Sam looked a lot like his father. Saul Miller was an inch or so shorter, his nose a bit bigger, his hair a bit curlier, and gray, of course, but overall there was a strong resemblance. And he was a friendly man, or at least friendlier than Eric had ever expected the father of a gay man to be. It was still a little shocking to him how a father ( Read more... )

“Yeah, he does. He wants us to fly over there around Christmas.” Sam unfolded and refolded his napkin a few times, taking note of how the fluttering paper mirrored how he was feeling inside.

“I thought you said your dad was Jewish."

Praying for patience, Sam was careful to keep the irritation from his tone as he responded. “I think the point was ( Read more... )

Part 4: Proud

Sam never bunched his shirts up into balls when he stuffed them into the hamper. Actually, he didn’t stuff them at all; he folded them over an arm and gently laid them in the hamper, as if wrinkling them there would somehow affect how they would come back from the dry cleaners later that week.

Sam was very ritualistic in ( Read more... )

Part 3: Take the Cake

Eric hummed softy to himself as he poured his traditional mid-afternoon cup of coffee, only mildly aware that Nula was eying him suspiciously with her almond eyes.
“No one should be this happy to come back to work after the holidays,” she said petulantly. “It’s sickening.”

Eric smirked. “Well it’s not like I wouldn’t ( Read more... )

Thinking of Sam’s worthless excuse for a brother got Eric’s blood pumping, and he used that venomous feeling to psych himself up, shake off his fear, and plow on through the door.

*

“Glad you could meet with me,” Greg said. He got up halfway to shake Eric’s hand. “Please, have a seat.”

Eric did so, searching Greg’s expression for some indication of ( Read more... )

( Part 1: Out )

( Quality )

( Foreign Language )

There would be people, Sam knew, who would question why he was with Eric-- friends who would give a raised-eyebrow stare when he explained the careful line they walked between being closeted and being out, people who would roll their eyes at the cover stories Sam had been forced to come up with to “protect” Eric’s sports identity, and those who ( Read more... )

“Fine. Fine. You win. I’ll ask, okay? If we can make it, we’ll be there.”

Eric hung up the phone and stared at it menacingly. It rarely bore good news anymore.

Sam had suggested once that it would be better if he chose the ripping-off-a-band-aid approach to coming out-- that it would cause less discomfort in the long run than peeling back the ( Read more... )