46 Skyler is Not a Codfish

August 14th

"When I said I liked you—it wasn't as a friend, it was because I'm attracted to you—"

I had walked back to my residence hall in a daze but couldn't make it inside. I was on my tenth or twelfth pace of the parking lot, arms crossed tight over my chest and holding my shoulders. As if that could stop the shaking. As if it could change the fact that ...

He ran away.

I'd told Robin something that only Matt—and I guess, kind of Armand—knew about me, and he ran away.

I'd thought I was going to throw up. And I might have, if my whole body hadn't locked up in distressed shock.

I went over what had happened again and again; I couldn't stop. Replaying how Robin's face had crumbled as he explained through tears that he didn't want my friendship. He never had.

I didn't know how to do this. To look a heartbroken person in the eyes and say I'm sorry I don't understand what's going on with me or why I feel, or don't feel, the way I do. Sorry if I did something to lead you on, sorry that I might not be able to give you what you're looking for.

Sorry that's not good enough.

I gripped my phone too hard as I pulled it from my pocket.

Skyler: you up?

After a moment:

Matt: skyler it is barely nine o'clock pm at night, what am I, ninety years old

Matt: yes I'm up u doofus, whattya want

Skyler: kinda freaking out can we talk

In seconds he was calling me.

"Sky? You okay?"

"Um. Yeah. I just ..." I gulped, struggling to take a breath. "Robin—he told me he likes me. That he's attracted to me, and that he wants ..."

"Did you tell him? That you're ace?"

I kicked my shoe against a parking curb. "Yeah. And I thought I explained it as best I could, but I was just so surprised, and I had no idea that he—" The memory of Robin clattering to the floor during workshop the other day, his face blazing pink, unable to make eye contact with me.

I'm stupid, I'm so stupid.

Matt was quiet. Even over the phone I felt his tone change, his usual jokes slipping into something serious. "Fuck. I'm sorry, Skyler, that must've been really uncomfortable for you."

"Well, yes, but—" I needed to explain this correctly. "I tried to tell him that I, you know, don't feel attraction in that way—" Don't think about Delia, don't think about Delia. "I made him cry, Matt. I've never seen someone so upset, and it was my fault."

"Skyler, no," Matt jumped in immediately. "How he reacted is his business. It's not your fault for being honest. You shouldn't try and hide or change yourself to make someone else comfortable."

Easy for Matt to say. It was nothing I begrudged him for, but he had the benefit of having known extremely early on what his preferences were, how he felt about sex, and what he wanted from relationships in general. "But that's the thing—how could it be ‘changing myself' if I don't even know for sure what my ‘self' is?"

"Sky—"

"Is it fair to shut him down because I think I might be ace without experimenting to know for sure?" I paused to breathe, which was just as well because Matt had gone quiet too.

Finally, he said, "I get where you're coming from, I do, but you remember sophomore year?"

"What about—" Then it hit me.

Billi Hinkley from history class. Matt, and several other friends, had informed me that they liked me—something that Billi themself had confirmed not long after. I had liked them well enough; they'd been smart and kind and wittier than anyone else in the class. I'd spent an entire class period staring at the back of their head, willing something to click. I'd known that pretty much everyone in our grade was having sex, that there was supposed to be more than what I'd felt so far—if I could just get my body to react, then maybe something could happen with us ...

"This is different," I managed. "I do like him, and yes, maybe I thought I was ace, but maybe things could change. Maybe if I wasn't like this, if I was—"

"Stop right there." Matt's voice, while as kind and well-meaning as ever, cut through the phone as sharply as if he were standing in front of me. "Don't you dare finish that sentence. I'll kick your ass." Neither of us had turned on our video, but I knew he was pacing in his room like he always did, running a hand down his face in frustration. "Listen, I can't tell you what to do here—I mean, I could, I'm three months older than you so I have seniority—but you can't force feelings, Skyler. They either happen naturally or they don't. You don't owe anyone reciprocation."

"But we know that sexuality can be fluid," I pointed out, desperately grasping for a way to make sense of this without mentioning Delia, "so that means what we think might be true of ourselves at one point in time might not always be true, right?"

"Yeah, but ..." The wind went out of Matt's sails. "Listen, I'll support you no matter what, okay? I may not have known you your whole life, but I know you like I know myself. And you don't always prioritize what's best for you. I just want you to be happy, whatever that looks like for you. You, though. Not anyone else."

A lump had dangerously formed in my throat, and my whole body ached like I'd run a marathon. "I know, Matt. Thanks. I want you to be happy too."

"Love you, dude. I'm proud of you, okay? Stop thinking wrong things about yourself."

It was so tempting to believe him, to be reassured by his natural confidence. I wanted to trust what I had, for the last few years, felt in my core was my natural state of being. "Thanks. I'll try."

We said goodnight and I ended the call, already missing him. If our relationship could survive me running away, it could survive anything. I knew now that Matt would always be there for me—but in the end this was my responsibility to figure out.

I couldn't tell him about the biggest piece of evidence that my orientation could change: the fact that I'd fallen in love with his girlfriend.

But it wasn't her beauty that had led to the shift in my feelings for Delia. It was her humor, her charm, and her artistry that had drawn me in.

Robin was funny and charming and creative. There was no reason why I shouldn't be able to replicate those feelings with him.

The shock of his confession was slowly dissipating the longer I fidgeted, as well as the sting of rejection, the confirmation that my nature was incompatible with the people I cared about.

There was someone who cared about me, thought I was attractive, and had earnestly delivered an entire speech to tell me how he felt. After Delia, how could I so firmly assert my asexuality? If I'd been attracted to someone before, surely it could happen again.

Maybe Robin had run away. But how was what I'd done any different? I hadn't been able to handle my new feelings for Delia, and I'd known I could never talk about it, so I'd left home and hurt those I left behind.

"I know I said it was possible to maintain a friendship with someone you have feelings for, and it is, but not for me."

Matt's voice crept in from the back of my mind. Or maybe you can't change. Maybe this is who you are, and you can't use someone else to force something you don't feel—

But it was possible for my feelings to change—my love for Delia had proved it—and I cared about Robin enough to want to keep his friendship; if I could just shift my attraction to her over to Robin, if I could allow the version of myself that I'd known for eighteen years to grow and change ...

Robin would be happy. And I could finally move on.