Chapter 12 #4
I crossed my arms and squeezed until it hurt, just to take the edge off.
"I know," I said with a bad attempt at a laugh.
"I didn't like Desmon because I was subconsciously trying to be my mom.
Believe me: I'd do literally anything to avoid being like her at all.
You aren't entinn because you were trying to be Inniral.
It's just – I hate it when people don't actually listen.
They hear something that doesn't fit and they come up with this convoluted way of twisting everything around to protect what they believe, instead of wondering if the way they understand things isn't perfect. "
"Yes," Araxis said, insistent, his eyes bright.
"This is the point that our Thalidi made when the Assembly moved to standardize the exile of skoshas.
Difference from our current schemata does not need to be a threat.
Instead, it allows us to develop deeper understanding.
The shadow-selves can be instructive; they are not just tolerable, but essential.
But – Vivith was young as well. They were grieving, like I was.
" His stare cut away and he slipped past me along the winding path and toward the next door.
"And have they apologized?" I asked, even though I knew the answer, as he again held open the door for me and we stepped into the airlock between biospheres.
His mouth turned downward. "They have not," he admitted.
"I do not believe their mind has been changed.
But… it bothers me less than it did, to think that they don't understand.
I believe that… my difference has encouraged me to see the universe with greater nuance.
If one truth from our culture is suspect, might there be others that are also in need of further interrogation? "
Even here, with just the two of us, it was clear that talking about this was hard for him.
"It was the same for me," I said, gentle.
I wanted to reach for him again, but I hesitated.
Was it too much? Stars, it was easy to just lean toward him, like he was a gravity well: all I had to do was let go and we'd drift together, suspended in softness and warmth despite the darkness all around us.
"I mean, I really did try to be different for awhile. To – not feel the way I did."
Araxis paused, turning his attention to me again. "Yes. I often told myself, very resolutely, that I was being foolish and indulging in fantasy. That I might as well imagine I had wings or a tail or could see in another spectrum: fanciful, indulgent, impossible."
"Did you feel – broken?" Because I certainly had.
"Hm." He gave the question some consideration.
"I think I must have, although I worked very diligently to not think about my gender at all.
To simply proceed onward as expected. To follow the expected path.
Unlike many skoshas, no one else could tell, and so I was…
safe. Besides," with a breath that was almost a scoff, "I spent no time among my own people. Who could know?"
"It can be lonely. And terrifying," I admitted, throat tight. "Because even if someone could understand, you can't know for sure until you say it. You can't just look at them and tell, right? Maybe it's different with abaya but –"
"It was the same, for me at least," Araxis said, insistent. "There may be others who feel as I do, who are… invisible, unless we make ourselves known. But how could we know when the stakes are so perilously high and the consequences so dire?"
My chest was tight, throat hot. "And you tried with Vivith, and they didn't understand," I said.
"Fuck, Araxis, that's the worst feeling.
You just – You take such a huge risk, you show someone, and –" I cleared my throat, my whole body prickling with sensation, flashing hot and cold all at once.
It was too much to hold. It was so hard to think about and talk about.
These were the kinds of things I liked to shove elsewhere, because holding them up to the light was messy and painful. It was agony.
"It hurts a great deal less than it once once did, Sashen," Araxis murmured.
"And it means everything, to have one person who understands, who –" Again, he brought himself up short, his jaw working.
I bet he was chewing the side of his cheek.
I bet he was cutting his mouth to pieces.
"I do not say that to make you feel that you must stay.
It is enough to know that you exist. Well, perhaps not enough – but it is sufficient. It will be, if it must."
It hurt. It fucking hurt, to be here with him, to look at all the pieces of himself he was sharing with me, to hold them with tenderness and care and to still feel all the open wounds where he'd hurt me. How could I hold him with the reverence he deserved while I was still bleeding?
But maybe we were both bleeding in our own ways, and we always had been.
We both had jagged pieces that could continue to open up wounds, to hurt each other and ourselves.
How did we learn where those were, how to move carefully, how to treat each other and ourselves gently, if I couldn't get used to the hurt?
So I breathed into it, like I was learning, and reminded myself that what I needed was time.
Doctor's orders. When I drew in my next breath, my throat wasn't quite so tight.
"You said Vivith was young when Inniral died.
You must have been young too, since you hatched together.
And you became head of house after that? "
The next dome was cold, the forest in muted greens and russet oranges, while frost lined the leaves and berries glowing close to the ground. I pulled my hands inside of my sleeves as we walked.
"Yes," Araxis said. "That was – hm, seven years ago."
"So how old are you?" I asked, trying desperately to do some math. I wasn't good at it, but math was a little easier than sitting with how my whole body was aching in the most tender way. Besides, I wanted to know. How had I never asked?
One corner of his mouth twitched, amused, as we hurried through this cold dome. "I am an adult," he said mildly. "Our ages do not translate."
"Okay, but," I prompted.
"I hatched twenty-two years ago," he said. "You have seen the children grow: we mature at a different rate than humans. In terms of maturation rates, I may even be older than you. You are twenty-five –"
I shook my head, rubbing my arms. "Twenty-six now. It was my birthday last week."
Araxis blinked rapidly. "You did not tell me."
"Birthdays don't matter in most cultures," I said.
"They matter to many humans."
I squinted at him as we ducked into the next airlock. "How would you know that?"
And there, in the dim light, I saw him silver, just barely. "As I told you, I have been conducting research of my own," he said, perfectly mild. "I have even been trying to work on a language course but I certainly don't have the facility with languages that you do, Sashen."
It was my turn to blush, or maybe it was the change in temperature as we headed into the next ecosystem, a formal, ornamental garden.
"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," I added, shoving a hand through my hair.
"I haven't celebrated a birthday since I was – fuck, I don't know.
Ten, maybe? I started getting in trouble around then.
I didn't get to celebrate much of anything.
Celebrations are for people who deserve them. "
"Hm." He still had a strange, thoughtful look on his face.
"But you were saying," I prompted, "that abaya mature differently? Why don't you tell me?"
And so he did, our conversation drifting away from the weight of what we'd shared earlier so that we both, each of us, had a little more space to breathe.
We meandered our way through the other regions, occasionally coming across a segment of the private path that split into various routes.
Each time, Araxis would consult the map that the manager had sent to him and lead us in one of the directions.
For an optimal experience, he'd said, but there was a little self-satisfied flush that tipped his hand: he had something set up, and the thought made my chest fizz.
We chatted idly and as we wandered, it struck me how easy things could be if we just let them.
Could I do that? Could we, while there were so many other pressures hemming us in, squeezing us tighter and tighter until we were gasping for air?
But not today. Today, on my day off, it was just the two of us – and all the air that we wanted.
We wandered along the private walkway meandering its way through the botanical gardens and I had time to really watch Araxis, as he paused to admire a particularly fine flower, some spray of impressive colour, or pointed out a tree species to me and explain its significance.
I watched as his eyes would go bright and glossy when he told me about some youthful misadventure (to clarify, his idea of a misadventure was of a radically different class than mine; after all, I'd hacked into Seraphim's communications systems, filled the servers with alien porn, and then smuggled myself on to a ship and run away; Araxis had stolen a bottle of the abayan equivalent of cheap alcohol and brought it back to the ship to share with Vivith, chickening out and dumping it instead into a corner of the cargo hold so that Avelthe had complained for a week about a weird smell).
I listened to not just what he said while we laughed our way through a boggy area with little flickering lights, but also to the tone of his voice – low and warm as he spoke to me, earnest in answering my questions, faltering sometimes but then boldly forging ahead.
Circling back to correct himself, to correct his thinking. As all of that unfolded, well.