Chapter Forty-Eight

Maeve

It's been years since I'd stepped foot in a hospital and now here I am in my second in a week. It just so happens this one is on the other side of the world compared to the first, and it's for a very, very different reason.

Three days ago we'd been welcoming a new life into the world, albeit somewhat precariously and dramatically. Today… Today I'm sitting in another waiting room fearing the absolute worst.

A collapsed lung.

A collapsed lung sounds terrifying for anybody but for Jessica… I'm struggling to even process what that means to her. My limited knowledge of CF doesn't help, but as I'd held Loncey's hand on the overnight flight we took, it was clear their better understanding of the illness was no help or comfort. They were pale. They were silent. They were a million miles away. And yet, they weren't completely. They stayed tethered to me. They kept my hand in theirs. They stroked my skin with their thumb. And when they thought I was asleep, they kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my knuckles.

We didn't speak much in the taxi to the hospital but they relayed the latest messages they'd received from their mum and Taylor. Jessica was continuing with oxygen treatment and still had the chest drainage tube in place. It still wasn't clear or decided if she needed surgery. She was sleeping a lot, but Taylor hadn't left her side, calling in sick to her work.

As we'd rushed through the hospital, rolling our suitcases next to us, we were still holding hands and I felt Loncey's grip tighten the closer we got. Once we'd been advised what room Jessica was in, I'd squeezed their hand and then released it.

"Go," I said. "I'll wait here for you."

They'd looked at me with bottomless brown eyes that were wide with fear.

"But our bags…"

"I'll look after them. You go look after Jessica."

Those words had prompted them into action and I'd watched as they jogged away from me. They'd turned back and called out, "I'll let you know how she is!"

That was nearly three hours ago and while I'm not bothered about being left alone, I am starting to get worried that something bad has happened, that Jessica's condition has deteriorated or devastating news has been delivered. Loncey knows I'm worried about Jessica. They said they'd tell me how she's doing and I've heard nothing. No text or call and they haven't returned to the waiting room.

I'm about to go up to the reception desk and ask for an update myself when I see a figure approach me. It's Gabi, Loncey's mum.

"Maeve," she says, holding out her arms. Her smile and eyes are both tired, but there is warmth there nonetheless. As there also is when I step into her embrace.

"Are you okay?" I ask over her shoulder.

She pulls back and grips my elbows, keeping me close. "No, but I will be," she says. "At least that's what I tell myself to get through the days like these."

A new terrifying thought enters my mind. "You've had many days like these?"

"This is not the first time one of Jess' lungs has spontaneously collapsed. In the past, she had slightly higher lung function so it wasn't quite as scary, but she was younger. I think it was more frightening for her then. Right now she seems too tired to even be scared," Gabriella's gaze dips for a beat before returning to me, her eyes mistier and even more exhausted, "which is sort of horrible in its own devastating way."

I nod. "I can imagine."

"You really didn't have to come-" she begins but I cut her off.

"Loncey wasn't going to stay and I wasn't going to be without them."

Gabi's smile returns and it seems to have a little more life in it.

"They've fallen asleep in the chair next to Jess. Taylor is sitting on the floor doing some work on her laptop. I just wanted you to know they didn't forget you, they just wanted to stay with Jessica and when they fell asleep, well, I wanted to let them."

"I'm glad you did," I tell her and when her palms slide down my arms, I catch one of her hands in mine.

"Do you mind if I sit with you for a while? I need a change of scenery," she nods at the chairs behind us.

"Of course," I say and I lead us to sit down. "I also wanted to thank you, for what you did for my brother and Jenna. My niece," I swallow around a lump of emotion, "she's so beautiful."

"That was a huge pleasure," Gabi taps our joined hands. "It's a joy and honour to be a part of any birth of new life."

"Loncey really saved the day," I tell her.

"They have a habit of wanting to do that," Gabi chuckles, almost to herself.

Silence falls between us but the longer it lasts, the louder one particular question becomes in my mind. It gets so loud I have to speak it.

"Is Jessica going to be okay?"

Gabi turns to look at me and while there is still exhaustion in her slightly sallow features, there is something else in the small smile she gives me. Sheer and unadulterated bravery.

