Ep. 6: Pride Comes Before a Fall
By the first week of June, the Marmalade District was draped in rainbow everything.
Flags fluttered from porches. Crosswalks bloomed with color. The city pretended, briefly, to love them all. Utah Pride was coming, and with it, a strange sense of permission. Visibility was no longer optional; it was unavoidable.
Eli taped a Pride schedule to the fridge like it was a religious calendar. “Parade on Sunday. Dyke March Friday. Block party Saturday. Healing brunch Monday.”
Mateo grinned. “I’m working the Pride shift. Drunk allies everywhere.”
Nora and Paige were coordinating outfits with military precision. “We are not matching,” Paige said.
“We are coordinating,” Nora corrected.
Even Jonah seemed lighter. The tension Grant had introduced still hovered, but Pride week wrapped the house in defiance. They would not be quiet. They would not be discreet.
Grant, of course, noticed.
The first violation came Monday.
A printed notice taped to the door: Unauthorized exterior decorations.
It referred to the Pride flag.
Paige took it down, photographed it, and put the flag back up — higher.
The second came Wednesday.
Excessive foot traffic observed.
It was just friends stopping by to plan parade meetups, but Grant watched from next door, arms folded, phone out.
“Wave,” Alex suggested.
Mateo did more than wave.
Friday night, after the Dyke March, the house filled with laughter and glitter and bodies slumped happily on every available surface. Music played, not loud, just joyful. Someone cried in the kitchen about chosen family. Someone else kissed someone they definitely shouldn’t have.
At 9:47 p.m., there was a knock.
Not the doorbell. A knock-knock-knock that meant business.
Grant stood there, flanked by a uniformed police officer.
“Noise complaint,” Grant said pleasantly.
The officer looked past him at the living room at the rainbow, the couples, the very obvious queerness of it all. He sighed.
“It’s not that loud,” the officer said. “And it’s before ten.”
Grant’s smile cracked. “Perhaps you’d like to note the gathering size.”
The officer glanced around again. “They’re allowed guests.”
Paige stepped forward. “Officer, just so you’re aware, Utah law prohibits discrimination based on sexual orientation. We’re documenting selective enforcement.”
The officer raised an eyebrow. “Good to know.”
Grant’s face flushed.
After they left, the house erupted in cheers.
But later, when the glitter had settled, and everyone was half-asleep, Eli’s phone buzzed again.
“Enjoy Pride. It ends soon. —G”
Sunday morning, parade day, they gathered on the porch in rainbow chaos. The street buzzed with energy.
Across the way, Grant’s house was bare.
No flags. No signs.
Just Grant, standing on his porch, watching.
Then a woman approached him, clipboard in hand, badge visible.
Grant stiffened.
Paige squinted. “Is that…?”
Nora smiled slowly. “Fair Housing.”
Grant looked over at their house.
For the first time, he didn’t smile.
The parade horns sounded in the distance.
And Grant’s phone rang.
