Chapter Forty-Three

Loncey

Happy Valentine's Day, Loncey! Is it okay to call you my Valentine? I've always thought Valentine is like an exceptional gender-neutral name so I hope you let me call you that. Also, I've never actually wanted to call anyone that before so even if you don't like it could you wait exactly one business day before bringing it up. Thanks a million.>

Happy Valetine's Day to you. I'll be your Valentine, if you'll be mine?>

Duh, you dope.>

What are you up to today?>

Editing mostly. My trip to London is going to be intense so I need to have a fuck tonne of content scheduled and ready to go before I fly tomorrow. You?>

Same. Finishing the edits on the group scene I directed and then taking Jessica to her appointments. It's also bath day for Prince. And he knows it. Been avoiding me all morning.>

The scallywag. Wanna FaceTime? I miss your face.>

What about my nipples? Or should I put a shirt on?>

The fact I've almost forgotten what they look like is a sign I need to get my arse over there.>

You miss my nipples!?>

I didn't say that. I just said that it's been too long.>

Fifty-one days.>

You've been counting?>

Nah, just got a strong guessing game.>

Hold up. Looking for the I Call Bullshit Emoji.>

You have an idea when you could come out here?>

Hold on. Doorbell.>

Fucking hell, Loncey. Did you buy half the flowers in Dublin?>

Oh, is it a big bouquet?>

You know it fucking is.>

Do you like them?>

I love them. Thank you. I have no words.>

Well, that's worth the price tag alone.>

Piss off. Why the feck aren't I there with you right now?>

I don't know, my little meteorite, but I hate that you aren't. Do you know when you think it could happen?>

Shit. Sorry. Ma's calling. This might be a long one.>

Sure. Say hi from me. FaceTime later?>

I've got twenty more minutes of footage to edit when my mom knocks on my cabin door. Gone are the days when I panic and shut down my laptop as soon as I hear the raps on the door, but by the same token I nearly always ensure I'm working with my screen facing away from the cabin's door and window, just in case. Calmly I minimize the window and put my laptop to the side of me on my bed.

"Come in," I say.

"You've got a special delivery," Mom says, holding up a brown paper bag with branding I instantly recognize.

"What the… did you order in?" I ask, getting up.

"No, but somebody did." Mom hands me the bag and I look inside. One chicken kale salad. And a side of garlic bread.

My grin is unstoppable.

"There's a note, on the receipt," Mom says and I pull the stapled piece of paper off the bag.

"‘Happy Valentine's Day, you health freak. Hope you enjoy. I miss you almost as much as I miss Elvis Burgers, Maeve.'"

"She knows you well," Mom says.

"She knows I like chicken kale salads, that's all," I say before questioning why I'm deflecting Mom's comment.

"But this is better than flowers or chocolate, right? For you?" Mom leans against the doorway and rests her head on the wood. Her hair is all wrapped up on top of her head adorned with an abstract scarf that matches the shades of terracotta and yellow she's wearing in her linen layers.

"I like flowers," I say, thinking about the time I spent online picking a bouquet for Maeve.

"But not in the romantic way. That's what you mean when you say you're aromantic, isn't it?" Mom's voice is loose and fluid, but even so I can detect the intent hidden in it.

"Can I not just eat my salad in peace?"

She studies me for a moment and then pushes off the doorway. "Come into the kitchen and we'll see."

After sending a quick thank you message to Maeve about the salad which she isn't online to see – I assume still on the phone with her mom – I follow Mom inside and sit down at the kitchen table to eat. In a silence that still seems to speak volumes, my mom makes herself a ginger tea and then comes to sit beside me.

"I like seeing you happy," she says eventually when I'm chewing my last mouthful.

I can't help but roll my eyes as I put my fork down.

"I'm always happy," I say.

"No," she says slowly. "You're always busy. And doing things for others. And I do think these things make you content, to a point, but I wouldn't say you're always happy."

"But isn't content better? I'm pretty sure striving for that over happiness is more realistic and probably healthier too."

Mom stares at me as she cups her mug. "Don't you want to be happy?"

"I am happy."

"Fine. Don't you want to be happier?"

"How could I possibly be happier?" I ask, but before the final word leaves my mouth I know I've asked the wrong thing.

"By actually being with Maeve."

"I am with Maeve," I point out before taking a large mouthful of water from my glass. "We are trying to build a relationship together."

