Closets aren’t for people.
And Cal is tired of the secrets and lies.
He came out as bisexual years ago, but his parents dismissed it as a phase. They don’t know he dated men. But his boyfriend, Philip, is on his way to celebrate the holidays with them.
This is the perfect moment. The whole family is in one place. And Philip has been very patient. Cal dreams of a kiss to ring in the New Year, but he’s not sure how everyone will react to his coming out.
What will make Cal step out of the closet for good?
Feathers from the Sky is a MM Romance novella about coming out again after everyone assumes being bisexual is just a phase, so they promptly forget. It’s packed with heartwarming holiday fun and games, returning home, opposites attract, and a whole lot more.
Original Review January 2015:
Talk about a family gathering for Christmas and all under one roof. Cal is prepared to let his family know about the love of his life, Phillip over the holiday season but after being dealt a blow to his memories with the upcoming sale of his childhood home, will he still go through with the grand reveal? A tale of family, fun, love, truth, memories, and holiday merriment. Beautifully written by an author new to me but I will definitely be checking out some of her other work.RATING:
One
THERE WERE twenty . . . thirty . . . fifty people at my parents’ house. At least it felt that way.
There were really fourteen of us jammed into the modest 1950s ranch.
Half that space was the basement, and half of that was an unfinished furnace/storage room. So we had three quarters of the house to use.
Minus the kitchen, because Mom was cooking lunch and wanted us to stay out of her way.
To say we were packed in like sardines was an understatement, especially with the collection of retro furniture stuffed in every spare corner. Add to that enough toys to fill a preschool classroom, along with portable cribs for the twins and even two high chairs, and the space got even tighter.
It was ridiculous.
Making matters worse, we were going on five days living like this. The festive cheer of Christmas week had worn off three days ago, the second the wrapping paper from the gifts had been stuffed in trash bags and hauled outside. To make more room, of course.
Put a fork in me; I’m done.
I shot a text off to my friend Miya before I lost my shit.
Cal: Why the fuck did I decide to spend my entire vacation here?
I knew she’d understand my plight without me having to expound any further.
Miya: Because we love our families? Because we love that our parents were fruitful and multiplied?
Yeah. She got it.
Cal: I never liked multiplication.
Miya: Five more days, Cal. We can both make it thru New Year’s.
Cal: Are you sure?
I really didn’t know if I could.
All I got back was a curt Yes, so the conversation was over.
I was the fourth of seven kids. An introvert surrounded by extroverts. Also the middle child, stuck either negotiating or being ignored. Classic. Except I wasn’t being ignored at all this trip. More attention had been sent my way than in all my twenty-six years combined, and it was the type that made me want to run.
“When are you gonna settle down?”
“Are you dating?”
“You got a girlfriend?”
“What are you looking for in a woman?”
A man wasn’t an answer my be-fruitful-and-multiply parents wanted to hear. I’d come out as bisexual when I was sixteen but then dated a girl. So after my big reveal, my coming out was brushed under the rug. And I helped keep it there.
After graduation, I’d moved to a city where I could spread my wings and explore without news traveling back to the conservative farmland of south-central Minnesota. College in the tree-filled Iron Range seemed like a good place to hide. Duluth and the North Shore had been perfect for me.
The first person I was serious about was a woman. Same with the second. My parents heard about both of them.
But then I dated a man. My parents didn’t hear a thing about him.
After all the questions thrown at me on this trip home, I was beginning to wonder if they even remembered me coming out. Did they assume my coming out meant I was attracted to men, thought they were nice to look at but I was completely hands off, only appreciating from afar? Cuz . . . nope. I’d appreciated a lot of men up close and personal.
But now I was with Philip. Philip Sherman. I loved his name.
Philip.
It felt good in my mouth. He felt good in my mouth too.
“Mommy! Mackie stoleded my woobie!” my three-year-old nephew, Jaycee, screamed at the top of his lungs. Then his fake cry started, growing and growing until it resembled a wailing siren.
My sister Jen came to my rescue. “Jaycee, use your inside voice! And remember, your cousins are only one. Mackenzie and Ella don’t know any better.” She gave me an apologetic smile despite Jaycee not being her kid: Mackenzie was.
