Baseball Monday: Out in the Field Epilogue

Baseball MondaysIn light of it both being Pride weekend in NYC and the recent Supreme Court ruling, I thought it might be fun to revisit some old friends, and so today, I give you a little epilogue with Matt and Iggy from Out in the Field.

Matt lingered in bed, enjoying the sun streaming in through the window and nothing in particular on his agenda for the day. Maybe he’d read a book or take a walk, or maybe he’d just sleep another hour; there was no rush on anything.

He wasn’t even that sore. Well, he was a little sore, especially through his legs, probably from all the jumping and cheering he’d done when the high school kids he’d been coaching had won the city-wide baseball finals. And, since today was technically the last day of school, he was done coaching for a while, unless he decided to get involved with Little League or something over the summer. Iggy had been encouraging him to do just that. He’d grumbled about getting old and needing some time off, but he knew perfectly well he coped better with Iggy’s time away during the baseball season by keeping busy. So, yeah, maybe he’d look into a coaching gig for the summer now that the academic year was over. He’d worry about that tomorrow, because right now, he was drifting back to sleep.

Just as he was slipping into dreamworld, though, there was a crash at the front door. Matt jerked up in bed, convinced the apartment was being broken into. He was about to scramble out of bed and grab a bat or something when he heard, “Matt! Matt, oh my god, Matt! Where are you?”

“Bedroom. Jesus, Iggy, you scared the shit out of me.”

Iggy appeared at the bedroom doorway with a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Well, not really. Have you heard the news?”

“What news? I just woke up.” Matt stretched his arms and wondered if he should bother to lay back down. “Shouldn’t you be at practice?”

“Fuck practice. This is more important.”

Matt spared a thought for what on earth could have Iggy this wound up, but instead patted Iggy’s side of the bed and said, “All right. Tell me.”

Iggy smiled, so clearly it wasn’t bad news. He sat on the bed and put a hand on Matt’s thigh. “Babe, the Supreme Court ruling was just announced. We won!”

Through the haze of sleepy misunderstanding, Matt stared at Iggy until he remembered that the Court was supposed to have ruled on marriage equality. “Wait, what? We won?”

“It’s unconstitutional to ban us from marrying each other. Not just here in New York, but across all fifty states. Can you believe that? Did you ever think you’d see the day?”

“No. I really didn’t.” It was overwhelming. Matt’s heart raced as he thought about it. But then, the world had changed so fast. When Matt had retired from the game, coming out publicly seemed inconceivable. But now Iggy was out and proud and still an active player. He got some shit for it in some stadiums, but the Eagles organization made it clear that they always had his back. They’d even issued tee-shirts just that season that showed the Eagles’ logo done in a rainbow. Fans could purchase Rodriguez jerseys (and faux vintage Blanco journeys, even) with pride messages or rainbow flags on them.

Matt had been following the news. He and Iggy had talked quite a bit when the Court struck down the Defense of Marriage Act. But Matt was still adjusting his expectations. He was a gay man in his forties, after all, and he’d spent most of his life hiding that he was gay; marriage had never felt like it was in the cards. Not even after the state of New York had ruled it legal.

He looked at Iggy, who was still smiling ear to ear. “It’s really…” Matt tried. Then he shook his head. “I mean, across the United States. All of the states. Gay couples can get married?”

Out in the Field“Yup. I mean, I imagine there will be some resistance in some states, you know, but it’s… I had pushed the whole thing out of my mind. I was worried the Court would rule with the appeals court and the bans would be upheld, and I didn’t want to think about that, so I had pushed it aside. We’ve got that series against the Sox starting tonight, which is what I really should be thinking about, and Bill is going to kill me, but… I got an alert on my phone just as I was raising my hand to hail a cab to the stadium, so I came back because I had to tell you in person.”

Matt closed his eyes for a moment to just feel everything that was happening. It had been a strange couple of years. Iggy was still widely considered one of the most valuable players in the Majors, Matt was highly sought after as both a coach and a public speaker, and the anticipated apocalypse hadn’t happened. So life was good. But Matt’s reluctance to even think the word “marriage” near Iggy had stemmed in part from his constant fear that all of this was about to crumble down around them.

