Helena Stone's Blog, page 13

Guest post by Brigham Vaughn Featuring Stephen and Russ from Equals as they discuss Marriage Equality

With the Marriage Equality Referendum in Ireland only a day away it seemed like the perfect opportunity to have two recently married, fictional, men I’ve come to adore discuss marriage and what it means to them. Thankfully Brigham Vaughn was generous enough to add more work to her already stretched schedule and bring Stephen and Russ out of retirement to share their thoughts with us. I invite you to enjoy the following scene and will meet you again on the other side.
****
“Did you hear about the marriage referendum in Ireland?” Russ asked.
Stephen glanced from his iPad to the television screen but there were baseball highlights on, so he had no idea what Russ was talking about.  “Hmm?” 
Russ turned his phone toward Stephen to show him an article on The New York Times site. “This Friday, there’s a vote on marriage equality in Ireland.  The article about it’s really interesting.”
“Oh? What about it?”
“Well, I find it interesting that it’s being put to the popular vote rather than being debated by the government.  It’s great though; there seems to be a ton of support for it. Polls are showing 70% of citizens are in favor.”
“Wow.”  Stephen flipped the case on his iPad closed and reached out to brush his fingertips across his husband’s knee.  Although he and Russ had legally been married in South Carolina nine months before, they were still waiting on the Supreme Court decision which would affect whether it would be recognized by the state of Georgia.  The waiting was driving him crazy although he was more patient than Russ.  “That is impressive. I wouldn’t have expected there to be that much support.”
Russ’ grin was wry. “You assume the worst about people, Stephen.”
“Probably,” he admitted. “But I’ve seen the worst of them.”
It wasn’t something he’d talked about much with Russ—at least not on a regular basis—but in his forty-eight years on the planet, he’d seen plenty of discrimination in his lifetime: from his own family, his neighbors, co-workers, and random people on the street.  He’d lived through a time where people were afraid to touch gay men for fear of contracting HIV, he’d seen acquaintances die of AIDS.  He’d seen people fired for being “out” at work, couples kicked out of apartments, and men and women beaten for loving someone of the same sex. 
He was still astounded by the fact that marriage equality existed.  To realize more people—here in the United States and in many places around the globe—supported equal marriage than opposed it was breathtaking.  He’d spent so much of his life feeling like an outsider; it was difficult to trust that he had allies now, people fighting for his rights even though they had no stake in the matter. 
With a sad smile, Russ moved closer, shifting so he faced Stephen.  “The world’s getting better though. Think about how much has changed in the past ten years.”
“I know. I’ve changed a lot in that time too.”  Stephen took Russ’ hand, gently twisting the ring on his finger. “Where the idea of marriage seemed completely logical to you, it took me a lot longer to get to that point.” Nearly two decades younger, Russ had grown up in a different world than him.  Although not as different as either of them would like.
 “You don’t have to remind me,” Russ said drily.  “I remember.”
Stephen cracked a smile.  “I’m just saying that if it took me—a gay man who’s been out, well, nearly as long as you’ve been alive—time to come to terms with the idea of marriage, I can’t expect straight people to accept it overnight either.”
“I can,” Russ grumbled, but Stephen knew he was kidding.  Mostly.  Russ believed in absolutes, but Stephen’s views of the world around them were more nuanced.  Was it age? Experience? Simply their personalities? Maybe all of them combined.
“Hey, I’d be thrilled if I woke up tomorrow and there was global equality for everyone in the LGBT community,” Stephen pointed out, “but I’m realistic.  That’s not going to happen. It’s one step at a time, state by state, country by country, issue by issue.  The vote in Ireland’s a huge step, but it’s still just one step, same with the Supreme Court decision here in the U.S.,We’ll get there, but not today or tomorrow. We have to keep fighting.”
Russ nodded and leaned back, resting his knee on Stephen thigh. “You’re right.  I’m just ready for that to happen now.”
“We can hope it’ll happen in our lifetime, but it may not.  Maybe if your sister has children, it’ll happen for them. I have hope.”
Russ fell silent as he returned to reading the article.  Stephen didn’t open his tablet again though, preferring to look at the man who’d opened him up to a whole new world.  Without him, Stephen might have wound up stuck in a life that was simply “good enough,” never hoping for more than a partner, never believing he deserved marriage and a husband.  That was the real joy of marriage equality: finding hope. 
“I wonder if the people who oppose gay couples getting married ever realize exactly how boring we are?” Russ said after a few moments, still looking down at the screen on his phone.
Stephen grinned.  “Who are you calling boring?”
Russ looked up and snorted. “Come on. When it comes right down to it—in this way anyway—we’re just like straight couples.”
“There’s something to be said for the quiet tranquility of domestic bliss,” Stephen pointed out.
“True.  I’m just saying it’s a Friday night and we’re on the sofa watching baseball highlights and reading the news.”
“Was that a hint that I should find something to spice up our evening?” Stephen asked, knowing full well Russ was just teasing him.
Russ grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him forward. “No. But now that you mention it, I think it’s time I make some demands: kiss me, husband.”
Leaning in, Stephen grinned even wider. “With pleasure,” he murmured against Russ’ lips.

