23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Cody

The door to Victor’s office is open just like the receptionist said it would be. I looked up his open office hours online before heading down to the community center, hoping to catch him. Aside from the weekly group sessions, Victor also offers individual counseling at the LGBTQ+ center. Last night’s dream left me shaken and I don’t know what to make of anything anymore. It’s like my past is catching up with me, finally threatening to disrupt everything I’ve worked so hard for. Now that my end goal is finally within reach, I feel the earth quaking beneath me, and I’m one shake from spinning out of control. I know that it’s my fear of abandonment that’s muddling up my brain, keeping me from viewing my relationship with Luke in an objective light. I just don’t know what to do about it.

I knock on the doorframe and Victor looks up from his computer right away, his glasses slightly askew, his hair disheveled like he’s been pulling at it. He looks like one of those college professors who always has their head buried deep in some dusty classic. When he recognizes me, his face lights up and he smiles welcoming.

“Hi, Victor,” I start. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Stupid . It’s open office hours, for fuck’s sake.

“Of course not,” he beams, adjusting his glasses. “Come on in. Cody, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” I enter the room and Victor nods at the chair across from his desk.

“Close the door behind you, Cody. Take a seat,” he continues to smile while he stacks some papers on the desk in front of him. Piles and piles of papers, flyers, and books take up every empty space on the wooden surface, some close to overspilling and tumbling to the floor.

I close the door carefully and remove my winter coat before sitting down.

“So, young Cody,” he hums. “What can I do for you on this fine winter’s day?” Inhaling deeply, I settle into the chair. It’s soft with a worn leather seat and not like the uncomfortable plastic chairs in our group sessions or in Coach’s office. It’s a chair that promises time. Time to reflect. To talk.

“I was wondering if you have a few minutes?” I start, looking down at my hands.

“Of course,” Victor leans back in his seat too, taking me in. His entire posture is disarming, instantly making me feel at ease. “Looks like you need them more than I do,” he says, his voice mellow.

“What?” I shake my head.

“A few minutes,” he repeats, a frown appearing between his prominent brows.

“Oh, right.” I lick my lips while I try to find out how best to start. “So… I’ve been starting to have feelings for someone,” I mumble.

“Yes?” he continues to smile, tilting his head slightly.

“And I’m not sure if I want to pursue it.” Victor murmurs a low mhm as if it’s the third time today that someone asked him this very question. Maybe it is.

“Why not?” he says, looking straight at me, his question so simple that it leaves me speechless. Why not? It’s a simple enough question, but there’s no easy reply in sight as far as I can see.

“I… I don’t know…” I search for the right words, and Victor remains quiet, his blue eyes gentle as he waits for me to continue. Swallowing, I speak what’s been occupying my mind 24/7 lately. “I’m afraid,” I finally admit.

“Yes,” Victor says, like it’s the only answer he was expecting. “Of course you are,” he nods. “What are you afraid of, Cody?” Someone walks past his office outside in the hallway, the clicking of heels against the linoleum intermingling with the frantic thump-thump-thump of my heart, until the sound eventually fades. I can only hear my heart beating again and wonder if Victor can hear it, too.

“I’m afraid that… That I’ll end up hurt. That I’ll end up falling for someone and then…” the words stick to the roof of my mouth. I’m afraid that if I voice them, they’ll become real. Like some magic spell being released into the universe. I look down at my lap, my fists clenched, knuckles white.

“I understand,” Victor nods as he leans in over his desk.

“You do?” I look up, surprised.

“I do. I think we’ve all been there at some point or another. Afraid that we aren’t enough. That we’ll never be enough and hence be left behind.” Hence . It fits. Victor looks like a guy who says hence or wherefore or hither . He also looks like a guy who’ll never judge you or laugh in your face. So, I nod because yes, that’s exactly it. I’m afraid that at some point I won’t be enough. “Does Luke feel the same way about you?” he asks, and I nearly fall from my chair, hitting the floor face-first.

“How do you…” I blurt.

“Oh, it’s pretty evident,” he chuckles, brushing at his beard.

“Oh,” I say, looking down again. I want to ask how so badly. How do you know Luke likes me, too? Then I remember that photo. That smile. Right.

“So,” Victor continues. “Luke is pretty new to this, right? Being asexual.” I nod, then murmur, “He’s actually not sure that he is.”

“And that scares you,” Victor concludes, and I just nod. “I think that’s only natural, Cody. When something important is at stake, we get scared. But why are you unsure?”

“Because… he’s not sure,” I say.

“And…” I feel annoyance building. I wasn’t expecting Victor to be this aloof about this. Like the solution is clear as fucking daylight and I’m just too blind or too dumb to see.

“I can’t be with someone who’s not sure if they’re ace,” I blurt, and it sounds like a question. I hate the doubt creeping into my head when Victor nods.

“I see. And that’s because…?” Okay, I’m no longer annoyed. I’m pissed. What bullshit counseling is this? I feel like getting up from my seat, but at the same time, it’s like I’m glued to the chair. I force the words from my mouth.

“Because… he’ll eventually want something that I can’t give him. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who isn’t ace. I tried that once and I’m not doing that again.” I notice that I’ve raised my voice, but Victor doesn’t seem to care, his face, his entire posture still the image of calm.