But, no, the Supreme Court had ruled that gay couples across the whole country could get married.

Iggy was saying something now; Matt stopped thinking to listen.

“So in the eyes of the law, we’re real people, you know? Our relationship is real. And it means something important.”

Iggy was right. All the years he and Matt had been together had been good. Not without problems, both outside of their relationship and within it, but definitely good. Great. Amazing, even. Matt’s love for Iggy hadn’t dimmed in the years they’d been together, even after they settled into routines and habits. Matt loved Iggy even more now than he had that night of his going away party, back when he’d been traded to Texas and was planning to move across the country, and Iggy had stood in the kitchen and told Matt he loved him and wasn’t ready to let him go yet, and Matt’s heart had neatly burst because he loved Iggy right back. He loved Iggy more now than he had when Iggy had supported him through his injury and retirement. He loved Iggy more now than he did the day Iggy came out to the public and they’d hugged in the stadium in front of God and the Eagles and everyone.

And because they’d been together for nearly six years, and because the world had not ended because of it, and because the Supreme Court of the United States had just more or less blessed their relationship, Matt said, “Marry me.”

Iggy’s smile was incandescent. “Oh, baby. I thought you’d never ask.”

“Let Your Heart Be Light” (12 Days of Christmakwanzakah)

12 Days of ChristmakwanzakahThis little flash story is part of the 12 Days of Christmakwanzakah Blog Hop. For a full list of stories posted during the hop, check here or here.

“Let Your Heart Be Light”


Milo was living the dream.

That was, he had come to New York City with not much more than a fuzzy plan and forty bucks in his pocket and somehow had managed to eke out an existence by sharing an apartment, working two jobs, living on a diet of mostly ramen and peanut butter on Wonder Bread, and feeling exhausted all the time. Still, he’d made it to New York, something he’d been wanting to do since the age of twelve when he first saw a TV show set there and thought, “I’ll get there some day.”

And now here he was, spending a Friday night staring at the one bulb that had burned out in the string of Christmas lights one of his roommates had put up around the perimeter of the living room, surmising that he’d very likely be spending the holidays with the mouse who lived in the cupboard because all of his roommates had families to go to, but Milo could not afford the flight home.

Shane, the beefcake ex-football player who lived in the bedroom adjacent to Milo’s, came into the living room and said, “Bro.”

“I know,” said Milo.

“It’s karaoke night at Franklin Station. I’m meeting Ellie there.”


Shane sighed. “Come with us, dude.”

Milo sat up a little straighter on the sofa. “It’s cute that you think I can just conjure up money to go to a bar. I need my last twelve dollars to feed myself, thanks.”

“I’ll buy you a beer.”

“Fine.” Milo peeled himself off the sofa and looked down at his clothes. He was still wearing the black polo and unfortunately pleated pants that were his uniform at the restaurant where he waited tables. “Uh, let me put on some less dorky clothes.”

When they arrived at the bar, there was a balding guy singing “Piano Man” on the low stage at the back of the bar, and maybe a dozen other people milling about. Someone had put silver tinsel garlands and blinky colored lights around the stage. Shane’s girlfriend Ellie was leaning against the bar, sipping from a pint glass. “Hi, boys,” she said. She gestured to a girl standing next to her with short dark hair and big glasses. “This is my friend Liz.”

Milo shook Liz’s hand. She smiled at him beatifically.

Shane ordered two beers and handed one to Milo, who took the glass gratefully. The beer was dark and bitter, not quite what Milo would have ordered for himself, but then, the taps were a confusion of carved animal figures and brands Milo had never heard of. Like many of the bars around Milo’s Brooklyn apartment, this place catered to a specific rising class of hipster twenty-somethings who liked the unique and obscure. Which made Shane look a little out of place, actually; by rights he should have been butting heads with other guys who looked like linebackers at a sports bar.

Shane immediately got to work flipping through the songbooks and recording his choices on the little paper slips that came with the purchase of a drink. Then he looked over at Milo. “Hey, bro, you want in on this?”