Every day and for the rest of our lives, he silently promised.

Disclaimer:  As I wrote this I realized there was a timing problem. Based on the timeline I had set in my head, Russ and Stephen’s wedding actually took place in September of 2015 so this article/discussion wouldn't have taken place. If you ignore that teeny, tiny issue, Russ and Stephen fans can take this outtake as canon for the story and as a glimpse into their happy married life.
****
Article link: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/18/opinion/irelands-marriage-equality-moment.html?_r=0
If this is the first time you meet Stephen and Russ and now find yourself curious about how exactly these two men came to the point where we found them, you’ll be delighted to know you can read their full story in four wonderful and beautifully written novellas which can be found on Amazon by clicking on their titles below:
Equals             Partners               Family                Husbands
If you prefer to read your stories on paper you’ll be happy when I tell you these four titles will soon be released in two paperbacks. I can’t provide you with buy links yet but am in the privileged situation where I can share the covers and back blurbs with you.




About the Author:
Brigham Vaughn has always been a voracious reader with her own stories to tell. After many years of abandoned plots, something finally clicked. Now she’s eating, sleeping, and breathing writing and is excited to have finally figured out what she wants to be when she grows up. In the little time that isn’t spent writing or reading, she loves cooking, yoga, photography, and remodeling her ninety-year-old home. Brigham lives in Michigan with her three cats and an amazing husband who has always been her biggest champion.


Visit Brigham’s website for more information about the books I mentioned above as well as her other titles and some free stories: https://brighamvaughn.wordpress.com/

Monday Flash Fic: Coming Out

Coming Out
I stare at the raindrops landing on the window; every one of them a tiny blow, putting a further dent in my confidence. Why couldn’t today of all days have been bright and sunny? Or, if not sunny, at least dry? Weather like this could spell disaster. This relentless rain could put an end to my dreams and undo all the good work and everything that has been achieved over the past few months.
“Staring at it won’t make it stop you know.”
For a moment I look away from the grey scene outside and focus on Ian. He looks relaxed, sitting there in the armchair with a book in his hands. If I didn’t know any better I’d think he wasn’t concerned at all, but I have no doubt he’s as worried as I am.
“You know as well as I do what this could mean, Ian.” I try to keep my concern and growing anger disguised but I’m not sure I’m succeeding. “This bloody weather might put an end to our dreams and plans. We were so close. It wouldn’t be fair if it all went wrong as a result of a wet day.”
“I know.” Ian’s voice is soft, his tone understanding. “I hate seeing you torn up and worried like this. Come. Sit with me. Ignore the outside world for a little while.”
I walk to where he’s sitting and get down until I’m on the floor with my head resting against his knee. I close my eyes when his fingers softly massage my scalp but not seeing the rain isn’t enough to stop my mind from jumping to all sorts of worrying conclusions, and neither is his soft touch.
Everybody knows people don’t come out on rainy days. It doesn’t matter if they’ve vouched to do the right thing. When the outcome doesn’t personally affect them – and sometimes even when it does – they can’t be bothered to brave the elements. And if we don’t get the numbers, we’re bound to fail. Ian and I have done what we could, as have most, if not all, of our friends and family. But it is going to take so much more than that to get the result we’ve been striving for, the result that will allow us to make our dreams come true.
It takes all my strength to stay where I am and not get up to check on the weather again or pace the room. The next twenty-four hours are going to be hell. We’ll be thrown from hope to despair and back again several times and there’s nothing we can do about it. If only I could fast forward time and jump ahead to the moment tomorrow when the counting will have finished. Yes or No – two small words make the difference between being seen as equal or not; between being able to marry the love of my life or never being able to call him my husband and be his.
Bloody weather...
To be continued, hopefully in a jubilant manner, this Saturday.
***

