vi.
FIFER WAS SITTING on the wall in town, clutching an iced coffee from The Lost Dog. “No, it’s just that he’s incredibly old and time passes really fast for him, and he doesn’t think anything of five days, that’s it. I’m fine with it.”
“Yeah, except you keep talking about him,” said Ross, loudly sipping the last of his drink through his straw.
The wall flanked German Street. It ran up and down in front of McMurran Hall, which was part of the university campus. It was maybe three feet high at some points, maybe as much as four and a half at others. The top part of the wall was a good two feet wide, a handy place to sit. If it was warm enough, in the mornings and afternoons, people often sat on the wall—called walnuts sometimes, or wallrats by the GenX crowd.
“Am I annoying you?” she said.
“No,” he said, too quickly.
She chewed on her bottom lip. She had probably overshared with Ross. The entire experience with Hollis had triggered another of her doubt phases. Was she asexual if she enjoyed that experience with him? It had seemed abundantly sexual to her.
When she explained it to Ross, though, a person who’d actually had naked, skin-on-skin, body-parts-inserted sex, he just laughed at her. Uh, he touched your face and you touched yourself? No, that does not mean you’re allosexual, for fuck’s sake, Fifer.
She hadn’t tried to explain how it had felt as if Hollis was inside her head, how she had felt very, very penetrated, but not in a physical way, in a next-level way, how it was like having sex with someone’s mind, how it was the most intimate thing she’d ever experienced, how it had made her feel vulnerable and powerful all at once, and how she wanted it to happen again so bad.
She hadn’t done that because she kind of thought Ross was jealous of Hollis. Except, she’d pushed that aside. We’re only friends, she had told herself.
But now, there was that hint of defensiveness in his tone, and she knew it. “Shit, Ross, shit.”
“What?” he said, setting down his coffee.
“Did I lead you on?”
He turned to look at her. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re jealous,” she said. “You made that whole deal thing up for us, and you’ve always taken it seriously, and now I’ve met someone—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that.”
“Okay, look, I know it doesn’t feel good to admit—”
“Fifer,” he said, “I am incapable of this thing you’re talking about. I can never want you like that, even if I wanted. If I could want a woman like that, it wouldn’t be you.”
She furrowed her brow.
“No offense,” he muttered. “It’s just… it would be one of the women that I fell in love with and then immediately fell out of love with as soon as I… fell in love with them. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Right,” she said, nodding. “Right. Sorry. You’re not jealous of me, you’re jealous of my capacity to form a romantic relationship.”
“Yeah,” he said, jumping down off the wall. “Guess I am.” He was bitter. He stalked down the street to a trashcan and tossed his empty coffee cup into it. He came back and looked up at her from where he was standing below her on the wall. “You know, if I’d done anything like that with a woman, I wouldn’t call her either. Because, I know that the more I talk to her, the more it goes away.”
Her stomach turned over at the thought of Hollis getting bored with her. What if he already was? Or what if whatever they’d done together hadn’t been enough for him? He was used to being with women who were easily comfortable being sexual and—
Well, he had made that vow— As long as you wish it, I want you— and thinking it made her whole body tingle.
But he’d made that before they had sex. And allosexual people had casual hookups that didn’t mean anything, all the time. Maybe…
“I’m going to text him,” she said ruefully.
“Okay,” said Ross.
She got out her phone and glanced over at her friend. “I mean, I’ll text him later. After we’re done hanging out.”
Ross shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“You don’t want to talk about what you just said?”
“No,” he muttered, ducking his head down.
“You know, you could find someone who might be willing to allow you to—”
“I don’t want anyone,” he said with a little laugh. “That’s the real truth, you know? I want excitement. I want novelty. I want variety. I want…” He looked up at the sky. “That deal with us… it wouldn’t have made either of us happy.”
“No, I know that. I thought it was a joke.”
“I think the joke is just me,” he said. “Why do I exist, Fifer?”
“Ross, you don’t mean that.”
“Just, what’s the point of me?” he said with a shrug. “Why would something like me have come into being? What possible goodness could I bring to the world?”
