E-Mail This Article to a Friend To have and to hold (continued) BY KRISTEN LOMBARDI

A tale of two fathers

Gary Chalmers, a 37-year-old teacher from Whitinsville, is reminded regularly of the things that he and his family do not have because he cannot marry the person he loves. There are the pages of documents that he and his partner of 15 years, Richard Linnell, a 40-year-old nurse, must lug around with them whenever they leave the house — so they’re assured the right to see each other in an emergency. There is the money the couple spends — $200 a month — on a family-health-insurance policy provided by Chalmers’s employer, the Shrewsbury Public Schools. But because the Town of Shrewsbury does not recognize domestic partnerships, the policy covers only Chalmers and the couple’s daughter, Paige, who is 11. And so, they must shell out an additional $300 monthly fee for an individual plan for Linnell. That’s $3600 that could go toward Paige’s college fund. It’s $3600 that married people would never pay. "It is," says Chalmers, "a source of constant frustration."

And then, there is the property. Linnell purchased the Northbridge home in which he and his five brothers and five sisters — he’s the youngest of 11 — were raised. But he cannot list his own partner on the deed, since the two are not married. To list Chalmers, who is, in essence, a legal stranger, he’d have to fork out what he terms a "substantial sum." For Linnell, it’s yet another frustration the couple must endure.

Such discriminatory treatment is what brought the pair to the Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders (GLAD), in Boston, where they discovered they weren’t alone. At the time, GLAD had received hundreds of similar complaints from gay and lesbian couples across Massachusetts, and was considering legal strategies. Although Linnell and Chalmers wanted the same benefits as their heterosexual counterparts, they didn’t exactly jump at the chance to join a lawsuit. They live in small-town America, where everyone knows your name. As Linnell puts it, "I did not want retribution to come to my child."

It wasn’t until Chalmers overhead Paige talking about marriage that the two mustered the courage to become plaintiffs. One day after school, Paige, who was then nine, was discussing the issue with two of her cousins. They told Paige that her dads weren’t really married, but Paige wouldn’t hear of it. She even called Chalmers into the room and asked him, point-blank: are you and Dad married? "I had to explain to her, ‘No, we’re not, although we love each other as if we are,’" he recalls. The episode unnerved him. "I felt I should not have had to have that conversation with my daughter," he explains. "After that, I said to myself, ‘This [lawsuit] is something that we need to do. We’ll be okay.’"

And they have been. Indeed, the day the lawsuit was filed, in April 2001, the Worcester Telegram published a front-page article about the case — and the local couple’s involvement. By the time Chalmers returned home from work, the answering machine was blinking. Chalmers didn’t know the person who’d left the message. But she had called to relay her "complete support" of him and Linnell. "We were like, ‘Whoa,’ just completely blown away." Soon hundreds of calls, cards, and e-mails from people voicing support for gay marriage followed. Chalmers has since filled three albums with memorabilia.

The outpouring has helped them get through the downsides — through the times, in court, when they’ve had to listen to the other side’s arguments. And it’s helped them endure the heavy anticipation of recent months, as the clock has inched down toward the Supreme Judicial Court’s much-anticipated ruling this summer. These days, they’re thinking a lot about what to say to Paige when the decision comes down — especially if it’s not in their favor. Paige, they say, has already asked her two dads: What happens if you lose? Are we not a family?

It’s a conversation Linnell and Chalmers hope they won’t need to have. Still, regardless of what happens, Chalmers says, "We can tell her some things that will stay the same. We’re still your dads. We still love you."

The golden girls

Even after all these years together — 32, to be exact — Linda Davies and Gloria Bailey still seem as though they can’t get enough of each other. Davies, 58, a psychotherapist, wastes no time in boasting about her long-time partner, whom she calls "a Cancer at home and at heart. She’s so loving." Meanwhile, the 63-year-old Bailey — the other half of both the couple’s Orleans abode and their Hartford, Connecticut, practice — gushes with pride over Davies. "Linda is an inspiration," she says. "She’s one of the most positive, upbeat people who truly loves life and lives it to the fullest."

Obviously, Davies and Bailey are a perfect match.

Interestingly, they met during a different kind of match — one of the ping-pong variety. At the time, in 1970, they were working at a Hartford-based agency serving mentally ill children. Bailey had reigned supreme among the agency’s ping-pong players. Every lunch hour, she would play. Every lunch hour, she would win — until she came face to face with Davies. Co-workers had talked up Davies as the one who could unseat the champion. Recalls Bailey, "I took one look at Linda" — who, back then, sported a blond bouffant and a mini-skirt — "and said, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’" But it was Davies who ended up winning.

Two years later, the couple moved in together. They exchanged rings and wrote vows proclaiming their fidelity and love. That they were lesbians in a committed relationship didn’t necessarily become public, however. Indeed, when the two first moved in together, Davies reasoned that they could date men as a cover. "In those days," she explains, "that’s what lesbians did." That didn’t actually happen; Bailey refused to go along with it. Nevertheless, it would take Davies 20 years before she summoned the strength to reveal her homosexuality to her mother. She had turned 45, her mother, 80, when she finally uttered what she calls "the L-word" as a way to describe herself and Bailey. Her mother took the news in stride. "I asked her if she had known all along and she said, ‘Yes, of course.’"

Davies chalks up her reluctance to come out to her mother to what she calls "my internalized homophobia." Certainly, it had nothing to do with her feelings for Bailey. "For forever, I’ve wanted to marry Gloria," she says.

What brought civil marriage home for the two occurred three years ago. In 2000, Davies needed both of her hips replaced. She had to undergo extensive surgery, followed by eight days of rehabilitation. Anxious, in need of support, Davies wanted her companion by her side through the process. But then, the couple realized they had no next-of-kin privileges, no standing in the eyes of the law. Although the hospital staff didn’t give them trouble, the lack of such privileges bothered them. Around that time, they began meeting with an attorney to plan out their will. Again, they discovered that, without civil marriage, they had no survivors’ rights to protect them and their estate.

"One of us dies," Bailey says, "and it will create a financial hardship for the other person because we can’t transfer our assets to our partner tax-free."

"Isn’t that amazing?" Davies asks.

"It leaves us vulnerable," Bailey continues.

"Imagine dealing with that while you’re grieving."

"That’s the thing that came crashing down upon us."

Today, such protections and benefits don’t seem as far away as they once did. After all, the United States Supreme Court struck down a Texas law that banned sex between two people of the same gender last month. Two Canadian courts ruled that gay and lesbian couples should be allowed to marry. And then, something even more portentous than these developments occurred. One night last June, Bailey dreamed that the SJC had ruled in favor of the seven plaintiff couples in the same-sex-marriage case. That same night, Davies dreamed that she and Bailey had attended their own wedding.

"Isn’t that interesting?" Davies exclaims. "I saw those dreams as a sign."

Bailey, while more cautious, agrees: "No matter what, justice and fairness will ultimately prevail. We know we’re moving forward."