Milo walked over and flipped through the songbook, which was as thick as a dictionary. He was overwhelmed by the number of choices. Shane handed him his last slip and a pen, so Milo decided to choose his one song carefully. While he was looking, Shane handed his other choices to the DJ and, up on stage, a girl in a very short skirt broke into a thin rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock.”

“I hate this time of year,” said the DJ.

Liz sauntered over to Milo and said, “So you’re Shane’s roommate, huh? Ellie was right, you are really cute.”

“Also gay,” Milo said. “I mean, just so we’re on the same page.”

The DJ cleared his throat. “Blondie, you’re up next.”

Shane ran up to the stage as the opening lick of “Sweet Child of Mine” resonated through the bar. Milo groaned, having forgotten that Shane loved Guns n Roses. Shane even did the Axl Rose dance, swaying his big body on his feet as he sang.

“What a dork,” said Ellie. “You pick a song?”

“I think so,” said Milo. Normally, a karaoke song wouldn’t be the key to the whole night, but he couldn’t afford to buy another drink, so this really was his one shot. He handed the slip to the DJ.


A blond dude was screeching like Axl Rose from the stage when Aaron walked into the bar. He did a quick scan for Liz and found her stroking the bicep of some guy—albeit some really hot guy—so he walked toward her. He caught her eye just as the blond dude on stage was tacking some unneeded melisma onto “mi-i-i-ine” at the end of the song.

“Oh, Aaron!” said Liz, grabbing Aaron’s arm.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the blond dude hop off the stage and hand the mike to a brown-haired girl who looked like Liz’s friend Ellie. She started to sing a Fleetwood Mac song, so yeah, definitely Ellie. She had a bright, high voice totally unsuited to the Stevie Nicks catalog and yet that was always her karaoke go-to.

The blond dude was headed toward Aaron and Liz. Oh, right. He was Ellie’s hulk of a boyfriend. But who was this hot guy with the lean face and the chin and all that thick brown hair?

“So how are you doing?” Liz asked, her face all sympathy.

“I’m all right,” said Aaron. He didn’t want to linger on the fact that his father had lost his fight with cancer a month before. The wound still felt too raw. Mostly, he’d spent the three weeks since the funeral going out as often as possible to avoid having to think about how he’d never see one of the most important people in his life ever again. Karaoke had seemed just the thing when Liz suggested it.

When Liz pouted at him and tilted her head, he turned to the bartender and ordered a beer.

“Oh, Aaron,” Liz said. “You know Ellie’s boyfriend Shane. This is his roommate… Miles.”

“Milo,” said the really hot guy. He extended his hand toward Aaron.

So Aaron shook it. Milo’s hand was warm and calloused. On closer examination, Milo seemed too thin, too tired, too scruffy, and yet there was something endearing about that. Aaron met Milo’s gaze and for a brief moment he imagined he had just encountered a kindred spirit, someone who wanted this damned year to just end already so he could start anew in the next.

Or, well, Milo had really pretty eyes, kind of green in the light of the bar.

Ellie tried to get everyone at the bar to sing along about the chain, but no one was really biting. She finished off and descended into the audience, looking flush and happy. Shane threw an arm around her.

“Uh, Milo? You’re next,” said the DJ.

Milo shot Aaron what could only be interpreted as a self-deprecating grin and then grabbed the mike from the DJ on the way to the stage. The opening piano tinkles of the song sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until Milo crooned, “Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” that Aaron fell in love.

Milo’s voice was soft and rich, like honey, but more forceful when he got to the crescendos. The second verse was what really got to Aaron. Milo winked when he sang, “Make the Yuletide gay,” which told Aaron everything he needed to know about Milo’s orientation, but then Milo closed his eyes and sang about troubles being miles away.

If only.

Liz walked up and nudged Aaron’s arm with her shoulder. “He’s great, right? Ellie’s been talking him up for weeks. Said Shane had a gay roommate who was cute as a button, and I just knew I had to introduce you.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow at Liz. “You know, just because two guys are gay doesn’t mean they’re meant to be together. You hadn’t even met him until tonight, had you?”

Liz shrugged.

