Coming Home and Coming Out Chapter 9

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Back at her apartment, she stripped Logan down into nothing but his boxer briefs, laid him on the couch and placed an empty wastebasket next to his head. In all this, he said nothing. Julie wiped his auburn brown hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear with one finger. Then, she kissed him on the forehead and walked to her desk.

 

Mama Rosa’s pizza was still smiling at her from the screen. Behind her, she could hear Logan vomit in the wastebasket and then groan. Julie sighed, closed the lid on the laptop, fixed him a cup of water and then collapsed in her own bed. Within a moment, she was fast asleep and the weight that had collected on her melted away.

 

The next morning, Julie awoke to the smell of bacon and coffee. She glared at the clock on her bedside table. It was 9:00 am. She covered her head in her pillow, protesting the start of a new day. Just as she had decided she would spend the day in her bed, 10,000 Maniacs floated from the kitchen and crawled under her head pillow.

 

“Becuase the night belongs to lovers

Because the night belongs to us.”

 

Logan’s voice joined in on the second refrain and Julie couldn’t help it. She lowered the pillow from her head and joined in.

 

“Have I doubt when I’m alone

Love is a ring, the telephone

Love is an angel disguised as lust

Here in our bed until the morning comes.”

 

Logan was leaning on the frame of the doorway, still dressed in only his boxer briefs. He held a plate piled with bacon and a glass of orange juice. His blue eyes were squinted and his lips were pursed in a boyish grin. Julie envied his beauty.

 

He raised one eyebrow. “We have to stop meeting like this” he teased then walked to the bedside, placed the plate of bacon and orange juice on the bedside table, and sat down on the bed beside Julie.

 

Julie chuckled and took a piece of bacon off the plate. Between chews, she said “I hope this is turkey bacon”.

 

Logan huffed, reached in his pocket and produced a small glass pipe. “Wake and bake?” He asked. He did not wait for an answer before he lit the bowl and took the green hit….and so they smoked.

 

As they smoked, they talked. They talked about nothing in particular. He didn’t mention Tawny and she didn’t mention Michael. The pair just existed in the moment. It was so effortless to exist like this with Logan.

 

“If all boys were like you, Logan” Julie mumbled.

 

Logan was mid sentence in a rant about postmodern-something when Julie said these words. His sentence erupted in a deep laugh. When Julie didn’t laugh back, he tilted his head to the side, frowned and added, “What? You would make me your wife?”

 

Julie laughed too hard. When they both composed themselves, she added seriously. “If all boys were like you, it wouldn’t be so hard to at least pretend, you know?”

 

Logan rested his head on her chest and sighed. “I know, Jewel…I know.”

 

They lay like this for a while and the feeling hung between them. They were drawn to one another because of the commonality of their fears and regrets. They had both given up something to embrace their true selves and for this, they would always be bound.

 

“THIS is community.” Julie thought and she realized that Logan was more family to her than anyone back in *town name*. Then, she remembered the invitation, the phone call, and the wedding.

 

“I’m going home,” she said.

 

Logan huffed. It was a small gesture but Julie knew that she didn’t have to say any more. He got it and this is why she loved him so. She never had to explain herself to him.

 

After another moment, Logan sat up, put the pipe to Julie’s lip and lit it for her. She took a long hit from the pipe and as she did, she stared at Logan. His lip was busted, why hadn’t she noticed it the night before.

 

Once she had exhaled a thick plume of smoke, she said “Your lip.”

 

Logan raised his fingers to the busted spot, self consciously, lowered his eyes and muttered “Yeah.”

 

This was the entire exchange on the matter. She didn’t press for any more information. She knew him too. Instead, she took the pipe, pressed it to his lips and lit it for him. As he inhaled, she vowed to kill Michael next time she saw him.

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Coming Out and Coming Home Chapter 5

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She hadn’t really thought about home in a while. Not like this. Home was a weird concept to Julie. She had made a life in the city but it never felt like home. Home was a distant thing, like the love her mother had for her.

 

But now, as she lay on her couch in her empty condo staring at the ceiling, her mother’s words echoed in her head. “I can’t wait to see you, you know” and then “I’ll see you soon”. Julie felt nauseous.

 

How long had it been since she had been to that place?

 

“3 years” a small voice answered in her head.

 

“3 years” Julie repeated aloud. Then she fell quietly asleep.

Coming Out of Hiding….#Nanowrimo…@NaNoWriMo

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Another year has passed: a full 365 days of work, and kids and friends and parties. It has been a good year but a non-productive one, literarily speaking. My writing over the past year has been sporadic to non-existent, leaving my followers to wonder about my wellbeing.

So I’m writing this post to let everyone know that I have not been abducted by aliens or eaten by a Hungry Hippo. I have not contracted a flesh-eating disease or Polio. Finally, and contrary to popular belief, I have not decided to trade my life of luxury to live in a cave, amongst a pack of wolves.

I have been living a beautifully charmed life. My children are growing and learning to read and write and create stories of their own. I have a new job, working in a Toxicology lab and I’m gearing up for a new tax season with H&R Block. I met a beautiful woman and so my circle of (already amazing) family and friends is growing, as we begin to build a life together.

With all this, comes struggle…struggle to balance it all, to find time to think and feel and quench the thirst that is writing…

And the struggle is real!

So, again, I am thankful for the beginning of National Novel Writing Month because my commitment to it will force me to make time for writing (something that I have failed at miserably for the majority of 2015).

At this point, I’m a veteran of sorts. As I begin my third Nanowrimo novel, I know exactly what to expect from the month-long sprint to write 50,000 words of a perfectly imperfect novel.

This year, I’m doing something different. I generally write Sci-fi, Fantasy, or Horror Fiction (YA optional). This year, I will be writing a Women’s Fiction novel (VERY tentatively) titled: Coming Out and Coming Home. 

Basically, the novel centers around the MC as she travels home to her very small home town to attend the wedding of the first girl she ever kissed…and so it shall be a novel about coming out and coming home. It shall be full of romance and dysfunctional family dynamics.

And of course, I’m pantsing it.

I have had literally no time to develop characters or setting. Shit, I don’t even really know what the full plot line is going to be yet. All I know is that this story is personal. It’s a way of connecting to a part of my own life’s story. It’s a scary thing, to flesh out something so close to my heart…to put it into written word and make it a real breathing thing to share with others.

But really, this year’s Nano novel isn’t for others. It’s for me…I feel certain that this novel will be the closest to my heart of anything I have ever written…

And that’s the best motivation I could ever hope for.

So, good luck to all my fellow Nano participants! May you win and if you don’t, you shall certainly end the challenge with plenty value! I welcome all the contact and you can follow the links below to find me on the social medias….after all, the greatest thing about National Novel Writing Month is finding a community of authors that can relate to the insanity that is the waking of the sleeping mind.

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