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“Oooh, Freya.” Poppy poked her head into the kitchen. “How was your date?”
“Oh, my date? My gay gay date? My extremely lesbian date? My gay lesbian—"
Fifi dropped her notes on the table, still hunched over them. “Pease get to the relevant part.”
“It was awesome!” Freya let out a little squeal.
“Yeah?” Poppy leaned forward, her chin balanced in her hands. “You like her?”
“I’m swooning.” And she was. Freya leaned back in the chair, her coat haphazardly draped over the back. “She’s got this gorgeous hair, and she uses her hands a lot when she talks. Her voice is heavenly. And she says the cutest things.” Freya jumped up, rattling the dishes on the table. “She called me sweet pea! Isn’t that just darling?”
Fifi watched the two of them. They were in their element, both of them: Poppy gently encouraging Freya; Freya boundless in her happiness, her details, her capacity for love. They could go on forever like that.
They wouldn’t need her at all.
“I’m a little tired,” she tried to announce nonchalantly. “I’m going to my room.”
Freya looked up at her, that familiar worry that make Fifi feel like she’d failed. “But you haven’t even tried your cake.”
“Just save me some. I’ll have it later.”
She wasn’t really in the mood for sweet things.
* * *
Safe in her bookcased room, Fifi huddled beneath the covers and tried to make the tears come. It was usually easy, wasn’t it? Just magnify the feeling of being alone, that sharp and sour sense of being not-quite-right, and out come the waterworks. But she’d been different lately.
If she was honest, she hadn’t been able to feel much of anything for weeks.
Fifi rolled over and hugged her pillow closer to her chest.
Not feeling things was the problem.
* * *
Freya stepped away from her painting, humming softly to herself. The palette was nearly clear: a few spots of white and green were left around the edges, the pigment almost entirely scraped away by the brush.
“What d’you think, Fifi?”
“I think…” Fifi tapped a finger to her mouth. “I think this is one of your works that requires emotional interpretation. Not the object itself, but the feeling behind it.” She titled her head. “I don’t think I can identify the object represented.”
“I couldn’t either, if you asked.” Freya walked from side to side, appraising the results. “It’s based off a dream I had.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, a feeling I had while sleeping. It was bright—this field of yellow and blue. Like I was standing on an ocean filled with light.”
Fifi settled back into the cushion.
“Did you like it there?”
“I felt something I don’t think I’ve felt before. Like love…but brighter.”
“There’s something brighter than love? I thought it was the strongest emotion.”
“Or maybe…” Freya smiled to herself, her cheeks glowing a faint pink. “Maybe it’s just a different kind of love.”
* * *
It’d been almost two years since they’d left.
Such a careless ending. Packing in the dead of night, untying the boat under the moonlight. The anxious whispers, the hurry, the haste. So many things left behind, people left behind.
It was time, certainly. But that didn’t stop Fifi from asking again if it really was a good idea, just to give that creeping anxiety a voice. She felt like she couldn’t sit still inside herself. Like her body was moving forward while the rest of her screamed to wait, her life was behind her, everything she knew was behind her.
When almost everything you know is broken, it is good to turn the other direction. The probability of a better life elsewhere increases the more dejected your current life is.
It was a numbers game, leaving Tangle Tower. Just numbers. The best chance she’d have of finding joy.
* * *
The knock on the door was Freya’s. Poppy’s knock was always a little louder, a little more insistent. Freya had a gentle touch with Fifi.
It was just one of the reason she loved Freya so much.
“Can we come in?”
“Just…” Just Freya. That was what she wanted to say.
Was it acceptable, only wanting one person to see you miserable at a time?
“Freya can come in.”
Freya slipped inside, gently closing the door behind her.
“Oh, Fifi, it’s so dark in here. May I turn on the lamp?”
Fifi sat up, wrapped in blankets. She nodded.
The knob turned with a click, bathing the room in soft, warm light.
“That’s better.” Freya took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Did something I say upset you?”