“I’d be more mad if he wasn’t adorable,” Aaron said.

On stage, Milo was still singing, his voice ringing out over the growing crowd at the bar and warming up Aaron down to his toes. A hush came over the rest of those gathered as everyone stopped to listen. How could they not? Milo had some serious talent.

This year had sucked, no doubt about that. But in Milo, Aaron was suddenly seeing possibilities.


When Milo walked back to the bar, that guy Aaron was still there, and he was smiling. Aaron was no-joke hot, all curly brown hair and a chiseled jaw and probably there were serious ab muscled under his dark-red sweater.

Back on stage, some dude started belting out “Smells Like Teen Spirit” in a tone-deaf, growly way. Milo winced.

“They’re not all Sinatra,” Aaron said.

“No, I guess not.”

Aaron looked Milo over. “Can I ask, what made you want to sing a Christmas song?”

Milo glanced back at the stage. Why had he chosen it? He hadn’t known exactly why at the time, just when he’d seen the song listed, it seemed perfect. “Homesickness? I don’t know. I can’t afford to fly back to see my family this year, so I’m trying to fit in the holiday spirit where I can.” He smiled. “Plus, my mom had this recording of Judy Garland singing that song, and I know it’s a total gay cliché, but I loved it. That’s one of my favorite holiday songs.”

“You sang it well.”

“Thanks.” Milo felt the flush come to his cheeks. “And you? What will you sing?”

“Undecided. Or I might ditch this crowd and go somewhere else.”

“Oh.” Milo’s disappointment was a palpable thing. Which was crazy because he’d known this Aaron guy for all of ten minutes. But there was a spark here, or something, some little bit of magic that Milo wanted to explore.

“You could come with me,” Aaron said with a smile.

“Honey, why didn’t you say so. Let’s go.”


They walked. It was cold out, but Aaron barely felt it because he was too busy concentrating on every word that came out of Milo’s mouth. Because Milo was sweet with a sassy edge, because he worked his ass off to live in the city of his dreams, because his holidays were on the verge of being ruined but he hadn’t given up hope yet.

Aaron had lived in the neighborhood for a few years, so he pointed things out to Milo: the bars and restaurants he liked, the coffee shops he frequented, the nondescript bagel place that sold the best donuts anywhere. He showed Milo the vintage store that sold clothes for cheap and the schoolyard that hosted a flea market on the weekends.

As they got to Grand Army Plaza, Milo was saying again that he was a little sad he couldn’t see his family for Christmas, so Aaron said, “My friend Christine does this orphans’ pot-luck thing on Christmas. All the people who can’t go home gather at her house. I went last year because…” And then Aaron remembered.

“Because…” Milo said.

“Well, my father was sick, so my parents spent the holidays in the hospital. Mom told me not to come home because she didn’t want me to see Dad that way.” Aaron’s voice caught. He tried to swallow the emotions that threatened to burst out of him. Quietly, he added, “He died a month ago.”

Milo clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. You must be devastated.”

Aaron nodded.

Before he really understood what was happening, his face was pressed against the scratchy wool of Milo’s coat, but then he sighed and sank into the hug, because he needed it.

He pulled away gently and took Milo’s hand. He didn’t know what was really happening here, but he thought it was the beginning of something important.

He gestured toward the Christmas tree under the arch in the middle of the plaza. “That thing is here every year. It’s not real, obviously.”

Milo squinted in the direction of the weird electric tree that faded from blue to purple to pink as they watched. “There’s something deliciously tacky about it.”

Aaron laughed. “Yeah, I always thought so, too. And over there is what is allegedly the world’s largest menorah.”

Milo turned around and looked at the menorah. “That’s it? Really? It’s not even that big.”

Aaron squeezed Milo’s hand.

And then, in the neon color-changing light that bounced off their faces from the deliciously tacky Grand Army Plaza Christmas tree, Milo smiled and cupped Aaron’s face. “You feel it too, right? I’m not crazy?”

“You’re not crazy.”

So Milo kissed Aaron and Christmas became a little bit merrier.