"Are you?" Mom asks and it's like an arrow, sharp and perfectly aimed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, my defensiveness very audible.

Mom rearranges a couple of the bangles on her wrist, hugs her mug of tea and then looks at me with a softer expression. "You know, when you told me a year or so ago that you were aromantic and no longer interested in romantic relationships, it was harder to hear than when you came out as non-binary."

I feel my face fall.

"Not that that was hard. It wasn't. It's not a bad thing, of course. It was… just an adjustment. Just a little bit of extra care and attention I had to give you, and I hope you know I never mind doing that for you."

"I know, Momma." I offer her a smile.

"But when you said you were aromantic, I felt like I'd done something wrong."

"You? No, no—" I begin but Mom holds her hand up, stopping me.

"Let me explain. I know you had a hard time with Geneva. I know she hurt you, deeply. And I also know that your time with Harley and Miko was… intense. Not always easy. But deep down, when you told me you weren't going to be pursuing romantic relationships again, I felt like it was my fault."

"No, Momma, it wasn't. Jesus, there's nothing bad about being aromantic. You know you're playing up to a lot of negative stereotypes about aromanticism right now."

Momma shakes her head. "I get that. Maybe I'm not explaining it very well. Bear with me. I'm simply saying when you told me, I had to question myself. I had to realize what I had exposed you to, and how that could have effectively had an impact on you. My two failed relationships. Two absent fathers."

"This has nothing to do with them. I am not my father," I say through gritted teeth.

"Of course you're not. Nor are you me. But I would be a bad parent if I didn't look at what you grew up with and wonder how it had possibly affected you."

"It's not a bad thing to be aromantic," I say again, now with an achingly tight jaw.

"You're right, it's not," Mom agrees. "I don't see it as a bad thing, at all, but I just didn't, and in some ways, I still don't see it as a you thing. And that made me think about things that happened to you growing up."

I lean forward and reach out a hand to take one of hers. "Momma, I grew up with love. Your love. I grew up knowing I would always be taken care of. I grew up being cared for and seen and heard and loved. Being aro doesn't mean I experience a lack of love."

Mom pulls her lips into her mouth for a second and nods. "You're right. And that's a comfort. And you know, I did my best, with you kids. I really did. But when it came to romantic love," she huffs out a quick, strained laugh, "I know I messed up. I know I chose the wrong partners. I know I fucked up."

"It takes two to tango," I say. "You didn't force either of them to leave."

"But I did try to make them stay when maybe I should have just let them go."

I blink at my mother. This is the most she's ever said about mine or Jessica's father and I can't decide if I want to hear more or to shut this conversation right down.

"I knew deep down that neither your father, nor Jessica's dad, they didn't love me like I deserved to be loved. And look, I have no regrets, because I have you two. Those men gave me the greatest loves of my life, it just wasn't their love." She squeezes my hand.

We sit in silence for a long moment and the only noise I can hear is the muffled voices of whatever movie Jessica and Taylor are watching in the living room next door.

"Why are we even talking about this?" I ask.

"Tell me how you feel about Maeve," she says. "How you really feel about her."

"I feel…" My mouth falls closed again. When I think about Maeve, I feel a galaxy of emotions. There are too many and they are too rich, too vast and too wild for me to tame into words. And in this moment I don't care about labels – hers or mine – and I don't care about what the world we live in has to say about us, but rather more about what's destined in the stars. "I feel everything."

Mom smiles gently at me before she speaks again. I can't say exactly why but it feels like a warning. "That's what I thought."

"Meaning?" I prompt Mom.

"I'm simply saying, if you know deep down that Maeve can love you like you deserve to be loved, and you believe you can love her like she deserves to be loved, then don't let anything stop you. Don't let past relationships – mine and yours – or how you do or don't identify get in the way. And, maybe you shouldn't do it from afar. Maybe you should ask yourselves if there is a way you can be together, in the same place."

I look at her helplessly. "What can I do? She lives on the other side of the world."

"Then get on a plane." She waves her hand toward the door as if there's one waiting for me outside.

"I can't just get on a plane and go to Ireland," I tell her. "I have responsibilities here. I have Jessica."

Mom nods to Taylor and Jessica curled up together on the sofa. "Jessica has me, and Taylor. And Prince. You don't always have to stay so close."

"Mom, I want to stay close."

