Jordan went quiet. He thought about his own novels. The heroes were always brave and stoic; the heroines, beautiful and nurturing. They kissed in the rain. But he'd never written a scene where two men simply made breakfast together, stealing bites of toast and laughing about a silly dream.
The turning point came when Jordan’s new novel, "Shutter and Ink," was published. On the cover was one of Alex's photos: a close-up of their hands intertwined over a kitchen counter, a half-eaten pie between them. Pictures sex- relationships sex gays- school.
And every night, after the gallery shows and the book signings, they would come home. Alex would take a candid shot of Jordan cooking. Jordan would write a single sentence about the sound of Alex’s laugh. And in those tiny, unglamorous moments, they built a love story that was, finally, completely their own. Jordan went quiet
Alex smiled. "They've been together forty-two years. Met in college when it was still illegal in most states. That 'comfortable silence' took decades of work." They kissed in the rain
"It's another film," Alex countered. "The gay best friend who dies of AIDS. The tragic, closeted politician. The punchline of a joke. Where are the pictures of us just... grocery shopping? Arguing about whose turn it is to do the dishes? Falling asleep on the couch watching bad reality TV?"