This flash was inspired by a remark my husband made this afternoon as well as the very real referendum on equal marriage rights taking place in Ireland on Friday. Unfortunately the weather could play a role in the outcome. As of now the forecast calls for showery conditions. I can only hope it won’t get worse while desperately wishing for a bright and sunny day, so that people will come out in large numbers to vote.

As always, other, and probably less politically themed, stories based on the same image can be found in the Monday Flash Fic group on Facebook. Make sure not to miss them.

Monday Flash Fic: Dreaming

Dreaming
I must be dreaming. In none of the known realities would I have ever ended up in a coach, never mind a flying one. Only the very rich and royalty travel like this. That used to be my world, but not anymore. I look out the window into the setting sun. A golden red light bathes the landscape. My surroundings are as alien to me as my mode of transport.
I must be dreaming except he’s here too. And I don’t know why he would be in my dream. If he’d entered my subconscious after I fell asleep this would have been a nightmare.
I must be dreaming because I can’t remember how I got here. All I know is I opened my eyes and found myself flying through the early evening sky, accompanied by he who would have me dead. I should be afraid but I’m not.
I must be dreaming because when I look at him I don’t see hate in his eyes. Instead there’s a smile on his face; a smile I haven’t seen since before the night his sister died and he decided her accident was my fault.
I must be dreaming because he’s leaning towards me. The heat in his gaze makes my body remember other evenings; the days before disaster struck and he rejected me, tearing my world apart and shattering my heart.
I close my eyes and dream of the night before it happened. The only night we spent together. The night we were as one for a few glorious moments. Before the knock on his door; before the heartbreaking news; before he decided that if he hadn’t stayed with me his sister would have been safe and therefore, I was to blame for her death.
When I open my eyes again I must still be dreaming because we’re still up in the air and he still stares at me with that smile on his face. He moves closer until our noses almost touch. I should feel his breath against my skin, but I don’t. Now I’m scared.
I must be dreaming because he’s evaporating before my eyes. He fades until he appears transparent. For the first time I try to touch him but he’s not there. Only emptiness and a glorious view through the window remain where he sat only a moment ago.
I must be dreaming but I don’t like my dream any more. The blood red sky has gone black, the sun is gone and the light from the power balloons is fading. I need to wake up. I pinch myself until pain flares through me but the dream remains the same.
 I’m not dreaming. We’re falling. If this were a dream I would have woken up just about ....
****
460 words
This picture was suggested by Theo Fenraven and as always, more stories inspired by the same image can be found on Facebook in the Monday Flash Fic group. Given this week's image I expect the stories will be fascinating and varied.

Monday Flash Fic: He Talks With His Hands

He talks with his hands
I can’t believe we’re here.
I met Carlos on Facebook two years ago. He was a friend of a friend of a friend – you know how it goes.
One comment led to another and within a few days we were chatting whenever we were online together. It wasn’t easy. Time zones are a bitch, especially with Carlos living in America and me on the other side of the world, in Australia. But we managed and got closer. Common interests, similar views; we exchanged pictures and dreams while making tentative plans to get together one day.
Carlos told me he’d lost his hearing a few months after we’d started chatting online. He thought it would put me off, but I told him it didn’t make a difference to me. He was still the same Carlos and if he never got his hearing back, I would still want to know him, meet him, and be with him.
And now I’m here. Carlos is talking to me. His words are soft and hesitant; his hearing returned a few months ago and he’s still getting used to talking and listening again. I hear his words but concentrate on his hands. He doesn’t know this, but I learned American Sign Language as soon as he told me about his hearing loss.
His mouth tells me how glad he is to see me and that he hopes I can stay so we can get to know each other better. The words wash over me, almost unnoticed, as I watch his hands. I love you. Please say you’ll stay, his fingers plead with me.

