I’ve joined the Rainbow Snippets group on Facebook. From their description: “Rainbow Snippets is a group for LGBTQ+ authors, readers, and bloggers to gather once a week to share six sentences from a work of fiction–a WIP or a finished work or even a 6-sentence book recommendation (no spoilers please!).” Pretty cool, eh? Don’t forget to “Like” my Facebook page and/or my Facebook profile while you’re over there checking out this fantastic group!
This week I’m snipping from Closets Are for Clothesto celebrate its recent addition to Kindle Unlimited (along with The Contingency Plan and The Recruit).
Mike’s life is carefully compartmentalized. He’s deep in the closet to his family in Kansas, but lives life honestly and openly in Austin. He’s unnerved when Wes, his old university crush, turns up at his door in answer to a roommate advertisement, but quickly sees the potential…benefits of the arrangement. Wes has never doubted nor denied his sexuality. With the support of his family he’s an out and proud LGBT activist.
On the scale balancing his self-esteem on one side, and the love of his family on the other, Mike has to decide which weighs more. Is Mike being fair to his parents by not giving them the chance to know his real self? When the delicate balance of his life is disrupted, he decides he’s tired of living a lie. Will Wes understand his concerns, or will their fledgling relationship crumble under the strain of Mike’s uncertainty?
For context, Mike has just gone home to visit his parents with the purpose of coming out to them.
Told from Mike’s 1st-person POV.
Closets Are for Clothes – 8-September-2018
“Your room’s all ready for you.” Mom’s brows knit. “You look peaked. I hope you’re not coming down with anything.”
“I don’t think I am. Just worn out. Maybe a little motion sickness. I dunno.” I picked up my bag. She didn’t seem particularly reassured by the anemic smile I added for good measure.
“Either way, you need a good night’s sleep. Goodnight, sweetie.” She gave me another hug, clearly not concerned by any virus I might be developing.
“Goodnight, Mom.” Then I nodded toward Dad. “Goodnight.”
I trudged up the stairs like a condemned man taking his final steps toward the gallows. Only in my case, it wouldn’t all be over in a few more minutes, and it probably wasn’t a fair comparison from the perspective of the poor man facing the noose. At least I’d walk away from the events tomorrow, although that seemed like a small comfort in this moment.