"No, Maeve, she's not going to be okay in the same way you and I would be okay after something like this. I don't know what life will be like for her after this. But I know she will be loved. She will not be alone," a tear falls but her smile holds, "and she will be so, so loved."

*****

Two days later and Jessica is discharged. She didn't need surgery and the tubes she had inserted did what was hoped without further intervention. With continued oxygen therapy, and after they'd placed a G-tube in her so she can get some much needed calories and nutrients in her, her medical team agreed resting at home was the best continued treatment.

"Don't even think about asking Taylor to leave," Gabriella says to Loncey as we walk into the kitchen. After Loncey had carried Jessica to her room, and I'd followed carrying some bags, overtaken easily by an overexcited Prince who had jumped on us all the moment we arrived, Taylor had stayed up there with her, saying she was going to help get her into some clean pyjamas, do her skincare and make her comfortable in bed. As I'd followed Loncey downstairs I'd wondered if they were simply to exhausted to argue, or if perhaps they realised just how much that would mean to both Taylor and Jessica.

"I wasn't going to!" Loncey protests.

"Good," Gabi says and I expect her to say more, and I can tell Loncey does too, but she doesn't.

"I should make y'all some dinner," Loncey moves to the sink to wash their hands.

Gabi pulls a dish out of the fridge. "No need, I defrosted this lentil lasagna you put in the freezer," she says. "There should be enough for four."

"Actually, we already ate," I explain. "Our stomachs are all out of sync with the travelling and we grabbed a couple of sandwiches from the hospital cafeteria."

"You brave souls," Gabi teases. "So what are you going to do with your evening then?"

I turn to look at Loncey at the same time they look at me. "Stay here, of course," they reply.

"Why?"

"Because Jessica might need-"

"Jessica has me and Taylor," their mother tells them as they turn the oven on. "And you only have one more day together before Maeve has to go home. You should make the most of it."

"I really don't-" I begin but it's my turn to get cut off.

"Go out, do something, live," Gabi emphasises. "You only have so much time together, you need to enjoy it."

Even though I wouldn't have changed the last few days for anything, being able to support Loncey and to help out in whatever small ways possible, Gabi's words don't just land in my ears, they burrow their way into my heart.

Because I am going home on a flight first thing the day after tomorrow. We don't have much time left. And we haven't once discussed when we will see each other again. I don't know if Loncey's reluctance to do so is rooted in the same place mine is – fear that it will be a long time and admitting that makes it more real just how long distance is – but I do know that they have avoided talking about it just as much as I have.

Maybe we could go somewhere just the two of us and have that conversation, actually come up with a plan that will make that reality slightly less awful.

I'm half-convinced Loncey has exactly the same idea when I turn to look at them.

"Actually, there's a place I want you to see."

"I swear to God if it's another deli making rabbit food…"

Loncey laughs. "No, it's got nothing to do with chicken kale salads but it is related to my other obsession."

"The stars?" I ask.

"Yes, Maeve," they say with a slow smile. "The stars. Our stars."

I smile back. "Will you be bringing your paints?"

"I could. Want me to paint your back again?"

"Not this time. I have something else in mind."

*****

Four hours later and darkness has settled over Nevada, and I say that because that's exactly what stretches out in front of me. We've left the city behind us and we're heading west, driving down an impossibly flat, long road and I'm once again being reminded of the vastness of this country. It's just so big and so open. At least it is in this corner of the United States. It's perfect for looking up and studying the stars and I wonder where Loncey is taking me so we can do that, because I'm fairly confident that's exactly what we're going to do.

"Do you do this a lot?" I ask. "Leave the city behind you and come out to the desert?"

It's dark so it's not clear precisely what is surrounding us, but the car's headlights illuminate a strip of the land close to the Interstate we're driving down and I can see sparse greenery emerging from dusty gravel. In the distance, and thanks to a not-quite-full moon, I can see the lumpy silhouettes of large rocks and desert mountains that remind me of the backdrop of a cowboy movie.

"I haven't for a while, but yes, I used to," Loncey replies, their eyes fixed straight ahead. "Especially when things have been hard in my life. Like when I broke up with Geneva. And when I was thinking about moving from personal training to adult content. And a whole heap of time when I was struggling with my gender identity."