Mom reaches for my hand again and once it's in her grasp, she squeezes it so hard it almost hurts. "We want that too, but I also want you to fly. And not just literally on a plane to Ireland but also in life. I want you to fly high, to soar to the stars. I want you to go all the places you want to go and do all the things you want to do. I want you to live a fun and happy life."

"Mom, I literally have sex for a living. What could be more fun than that? What is it possibly missing?" I offer up a forced laugh but it sounds pathetically weak.

"You don't want me to answer that, do you?"

The question hangs in the air between us, taking up all the space and air in the room.

"I haven't… I haven't been invited," I say quietly. "Whenever we talk about seeing each other again, Maeve says she'll come here but she can't for a few more weeks because she has work in Dublin and then she's scared to leave when her brother's baby is due."

"Which is when?"

"In like a month or so, I think."

"That's exciting." Mom smiles and I mirror it when I think about all the clothes and cuddly toys Maeve has bought for her niece.

"Yeah, it is, which is why I don't want to take her away from it. And why I probably shouldn't be there when all that is going on."

"But Maeve isn't spending every single minute of every single day waiting for this baby. She has a job, and a life. I'm sure you could carve out time for each other. Or you could simply be with her as she waits." Mom is making it all sound so annoyingly easy and yet it doesn't translate to me.

"But she hasn't invited me, Mom. And Maeve is not the kind of person who is shy about what they want."

"So what are you saying?"

I breathe in, and out again, and allow myself to feel the full weight of the uncertainty that has been nibbling away at the corners of my mind.

"What if she's changed her mind? What if she doesn't want to try to work this out anymore? What if it's all too difficult? What if I'm an idiot for wanting to try?"

"There are a lot of big questions there. And some of them you won't be able to answer without talking to Maeve."

"We talk all day, every day."

"Face to face."

A cacophony of harsh coughing has Mom and I both turning our heads toward the living room and Jessica. She's sitting up and Taylor is rubbing her back and talking to her as the coughing slowly eases.

Mom says softly after we see Jessica eventually recover. "If Maeve is what you want, you should go for it."

"But long-term…" I fall into one of the many doubts that haunt me and I swim in it for a while. "She lives in Ireland. I live here."

"But that could change," Mom says and I know from those lifted eyebrows and that knowing pout of her mouth exactly what she's suggesting.

"No way," I say. "There's no way I'm leaving the States. There's no way I'm leaving Vegas."

"You say that now," Mom says. "But regardless, maybe she'll move for you."

"I don't think so," I scoff. "Her brother is about to have a baby and she's a Cancer sun, Mom. You know how loyal they are to family and loved ones."

"Hmm," Mom mumbles. "But these are steps further down the line. The first step is going to see her, as soon as you can."

My tension headache claws its way across my forehead.

"If I say I'll suggest it to her, will you drop this?"

"I'll certainly give you time and space to have that conversation." Mom holds her hands up, then catches a glance at her watch. "And lucky for you, I have to go to a new client meeting. Twins! It's been ages since I helped bring twins into the world."

"Well, don't worry about us. I'll make us all some dinner, and take Prince for a walk with Jessica," I say.

"No need. Taylor's already said she'll go with Jess later."

"Oh."

Mom surprises me by moving toward me rather than away from me, standing beside my chair and looping her arm over my shoulders. "You know, when you were born I had no idea how much of a generous, kind-hearted and caring human you were going to be, even knowing you were a Scorpio with Taurus rising. I know it's not always been easy, but I want you to know I'm proud of you for all you do, but I would also be just as proud of you if you chose a different path for yourself."

"Mom," I say and I don't realize I'm choked up until my next words are stuck in my throat. "You said you'd drop it."

"I didn't say anything about Ireland, or pretty blonde Irish girls who look at you like you hold the secrets to the universe."

"She does not look at me like that." I pull a face at my mother.

"Oh, she does," Mom says as she walks out the room, tossing me a look over her shoulder as she adds, "but it's nothing compared to the way you look at her."

I stay where I am, leaning back against the kitchen worktop for a long time. Mom leaves. The movie Taylor and Jessica are watching keeps playing. Prince farts a couple of times in his sleep and my sister and Taylor protest and laugh about it until Jessica starts coughing again but still I don't rush to her. She has Taylor. Then I pick up my phone and I type out a message I don't want to think twice about.

What would you say if I booked flights to Dublin for like, next week?>