Chapter 16 Ris #2
She walked off to the bedroom, laughing as she heard him take a deep breath, plowing into a story without any more prompting. That Ainsley would have a story was never a concern.
“Okay, so speaking of cults, I told you about the time I accidentally joined one, right? That’s why I mentioned the robes.
I’d just broken up with this selkie who was, I’m pretty sure, just using me to upset her family.
As if I’m anything but perfect. So that’s how we open, with emotionally fragile me.
Like, a version of me that was doing a lot of nodding and smiling at strangers on the street. ”
“You kind of still do that now, but okay. I love the set-up.”
“I was cycling through new hobbies,” he continued.
“As you do. Sitar, obviously. A slam poetry class. But nothing is scratching the itch. I need something tactile. I wanna get my hands dirty. I’m leaving the bar where they do the poetry, and I see this flyer.
Hand drawn, soothing earth tones. Says ‘Community Clay.’ That’s it, that’s the whole pitch right there. Obviously, I’m in.”
“Obviously.”
“So I go. It’s in the basement of a sports club, which I thought was weird, but it’s the city, so you take what you can get with space, right? It’s kind of incensey, but I’m pretty sure clay smells weird.”
Ris shook her head, grinning in the mirror as she finished her hair, hanging up the straightener. This was exactly what she needed.
“There’s this minotaur who hugs me immediately upon entering. Full body. I mean, we were dick-to-dick, Nanaya. No warning. Tells me, ‘Welcome home.’”
She began giggling as she started her makeup, nearly blinding herself with the eyeshadow brush.
“They sit us in a circle. I’m thinking, ‘Here we go, gonna put all my heartache into some mud,’ right?
But, Nanaya, there are no wheels. No clay to be seen.
Just cushions. So then I think, okay, conceptual pottery.
Kinda out there, but I’m down to try new things.
They ask us to introduce ourselves and say what we want to release.
Obviously, I say heartbreak, because that’s what I’m there for.
And everyone hums. Like, actually hums.”
He demonstrated the humming as Fitz came down the hall to join the party. Ris laughed again, winding up with a smudge of mascara on her upper eyelid, turning to the bedroom to change.
“So then they bring out the bowls. Not bowls we made, which I thought was the whole point. There are still no pottery wheels or clay on the premises, from what I can tell. And dick-hug minotaur tells us to whisper what we want to release into these bowls made by someone else.”
“And did you?” she asked, shimmying into the day-to-night dress she’d chosen.
“Of course I did. I’m polite; I wasn’t raised in a barn. I do not know my whispered heartache goes, which, honestly, still feels a little irresponsible to me. Dick-hug says we’re going to fire them.”
She turned in the doorway for him to zip her up. “Like, in a kiln? Is this the pottery part?”
“Oh, no, Nanaya. In our hearts. And then they asked for money, which was when I realized — not pottery. Definitely a cult. A shitty, robeless cult. Or at least, cult-adjacent.”
“Ainsley, that’s not even a cult! That’s a scam. You got scammed, babe.”
“Well, I didn’t think so at the time, which is why I went back.”
“Wait, you went back?”
“I did. Because it turned out Tuesdays were pottery. Thursdays were emotional transcendence. Eventually, I got to make a bowl for someone else to whisper into. And that, dear Nanaya, is why they call it the circle of life.”
She couldn’t answer for a long moment. Her shoulders were shaking, her head dropped against the doorframe. “Thank you. That was the exact sort of Ainsley special I required today.”
“I am nothing if not here to serve,” he bowed, opening his arms as she stepped into their protective circle, leaning against his chest, letting the solid thump of his heart ground her.
“You’re going to slay tonight. You’re going to get up there and say the thing, and it’s going to be amazing.
You know why? Because you’re just at the beginning of this.
And it doesn’t matter how many folks show up tonight.
Text me when it starts, okay? And then when it’s over. ”
“And what if no one shows up?” She whispered, eyes squeezed shut, feeling him snuffle her hair before tilting up her chin.
“Then you pick up your favorite take-out on the way home. You sit on my face, and tell me all the reasons why it was still important.”
Ris lifted her head, meeting his mouth as he bent. “I love you.”
“I mean, you should. I’m pretty fucking spectacular. And I love you too.”
