam says she's told him she doesn't want him on the streets, yet living in her home won't be possible until he renounces his homosexuality. Sam says he's sorry to disappoint her, but "That's just not going to happen, and I don't think she realizes it." He's also explained to her that she can't buy his straightness, either, but if she wants to send him money, that's fine, because he says he could use it. "I need a beeper," he says.

Sam returned to Hope House in July, and was received with open arms. Since then, his life has begun taking some shape, he says. Just last night, he talked to his mother on the phone. And what began as chit-chat about his upcoming jury duty became a sign of hope. For while Sam's mother does not agree with her son's lifestyle, she told him that if he's doing what's best for him, then she's behind him.

"I was so shocked, because she's never talked to me that way before," he says. It was one of the first conversations they'd had in years, he adds, in which they weren't arguing.

But just a month later, Sam was gone again from Hope House.

At first glance, Luke appears to be organized. His brown hair is neatly sculpted into waves, his tan shorts are pressed, his Polo socks are at just the right height.