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flowers they'd chipped in for provided the opening they needed. "Look, he's blushing!—All wore out from the honeymoon, I bet.—Hey, Ed! Does it hurt as much as they say when you lose your virginity?"
    In a sense they were right. Marriage had made a difference; after over five years of living together their honeymoon intimacies had felt like a new beginning. The kids were irrepressible, forgot about their own problems for an hour, and spent the whole session on him. He evaded the overly personal questions, while giving them a glimpse into a loving, stable gay relationship that would make their future seem less bleak. It was no secret he'd been in the same boat when he was a kid.
    The director asked him over lunch, "Do you remember Jay Franklin?"
    "I've heard the name, of course. One of your success stories."
    "Like you."
    "If so, you don't lack for success stories. I'm not all that special."
    "You're our first married graduate as far as I know."
    "Oh, you take credit for that, do you?" Ed teased.
    "You know my feelings: It's always the kid who deserves the credit, not me. I'm no less proud for it. But I thought you knew Jay."
    "Not personally. He arrived after I graduated high school, and by the time I got back he'd already turned eighteen and left. What about him?"
    "He called us about the time you left on your trip."
    "It's nice when they keep in touch, isn't it?"
    "I'll say, and Jay especially. I've never seen a kid as fragile as he was when he first came to us. I wondered if he'd ever heal."
    "Traumatized, eh?"
    "Many times over. It took weeks before he'd open up to me, and when he did… But we won't go into that."
    "Of course not; I know you don't betray confidences. How's he doing?"
    "Good, I assume. Still with the same partner. That's longer than you and Cameron. That's not what he called about, though."
    Marc explained how one of Jay's neighbors had passed away and left her house for him and his partner to turn into a home for gay teenagers; how her daughter was contesting the will, and it was possible a small town Southern judge would rule against them.
    "He needs a lawyer? Why not go directly to Lambda?"
    "He already has. He mostly had questions about the house. You know—seeking advice on how to set one up. Because he values my opinion. If it weren't for us, he says, he'd be dead now."
    "Me too."
    Yes, Ed thought, he and Jay had survived; but how long had they been on the streets? A couple of weeks? Cameron, his longtime partner and now his husband, had lived there for years. He was a born survivor.
    "Marc was saying they might have to sell and get another. Zoning regulations. And, speaking about zoning… Are you listening?"
    "Sorry. Yeah, I'm listening. Any idea what the house is worth?
    "At least seventy-five thou, he estimates."
    "Not bad, but they'll need more than a house. Getting it set up for the kids will cost a bundle."
    "Another reason he called—to help him raise money."
    "So what do you intend to do?"
    "Called Lambda first thing. And I've been asking around if there are any special requirements for Georgia and if there are other facilities of that kind in the state."
    "Georgia, is that where Jay is now? Cameron's from Georgia."
    "I didn't know that. I guess I noticed a bit of an accent, but I never thought about it. Hey, do you think we should ask Cameron, him being from Georgia and all?"
    "Ask him what? Cameron isn't licensed to practice in Georgia. And didn't you say Jay already had a lawyer?"
    "You should tell him anyway. I bet it would interest him."
    "Good luck. He swore he'd never set foot in the South again."
    "I didn't mean you should suggest he go there. What're you shaking your head about?"
    "Just that he wouldn't go if I paid him. Cameron's put that part of his life behind him. Even I don't know much about what it was like for him before he came up north."
    That much was true: It was close to impossible to get Cameron to open up on the subject. This successful, strong, and—on the