Young, gay and thrown away

Clean-shaven and polite, he comes off as a typical small-town boy, who, through no choice of his own, found himself thrown into big-city life after telling his grandparents he was gay. But it's OK, he says, because he still has everything under control--"and so forth." Luke makes good first impressions.

But behind his preppy clothes and disarming grin, Luke is confused. "I'm outgoing, goal-oriented, and I know what I'm going to be doing next year at this time," he says matter-of-factly. But for such an outgoing person, he hasn't made many friends in the Hope House program.

Of Luke, Karen will only say, "I have a hatred for that guy. And I mean hatred." Even Luke's mentor Doug, who asked that his last name not be printed, says, "A lot of things are basically The World According to Luke."

According to Luke, his grandparents are wealthy entrepreneurs who frequently come from Tyler to shop at Neiman Marcus.

The reality: The last time the pleasant, elderly couple made the two-hour drive from Tyler to Dallas in their 15-year-old Cadillac Seville (with no air conditioning) was some 15 years ago.

According to Luke, he doesn't work as a salesman at Marshall Field's, but has an "office in the Galleria." And, Doug says, "He has a very vivid fantasy of what his upbringing was."

What is known about Luke is that he hails from Tyler. After his parents divorced, his grandparents took custody and raised him since he was a year old. He has never trusted his grandparents, describing his home environment as "just a place to stay," and trusted his parents even less. Earlier this year, he tried suing his father for back child support.

When he came out to his grandparents last April at the age of 19, his grandparents didn't know how to handle it. They started washing his clothes separately and using different sets of pots and silverware to fix his meals, he says. His mother cussed him out.

"My grandparents came to me one day and said, 'If you tell us you're straight, we'll believe you.' After I told them I was, it was a complete change."

It was hard on them later when they figured Luke hadn't told the truth.
Financially shut off and unable to cope with his environment, Luke called some friends in Dallas and prepared to leave Tyler. A contact of his had heard about Hope House, and referred him to it. After interviewing with Ivancic, Luke moved in a few weeks later.

Luke's isolation is eased by his mentor Doug, a man whom he can't say enough about. He's very proud of their relationship. "I miss my family, so for me it's like having a big brother," Luke says. They talk on the phone, go places, and just "shoot the bull."

In their one-on-one discussions, Luke tells Doug a lot of things. Right now, he's struggling with issues about his sexuality and family. "I started second-guessing my sexuality," he says. "Just this particular time of my life that I'm in is frightening."

The phone rings. It's Doug.
There are a few things Luke doesn't tell his confidant this time, however. Like that he's in the process of packing every stitch of clothing he owns to go back to live with his grandparents. All he's told anyone is that he's taking a "four-day family trip." He also doesn't mention that he's begun having sexual relations with another resident.

And within a few days, after a four-month stay, there is a vacancy in Luke's room.

Doug had figured something was going on with Luke. "He became real distanced for about three weeks, and he kept saying, 'I think I'm straight, I think I'm straight,'" Doug says.

"But it's all a front for his grandparents, so he can make them happy and have everything he wants. They know he's gay. Every time his grandmother would talk to him, she would ask, 'Luke, are you gay?' And he would say, 'Grandmother, I just don't want to talk about it right now.'"

For Doug, the mentor, there is no ambiguity about Luke's sexuality--he is gay. And the sooner Luke gets used to that fact, the better.

"I told him, 'Luke, whether you're straight or not, you're gonna have a very unhappy life until you come to grips that you are gay.' And I realize that takes years to do," Doug says.

The mentor program is perhaps the most controversial element of Hope House. For young adults raised to believe that homosexuality is morally wrong, the mentors seek to provide living proof that an individual can be gay and live a full and productive life.

The staff was aware early on that any improprieties by gay adults working with the youth could bring condemnation on the gay community, and destroy funding for Hope House. "We told prospective mentors upfront that we wanted this to be the squeakiest-clean program that ever existed," Paul Tucker says. "We told them if there's anything about you that may cause a problem, don't do this."

Indeed, the staff has set in place strict mentor guidelines. To qualify for training, a prospective mentor cannot have any felony convictions, any alcohol or drug convictions within the last five years, any criminal charges involving children or youths, and cannot be "presently engaged in alcohol or drug use," according to the volunteer mentor's application.