“As long as you’ll have me.” I whisper the words before I press my lips to his wrist, while savouring his surprised gasp.
****
295 words.
As always more stories inspired by the same picture can be found in the Monday Flash Fic Facebook group. Enjoy!

Monday Flash Fic: The Sound of Silence

He closed his eyes and relaxed against the hard surface under his back. For the first time in 48 hours he felt at ease.Flowing water murmured in the background and a soft breeze rustled the leaves. The peace and quiet was like a haven after the past two days. He should have known better. If he’d stuck to his guns and had just stayed home, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
Jonah tried to push the stressful thoughts from his mind and lose himself in the sounds of nature but the residue of the strain he’d been under combined with the fear he might have ruined what could have been a promising relationship wouldn’t be denied. He gave up the fight and allowed his thoughts free reign.
He’d really thought Pete understood his issues. He’d told Pete time and again about the discomfort he experienced in large groups of people. It had something to do with his hearing. Jonah didn’t understand how or why it happened but whenever he found himself surrounded by various voices and sounds he lost the ability to single one of them out. As a result holding conversations while surrounded by people or in a busy environment was all but impossible and exhausting.
Pete had been understanding over the four months they’d been together. Until this weekend. Pete had all but begged Jonah to come with him. Every Year, Pete’s extended family got together for a few days. It was a tradition and Pete had seen it as the perfect opportunity to introduce Jonah to his relations. Jonah couldn’t deny it made sense to meet everybody in one go. Still, he’d fought the idea for as long as he could. Only after Pete had assured him he wouldn’t leave Jonah alone and would give him all the help he might need had he agreed.
Jonah had no doubt Pete had meant his promise, and that he’d tried to keep it. But family demands had taken over and Jonah had spent too much time on his own, trying to have conversations with people whose words he couldn’t make out. Jonah had fled the gathering when he felt the panic growing in his stomach and his headache reached unbearable levels. He hadn’t even tried to find Pete before leaving. He wouldn’t blame his lover if he never forgave him.
“There you are.” Pete’s words took Jonah by surprise. “Are you okay?”“I will be.” Jonah answered.“I shouldn’t have left you on your own for so long. I’m sorry. You’d warned me and I still allowed myself to get distracted.” Pete stretched out next to Jonah and stared into his eyes.“Not your fault. I should have known better and stayed at home. Now your family must think you’re dating an asocial bastard. I feel like an asocial bastard.” “But you’re my asocial bastard.” Pete’s smile was sweet and his kiss both tender and hot. “I can be sociable for both of us. Let’s try this again.”
**** As always, more stories based on the same picture can be found in the Monday Flash Fics Group on Facebook.

LGBTQ Push Back Charity Giveaway

Today I come to you with a request and bearing gifts. I'm very proud to be one of 224 participants in the LGBTQ Push Back Charity Giveaway, an event organised in order to give back to those charities and organisations that give so much.

I'm sure you've heard about the American Pizza Parlour owners who announced they would refuse to cater to LGBT weddings and subsequently received a million dollars in donations through GoFundMe. 

A million dollars (or Euros or Pounds) would make such a huge difference to the charities and organisations who work tirelessly on behalf of the LGBTQ community, and we - authors, bloggers and publishers - have decided it's time to make a stand.

Have a look at Diverse Readers' blog for a short story by A.J. Rose which illustrates what it is all about, as well as the rules and your opportunity to enter and win a book. The words former Irish President Mary McAleese used when talking about the marriage equality referendum, apply to the topic as a whole:

Monday Flash Fic: Roped In

I watched the show from the sidelines. I’d secured a spot in the front row, making sure nothing and nobody could get in between me and his performance. God, he was such a show-off, so sure of himself he exuded arrogance. And the audience lapped it up. They loved it—adored him—and he knew it, worked it and milked it for all it was worth.
Of course he had to be half naked during his performance as well. Where the other cowboys were perfectly happy keeping their shirt on, his first action after entering the field had been to take his off. Not that there was anything wrong with his body. I mean watching his muscles ripple was no hardship, and I couldn’t deny his powerful chest and slim waist made my imagination go into overdrive. But still, had the man no shame?
He did battle with the stallion as he did every weekend. The powerful animal reared and struck out with its front legs, only barely missing kicking the head of the man who had captured him. The crowd held their collective breath. Not me. I’d seen it all before. I knew this scene for what it was: a well rehearsed show in which both man and animal knew their parts to the last minute detail, and nothing was left to chance.
As always the display ended with the stallion kneeling before his captor. The crowd roared in appreciation before turning and moving to the next field and the next display of power and skill. I stayed where I was, staring at the man who never stopped showing off.
He turned until he faced me, the broad, adrenaline-filled smile still stretched across his attractive features. We were alone now, just me and the show-off. He swung the lariat over his head again, the loop growing on each rotation until he threw it. As always, his aim was spot on, and his target captured on the first attempt. When he started roping in his prize, he didn’t have to put nearly as much muscle into it as he had with the horse. His victim came willingly.
I put one foot in front of the other as he pulled me closer. He’d captured me again. Or maybe I should say he’d reasserted his claim on me. Like the stallion before me, I bent my knees and knelt in front of him. Yes, he was and always would be the biggest show-off I’d ever seen, ****
As always, more stories based on the same picture can be found in the Monday Flash Fic Group on Facebook.
And thank you Brigham Vaughn and Theo Fenraven for proofreading this for me and making sure I didn't make a complete mess of, especially, my horse and lassoing terms.

Monday Flash Fic: Bright Lights

Bright Lights
I wasn’t sure why I still insisted on lighting the lamp and allowing it to shine into the night. If anybody was still around to see it, they would have found me by now. Not for the first time over the past ten days I questioned the wisdom of my decision.
I’d fled the city as soon as the thread of impending doom had been made public. I’d had no intention of sitting around and waiting to see if we would indeed be annihilated by the forces approaching Earth through space. I still couldn’t believe my friends had refused to come with me. Their remarks had made no sense to me.
“Don’t be a coward. Stay and face it with the rest of us.” Not surprisingly that had been Oliver’s reaction. His military background meant he was always ready to face anything but I’d no intention of facing a threat I couldn’t name or imagine.
Paul had been more practical in his objections. “I can’t imagine a species travelling halfway across the universe only to destroy the planet they find.” While I agreed it would be a stupid thing to do, I hadn’t been willing to take the risk.
“If we’re all going to be killed I want us to be together when we die.”Connor had been last to open his mouth and as always his opinion was the one to make me stop and think. But, after twenty-four hours of mulling it over I’d decided I didn’t want to die, alone or together with the best friends I’d ever had.
I’d sent them an email outlining my plans. Then I drove my car into the desert until it ran out of petrol and hitched my tent here. Two days later I saw the bright flashes of light on the horizon. Whatever had caused the eruptions hadn’t been powerful enough to reach me here. I’d feverishly checked myself for any signs of illness since, but as far as I could tell, I was as healthy as I’d ever been.
Healthy and miserable. I stared at the vast expanse of sand surrounding me and wondered, not for the first time, why I hadn’t listened to Connor. Because he’d been right; I saw that now. Being alive lost its charm if you had to do it on your own. Dying a slow - and more than likely painful - death wouldn’t be any easier. But if Paul, Martin and Connor were still alive they would have come for me by now, wouldn’t they?
I turned to my tent and dismantled it. I couldn’t stay here. I had water and food for another week or so and no idea if I’d be able to walk back to where I’d come from in only seven days.
I saw the bright lights coming in my direction when I glanced over my shoulder. I’d no idea whether they’d bring friend or foe and I no longer cared – either way my isolation would end tonight. 
****
As always more stories based on the same picture can be found on Facebook in the Monday Flash Fic Group. Don’t forget to check them out; there are some beauties there waiting for you.

