Faith In Love by Liann Snow Read Free Book Online
Authors: Liann Snow
If I wanted to go somewhere special I would look it up in the local paper, or Don would come up with an idea. (Not that he bothers much anymore.) Now, where would she look? Do they have that kind of thing in the local paper? I bet they don't, though I don't see why not, really. Gay people are people too aren't they?
Anyway, I could have a look there, and then I could look in one of those listing magazines that they have in the newsagent. I'm sure I must be able to find something somewhere and then I'll take a chance on the most likely looking place and go there. Which is going to take a lot of nerve, now I come to think of it. In fact the very thought of it gives me butterflies.
One step at a time though, I might not even be able to find out anything. Maybe it's all on a secret network of leaflets and telephone numbers that I don't know about or else it's written down in ordinary papers and magazines but in some sort of code that's impenetrable to ordinary people.
What if though, it would be printed in such a way that if you did understand it you would know at once and for certain that you were in fact one of them too, even if you didn't think so before that, because as a matter of undeniable scientific fact only gay people could read that particular way of writing? It then becoming unavoidably clear that you are one of them because the language that only gay people can understand is as transparently clear to you as a shop window. What if it turned out to be like that ?
I don't suppose it will do, though. Which may well be a good thing, it was all sounding a bit science-fictionish and creepy, and anyway people might not want to know something unavoidably true like that, something that might change their life even if they don't want it to. (That might have been what happened with Phil's wife. She might not have wanted to know. But of course I'm only going on half a story that Don picked up somewhere and I don't really know what happened there. Perhaps that wasn't why they separated at all. Don always said I let my imagination run away with me.) But what if Don could read this secret language that only gay people could read, if it existed? Or me ? What if I could?
I wouldn't have to tell any one though, would I? I would still have a choice wouldn't I? I wouldn't have to live a life that would put me on the edge of society would I? The kind of life that would give people an excuse to hate me? I don't think I would be able to do that – not unless I was feeling especially brave. Maybe then I could.
"Oh, sorry, Pearl. What were you saying?"
Tuesday, February 22
Faith is in bed. Next to her, her husband is snoring. Faith gets up. Goes to the mirror on the dresser. Opens her nightie.
"Not bad for my age," Faith thinks. "He wouldn't know though would he? Doesn't even look most times. Just sticks it in. Doesn't need to look, I suppose. Knows where everything is by now."
Closes her nightie. Climbs back into bed, not as warm as before. "Thought that Valentine Day stuff might have changed things. The lingerie I bought was just the kind of tarty outfit women wear in his videos. I thought it would make more of an impression than it did. To begin with, I certainly got his full attention. Didn't last, though. Back to his old tricks right away. The direct route is the shortest, so I suppose I can't blame him for taking it, but every time?
Women together ... what would that be like ... couldn't be any worse than him can it? Haven't "got anything" though... as they say ... bread and bread ... Still, in those films of his they seem to enjoy themselves. Then the man comes in. What if he didn't, though? What would happen then?
Don't look like real women, those girls in the films. All tarted up in suspender belts and long bleached hair and shiny, slippery looking
Anyway, I could have a look there, and then I could look in one of those listing magazines that they have in the newsagent. I'm sure I must be able to find something somewhere and then I'll take a chance on the most likely looking place and go there. Which is going to take a lot of nerve, now I come to think of it. In fact the very thought of it gives me butterflies.
One step at a time though, I might not even be able to find out anything. Maybe it's all on a secret network of leaflets and telephone numbers that I don't know about or else it's written down in ordinary papers and magazines but in some sort of code that's impenetrable to ordinary people.
What if though, it would be printed in such a way that if you did understand it you would know at once and for certain that you were in fact one of them too, even if you didn't think so before that, because as a matter of undeniable scientific fact only gay people could read that particular way of writing? It then becoming unavoidably clear that you are one of them because the language that only gay people can understand is as transparently clear to you as a shop window. What if it turned out to be like that ?
I don't suppose it will do, though. Which may well be a good thing, it was all sounding a bit science-fictionish and creepy, and anyway people might not want to know something unavoidably true like that, something that might change their life even if they don't want it to. (That might have been what happened with Phil's wife. She might not have wanted to know. But of course I'm only going on half a story that Don picked up somewhere and I don't really know what happened there. Perhaps that wasn't why they separated at all. Don always said I let my imagination run away with me.) But what if Don could read this secret language that only gay people could read, if it existed? Or me ? What if I could?
I wouldn't have to tell any one though, would I? I would still have a choice wouldn't I? I wouldn't have to live a life that would put me on the edge of society would I? The kind of life that would give people an excuse to hate me? I don't think I would be able to do that – not unless I was feeling especially brave. Maybe then I could.
"Oh, sorry, Pearl. What were you saying?"
Tuesday, February 22
Faith is in bed. Next to her, her husband is snoring. Faith gets up. Goes to the mirror on the dresser. Opens her nightie.
"Not bad for my age," Faith thinks. "He wouldn't know though would he? Doesn't even look most times. Just sticks it in. Doesn't need to look, I suppose. Knows where everything is by now."
Closes her nightie. Climbs back into bed, not as warm as before. "Thought that Valentine Day stuff might have changed things. The lingerie I bought was just the kind of tarty outfit women wear in his videos. I thought it would make more of an impression than it did. To begin with, I certainly got his full attention. Didn't last, though. Back to his old tricks right away. The direct route is the shortest, so I suppose I can't blame him for taking it, but every time?
Women together ... what would that be like ... couldn't be any worse than him can it? Haven't "got anything" though... as they say ... bread and bread ... Still, in those films of his they seem to enjoy themselves. Then the man comes in. What if he didn't, though? What would happen then?
Don't look like real women, those girls in the films. All tarted up in suspender belts and long bleached hair and shiny, slippery looking