Brigit's Flame Week 1 - Amends
Title: Amends
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1181
Prompt: “Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams”
A/N: This is based on a true story that I heard recently.
The two women stood, hand in hand, and walked across the parking lot. It was cool for late spring, and if it weren't for all the shouts and screams of the people who were lined up outside of the squat brick building, it would have been a pleasant morning.
Lydia squeezed her partner's hand. "Don't listen to them," she said loudly, her head held high. She put her free arm protectively around the sleeping baby that rested in a carrier on her chest.
"I'm not," Megan replied, a smile on her lips that did not reach her eyes.
The polling station was almost empty inside, even though Megan had struggled to find a parking spot when they arrived.
"Names please," asked the small, bearded man who sat at the table by the door. They gave him their information and were handed long ballets.
They were quickly ushered to the voting booths that stood along the far wall. Megan dived right in to hers, but Lydia hesitated for a moment. She turned the paper over, looking at the very last question. Yes or No it asked.
She had never realized that two little words could mean so much. The ballpoint pen shook in her hand as she traced the little oval over and over, the word no repeating in her head as she went.
This is it, Lydia thought, feeding the ballot into the machine that would count her vote. She stroked her son's auburn hair and looked over as her partner fed her slip into the machine.
Lydia could already hear the shouts of the protesters before they reached the door. She braced herself for a moment against the wall before she walked into the fresh morning air.
"God created man and woman. All other marriage is against His will," shouted a squat man in a bright yellow t-shirt and shorts. Lydia thought he looked like a soccer dad who was out for a day with his kids.
"Let's go," Megan said, taking Lydia's arm. They passed the men and women who held signs that said things like they would go to hell for voting no and that all queers deserved to die. Lydia just looked forward and walked as quickly as she could.
"Shame on you for bringing a life into this world when you are an abomination in God's eyes! Your child is an abomination," one woman spat at them. She was tall and slim and could pass for someone's kind old grandma.
"Wh…what?" sputtered Lydia, turning around and facing the woman. "What did you say about my child?"
"I feel sorry for it, that's all," the woman shouted. "Having a mother like you, it's damned from the start." A roar of agreement went up through the crowd behind her.
Tears sprang in Lydia's eyes and she grasped for the words to say that would express the emotions that made her heart feel like it was being squeezed into a little ball. How could anyone say that about her innocent little son? He hadn't even started walking yet and people already hated him for something he had no control over. Willing herself not to cry, Lydia tightened her grasp around her partner's arm.
"I don't need to justify my family to you," Lydia said, looking into the older woman's hollow eyes.
Lydia was shaking by the time she closed the door to the Subaru. The tears that she had been so desperately trying to hold fell hot and salty down her cheek. Megan wiped them away.
"That was brave of you," Megan said, leaning in for a soft kiss.
"But I didn't even say anything. I didn't even stand up for us. For Matthew. I was just too afraid."
"You were amazing."
"I just wanted my dream of marrying the person I love to become a reality. Is that so much to ask?"
"Me too honey." Megan put the key into the ignition and turned the engine over. She backed the car out of the parking space and turned towards their home.
As the poll numbers came in that night, Megan and Lydia held each other and cried. Lydia hadn't had a cigarette in ages, and the emergency pack she kept in the garage was old and stale. She sat on the back porch and rocked in the old chair her grandmother had given her after Matthew was born. She didn't even notice her tongue beginning to go numb from the menthol as she smoked one cigarette after another. The only thoughts that raced through her head were of what she could have said differently to that woman.
She should had told her how wonderful it was to find someone like Megan in the first place. A person who accepted her for all her flaws and complemented all her strengths. Or how happy she had been when she learned the IVF had been successful. But of course, nothing could change the mind of a person who was filled with hate. She was old enough to know that by now.
"Out here obsessing, are we?" Megan asked, putting her hands on Lydia's shoulders. She kissed the top of her head gently.
"You know me too well," Lydia said, turning her head up towards her partner and smiling.
Megan sat on the arm of the rocker and leaned into Lydia. She stroked her hair and looked out at the darkening horizon.
"This isn't the end, you know. Just because the amendment passed doesn't mean I love you any less. Or that we can't be legally married some day."
"I know," Lydia said, sighing heavily. "I just wish change didn't take so long to happen. It really sucks that I'm so damn impatient!"
Megan laughed. "Just one of the many things I love about you."
***
The little girl climbed on her father's lap, lugging the computer with her.
"Show me the photos, daddy!" she chirped. It was a phrase often repeated.
"Of course," her father said, sighing as he opened the laptop. He scrolled through until he found the ones she wanted to see.
"Here I am when I was a little younger than you are now," he said, clicking on a file. An image of a redheaded toddler popped up on the screen. A beautiful young woman stood next to him, her face half obscured by a large-brimmed summer hat.
"Grams!" shouted the girl. "I want to see the photos."
"Okay," he said, clicking on the one he knew she was after. Two women, both in wedding gowns, stood next to an adolescent boy with the same red hair.
"So pretty," said the little girl, her fingers caressing the screen. "Why wasn't I at your wedding, Daddy?" she asked, her big blue eyes staring up at her.
He laughed. "You weren't born yet, silly. You know that."
"You're lucky you got to see Granny and Grams get married," she huffed, before she climbed down from his lap and ran out of the room, her next activity already on her mind.