“Okay,” he simply says.

“What do you mean ‘okay?’ I can’t.”

“Why not? Many people are. Many ace people are in well-functioning, loving relationships with people who aren’t ace.” That might be true, but I know myself. I wouldn’t be able to go through that again. I would question every little thing. It would just be there, lingering, poking at all my insecurities. I shake my head, looking straight at him.

“Yeah? Like who?” I spit.

“Like me, for one,” Victor says, and I feel my jaw hit the floor. I’m sure I misheard him. I must have.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been married to my wife for twenty-eight years in June. We have two grown children together. I love her. I love my wife. I could never find someone better suited for me in a million years. I could search every corner of this planet, and I’d never find anyone that I love as much as I love her. But I do not want her sexually. I don’t.” I don’t know what to say. It’s like I can’t breathe. It’s like Victor has stolen all my air with his story. Victor has a wife. And she’s not… It’s not like it’s some kind of epiphany to me. It’s not. Of course, I know that people on the ace spectrum can be in a relationship with people who do not identify as asexual. I’ve just never met one. Not in any of my group sessions. And that Victor could be one of those people blows my mind.

“And she’s not ace?” I swallow.

“No.”

“But you have children, right? So you must’ve had sex at some point?”

“Many ace people have children, Cody. Many have sex, too. Many of us are on a lifelong journey. Sexuality isn’t necessarily static.”

“But… I don’t understand.” It’s true. I don’t. I don’t understand anything anymore.

“When I met my wife, I already knew that I wasn’t like my friends. I just didn’t have a name for it back then. I knew I was different, but I didn’t know why.” Victor then laughs softly, shaking his head. “It was actually my wife who found a word for it first,” he smiles wistfully. “She’d read an article in a magazine and came and showed it to me one day. I think our kids must’ve been around ten and twelve. Our relationship was at a dead end. We were hardly speaking and the resentment between us was so thick that you could cut through it with a chainsaw.” Victor wipes at his eyes before continuing.

“She placed the article in front of me and said, ‘ Read this, then come find me in the garden. ’ It took me fifteen minutes to read the article and then three hours to come find her in the garden. By the time I was done howling on my office floor, it was late afternoon, and my wife was on her third glass of Chardonnay on the deck.” A wet sheen is coating Victor’s blue eyes by now, his story clearly leaving him raw and emotional. I’m stunned out of my mind. There’s no other way to explain how I’m feeling at this very minute. I’m in awe of Victor’s openness, but I’m also confused as fuck.

“When I sat down next to her on the deck swing, she took my hand and just said, ‘ It’s okay. We’ve always known and now we have a word for it. Everything will be okay from now on. ’ Just like that. No anger. No accusations. Just acceptance.” Victor clears his throat, wiping his hands along his face. I feel like I’ve just gone five rounds against Mohammad Ali. My head is spinning, and I feel like puking my guts out. “After a year, I quit my job as a high school math teacher and got a degree in sexuality and gender studies instead.”

“So, what are you saying?” I finally manage to say.

“I’m saying, young Cody, that there aren’t any guarantees in life. But there are regrets. Yes, there’s no guarantee that Luke is ace. And if he is, there are no guarantees that it’ll work out between you, anyway. People leave people every day for numerous reasons. They fall in love, and they fall out of love. They get bored or they get excited about someone new. You can’t pin your life and your happiness on guarantees, Cody. You can’t.” He pauses as his words settle inside my chest. It’s true. I’ve been looking for a guarantee that Luke is ace.

“I can, however, tell you I’m pretty sure you’ll regret it if you don’t explore this budding thing between you,” he smiles softly.

“How? How can you be so sure?”

“Because it’s always the things we don’t do that haunt us at the end of our lives. It’s never the blows that life gave us or the hardship that fate sent our way. It’s never our mistakes. It’s what we failed to do. It’s those small pieces of happiness and light that we didn’t grab that fill us with regret. That leave us wishing we’d been brave and just gone for it. Because they could’ve changed everything. They could’ve been something great. Monumental even.”

Monumental.

“But what about your wife? I mean, you said that she isn’t ace. What about her?”

“What about her?”

“Isn’t she missing something?”

“You know, kid,” Victor chuckles. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I asked myself and her that question during that first year after we realized I’m ace. Torturing myself with guilt. Shame.” He pauses, licking his lips. “You know what she said? Every time I asked her?” I shake my head. I don’t know. I have no idea. And still, I feel like my entire future may just depend on it. Depend on the words of a woman that I’ve never met and likely never will meet.

“She said, ‘ You silly man. Don’t you get it by now ?’” I wait for Victor to continue. To elaborate. But he doesn’t.

“And what? That’s it?” That’s not an answer. That’s not a fucking epiphanic answer. Victor nods slowly.

“That’s it,” he laughs. “My wife is funny like that. She says something and lets you do the math.”

“The math?” I swallow.

“That I already have the answer to my question. That her staying by my side is my answer. The only answer there is.”

“But what if she changes her mind?” I ask, still dumbfounded.

“What if I change mine?” Victor says, and I know deep in my heart that he’s right. We can’t build our lives on what ifs. It’s not a solid foundation. It’s frail and feeble. Why not , on the other hand… Maybe that’s the question.

Why not?