Avery was doing her civic duty as an early voting election worker when a voter with an identification issue led her down the path to love, marriage, and proving the power of eastern style BBQ to lead to a proposal.
Politics can be tricky and lead to unprecedented outcomes. But when a chance meeting leads to exploring shared college marching band memories and favorite Southern authors, will Avery find herself casting a ballot to vote yes to taking a chance on love with a Mx?
“You were in the band. So was I.” Avery aimed to play the cool professional role, but her giddiness escaped before she could stop it from raising her voice a few octaves. “What instrument did you play?”
“Saxophone. My father was a Charlie Parker and Coltrane fan and passed it down to me. I just knew I would be the next Branford Marsalis. How about you?”
Damn, they got a pretty mouth. Teeth look like four out of five dentists agree that brushing twice daily is the way to go.
Cary’s question brought Avery back to reality. “Would you believe I played the trombone? When your last name is Walker, and you go in alphabetical order to pick an instrument in middle school, pickings can get slim. Still, it helped me pay for college, which wasn’t bad. I like to think I was good at it, but that was close to two decades ago. It was fun while it lasted.”
“I agree, it’s nothing like that band life,” Cary said. Then the two said in unison, “One Band, One Sound.” They paused and then broke into laughter.
Their outburst drew the attention of the baker’s dozen of voters and election workers scattered across the room, especially Thelma, who glared. Avery detected a slight cough from Graham’s direction. Avery could tell Graham was paying attention to how long the provisional process was taking, but it wasn’t like there was a line seeking her assistance.
“So you were in a band fraternity, which one? Kappa Kappa Psi?”
Cary paused, then responded in a lower voice. “No, Tau Beta Sigma.”
Avery recognized the name of the honorary band sorority and assumed they/them probably used different pronouns while in college. Hoping to put them at ease, she shared she dated a member of that same sorority in college.
“She was a flute player, and yes, she had some racy ‘one time at band camp’ stories, but nothing compared to American Pie. Her experience was more Drumline. But I know you didn’t come here to swap band stories. So, let’s get you started with this voting process Mx. Lowell,” Avery responded in a tone that she meant to confirm how serious she was taking the provisional process.
“Call me Cary. You have all my important information in front of you. The least you can do is call me by my name. I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.”
“Avery, like Brooks or Shug, depending on your cultural reference point.” She paused from filling out the voting paper worker to focus on the conversation. She could make small talk with the best of them, but Avery was genuinely interested in what Cary had to say. It wasn’t just because their lips made such sensual shapes.
“I’m a Trekkie, so my point of reference would be Avery Brooks, who played Captain Sisko on Deep Space Nine.” Cary leaned forward, and the whiff of cologne that had piqued Avery’s interest earlier beckoned her even more. Avery knew she was there to serve the public and do a job, but a sharp-dressed and good-looking person was an afternoon delight she appreciated having the opportunity to savor.