“Well, excitement and novelty and variety are good things,” she said. “So, maybe you have a gift for seeing that and wanting it.” She shrugged. “And, you know, we don’t all have to be the same as everyone else. It would be a really boring world if everyone was entirely the same.”
He laughed. “Guess I’m in agreement with you there.”
She climbed down off the wall. “Not everyone has to be paired up. Do you want to be paired up, or do you just want to want it?”
“I don’t want to lose you,” said Ross, putting an arm around her. “That’s why the deal. I don’t want you paired up and then leaving me behind, like everyone else does. Where it’s just me sitting around and all my friends are married and having kids and I’m just…”
She leaned into him. “I’m not going to be paired up.”
“This Hollis guy seems perfect for you.”
“He’s too old for me.”
“He’s too old for everyone.”
“I don’t mean anything to him. No one does. It’s just going to be something temporary. He’s going to toy with me and break my heart, and then I’ll be back here with you.”
“Promise?” said Ross.
She elbowed him. “You dick.”
“I mean, I’ll totally be here for you when he breaks your heart and all.” He pulled her close, tightening his arm around her. “And, whatever, I’ll be here to fill in the cracks, like when he doesn’t realize that five days is a long fucking time. Just… don’t abandon me entirely.”
“Never,” she said to Ross, rubbing her cheek against his chest. “We aces got to stick together, like I’m always saying.”
Ross dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Text him.”
She looked up at him. “You sure?”
“I’ll help you figure out what to say.”
“Because you’re so good at conducting a romantic relationship.”
“Whatever, this is a temporary fling that’s mostly about sex, right? That’s my specialty.”
She giggled, getting out her phone. She squinted at the screen. “Something light? Like, ‘I seem to remember someone promising me dinner.’” She shook her head. “No, it’s too demanding and besides, if he doesn’t want to take me to dinner, he has to work too hard to get out of it.”
“You want him to take you to dinner, right?”
“Only if he wants to take me. Honestly, I could care less about dinner. I just want… I want the interlude thing again.”
“Okay.” Ross nodded. “So, text him, ‘Come over to see me tonight?’”
“Just ask him to come over and… and whatever with me?”
“It’s called a booty call,” said Ross, nodding at her. “And he’ll either be like, ‘Fuck, yes’ or he’ll come up with an alternative to see you, like, ‘Can’t tonight, what about tomorrow’ or something. Both of those means he’s into you. If he says anything else, he’s not.”
She eyed him. “You’re sure?”
“I mean, pretty much. We have to also consider that he’s ageless, magic, and weird, so he might not be predictable.”
She snorted. She typed into her phone, stared at the message, took a deep breath, and then hit send. Immediately, her body clenched in anxiety. “Shit, I want to take it back. I can’t take it back. Argh.” She glared at her phone and then up at Ross. “This is horrible .”
He laughed down at her. “You’ll be all right.”
“He’s not texting back.”
“Give him a second,” said Ross.
She waited.
And waited.
She put her phone back in her pocket. “Okay, let’s walk. Forget about Hollis Mac. I’m just going to wipe him entirely from my—”
Her phone beeped.
Ross laughed.
She pulled it out and opened it up, waves of anticipation thudding through her.
Yeah, I’d love that.
She grinned at the phone. “He said yes.”
Sorry I haven’t texted you. It’s not been because I haven’t been thinking of you. I have. Constantly.
She let out a shaky breath, her eyes wide.
“Let me see?” said Ross. He read it. “Huh.”
“Huh?” She typed. I’ve been thinking of you too.
“Oh, don’t say that.”
“Too late,” she said, because she’d sent it. “Why not?”
“Just… you don’t have to lay that all out on the line there. You can be a little coy.”
“I don’t… Why?”
Ross thought about it. “Maybe it just wouldn’t appeal to me? Am I just a commitmentphobe, Fifer?”
She took his arm. “Um, do you think part of being asexual is doubting that you’re asexual all the time?”
Ross snorted.
She grinned up at him.
