At the 2007 HOW Benefit in Provincetown, Radclyffe asked the panelists to read an excerpt from their work that characterized their style. I chose this one from Mulligan, as I felt it best exemplified my efforts to cast my characters as people readers might know in their own lives.

For context, Louise Stevens is struggling to make the most of retirement, having lost the love of her life only three years earlier. Golf pro Marty Beck has re-lit the fires of love, and is showing Lou the joys of living and loving out of the closet that has defined her life. This is a flashback to the day Lou's first lover died, a memory that underscores the contrast.

October 1998

Ted Meyer sat at Louise’s kitchen table, nursing his fourth cup of coffee since returning from the hospital, where Rhonda’s body had been taken to await pickup by a funeral home. All afternoon, he had talked quietly with Louise about what had happened today.

Louise admitted she had been nagging Rhonda for the last few days to see a doctor about her red face and shortness of breath. “I should have insisted.”

“You didn’t know, Louise. And Rhonda must not have thought it was serious either, or she would have gone. It was just one of those things.”

Off and on into the evening, the phone rang with calls from Linda and Shirley, from Rhonda’s relatives and Hiram, and from other teachers who just wanted to know Louise was all right.

“I want you to come stay the night with Dottie and me, Lou. You shouldn’t be at home alone at a time like this.”

“Thank you, but I need to be here.”

“Then why don’t I stay here too? Or if you’d rather have Dottie, I’ll call her.”

“I appreciate it, Ted, but I’ll be all right. I have so many things to do. And Rhonda’s sister and her husband are on their way from Wilkes-Barre right now. I’m sure they’ll stay with me tonight.”

“I can wait with you until they get here.”

“It’s okay. I’d...if you don’t mind, I think I’d just like to be alone for a while.” Louise could read the reluctance in his face, but she kept up her strong visage. The longer he stayed, the more anxious she grew about the state of things upstairs.

“Are you sure?”

“I am. I really appreciate everything you’ve done today.”

“If you need anything...”

“I know. Thank you.”

She followed her old friend to the door where they embraced, both fighting back sobs for just an instant. Then he was gone, and Louise closed the door. The clock on the mantle said nine-thirty. Rhonda’s sister Helen would be here in about an hour with her husband, Jack. That wasn’t much time.

Louise scanned the living room and study for any stray notes or pictures. It was rare for people to drop by unannounced, but it happened on occasion, so they were always careful to keep their personal things in their bedrooms upstairs.

There were only two bedrooms in the old house. Helen and Jack would probably want to stay in “Rhonda’s room.”

Louise hurried into the room and opened the dresser drawers on the right side. She scooped out all of her underwear and nightclothes and carried the armload to “her bedroom,” where she dropped it in the middle of the bed. Rhonda’s jeans and sweatshirts were in the bottom drawer of the bureau, and Louise deftly made the switch. That took care of their clothes...except for her robe and house slippers in the closet of the other bedroom, which she retrieved and stored in her own closet. Next, she swapped the contents of the nightstands so all of her personal items were now in the seldom-used room, and all of Rhonda’s were in the room they had shared.

That left only the boxes in the closet—the boxes that held their mementos of thirty-one years together.

Louise climbed onto the stepstool and pushed aside stacks of sweaters to reveal two large gray strongboxes. One was heavy, jam-packed with birthday cards, Valentines, anniversary and holiday cards, and the love letters they sometimes wrote to one another to heal a hurt or to celebrate a happy occasion. The other box held souvenirs and their private photos, like those Linda and Shirley had taken of the two of them together during rare carefree moments. These were moments in which they had dropped their guard to stand arm in arm, or to lounge in a loving embrace. Over their years together, Louise and Rhonda had talked many times of these boxes, beginning most conversations with that ominous phrase, “If anything ever happens to one of us...” With Rhonda’s family totally in the dark about their relationship, it was imperative that Louise fulfill her partner’s wishes.

One at a time, Louise carried the boxes to her bedroom. Locating a key beneath a lamp, she unlocked a trunk at the foot of her bed and removed two quilts, creating enough space for the boxes. When they were secured, she pushed the key into her pocket. No one would ever know their memories.

Last, she stopped in the hallway to pick up fresh linens for their bed, the one Helen and Jack would sleep in. As she folded back the comforter, the faint scent of Rhonda’s perfume wafted up from the sheets. Louise jumped back, fighting the hard knot that formed in her throat as the horrible reality jolted her. Taking a deep breath to steady her resolve, she stripped the bed. With quiet determination, she replaced the sheets, added the quilt and bedspread from the other bed, and swapped the pillows. She then remade her other bed with the old sheets...the ones that smelled of Rhonda.