The Show and Tell Stories: “Revolution”

KM_ShowandTellShow and Tell is a story about past lives of a Celtic god and his mortal lover. The past lives are unlocked by objects discovered by Dan, a history student, and Malcolm, a reality TV show host. A number of these are shown in the novel, but I didn’t have space for all of them. So, over the next couple of weeks, I’ll be presenting these stories here on the blog. Think of them like deleted scenes. These will eventually be available as one collection in a few different ebook formats, if you want to wait until they are all posted.

Dan and Malcolm visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art and stumble upon a glass bottle made by a colonial American glass artist named Henry Danforth. Getting near the bottle unlocks the memory of a past life of Aengus and Caoimhin, the Celtic god of love and his mortal lover. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Christmas Eve, 1972

Would you like a very short, vaguely Christmas-related story? Of course you would!

A tiny bit of background: I’ve been turning over ideas for a story that takes place in New York in the 70s, and also feeling sort of sad that I didn’t get around to writing a Christmas story this year. Then both of those trains collided, et voila! Here are 830 words on the theme of people who are down on their luck on Christmas Eve, something I apparently keep returning to. So, think of this as New York in the bad old days, Greenwich Village in the wake of Stonewall, a city in decay.

Continue reading

holiday shorts: 1 free, 1 soon

1. If you missed Dreamspinner’s Halloween Howl, it was a promo that went on all October in which authors contributed very short stories that were hidden around the Dreamspinner website. I wrote a story that I thought was maybe not the usual Halloween fare.

Let me explain: I grew up in the Jersey suburbs, in the sort of small but typical town you see on TV. Growing up, Halloween involved going door-to-door in my entirely residential neighborhood with a decorated pillowcase, usually with my best friend at the time and probably my brother, plus maybe some others, with at least one mom in tow. But when I moved to New York City, I discovered it was a different beast entirely. One of the weirdest things to me is that kids trick-or-treat at stores. I guess I can see why—going into a brightly-lit store on a major thoroughfare is safer than going door-to-door on a dark side street—but I still think it’s weird. In Brooklyn, there seem to be lots of weird rules about which houses you can go to. In the neighborhood of Park Slope this year, apparently there was some kind of collective decision that houses with decorations were open to trick-or-treaters, and houses without were not.

This year on Halloween, I was out with a friend on an unrelated errand in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Cobble Hill, which is a cute, quiet, fairly affluent neighborhood. My friend was born and raised in Brooklyn, and as we watched all the kids popping in and out of stores on Court Street, we had a very surreal conversation about Halloween. Mostly it went like this:

HER: Those kids are too old for trick-or-treating.
ME: Aw, come on. You never went trick-or-treating as a teenager? Back home, kids did that all the time. I did when I was sixteen.
HER: In stores?

So you see the fundamental disconnect.

Anyway, now that I’ve veered off topic (participating in NaNoWriMo makes me wordy!) I will say that in my neighborhood, the houses that want trick or treaters send a designated person to sit on the stoop and hand out candy, rather than waiting for kids to come to the door. That’s where the idea for “On the Stoop” came from.

Adrian is experiencing something that I think all transplants to NYC experience at some point, that disillusioned fatigue that comes from the city being harder to deal with than you ever anticipated. (“If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere,” sang my fellow Jerseyan Frankie, and I think it’s really true, because New York will chew you up and spit you right out if you let it.) So he’s wondering if all his pain and suffering and rent money are really worth it as he walks home on Halloween night. Then he sees a handsome older man handing out candy on his stoop. They get to talking.

The story is available for free in PDF right here. Enjoy!

2. I think I’ve mentioned, I have a story in this year’s Dreamspinner Advent Calendar. It’s about a man who is in love with his roommate’s boyfriend. It was inspired in part by a Craigslist Missed Connection post I saw about a year ago, and I was so taken by the idea: the guy posting was in love with his roommate’s boyfriend but the roommate took the boyfriend for granted. A classic conflict, no? That’s where the story comes from.

The whole Advent Calendar collection is available here for pre-order. Individual stories will be available in December.

But if you’re brimming over with excitement, I’ve posted an excerpt for your reading pleasure.