HOLLIS HAD A text conversation with her that afternoon that didn’t seem even remotely awkward. He asked her if she wanted to go to dinner, because he had thought he owed her that, and she said that dinner wasn’t necessary, and she just wanted to see him.
He said she should come to his place, and they’d eat there. He’d pick up takeout.
She acquiesced to this easily enough.
And so, he ordered food and then went out to pick it up, and then set it out. He was just finishing up when the doorbell rang and he went to let her in.
She stepped inside his house, which was a painstakingly restored house from the 1700s, three stories, with polished wood floors and carefully selected furniture and paintings on the wall. He liked decorating. He liked restoring houses. He liked anything that took a lot of time and money, because he got bored and having a project helped him feel like he was doing something.
“This is… wow,” she said.
He grinned. He liked that she was impressed. I like impressing her, he thought, and he remembered the way it had felt when she’d come and he wanted that again, almost as if his own body was reacting—except it wasn’t. Just phantom wanting.
Phantom dick? Was he getting a pretend erection?
This amused him.
She was still looking around, eyes wide, awed. “Your house is amazing. I can’t believe you came to my house, and—”
“I liked your house,” he said.
She turned on him, shaking her head. “ Why do you like me?”
He shook his head at her. “Don’t do that, Fifer. Don’t doubt yourself. I’m the one fucking up. I didn’t text you. Look, the truth is, the way you make me feel…”
“What?” She blinked at him.
“I’m just kind of scared shitless is all.”
“Of me?” She touched her chest.
“Of… not of you.”
“Because I can’t hurt you,” she said.
He still hadn’t sorted this out, whatever it was, and now she was forcing him to talk about it. He groped for words. “I’m afraid of wanting you,” he decided, finally.
She only looked confused.
“You’re… the way of your sexual desire, it’s… pure,” he said. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
“Pure?” she said, shaking her head.
“Like, it’s just about desire,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. “You mean, it’s about the idea of sex, not about the physicality of it. I was thinking about this, actually.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“And maybe that means I’m not tied down by hang-ups. I can want all sorts of things, and there’s no real limit. Most people’s fantasies are sort of pedestrian, and mine are pretty adventurous, because—if I’m not in them—they’re not real, and if they’re not real, they can’t hurt, so I can want anything at all.”
He nodded.
“Pure,” she said.
Definitely phantom erection time. He wanted her. Was she hungry? Should he feed her? How much did she want food? Because, sometimes, if a person was eating, he could… from that. He gestured with his head for her to follow him, and he started down the hallway towards the kitchen.
She hurried after him. “I don’t get why that’s scary,” she said, falling into step with him.
“Well, do you at least get why it makes you so appealing to me?” he said, glancing down at her. “Will you stop asking me why I like you?”
She laughed. “I’m not usually insecure like that. I guess I’m asking because I want to know what to expect. I know this is going to end, and I want to make sure I’m keeping that end in sight at all times, so that I don’t…” She looked up at him. “You don’t know how you affect me.”
Well, he liked hearing that. When he spoke again, his voice sounded hoarse. “Can I touch you?”
She let out a little breathy noise. “A-all right.”
He took her hand.
She gasped.
He gasped. Inside her mind, inside her body, she was like the purest of sweetest light and goodness. Tangles and briars, he wanted to be able to come back here, to settle here—
What was that line from the Emily Dickinson poem? Might I but moor—Tonight—/In thee!
He tugged her into the kitchen. “I have a dining room,” he told her, “but it’s really bigger and meant for dinner parties or large gatherings, and I like to eat at the table in here—”
“Oh, your kitchen ,” she said, looking around at the room. There was an island jutting up in the middle, a rack of pots and pans hanging over it. The appliances were stainless steel and the backsplash was blue tile in a herringbone pattern. The design was all clean lines with a hint of a funky kind of modern sensibility. “Such a nice kitchen for someone who doesn’t even have to eat.”
“I like to eat,” he said with a laugh. He nodded at the table, which had the food all plated up and ready for them.
