MY GAY BROTHER: The Hero of My Life!

Tovah-Karena Goldman’s compelling story of her brother’s shooting incident.

(Tovah-Karena Goldman for HERZ)

I will never forget the night my older brother Timothy was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. It stands out as the night I officially disowned my parents. As the sirens blared speeding through Century City — all I could think about was that of everyone in my family, my big brother was the one person I couldn’t bear to lose.

It was 2017. I was sixteen years old. My brother had been shot in front of our house by his boyfriend.

My best friend Jeanette (also sixteen) pushed me into her jeep. We high-tailed it in hot pursuit following after the ambulance because I couldn’t get either of my parents to drive me to the hospital.

That night — I grew the fuck up!

So much was going on inside me — I couldn’t believe my father’s stone face when he came out of the house and saw all the blood (everywhere), the screaming, the crying — his own son down on the lawn with a bullet in his chest — yet my dad just stared down at Timothy like he was witnessing a total stranger in distress. Neighbors across the street had already called an ambulance. They were there in what seemed like seconds. The paramedics were treating the wound. But my brother was unconscious. I couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive!

I looked up at my dad and screamed, “Get the car, Daddy — we’re going to need to follow them!”

My mother came to stand next to my father in the doorway of the house. She did at least put her clutched fist to her mouth. She did shed tears immediately. But as my father turned and went back inside the house without uttering a word — my mother shook her head shrieking loudly (so the neighbors could hear her), “I TOLD HIM!… I told Timothy not to choose this lifestyle! And now look — that freak shot him!”

As my brother was lifted into the ambulance by the paramedics, I ran back inside the house to grab my purse and a jacket. I just knew my dad was fetching his car keys. I just knew that we would drive to the hospital as a family. I had already texted my other brother and sister: “Tim’s been shot! Get to Century City Hospital NOW!”

Inside the house, I quickly grabbed my things before running to find my parents. Was Mom still out front? The dining room table, where we had all been having dinner just minutes before the shooting was brimming with delicious foods (including an expertly sliced blackened beef brisket), our best china, fresh flowers, and expensive champagne.

These details are important because I lost my parents that night.

I noticed that no one had returned to the lavish dining room setting. The brisket looked so inviting. I ran around the house screaming, “Dad! Dad! Where are you!?”

He was in…the den. He was sitting in his favorite easy chair in front of his big-screen television. Sean Hannity was just starting his spiel on FOX NEWS for the night. I screamed at my father, “Daddy, what are you doing!?? We have to go! Tim’s been shot!”

My father looked up at me with brutal annoyance. His eyes framed me like I was an insane lunatic. Like I too was a stranger.

I could hear Jeanette calling my name from outside. She was screaming that we should follow the ambulance. But I couldn’t move for that moment. I stared down at my father as he said, “I won’t tolerate the disrespect that was shown to me tonight. I won’t tolerate it Tovah! And I am not going to that hospital!”

I didn’t have time to argue. But I was crushed with a heartbreak like I’d never experienced before in my whole life. I saw my mother come into the den. Even though she was crying, it was clear that she had no intention of going to the hospital.

In a wild manic panic, I screamed at her, “He’s not a weirdo — he’s your son, goddamnit! You GAVE BIRTH to him!”

PULSE RATE

They told me my brother was not going to die. He was badly injured — his esophagus and several major blood vessels had been ruptured. But he was going to be alright, they assured me.

My other brother and sister, Lara and Nestor, arrived at the hospital with wandering ‘alarmed’ glances. They were very silent though rattled. Medical staff mistook them for my parents because Nestor (the oldest) was thirty-seven at the time. Lara was thirty-three (Timothy was nineteen then, just three years older than me).

The bullet had been removed and Timothy was sleeping with the help of oxygen tubes and a saline drip going directly into his veins.

To me, when they let us briefly observe him, he looked like an angel in his sleep.

Lara, acting like she was my mom or the boss of me (which annoys me to no end), wanted to know every detail of what had led to Timothy being shot by his boyfriend (who I will call “Aldo” for this commentary).

I was happy yet deflated once I knew Timothy would be alright. I began by telling Lara, “Mom and Dad told Tim to invite his friend Aldo to dinner. They claimed they wanted to show Tim that he’s accepted.”

CELL PHONE

My mother interrupted us. She called Lara’s cell phone while I was trying to fill her in on what had happened. We were sitting in the waiting area while my brother Nestor was talking to nurses and caregivers at the nursing station.

Lara had a bad connection in the hospital so she put my Mom on speakerphone.