“No. No, everything you said was appropriate to the situation.” Freya inched closer.
“Just because something’s appropriate doesn’t mean it can’t also be unkind.”
Fifi sat in silence, swallowing the words. Yes, there was nuance. Normal, acceptable things hurt her.
“I think there’s something…different about me.”
“Yeah?” Freya’s voice was soft, as though entreating a small animal to come out of its burrow. “Different how?”
“I don’t feel that thing you do. Love. The kind where you kiss someone.” Freya opened her mouth to respond, but Fifi barreled ahead.
“I don’t want you to feel bad for me. I don’t want pity from anyone. I don’t want someone to look at my life and think, oh, it is incomplete. She is still searching for a crucial piece.”
Poppy knocked on the door. Tap taptaptap. Tap tap.
“I thought you might want some tea.”
Fifi accepted the cup and brought it to her lips. Lavender. Soothing. Good for sleep.
“Fifi was just telling me about…”
“Have you heard the word aromantic?” Fifi shivered. It was hard, giving this particular feeling a name.
“Yeah, that’s…” Poppy searched for the words. “It’s when you don’t want a romantic relationship, right?”
“It’s more than that. It’s not having the feelings behind it. It’s never looking at someone and feeling a romantic spark.”
“I’ve heard of that.”
“Me too. But Fifi,” Freya said, “aren’t you defining it by what it isn’t?”
“Yes. It’s a lack. An abnormality.”
They protested, Freya and Poppy. Their voices overlapped as they rushed to reassure her that she wasn’t different, wasn’t broken. She couldn’t listen to it. She sat there and slumped against the pillow, the tea cup cooling in her hands.
They were going to leave her, weren’t they? Freya was so charming, so magnetic. And Poppy was a true star. They’d found their people. Soon they wouldn’t need her at all.
She was happy for Freya, of course; she was always happy for Freya. Happy when she got a job at an art gallery. Happy when she started to sell her paintings. Happy when she made friends, went out more, came home later. Happy about her following. Happy about her fans.
Things weren’t easier in Tangle Tower, but at least there she had Freya to herself.
“Fifi? Did you hear me?” The two were looking at her, that cruel concern still on their faces.
“No. Sorry. I was thinking.”
“I asked if you’d given thought to what you wanted. It’s fine not to want romance. Is there something you want instead?”
Fifi paused. She knew the answer. She’d filled the blackboard with notes two days ago, columns of what felt right and what made her want to put on a lab coat and turn her back to every door.
“I want to be…important. To someone. AndIwanttobeheld.”
“Say that last part again?” Fifi buried her face in her hands.
“I want to be held.”
“Aw, Fif…” Poppy and Freya hugged her, blankets and all.
“Don’t patronize me.”
“Do you really want us to stop?” Poppy asked, a hint of a smirk in her voice.
“…I do not.”
* * *
Poppy raised a plate of cake to her face and tilted it to look at the icing. “These are gorgeous. Your friend made these?”
“A friend from the gallery! Her sister owns a bakery. It’s what she did before art.”
“I can see why she’d take up painting.”
“Yes, I can also see. The detail is beautiful. She must have a very steady hand.”
“I’ll say.” Poppy returned the plate to the table. “You get first pick, Fifi. Which one looks good?”
“I think—that one.” Fifi reached for the piece of strawberry shortcake. Delicate roses lined the top, a small pink bow tying off the end.
“Chocolate for me.” Purple dots adorned the edge of Poppy’s piece.
Freya tried unsuccessfully to hide a giggle.
“Aw, you guys…” Fifi swallowed her mouthful.
“What?”
“You picked exactly the right ones! Look—” She pulled the slices to the center again. “I told my friend about you. She chose those colors so they’d match how we look.”
“Now that’s clever.”
“It’s us! We’re all…” Freya bit her lip and looked up at Fifi. “We’re all just us”
Fifi reached for a bite of Freya’s cake.
“You’re very sweet.”