Monday Flash Fic: Blisters

Blisters
Casper cursed under his breath. How could he have been this stupid? Why had he allowed his vanity to spoil what might well have been a perfect evening. He put his hand on the shoe resting on his knee and stroked the leather with his fingers.
When saw the pair of shoes in his favourite secondhand store this morning he’d had no doubts. For once he’d look like everybody else. For the first time since he’d met Zach he wouldn’t feel like a charity case. Not that Zach made him feel like that – far from it. Zach had told him time and again that he’d fallen for Casper not because of or despite the clothes he wore or the money he didn’t have but because he was Casper. Of course, Casper knew better. Once the novelty of having a dirt-poor boyfriend had worn off, Zach would see him for the worthless piece of shit he was and that would be the end of it.
Zach had asked Casper to come to this wedding as his date six weeks ago. It had taken him a month to find the trousers and shirt in secondhand shops. He’d resigned himself to having to wear them with his old and falling apart sneakers,when he’d spotted the posh shoes. When they turned out to be his size he’d been sure fate was on his side for once.
He’d been wrong. The shoes were his size alright, and since they were second hand, they should have been worn in, but clearly this pair hadn’t been made for him. His feet felt as if they were on fire and he could feel blisters erupting where the edges of the shoes cut into his flesh.
“I didn’t know it was possible, but you’re even more standoffish tonight than you normally are. Are you just going to sit here and mope?” Zach tried to sound upbeat but Casper heard the pain beneath his words.
A barrage of clever as well as nasty remarks flashed through Casper’s head but he bit them back. Zach had never asked him to change who he was or the clothes he wore. As much as he w“I’m sorry. It’s my feet – they’re killing me.”
“That’s all?” Relief flashed across Zach’s face as he knelt on the floor in front of Casper. Zach removed first one and then the other shoe from Casper’s feet. “Better?”
“God, yes.”
Zach got up with the shoes in his hand and walked across the hall before dumping the sadistic footwear in a bin and returning.
“One of these days you’re going to believe me when I tell you I don’t care what you look like.” Zach stroked the tattoo on Casper’s arm.

For the first time since he’d met Zach, Casper believed that day might indeed come. 

****
I hope you enjoyed my story. For more wonderful flashes inspired by the same picture visit the Monday Flash Fics group on Facebook.

Monday Flash Fic: Late

Well fuck it all to the high heavens.
Marc glanced at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes and saw he was still late. He sped up until he all but ran down the street, the pedal of the bike he pushed along with him, almost making him trip. Of all the days to get a flat tyre.
He’d met Sam a month ago and hadn’t invited Sam to his house yet because Marc wasn’t sure how his lover would react to his housemate.
Two days ago Sam had called and mentioned a new restaurant he’d like to try out. Before he’d thought about it Marc had uttered the words he’d regretted ever since.
“I haven’t been there yet but it’s just around the corner from where I live.”
“Really?” Sam had sounded delighted. “That’s great. I’ll meet you at your place and we’ll head over together.”
Marc had swallowed the ‘no’ on his lips, and they’d agreed to meet at his place at five. He checked the time again and saw he was now thirty minutes late. Sam wouldn’t have waited outside this long. It no longer mattered how Sam might have felt about his little secret. Sam was probably pissed off enough never to want to see Marc again, which would mean he’d never find out about Brutus either.
He parked his bike in its allotted space in the hall and slowly made his way up the stairs, no longer in a hurry to get home now he faced a lonely evening and probably equally lonely future.
“Marc!”
He cursed under his breath as Caroline, his elderly neighbour, called his name before he could open his door, and turned to face her.
“I hope you don’t mind but when I came home with my shopping I met this charming young man outside. He told me he was waiting for you and helped me with my bags. I used my key to let him in to your apartment. That’s okay, isn’t it?
Hope and fear battled for dominance in Marc. Sam hadn’t left. But if he was here, inside, he would have met Brutus, the dog Caroline minded for Marc while he worked.
 “It’s fine Caroline, thank you.”
He sighed and opened the door, mentally preparing himself to face ridicule. He got sniggers and double takes from strangers when he walked Brutus. What would Sam think of Marc owning the least manly dog known to mankind?
“See, I told you he wouldn’t let us down.” Sam’s voice was filled with tenderness. Relief flooded Marc as he walked towards the man he’d fallen for, holding the dog Mark had rescued a year ago.
“This little man,” Sam smiled at Marc, “is almost as cute as his owner.”
Marc rested his head against Sam’s shoulder and closed his eyes. They would be okay. He hadn’t been wrong. Sam was exactly the man Marc had hoped he would be.
****

This picture was selected by Brigham Vaughn and, as always, more flashes based on the same photo can be found in the Monday Flash Fic Group on Facebook.