I became so angry when I heard my Mom telling Lara: “Don’t take Tovah’s word for anything. She has this thing against your father and me. She always leaves out our side of the story. You know we accepted Timothy, Lara — you know that! But he keeps wanting attention for being gay. It’s like he wants to rub it in our faces every chance he gets. It’s disrespectful! And we are not responsible for the trashy people he brings to this house! He brought shame and embarrassment to this entire neighborhood!”

When my sister hung up, I told her what had actually happened.

DINNER GUEST

Tim invited Aldo to the house because Mom and Dad asked him to. They wanted to apologize for how they sometimes treated Tim — shunned him really — as though he was a family misfit. They wanted to prove that they were not homophobic. So they insisted on having a ‘gay dinner’ for Tim and Aldo as a couple.

What they didn’t know (I knew, but anyone else) was that Timothy was trying to figure out a way to break up with Aldo. But he was really worried about hurting Aldo’s feelings.

My brother Tim is one of the most sensitive and kindest people I’ve ever known. His voice is very deep but distantly shy and he truly cares about other people’s feelings. So he wanted the break up with Aldo to be painless. He wanted to let Aldo down easy…at the right time.

That time got moved back when Tim became so excited about the dinner. He couldn’t pass up this opportunity to finally be feted by Mom and Dad. He was shocked by their show of acceptance (I mean, for them, this was really going out of their way). And Tim didn’t know if this chance to fully be himself with family over dinner would come again. He was ecstatic!

Nowhere in mind then — or now — could I imagine that Aldo would bring a loaded gun into our home. But before I get into the shooting, you need to understand why Tim had decided to dump Aldo.

And the reasons that Tim wanted to break up with Aldo were quite complex.

First of all — Aldo liked to club a lot and was not ready for a committed relationship. He cheated on my brother and said that he expected Tim to accept that situation until they knew for sure they were ‘in love.’

Aldo, who was way more outgoing and personable than my brother Tim, said they were just in the ‘early stages’ of dating (even though they had been dating for over a year!). So he was honest with my brother that he didn’t want to be monogamous right away. He didn’t hide it. But after Aldo started calling him “Mr. Vanilla” in front of people at clubs like Eagle L.A. and The Bullet (because Aldo was such a great dancer and Tim had two left feet on the dance floor), my brother decided that he should break things off to end the humiliation Aldo enjoyed dealing out.

Secondly — there were racial and cultural issues. Aldo was half-Black and half-Puerto Rican (he wasn’t very dark, he looked more like a mixed-race person) and was very handsome with beautiful dark hair and a muscular body. But he was always very insensitive accusing my brother of being ‘a privileged White Jew snob’ — which is not how my brother ever acted towards Aldo or towards anyone — but frankly, Aldo accused any and every person he came in contact with of being privileged and taking it for granted. I even asked Aldo one day, “Why do you hang around nothing but White people in Century City if you despise us so much? You live out here, too! Your parents drive a Benz and a Lexus Aldo!”

Aldo was also extremely perturbed by my brother not being ‘gay and proud’ enough. I kind of understood Aldo’s frustration in that area because I can honestly say that back then my brother was silently afraid to publicly identify as gay. He was ashamed of being gay. He definitely ‘acted straight’ (whatever that means) at all times, especially in public.

Aldo on the other hand was comfortable strutting his identity, he was very flamboyant (which to me was very cool, funny, and endearing).

Aldo, in my opinion, always came off as needing to be the center of attention. He thought himself a star. His parents had no problem with him being gay, but they had a lot of kids, Aldo being the baby of the family, and they were obsessed with their careers. I think they were workaholics.

My brother was a semi-introvert trying to pretend to be cool like Aldo.

My brother could stay in his bedroom working on his coding programs for like two weeks and not get lonely or bored! He loved listening to oldies by Barbra Streisand and Madonna.

My brother is from a home where homosexuality was frowned upon as deviant. And it’s not because we were Jewish. Please don’t think that.

I don’t feel we were particularly religious at all. We never went to any synagogue or church. God was never thrown in our faces growing up. My dad was born Jewish. My mom was originally a Protestant of Scottish and English ancestry. She converted to being Jewish when she started dating my dad in college. I would say both my parents are more into Science than religion.

But in our household, you could bring shame on the family just by being slightly overweight, watching leftist news shows, or having friends from the wrong part of town. Our parents believed in social conformity.

We were not raised to be flashy, loud, or showy people (like the friends we gravitated to). Nestor, Lara, Timothy, and I were raised to be quietly polite and never show our emotions.

THE SHOOTING

When Aldo arrived for dinner — I swear it was like witnessing winter come face to face with summer.

