Chapter 1
Published by JMS Books LLC
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Copyright 2018 R.W. Clinger
ISBN 9781634865807
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Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
The Mix of Us
By R.W. Clinger
Low Hollow
Population: 1,765
Low Hollow was a small suburb of Erie, Pennsylvania, and sat next to Lake Erie. Surrounding sister towns included Templeton, West End, and Candmore. Those who didn’t live in Low Hollow avoided the town, calling it mysterious and dangerous. Most thought the hollow haunted by Iroquois Indians. Others stayed away because of its heavy snows, rainfall, and lack of sunlight. Locals whispered tales of trolls living underground, magical fairies, and seeing white unicorns on hot summer nights.
Although small in size, Low Hollow made an impact on northeastern Pennsylvania because of its strangeness. In 1952, two men (gossiping in town labeled them as secret boyfriends) in their early twenties went hiking through the deepest parts of the hollow, a place simply called The Meadow. The lovers mysteriously disappeared and were never seen again. After seven long and rainy days of a manhunt, Officer Harold Simmons declared the two men dead.
The Low Hollow Tribune called it, “…something powerful in our town that none of us understood and never will…”
* * * *
“You’re never going to marry me, are you, Steve?”
Steve Quaver watched a relaxing Giovanni Tartini on the sofa, reading again, semi-lost among words, paragraphs, and chapters. He read whenever he had the spare time, enjoying tales of life, here and beyond. Anything he could get his hands on, really.
Steve bent over him, kissing Giovanni’s forehead before passing into another room of their Tudor, dusting again. Always dusting. The chore calmed Steve down and maintained his anxiety, particularly when the marriage topic was brought up again. Good therapy during an ugly situation like discussing theholy matrimony of two men, a life-long commitment. It was a lot for Steve to handle, too much, both mentally and physically. It wasn’t as if he didn’t love Gio or want to spend the rest of his life with the man. Bottom line: Steve just didn’t feel that it was necessary to get married. No way. Unable to match the act with his character.
“I know you have commitment issues. You’re afraid of marrying me.” Gio closed the seven-hundred-page, hardback novel and place it on his firm chest. Then he laid on the sofa and looked up at the ceiling, probably concentrating on the swirls of white and a plane of nothingness. “You don’t understand why we need a piece of paper to prove our love. I love you. You love me. We’re dynamicsoul mates created by the universe. You think that’s enough. I get it, Steve. But we both know I want more. And you should want more, too, even if I can’t convince you otherwise.”
Steve stood over Gio again. “Because you’ve always wanted to go through the process and get a marriage license. Because you’ve fought for the equal right to marry for decades, ever since you were in your twenties. Because your uncle was at Stonewall, met Harvey Milk, and died of AIDS in the late eighties during the Reagan years. Enough said.”
“I’m sorry you feel this way.” Gio stared up into Steve’s eyes, as if lost there.
Steve knew exactly what Gio was thinking, believing that the man was his soul mate: at thirty-eight, Gio was still excited to spend his days with Steve, thought Steve attractive. Giovanni’s true soul mate. His lover. His best friend. His violinist. Someone who Gio could have these uncomfortable and taunting conversations with, which sometimes drove both of them a pinch mad, Steve guessed, but they always struggled through them, surviving, breathing.