To keep his mother off his back, Fox struggles to live life as a straight man. Following his failed marriage, he thinks he’s found a piece of heaven when he meets Audrey, a sexy dark-haired beauty. When he’s introduced to her twin brother, his life turns upside down. Mrs. Jones, a regular shopper at Fox’s quaint neighborhood bookstore, steps in to referee the fall-out. Can Fox maintain relationships with both Audrey and her brother? Can a late night train chase bring Fox closer to the one he loves? How far will Fox’s mother go to keep her son tight in her clutches?
It was shortly after lunch on Friday that Mrs. Jones came in. Although she had shown such tenderness to Audrey, I was still in fear and awe of this woman. To me she was curt and demanding. I still dreaded Fridays on account of her. Today she barged through the door: middle aged, shaped like a tank, with a formidable purse that I suspected she could brandish as a weapon if she so chose. I shamefully admit that I hid, shaking, in the back room. I remained hidden behind the door as I watched through the space under the hinge.
She marched straight over to Tommie, who was innocently concentrating in his chair, bent over his laptop. He didn’t stand a chance.
“You, there!”
Tommie looked up and scanned the shop. Not finding me, he sacrificed himself for the greater cause.
“Yes?”
“Tommie?”
He said something I couldn’t hear then he looked around the shop again, I supposed in a vain hope that I might come rescue him. I saw him take a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable. Poor man didn’t have a clue what he was up against. I knew I should come out of hiding, but so help me, I didn’t have the strength. I had been dealing with her on my own every Friday for over a year, and my morbid curiosity wanted to see what she could do to someone else.
“What can I help you with, Ms. ––?
“Mrs. Jones.” She said it decisively and firmly. No question about it, she was Mrs. Jones. Like no other, she stood like a rock.
He nodded and snapped his laptop shut. “What can I help you with, Mrs. Jones?” When he stood, her eyes scanned down his body like a CT scan, slowly taking in and savoring every inch carefully.
He carried his laptop and set it on the shelf under the front counter. Mrs. Jones took in the view from behind, her head tilted thoughtfully.
I remained silent. This was getting interesting. I was seeing a side of Mrs. Jones I hadn’t known existed. I was anxious to see if Tommie could handle her.
“Well,” she said a bit breathlessly. “Tommie, your jeans are a bit tight.” He turned slowly, but her eyes settled on his midsection, centering on the zipper of his jeans.
“My eyes are up here, Mrs. Jones.”
“Totally inappropriate!” But her eyes still wandered appreciatively over Tommie’s landscape.
“Very well, Mrs. Jones,” I saw him smile pleasantly then ask, “But may I help you find something?”
I didn’t hear what she said, but to my dismay, he led her to the closet where my adult books were stashed. I almost came out to prevent the disaster that I anticipated, but instead of indignation, within moments they returned to the front desk, and I watched as he rang up her purchases. She had chosen several books.
“I hope you enjoy these, Mrs. Jones.”
“You’ve been most helpful, Tommie, not like that naughty Fox that you work for.”
She waved goodbye happily and blew him a kiss as she went out the door, her purchases held tightly to her ample chest.
“Coward!” I assumed he was talking to me, although he didn’t look up.
Tell us something no one else knows about your title.
When I came out in my late forties, this was a phrase I said many times. “Please Understand…
“…that I am always the same person you’ve always known and trusted.”
…that my family values mean that I cannot disrespect my girlfriend by hiding my love for her.”
…that you don’t have to become gay yourself in order to maintain a friendship with me.”
…you won’t contaminate yourself or your faith to allow me in your home or life.”
And the list goes on. It seemed reasonable then, that Tommie would use this phrase throughout the story. It seemed reasonable then, that I could use it in the title to once again ask the world to Please Understand.
What inspires you in life or in writing?
As Toni, in our writer support group says on a daily basis, “It’s all research.” I had to buy new gutters for my 110 year old house. She responds, “It’s all research.” I overheard someone call me lazy, because I stay home and write all day. Toni responds, “It’s all research.” I was complaining about my hair. We all respond, “It’s all research!” Everything around me goes into the pot I paint from. It’s all research, it’s all inspiration. But, of course, my cat thinks he is the source of all my inspiration. You can see him on Instagram @Faidrah.
What is the most important thing about your subject/genre that people need to know?
The most important thing about the gay romance genre is that love is love. Society seems to suspect that gay love feels different somehow, surely not as real as hetero love. That it’s somehow second best, or less. I can assure you—it’s real, it’s intense, and it’s strong.
How did you become involved in the subject/theme of your book?
The theme of Please Understand is dear to my heart. Two people of the same gender fall in love. My own story is not the same as this, but it was still dramatic for me. Halfway through my life I fell in love with my best friend. I had been a church secretary for five years at a very conservative fundamentalist church. My love was the pastor’s daughter. You can imagine how well that went over. But she and I are married now, still together, still happy. We’ve learned to live without the people who were once close to us. We survive, we thrive. Both of our sons are supportive.
What famous person (living or dead) would you like to meet and why?
I would like to meet Marilyn Monroe. She is a woman that has always fascinated me, and I would love to get a glimpse into the real person. If she lived now, and not as a fifties or sixties bombshell sex goddess, who would she be?
Fai Dawson lives in a small town thirty miles northeast of Seattle Washington in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains with her beloved wife, Becky. Together, they work on restoring their 110-year-old Victorian home. She spends her days writing, blogging and walking Moxie, their Newfie-Chow through the rainy streets of town. Pepe, a brave and proud tuxedo cat is her muse, ever mindful of providing inspiration for her next project. Although she has filled countless journals in her life, she began writing seriously in 2009 as a way to deal with anxiety. She is currently working on her next manuscript.
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