“I thought you were getting takeout,” she said.
“I did.”
“You put it on real plates?” She beamed up at him, and he felt how impressed she was through their connection. She liked that he’d done that, even as she thought it was strange.
“That’s not how you eat takeout, hmm?” He considered. “Seems like people do it that way on TV shows a lot.”
She giggled.
He didn’t want to let go of her hand. He ran his fingers up and down her palm.
She let out a surprised noise, the sensation of his touch more intense than she’d expected, and thus even more gratifying for him. He wanted to make her make that noise again and again.
She bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes wide, looking up at him.
He gazed at her, and the connection between them fired, bright and wide open, and he could feel her and he inhabited her, feeling her rouse as he did so, feeling the sensitive parts of her body twitch. All he wanted was to be inside her.
She tugged her hand away, severing the connection, letting out another surprised noise, this one less pleased than the last.
He was chagrined. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “That was just…”
“Too much,” he said. “I know.”
She sat down at the table. “This one’s mine, right? It’s what I told you to order.”
“Yeah, that one’s yours.” He sat down opposite her.
“You’re just confusing me,” she said, picking up her fork. “You’re hot and cold. Seemingly really interested and then you don’t call or text and it’s like you forget I exist—”
“Definitely have not forgotten your existence,” he countered.
“Okay, so you say, but from my perspective, that’s how it seems.”
He supposed he could see why she thought that. He wanted to reassure her, but part of him didn’t want to reassure her, because part of him was frightened and didn’t know if he should let this continue. To some degree, he was helpless to stop it, he thought. He’d pursue it, no matter what, even if it was a bad idea, because he couldn’t stop himself.
“Why are you afraid of wanting me?” she said.
He shrugged, running a fork through a pile of rice on his plate. “I try not to want things.”
She let out a little laugh. “Well, all right.”
“It’s… wanting leads to pain. It’s not as if certain eastern traditions haven’t noted this very thing. When I’m content, it’s better.”
She furrowed her brow. “Wanting doesn’t always lead to pain.”
“No?”
“No, because sometimes you get the thing you want.”
“And that always makes you happy?”
“Well, maybe not, but at least sometimes,” she said. “It’s not just definitely pain.”
“I think it is,” he said. “Desire leads to suffering. And not necessarily because you don’t get what you want, but because once you have a thing, it hurts to lose it.”
She blinked at him. “Oh.”
“You do… things to try to stop that from happening,” he said. “You think there will be a limit to things you’d do to protect your… but it surprises you, what lines you’re willing to cross, especially for people you love.”
“Why did you get exiled from Faerie?” she said in a tiny voice.
He laughed. “Oh, we’re here already. I didn’t think you’d ask that tonight.”
She took a bite of food and chewed, shrugging it off. She swallowed. “It was over a thousand years ago, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
“Murder,” he said.
She set down her fork.
“I had a good reason,” he said. “And I didn’t plan to end him. It happened though. I could explain it to you, and if I do, I’ll tell you in a way that will make me sound very noble and him like a monster, and you’ll excuse me. But later, when you’re alone, you’ll ask yourself, ‘Was it really that way? If he was so justified, why did they exile him?’” He shrugged a very exaggerated shrug and then put a forkful of rice into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “So, let’s just leave it at that for now.” Because, even after all this time, it was still painful and he didn’t like to talk about it.
She was simply staring at him.
“Freaked you out again,” he said.
“I’m kind of terrified of you, too,” she said.
“I would never hurt you,” he said.
“No one hurts anyone else on purpose.”
He tilted back his chin questioningly.
“I mean, people do,” she said, “but usually only because they think the other person deserves it, which is usually because the other person already hurt them . But people don’t just hurt people for no reason. Or, when they do, it’s on accident.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “I think, sometimes, they do. I think, sometimes, people take a kind of awful sheer delight in cruelty.”
She thought about this. She was quiet for some time. Eventually, she said, “Maybe I do have to concede that. Maybe sometimes, that does happen. Occasionally, people are just, well, horrible. Are you horrible in that way, Hollis?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m not saying it’s not in there somewhere, that I’m not capable of cruelty, but I would never hurt you .”
