[Note: This is a long introductory setup to a multi-part story. There is *no* explicit sex in this first chapter. If you are looking for quick, hot read, move on. This is not it. Things will heat up in later chapters, I promise. --Cyanlot]
Chapter 1: When I Hit the "Change of Life"
When Massachusetts became the first state to legalize gay marriage, Todd and I were ecstatic. We didn't have to move to get married; we could do it in our home state. We didn't rush to be among the first to take advantage of the new marriage equality. Better, we thought, to take our time, plan a terrific ceremony and party, and do it right.
And we did do it right. We'd come out to our families long ago and both of us had, at least after the initial shock, received the love and support of our families—Todd more than I, but even my basically conservative family dealt with it pretty well. So, on the day of the ceremony, all the people we were really close to, family and friends, were there.
You might think that, having lived together for five years already, marriage wouldn't make any difference in our lives, but it did. It was a subtle difference, but we both noticed it. We were, now, even more of a couple: Todd and Ron, living in happily wedded bliss.
And then a wrench got thrown into the works. Todd's company offered him a big promotion—great news—but only if he would move to Arkansas—not such great news. Arkansas not only doesn't permit gay marriage, it refuses to recognize gay marriage. And it's not just the legal implications that were concerning. The new position would be in a production facility in a small, mostly rural area that was definitely very red politically, Bible-thumping religiously, and straight-laced socially. A gay couple wouldn't do well in that environment, and there would be special antipathy, we suspected, for a gay couple that thought of themselves as married. We would definitely be moving to "marriage is between one man and one woman" territory.
But Todd already makes the bulk of our income and would make a lot more if he could accept this position. I'm a freelance graphic artist; I can work from anywhere. There wasn't really anything keeping us in Massachusetts, except the quite reasonable desire not to live where people would despise us and the law would discriminate against us. Still, it wouldn't be forever. This was a stepping stone for Todd. A couple or three years successfully managing this facility would put him in a great position to move back to the modern, civilized world, maybe to a choice location overseas.
So it was decided. We both had misgivings—the very same ones. But we both saw that this was an opportunity not to be missed and decided Todd had to accept the position. We'd make it work somehow.
After the decision was made and Todd had officially accepted the new position, we planned a trip to scope out the housing situation. There was no urban area so the hope of finding a progressive enclave—a small community of like-minded, if not like-sexually-oriented people—was a vain one. The apartments that were available weren't great—none of the benefits of city living, but the drawback that your neighbors know too much about what you're doing.
All of this we could figure out from searching on the Internet. It wasn't until we went down to Arkansas to house hunt that we appreciated the full implications of this move for our lives together.
We told Connie, the realtor we'd decided to work with, that we were old college roommates and because I didn't make much money, I needed to share living expenses with Todd. I don't think for a minute that she bought the "just friends" line, but it provided a good cover: she knew, we knew she knew, she probably knew that we knew that she knew, but no one had to explicitly acknowledge our relationship. (Of course, we'd taken our rings off and were careful not to give any indication, even to Connie, that we were married.)
I think Connie was cool with the situation. Good! At least not everyone in this area was a hopeless bigot. And Todd and I were certain that she knew that we were a couple when she gave us some oblique advice. Without ever suggesting that the information was directed at us for practical purposes, Connie managed to steer the conversation around several times to how conservative and straight-laced most of the people in the area were. She even described them as "intolerant" of people who are different from them. One of the first questions we would be asked, she said, is what church we go to. And eyebrows would be raised if the answer was "none," which it would have been without her advance notice. She told us that it would be best if we tried to fit in, or at least appear to fit in.
Todd and I quickly confirmed our suspicion that a gay couple, married or not, wouldn't be welcome here. It might even hamper Todd's work at the new plant. He had to supervise a lot of local workers. He'd be their boss, of course, but it's much easier to supervise people who don't consider you an immoral degenerate.
Todd and I found a few houses that would work. And, man, were the prices terrific! We could afford five times the house we could buy in Boston. While we were still in town on the housing visit, we narrowed it down to two houses. Both were out in the country—not far, but enough to give us some privacy. We went back home, certain that we would buy one of those houses, but very uncertain about how we could live in the area at all.
All the way home on the plane and for days afterward, we talked about what our lives would be like there. We were committed now—it was way too late to turn down the position—we just had to figure out how to make it work.
One morning, I woke up with an idea. (Isn't it funny how that happens? You ponder a problem for days and think you've considered every possible solution. Then, out of nowhere, another alternative comes to you in your sleep. The power of the unconscious mind, I guess.)
It was a wacky idea and I almost didn't have the courage to suggest it to Todd. But, finally, after another long discussion where we'd come up with no good solution, I decided to float the idea.
"What if you don't go to Arkansas with a husband?" I asked. "What is you go with a wife?"
"Sorry Ron, you don't get rid of me that easily," Todd joked. "This isn't worth my switching teams for."
"That's not what I mean." Todd was puzzled. "I mean, what if you and I were to go down there as a husband and wife."
"What? ... What are you talking about?"
"I'm serious. You'd tell everyone that you're there with your wife, that would be the public story. Either of these houses is secluded enough that, when we're alone, we can just live our lives normally."
"But, come on ..." he protested. "It would never work. There will be functions that we'd have to go to as a couple. It's not as if I could always say, 'My wife is under the weather.'"
"I thought of that."