Now it was time, and she had eighteen bodies spread out across the room.
The community center supplied coffee and water for every event on their roster, along with the room itself, tables, and chairs.
It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t cozy. It wasn’t prestigious and fancy, like the Elvish club across town, but it was perfect for what it needed to be that night.
Dynah had been the first to arrive, bursting into the room breathless, a cloud of auburn curls seeming to enter the room a heartbeat behind her. “Am I late?” she gasped.
Ris held her hand up to the empty room, laughing. “You’re right on time, bestie. Sit wherever.”
The door opened, over and over, faces she knew, and surprisingly, some she didn’t.
An elf she didn’t recognize, wearing scrubs.
A sylvan with paint on her hands, a green-skinned dryad with long, braided hair.
Another elf, three more sylvans, a platinum-haired young woman who appeared human, introducing herself as a vampire, asking if she was allowed to stay.
A blue-tinged naiad with mirror-like eyes.
One after another, they came, filling the space, laughing and chattering, filling the air with the sound of community that she’d been chasing.
Lurielle, entering the room with a guilty expression, heaved a sigh of relief when it was clear she wasn’t the last person, nor had they started yet.
“Oh, thank gods. I don’t think I’m going to be on time for anything ever again.”
“I feel like you’re implying that you've been on time previously,” Ris pointed out, laughing when Lurielle made a face. “Did you bring the little man?”
“I did not. He’s home with Big Daddy. I needed a night off. Dynah, sit with me so we’re not alone.”
“Making new friends is literally the point of this,” Ris objected, as Lurielle pulled Dynah away, making the same face in Ris’s direction as she shook her head.
Eighteen. She counted again, and then again.
It was better than she could have hoped for.
Ris didn’t want to interrupt the conversations and chatter.
The assembled crowd helped themselves to the refreshments, introduced themselves around the tables, turned chairs so that they could face the wider room in general.
After all, this was the point. Community was the point.
Having those conversations, making those friendships.
But, Ris also knew that if she didn’t give them structure, they would fall away. She rose slowly, walking to the front of the room on legs that shook like a newborn fawn, her four decades of confidence failing her at last.
“Hi everyone,” she started, wincing at how unsteady she sounded.
“I wanted to thank you all so much for being here tonight.” She paused, letting her heartbeat settle.
“I don’t have a speech planned. There’s no agenda.
No formal mission statement. I’m not here to sell you anything.
And that’s what I want to emphasize, this isn’t a pitch.
But I’ve noticed that there’s something missing for some of us. ”
She paused again, letting her voice settle, realizing that the room was dead silent. One could hear a pin drop, every eye on her. It was a lie, for she had written and rewritten this speech a hundred times, practicing it in the car on her way to and from work.
“I think that for some of us, not necessarily all of us, but for a lot of us at least, we don’t quite fit into the spaces we’ve been told are for us.
Too many of the places that claim to be a community require costumes.
” She swallowed, feeling emotion rising within her as she continued.
“And that scares me. It scares the shit out of me. And it’s really fucking hard to think that I’m still going to feel like I have no community in eighty years.
All of us in this room are going to be around for a long, long time, and I’m terrified for us.
Because if we don’t fit into the communities for our kind that already exist, what do we do?
Where can we go? What will be left for us, when we’re what’s left? ”
A ripple moved through the crowd, a low murmur of assent. Dynah was nodding so hard, her head was in danger of popping off and rolling across the floor, her wide blue eyes full of unshed tears.
“If you don’t fit a certain mold, you become invisible.
And when you’re made invisible, you’re on your own.
Your community disappears. I’ve watched too many friends rip themselves into pieces to conform to that.
There has to be a better way. But . . . if there are enough of us who feel invisible, we can make our own community.
All of us here, we’ve got a lot of road still ahead.
So I just want to thank everyone for joining us tonight.
You can introduce yourselves, or not. There’s no gold star for participation. ”
Another ripple of laughter, elastic, lasting until she continued.
“And like, full disclosure, I have no idea what I’m doing. I just know that this is important. And I hope we can build it together.”
Several of the women in attendance clapped, and another burst of laughter rolled through the room. And then, completely on their own, the introductions started.