Last year before the Saints and Sinners Literary Festival, Tim and I had only recently turned in the manuscript for Best Gay Romance 2014. Our editors at Cleis realized that because of an error in our contract, the manuscript wasn’t long enough. We needed more stories and quickly. We had a few submissions to reconsider, but Tim asked Cleis to be just a little more patient. It had been our experience through the years that Saints and Sinners wove literary magic into our lives, and we were hoping that might be repeated.
As it happened, one of the people who came to our S&S panel, N.S. Beranek, was interested in sending a story to us: “There’s No Question It’s Love.” We both found the account of just a few minutes in the life of a couple who’ve been together fifteen years humorous and quietly sweet. The depth of understanding and kindness the narrator feels for his husband, and their gentle domesticity, remind me again that love is love. Magic indeed.
The story’s short, so it’s hard to find an excerpt that doesn’t give it all away, and I wasn’t sure what photograph I had that would go with it. Then Timmy recently sent me the art pictured above. It has no relation to the story, I guess, except that both make me happy and both make me think of domestic contentment.
Here’s how the story begins: the narrator finds his other half, Bob, dropping things into an abandoned well on their property.
The old well is located in an odd place. Near the front corner of our lawn, it’s just far enough away from both the street and the driveway to make converting its waist-high bricks into a mailbox holder a pointless endeavor. You’d have to tromp over too much grass to reach it for that to be viable in this place, where it rains more days than it’s dry.
When I reach him, Bob is leaning over the curving brick, holding a penny between his thumb and forefinger. It’s clear he’s about to drop it through one of the squares in the section of rabbit-wire fencing that we put over the well’s opening to keep small children and animals from falling down it.
Though it’s obvious what he’s doing, I feel compelled to ask.
“Making a wish?”
“No.”
It takes me a few seconds to process that he’s replied negatively. “No?”
“No.”
Okaaaaay, I think. “Then what are you doing?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.” He exhales deeply, the sound of a man who feels the weight of the world bearing down on him. “Conditioning myself, I suppose.”
“To what?”
“To having nothing happen.” Hand still poised over the opening, he turns and locks eyes with me. His irises are so dark I’d swear he doesn’t have pupils. “Listen,” he commands. He lets the coin drop.
I hear nothing, as if the penny is still falling, soaring through an endless space, although when we bought the house, the inspector said the well had been closed up years before, most likely because it ran dry. I can’t remember how far he said it was down to the blockage, a mass of construction debris and dirt. A hundred feet? Fifty?
Finally I ask, “Did you hear it?”
“No. That’s the point.” Bob reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a handful of change. He chooses a quarter and tosses it through the grate. We listen again. There is still nothing. No sound. He returns the change to his pocket and for a second I think that he’s done, but then his arm juts out and I see he’s dangling his car keys and door-lock remote over the hole. Without stopping to think I grab the sleeve of his denim jacket and pull his arm back.
“Are you out of your mind?” I ask, as I wrench the keys from his grip. “Do you know how expensive it would be to replace these?”
He just looks at me.
“You’re going to throw your keys down the well—why?” I ask.
“They’re bigger.” He thinks another moment. “Though that won’t change anything.”
“And this is to condition yourself to having nothing happen?” I’m openly mocking him now, not even trying to hide my derision. Bob nods. I have the urge to put a hand to my head and tug my hair in frustration. Instead I say, “Pray tell, what does that mean?”
He shrugs again.
“Well, then can you at least tell me if you’re aware that you sound like a madman?”
What’s going on with Bob? You can find out in Best Gay Romance 2014, on sale now in trade paperback and ebook format.
Excerpt reprinted with permission from Cleis Press. All rights reserved
Are you attending Saints & Sinners this year/week?
Yes, Mark, I’m here! That’s why my responses are so delayed. Having a blast, meeting lots of new and new-to-me writers, talking deals, and even getting books signed for a certain gentleman I know–more details to come!
BGR 2014 is my first “summer book.” I just read this story last night! Loving the anthology so far. PS: I just submitted a story to BGR 2015 tonight Thanks for posting the call for submissions.
I’m so glad you’re enjoying the anthology. Good luck with your story!