She knew I couldn’t stand the crying jags and temper tantrums. I’d struggled my whole life tolerating them. I’d even hated the melodramatic teenage moments. I just . . . disliked children, even when I’d been one myself.
I grew up in a family with seven kids, but we weren’t kids anymore aside from Jackson, who was seventeen. My parents were crazy. Seven kids in sixteen years. Jennifer, Christopher, Jessica, Calvin—that’s me—Justine, Corey, and Jackson. Oh, and the elusive cat, Charlotte.
Did you catch that? J. C. J. C. J. C. J. C.
Mom and Dad were named Jacqueline and Charles. Pretty sick, huh?
And then my oldest brother just had to go and name his kid Jaycee.
Jesus Christ!
At least Jen broke the stupid chain.
Jaycee ran up to Mackenzie and tore his woobie out of her hands and ran away giggling with glee as he hugged the stuffed dog. Little shit. Mackenzie let out a wail, and Ella wasn’t far behind. Jen bowled me over on her way to reprimand Jaycee, and the linen closet doorknob screwed painfully into my back.
This house is a zoo.
Liquor. That was the answer for moments like these, even if it wasn’t quite ten in the morning.
Day drinking is acceptable during the holidays, right?
Then I remembered the liquor cabinet was bare. So was the beer fridge in the basement.
I couldn’t relax alone in my bedroom either because I shared it with two younger brothers. Corey was listening to some sort of music mockery that spilled past his earbuds, and Jackson was talking to his girlfriend about who knows what, right there in the one place that could possibly be my sanctuary.
Outside. It had to be outside, then. For a half second I considered escaping to my old fort, but it was likely buried under a foot of snow.
Fuck it all. I’d shovel the damn driveway and then walk to the liquor store to get something to help me calm the fuck down. Anything to get some peace.
I bent to put on my boots. “Calgon, take me away,” I said, words my mom used to whisper under her breath when she’d had a shitty day. I had no idea what they meant, but I said them nonetheless.
“Need a little thinking space?” Mom asked with a knowing smile. Her long hair was pulled back into a twist of gray and blonde. Her smile was warm, revealing her beauty.
“Yeah. I’m exhausted listening to all this.”
“I know, honey. Are you going on a walk?”
“I need to shovel first, but yeah. Eventually. We’ll all want to get out of here at some point, and we got at least six inches last night. The plow came by too.” I shrugged, and she just nodded as she wiped her hands on her apron.
“I’ll make you some hot chocolate when you come back in. It’ll warm you up.”
“Thanks.” I slipped into my coat and then found a decent pair of gloves and a warm hat in the huge basket in the front closet. I didn’t bother looking in the mirror to see if the Fair Isle hat looked stupid on me or not. At least it had earflaps to keep me warm.
As soon as the heavy door snicked shut, pure silence enveloped me. I just stood there and allowed it to sink into me until I was almost deaf with it. It was punctuated by a vehicle on the interstate a few miles away, but otherwise, the insulation of the snow absorbed all sound.
I took a deep breath and smelled the cold. I loved that scent. It was clean and fresh, and I liked how it bit at my nose as I inhaled. Puffs of condensation billowed around my head with each exhalation. It was even more frigid now the snow had stopped.
I grabbed the shovel leaning against the house and cleared the drifts the wind had settled on the front step. I shoveled my way to the driveway, hearing nothing but the scrape of my shovel and the puff of powdery snow landing on even more powdery snow. I was easily mesmerized by the monotony of my task, which was exactly what I needed.
A snow blower started up down the street, destroying my peace. Mr. Arndt’s son was directing a cloud of white into their yard. I stared for a few minutes as the noise-polluter ate it up and spit it out with ease. He’d be done long before I was, but he was missing out on all the beauty shoveling offered.
