a promise to avoid the norm, and never to settle into a rut—I’d kept that promise too. Whereas before we’d worn suits, this time we’d both opted for khaki shorts and white polo shirts. Several things did remain the same—the green eyes gazing at me still told me better than words “I love you”. Oh, and once more Bobby stood with us at the makeshift altar—Bobby Junior, rather. My grandson. My grandson! I winked at him. We’d cause some mischief later.
To my left Bobby, Sr., excuse me, “Bob”, stood with his wife, his two-year-old daughter now squirming in his arms. Next to him Shari jutted her chin out and extended her full height, trying to impress her older brother. If she kept up her growth spurt she’d soon reach his shoulder, and at eight years old, she’d growing left to do. How we’d worried for her at first, a child born addicted to crack. The cry! Lord, her wails had torn my heart out. Many times Travis and I had feared letting her down, but in the end, through sleepless night and many tears and prayers, we all pulled through.
However, now we feared Shari might grow up with a bent spine, for we couldn’t keep her from lugging her nephew or niece around on her hip. She took her role as “Auntie Shari” seriously.
Yes, there was something Travis did well, and although he made a fine assistant to me, the love he gave our family would forevermore be his legacy, for he was the glue holding us together.
As the sun sank behind the trees, the minister asked, “Do you, Ian, take this man…?”
I replied without hesitation, “I do.”
“Do you, Travis, take this man…?”
Green eyes glimmered with unshed tears, but they were happy tears, as they should be. “I do,” my husband answered.
When he kissed me our children cheered.
No more “almost”; no more “mine”. I am his.
Coffee Shops and Condoms
Coffee Shops and Condoms
Dave Preston pointed at a laden basket sitting just inside the coffee shop doorway. “Oh, my God! Is that…?” Right in the open. A rubber rainbow!
“They’re condoms. Now, stop pointing and pick your jaw up off the floor. This is Asheville, not Podunk. We have things like this here.” Billy Henderson stepped into the shop behind Dave and closed the door.
None of the people waiting in line to place orders seemed to pay the basket any attention. Several pairs of eyes, however, focused on Dave. Oops. He shoved both hands into his pockets and closed his mouth. Billy’s bemused smile wasn’t necessary. Not at all. “I can’t help it I’m from the country. Things are different here.” Dave fought the urge to poke his lip out.
“Here” being Asheville, North Carolina—a haven of enlightenment and open-mindedness. That is, if his Aunt Lisa was anything to go by. She’d lived in the city since leaving the family farm at age eighteen to sell pottery and artwork. Dave’s mom called her a hippie. Dave called her cool.
Billy’s, “What’ll you have?” gave Dave an excuse to ignore the basket, though his face still flamed.
“I don’t know. What’s good?” Back home the closest coffee shop was a twenty minute drive. Asheville sported one on every corner, it seemed. Dave wouldn’t dare tell Billy that this was his first encounter with a barista.
Moving hadn’t been something Dave had planned, or even wanted. His coming out had gotten him trounced by homophobic rednecks at school, earning him a one-way ticket to Coolville, or rather, his aunt’s loft apartment in the city.
He and Billy had met a month ago on Dave’s first day at a new school, and so far, Billy’d called him a virgin about one hundred times. Never rode a crosstown bus, never ordered a burger and fries at school, never bought ink pens and paper from a vending machine…
Billy gave him knowing smirk number four-hundred forty-seven. Or was it forty-eight?
“Hey, I can’t help it if my parents raised me in the woods instead of civilization.” Sometimes Dave’s heart ached to be home, but he wasn’t going to tell that to Billy. Mr. City Boy had never gone hiking in the mountains, never trout fished in the streams, and considered a night at Motel 6 “roughing it”. He wouldn’t understand.
“I’ll order for both of us,” Billy said.
Dave didn’t wave a rainbow flag or let himself get caught ogling guys. Hell, if he hadn’t opened his big, fat mouth back at home, he could still be there, quietly blending in and slowly going insane, dressing in