“But whenever people say, ‘I would never hurt you,’ what they really mean is, ‘I would never knowingly hurt you.’ But it doesn’t matter, because some way or the other, they’re going to hurt you. It’s inevitable. I mean, there are so many ways to be hurt.”
He laughed softly. “Yes, you’re right. Of course, you’re right.”
“How long do you think you’ll want me?” she said.
He was stunned by this question. He scooped up another forkful of rice. “Longer than you’ll want me.” He put the rice in his mouth.
“You can’t know that,” she said.
He chewed and swallowed. “No, I can’t predict the future. But this feels big.”
“Big, like years big?”
“I’m not like mortals, not nearly as changeable,” he said. “Mortal men are guided by instinct, and at least some of it is hardwired, so it’s about reproduction. They want a mate to invest in, because most sentient species are wired to need a heavy paternal investment. Men are aware of the intensity of the commitment, and they want to choose wisely. They also have this feeling of needing to taste as much variety as possible before they commit, so they play fast and loose with the idea of a relationship until they’re sure they’re ready to make a commitment. I’m not that way. If I… if you and I start… it won’t be like that. It won’t be like a mortal relationship, even if it might seem a lot like one.”
“Well, I don’t—I’m not wired like most people,” she said.
“You are mortal, and you’re playing that game too, somewhere inside your instinctive brain.”
“Maybe,” she said. She ate a bite of food, chewing thoughtfully. “I guess I do sometimes think about having children. But I’ve also accepted I might not have the opportunity. Obviously, if I did… I would want to be impregnated in some way that didn’t involve actual sex, so that makes it tricky.”
He smiled at her, fond of her already, fond of the way she thought things through and the way she made alternative plans, fond of her quirkiness. Falling for her, he thought, feeling resigned. “Well, I clearly couldn’t be part of that.”
“Right,” she said, nodding. “But I don’t… it’s not a requirement for me.” She took a deep breath. “This is dumb. You haven’t even taken me out on an actual date. There’s no reason to have some conversation about the future—”
“But it’s coloring everything,” he said, “isn’t it? So, why not say it out loud? You’re looking for someone who you can share the rest of your life with. You assume I would want that also, but you can never give me that—I could spend the rest of your life with you, but you can’t spend the rest of my life with me. So, on some level, there’s an imbalance that can never be rectified.”
She set down her fork. “Well, yeah.”
“It means, if we’re together, there’s an assumption of importance. Proportionately, the percentage of time we’d spend together would tend to make it seem as if I was more important to you than you were to me? You think I could never really love you if I always know I’m going to outlive you. It can’t be real love.”
She shifted on her chair.
“Too much?” he said. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“I mean, I thought about it,” she said. “Obviously, I thought about it. It’s just… you’re not that interested in me.”
“Certainly I am,” he said. “I was told, however, not to be a jackass to you.” He sighed. “I think taking up your entire life and not allowing you to experience love with one of your own kind would likely qualify me as that. So, I wouldn’t. I don’t think, anyway. I like to think I’d be strong enough to let you go eventually. Maybe, I’m just trying to frighten you now. Frighten you enough to make you go. For your own good? Maybe for my own good? It’d already hurt not to see you again. I can’t imagine how much worse it’ll be after—”
“Maybe we should stop,” she interrupted.
“Stop seeing each other?”
“Stop talking about this,” she said, picking up her fork again, eating another bite. “Look, it’s awful to plan the end of a thing at the beginning, I think. I thought I wanted it, but I don’t. It’s doomed, all right, we both get that. Let’s pretend it’s not, though, or we won’t get to have anything at all.”
He regarded her. “You’re sure about that?”
“You’re wrong about wanting things,” she said. “Wanting is the point .”
“What?”
“It’s the reason for everything. It’s motivation and movement and life. Having? Losing? That’s the end. Wanting is the middle. You have to live in the middle. So, the more you want, the more middle you have. Anything else is just… death.”