We’d never been able to afford a snow blower. Even if we could’ve, Dad wouldn’t pay for one because “it’s just another contraption that runs on gas, consumes oil, and needs to be maintained.” When you had nine mouths to feed on a professor’s salary, it made sense. Besides, he had seven kids who could get outside and move it by hand. Get us all out there at once, and the driveway and sidewalks would be cleared in ten minutes, until we’d mess it all up again with a snowball fight or the snowman family we had to build if the snow was just right.
We’d had a lot of fun times like that in the winter, not to mention the water-balloon and squirt-gun fights we’d had in the summer. Outdoors, I could handle the chaos much better than inside the house.
My cell phone rang, so I dug in my jeans to answer it. Philip’s gorgeous eyes smiled up at me before I tapped Accept.
“Hi,” I said in a sultry voice I would’ve been teased for if I’d used it anywhere near my siblings.
“Hi, sexy. How’s today going so far?” Philip sounded happy and relaxed.
“I’m out shoveling. Does that tell you anything?”
“It got to be too much. You needed a break.” He knew me better than anyone, aside from my mom, maybe. We’d been living together for well over a year, and he’d witnessed my reaction to large crowds.
I could be sociable. I make it sound as if I’m this turd who wants to be holed up alone editing photos all day long. That’s not really true. Most days.
Although at the moment, that sounded like a wonderful idea.
I loved socializing, up to a point. Philip and I could go to a party or a club in downtown Minneapolis and mingle for hours, but then I needed to go back home to recover. All those bodies energized Philip. They exhausted me. So I partied in small doses, and Philip got that. Other boyfriends and girlfriends had chided me for being a buzz kill, but never Philip.
We were raised in different worlds, Philip traveling the globe with his parents, his dad’s business requiring him to schmooze clients at each stop. So Philip learned to charm everyone in his path at a very early age and was comfortable being the center of attention. Despite lighting up every room he entered, Philip understood my reticence to stand in the spotlight, and I loved him for that.
He was the visual arts guy for his father’s marketing department. That’s how we met. He’d wanted to buy some of my photos for an ad campaign. We ended up meeting for drinks so he could see more of my portfolio. Even the din of the pub’s lunch rush had been too much that day, so I’d invited him back to my place. The rest is history.
So he knew my quirk from the start.
“I figured if I shoveled the driveway, I could walk to the liquor store,” I said with a chuckle. “Trust me, we all need something to deal with the noise.”
“Earplugs for all?”
“The toddler screeches are too powerful for that.”
Philip chuckled. “You could drive to the liquor store, ya know?”
“Nah. It’s only three miles, and it’s sort of gorgeous out. You know when the snow is so pristine, it sparkles the moment light hits it? I’m bringing my camera along so I can capture that.”
“I can’t wait to see.”
Butterflies swarmed in my belly. “I can’t wait for you to be here. When do you think you’ll make it?”
“I plan to leave as soon as my laundry is done. If the roads are good, I can probably make it there by about two or so. Or is that too early?”
“No. That’s perfect. Don’t be stupid trying to get here fast, though. Take advantage of the peace while you still have a chance.”
“Surely being all together makes it chaotic,” he said with one of his wise laughs that really meant Don’t worry. I won’t judge.
“Text me when you’re close?”
“Sure. Remind me of the landmarks again?”
“Use your GPS, but the Jolly Green Giant will be on your right. He’s huge; you won’t miss him. Turn before the football field, follow the curve by the pool, and then it’ll feel like you drove out in the country, but you’re just getting to our division. At Round Robin Lane you’ll find the house. It’s the only red one on the block. Bright turquoise door. Call me if you get lost.”
“Thanks. Are you really ready for this? Ready to introduce me for real this time?”
I had to be. I bit my lip but nodded. “Yep. It’s time.”
“Good. I can’t wait. I love you.”
“Love you too,” I whispered down the line before I heard it disconnect.
The screen door slammed behind me, nearly sending my heart through my chest. Way to ruin the blanket of snowy quiet.
“Whatcha doing?” Justine asked. She was three years younger than me.
“Just shoveling. I’m heading to the liquor store after.”
“Oh good! Can I come too?”
I’d really wanted to go alone, but I nodded. “Sure. I’m walking though.”
“Are you fucking crazy? In this tit-freezing cold? That’s like six miles there and back. Your nipple piercings will give you frostbite.”