My brother Tim was jovial, almost blushing, very happy that his boyfriend was being welcomed into the family for dinner. But Aldo. My God, I’ll never forget the chill that went up the back of my neck when I saw the dagger eyes in Aldo’s head, the scowl on his face, the thoroughly defensive body language.

I couldn’t understand it. I noticed that Tim was taken aback by the coldness in Aldo’s demeanor. But I would later learn that Tim just thought Aldo was nervous to be meeting the family. Nowhere in our minds could we imagine Aldo having a gun or wanting to inflict harm on my brother. We had never seen a violent side to Aldo.

My best friend Jeanette, who already knew Aldo really well, was also there. She was her usually bubbly self. But she warned me, “Something isn’t right Tovah. What’s up with Aldo?”

And then we sat down to dinner. It was about eight o’clock at night. Aldo was seated right next to Timothy.

My parents made cordial comments to Aldo welcoming him to our home. They were extremely polite. But it was clear that something was very wrong with Aldo. Beads of sweat had broken out across his forehead.

My brother finally asked, “Is something wrong Aldo? You seem really different.”

Aldo looked at Tim with scary Halloween eyes and mumbled angrily, “Don’t try to play innocent in front of your family. I found out what’s going on.”

Tim didn’t understand what could be wrong but for the sake of a peaceful dinner, he let it go. This moment was an important milestone for Tim. Aldo said to my parents, “It’s nice to finally meet you. Timothy brags on you guys so much.”

Aldo took my brother’s hand into his as he said this. He held my brother’s hand on the table. Instantly, I could see the look of ardent disgust on both my parents’ faces.

They had not imagined that Tim and Aldo would be holding hands at the table!

I will never forget. My father said to Aldo, “We didn’t invite you because we agree with you and our son’s habits. We don’t Aldo — we don’t think homosexuality is natural or right thinking. But we do believe in showing tolerance and love for our son. We want him to feel accepted.”

Aldo blurted out, “Well you don’t have to worry about me and my homosexuality, boo. Your son is dumping me. Only he’s too much of a coward to tell me to my face…that he’s been sucking somebody else’s prick. Ain’t that right Timothy?”

Totally caught off guard, Tim stared in silence at Aldo’s face of rage. And that’s when Aldo reached inside his vest and pulled out a wad of photographs. He flung them at my parents shouting, “Your son’s ashamed of what he is…but here look at these, I’ll show you!”

My mother held her hands over her mouth shaking her head with disgust.

The images were graphic and very embarrassing. Tim jumped up out of his chair and ran out of the dining room.

I was in shock because Tim always told me everything. But he had not told me that he had cheated on Aldo. He had not told me that he already had another guy lined up to replace Aldo. The photos hit me like a lead pipe. And then…all I could hear was Aldo’s booming voice. He was following my brother down the hallway shouting and cursing at him.

“But Aldo…you wanted an open relationship, remember!?” my brother shouted back as they went quarreling out the front door of the house.

All I wanted to do was eat. I was hungry and the food looked so inviting. But everything was ruined. There was this feeling of not just doom — but imminent danger hanging in the air.

I just remember Jeanette mumbling under her breath, “I’m glad your brother is dumping that dude. Good riddance!”

(Jeanette had always harbored a sweetly secret crush on my brother.)

And then…POW-POW …gunshots. I heard gunshots on the front lawn outdoors. Jeanette zoomed past me! I’ve never in my life ran so fast! My heart was beating like ten drums! I was running…

THE HERO OF MY LIFE

My brother Tim is alive and well today. He made it out of that dark place. He works a good job, he is now proudly openly gay (even in public places) and he’s been in a steady relationship for about three years straight now.

But we still lament how we lost so much that night. We feel that we lost our parents. I can’t speak for Tim’s deepest inner thoughts. But I unloved my parents after they were willing to let Tim go to the hospital and die alone. It just doesn’t feel human to me.

All I know is…from the moment I entered this world, there was my brother Timothy smiling at me, welcoming me, so happy to have a little sister. He wrapped me up in unconditional love from as early as I can remember.

Timothy taught me to always be kind to other people. He taught me to love and look to the arts in the same way that other people love religion. We study paintings and listen to classical music together. Tim always believed in the broadening of the mind. He believes that if you truly love something….set it free…to bloom unto itself. And that your love for it will bring it back to you.

My brother’s favorite color is magenta. His favorite food is tacos and burritos. His astrological sign is Capricorn. He is a coder. He has never allowed anyone in this world to put their hands on me in a harmful way (and believe me, a few guys tried). My brother is many, many things that have nothing to do with his sexuality. He is a remarkable human being.

He is normal.

And he is the hero of my life.