"Yes," Matthew said to the empty room, "I was very lucky."
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1181
Prompt: “Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams”
A/N: This is based on a true story that I heard recently.
The two women stood, hand in hand, and walked across the parking lot. It was cool for late spring, and if it weren't for all the shouts and screams of the people who were lined up outside of the squat brick building, it would have been a pleasant morning.
Lydia squeezed her partner's hand. "Don't listen to them," she said loudly, her head held high. She put her free arm protectively around the sleeping baby that rested in a carrier on her chest.
"I'm not," Megan replied, a smile on her lips that did not reach her eyes.
The polling station was almost empty inside, even though Megan had struggled to find a parking spot when they arrived.
"Names please," asked the small, bearded man who sat at the table by the door. They gave him their information and were handed long ballets.
They were quickly ushered to the voting booths that stood along the far wall. Megan dived right in to hers, but Lydia hesitated for a moment. She turned the paper over, looking at the very last question. Yes or No it asked.
She had never realized that two little words could mean so much. The ballpoint pen shook in her hand as she traced the little oval over and over, the word no repeating in her head as she went.
This is it, Lydia thought, feeding the ballot into the machine that would count her vote. She stroked her son's auburn hair and looked over as her partner fed her slip into the machine.
Lydia could already hear the shouts of the protesters before they reached the door. She braced herself for a moment against the wall before she walked into the fresh morning air.
"God created man and woman. All other marriage is against His will," shouted a squat man in a bright yellow t-shirt and shorts. Lydia thought he looked like a soccer dad who was out for a day with his kids.
"Let's go," Megan said, taking Lydia's arm. They passed the men and women who held signs that said things like they would go to hell for voting no and that all queers deserved to die. Lydia just looked forward and walked as quickly as she could.
"Shame on you for bringing a life into this world when you are an abomination in God's eyes! Your child is an abomination," one woman spat at them. She was tall and slim and could pass for someone's kind old grandma.
"Wh…what?" sputtered Lydia, turning around and facing the woman. "What did you say about my child?"
"I feel sorry for it, that's all," the woman shouted. "Having a mother like you, it's damned from the start." A roar of agreement went up through the crowd behind her.
Tears sprang in Lydia's eyes and she grasped for the words to say that would express the emotions that made her heart feel like it was being squeezed into a little ball. How could anyone say that about her innocent little son? He hadn't even started walking yet and people already hated him for something he had no control over. Willing herself not to cry, Lydia tightened her grasp around her partner's arm.
"I don't need to justify my family to you," Lydia said, looking into the older woman's hollow eyes.
Lydia was shaking by the time she closed the door to the Subaru. The tears that she had been so desperately trying to hold fell hot and salty down her cheek. Megan wiped them away.
"That was brave of you," Megan said, leaning in for a soft kiss.
"But I didn't even say anything. I didn't even stand up for us. For Matthew. I was just too afraid."
"You were amazing."
"I just wanted my dream of marrying the person I love to become a reality. Is that so much to ask?"
"Me too honey." Megan put the key into the ignition and turned the engine over. She backed the car out of the parking space and turned towards their home.
As the poll numbers came in that night, Megan and Lydia held each other and cried. Lydia hadn't had a cigarette in ages, and the emergency pack she kept in the garage was old and stale. She sat on the back porch and rocked in the old chair her grandmother had given her after Matthew was born. She didn't even notice her tongue beginning to go numb from the menthol as she smoked one cigarette after another. The only thoughts that raced through her head were of what she could have said differently to that woman.
She should had told her how wonderful it was to find someone like Megan in the first place. A person who accepted her for all her flaws and complemented all her strengths. Or how happy she had been when she learned the IVF had been successful. But of course, nothing could change the mind of a person who was filled with hate. She was old enough to know that by now.
"Out here obsessing, are we?" Megan asked, putting her hands on Lydia's shoulders. She kissed the top of her head gently.
"You know me too well," Lydia said, turning her head up towards her partner and smiling.
Megan sat on the arm of the rocker and leaned into Lydia. She stroked her hair and looked out at the darkening horizon.
"This isn't the end, you know. Just because the amendment passed doesn't mean I love you any less. Or that we can't be legally married some day."
"I know," Lydia said, sighing heavily. "I just wish change didn't take so long to happen. It really sucks that I'm so damn impatient!"
Megan laughed. "Just one of the many things I love about you."
***
The little girl climbed on her father's lap, lugging the computer with her.
"Show me the photos, daddy!" she chirped. It was a phrase often repeated.
"Of course," her father said, sighing as he opened the laptop. He scrolled through until he found the ones she wanted to see.
"Here I am when I was a little younger than you are now," he said, clicking on a file. An image of a redheaded toddler popped up on the screen. A beautiful young woman stood next to him, her face half obscured by a large-brimmed summer hat.
"Grams!" shouted the girl. "I want to see the photos."
"Okay," he said, clicking on the one he knew she was after. Two women, both in wedding gowns, stood next to an adolescent boy with the same red hair.
"So pretty," said the little girl, her fingers caressing the screen. "Why wasn't I at your wedding, Daddy?" she asked, her big blue eyes staring up at her.
He laughed. "You weren't born yet, silly. You know that."
"You're lucky you got to see Granny and Grams get married," she huffed, before she climbed down from his lap and ran out of the room, her next activity already on her mind.
"Yes," Matthew said to the empty room, "I was very lucky."