I chuckled. She shivered, looked at my chest, then protectively cupped her breasts. I rolled my eyes and said, “I’m warm enough.”
“Let’s drive. I’ll even drive if you want.”
“Fine.” I could always go on a walk later.
“So, who were you talking to?” she asked.
“Philip.”
“Cool. What’s going on in his world?”
My family knew we were living together, but only as roommates. I’d never defined our relationship beyond that and allowed them to live in ignorance. For the siblings who’d been to our place, they didn’t question anything because our bedroom was upstairs in our two-bedroom apartment. They’d never been up there to see that one room was filled by a king-size bed and the other one was an office. I’d let them assume we each had a bedroom. Photos of Philip and me were scattered around the main level of the apartment, but to avoid awkward questions, only the PG shots.
Philip and I had been together for nearly three years, living together the last year and a half, and I was tired of hiding.
I was tired of hiding large parts of our relationship.
But mostly, I was tired of hiding how much I loved that man.
“Did you hear me?” Justine asked. “I said, what’s going on with Philip?”
“He just got back from Tokyo.”
“He spent Christmas in Tokyo?” she asked as if it were the strangest concept in the world.
“Yep. He wanted to spend time with his parents.” Because I was here and didn’t want to ruin our Christmas if everything went to shit, I left unsaid.
“He’s had the most interesting life.”
“He’s probably traveled more in the last twenty-five years than I ever will.”
“I’m jealous.” She looked dreamy.
“Me too, but he brings home new recipes every time he travels. It’s not quite the same as eating in the heart of Tuscany, but still.” I warmed as I thought of the last time Philip and I had traveled together. We’d spent a lazy morning fucking, feeding each other, sunbathing, and fucking some more.
“Must be nice.”
“Mmmm. It is.”
“I wonder what he’ll bring home for you this time. Come on, then,” Justine said with a smile. “Let’s get the rest of this shoveling done so we can go buy some booze. Maybe we can find some Japanese beer for our own little Taste of Tokyo right here.” She winked and grabbed another shovel from the garage.
It didn’t take long once Corey joined us. Every walking surface around the entire house was cleared off, including the back patio. We dug the cars out from where the snowplow had buried them. Now people could drive to town, not that there was anything to do there. I even shoveled a path out to the woodpile so we could easily chop and haul wood inside without having to lace up snow boots.
Then Justine and I drove out toward the interstate to pick up liquor. The house had been dry for two days, so when we arrived with bottles in hand, my family practically cheered. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who’d been craving booze.
“Do you still want that hot chocolate?” my mom asked, and I decided to take her up on it. Everyone else of age was cracking open beer bottles. Considering Philip was going to be there in a few hours, I decided to skip the alcohol.
It was strange how tranquil the house became after everyone had a drink in them. All the rough edges had been worn smooth, and inconsequential things were ignored rather than pounced on. Dad put some mellow music on to solidify the vibe, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he passed me. It was folk music, and the scratchy sound of his record player made me smile. I sank into the cozy chair as I finished my hot chocolate, enjoying the moment, and then took my empty mug into the kitchen. That record player reminded me of being a kid.
Peace and quiet. Home.
Finally. It only took five days.
Posy writes romance where beautifully complicated men find themselves on the way to happily ever afters.
Posy Roberts started reading romance when she was young, but textbooks eventually replaced the novels, and for years she somehow existed without reading for fun. When she finally picked up a romance years later, it was like slipping on a soft hoodie . . . that didn’t fit quite right. She wanted something more.
Now she wanted to read about queer people falling in love. She wanted to explore beyond the happily ever after and watch characters navigate the unpredictability of life as they created their happy homes and discovered their found families. So Posy sat down at her keyboard to write the books she wanted to read.
Her stories have been USA Today’s “Happily Ever After” Must-Reads and Rainbow Award finalists. When she’s not writing, she’s editing for other LGBTQ+ romance authors, spending time with loved ones, and doing anything possible to stay out of the kitchen.
iTUNES / KOBO / B&N / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: posywrites@gmail.com