I tuck all this away inside me and then ask what suddenly seems the most important question. "And yet you haven't come out for a while. Is that because things are easier?"

They reach for my hand over the console. "Since I met you, Maeve, things have become so much easier. So much harder too, but also much, much easier."

I rest our joined hands on my thigh and lean back in the seat. "That shouldn't make any sense and yet it does."

And then we don't talk again until Loncey is pulling off the road and we're heading down a dirt track that gradually gets bumpier and has more twists and turns. The peaks that were in the distance a short while ago are now inching closer and I look up to see the night sky is more intense; a darker shade of a deep, deep purple-blue and the stars have multiplied drastically.

Loncey parks the car in what I can vaguely make out is a car park.

"Red Rock Canyon," they announce and they stare solemnly ahead of them into the desert land lit up by our headlights. "Southern Paiute land. We thank them and their ancestors for looking after the land and we promise to honor them as we move in this space."

"Absolutely," I agree with a firm nod.

Loncey then reaches across me and opens the glove compartment. They rummage around and finally retrieve something I can't identify until they're fixing it to their head.

"A head torch?" I ask with a slight grin. "I would never have thought you'd own one of them."

"I own two of them," they say and they toss their second one into my lap. Chuckling to myself, I carefully pull it over the top of my hair and then switch it on. It shines brightly in Loncey's eyes as I turn to them.

"So, how fecking stupid do I look?" I ask.

They reach up and switch the light off before tilting their head to the side and placing a soft kiss on my lips. "You always look beautiful."

I'm smiling as we climb out and I follow Loncey around to the boot of their car. They pull out a canvas and the backpack they filled with paints earlier and I grab the tote bag I placed in there when they weren't looking.

"You can leave that there," Loncey says.

"No, I can't," I say and I flash what I hope is a smile that ends any further enquiries.

"Okay," they say, looking only slightly puzzled, then they reach for my hand, "let's go."

Hand in hand we walk for many minutes. The path we take is well worn and has clearly been mapped out by some sort of authority. I don't feel like we're getting lost or heading into the deep, dark wilderness, however I do feel like we're slowly getting further and further away from civilisation. And I don't mind it. This is surprising in itself as I'm a woman who likes her home comforts and has turned down countless jobs working with travel, leisure and festival brands because they would have involved me foregoing a daily shower or using communal bathing facilities. Yet there's something about having Loncey lead me down this dusty path where the cool air seems to get cleaner, purer, that I like. I trust them. I will follow them wherever they lead me.

"We've got to go up a short incline, and then we're there," they say and indeed that's what happens and we untangle our hands so we are more stable taking strides up a steeper path. I'm grateful I listened when they told me to put a jacket and some trainers on as well as the yoga leggings I was already wearing. By the time we reach a plateau I'm a little out of breath and my body feels warm. It's another small surprise when I realise I like this too.

Fuck me, did I just enjoy doing some exercise?

"Look behind you," Loncey says and I turn. A golden glow stretches out in the distance – Las Vegas – below an impossible number of tiny stars.

"Wow," I say.

"Now look back this way." Loncey gently grips my shoulders and turns me.

"Also wow," I comment as I take in the darker tones of night and, somehow, even more stars above us, all of varying brightnesses.

"It's hard to choose which side to paint," Loncey says as they put their bag down by their feet.

"And yet, none of your paintings feature Vegas in them," I say, easily recalling the canvases of theirs that I've seen.

"Oh, I never paint that view," they say. "I think about it. But it feels like cheating."

"How so?"

"Well, it's easy to see things when there's a lot of light." They point towards the city. "It's harder to see just how much detail there is when there's less light. When things are a bit darker, we assume there is nothing there, no light, but that just isn't the case."

"That's very philosophical, Loncey, but you know it's possible for things to be easy and beautiful and just as valuable, just as special."

Loncey looks at me with a wry expression. "I was talking about the night sky, Maeve, what are you talking about?"

I nudge them playfully. "Are you going to paint here?"

Loncey looks back at the darker side of the sky. "I think so. It's such a clear night. It would be wrong to not paint it."

"I agree," I say as I walk away from them to a small rock I just spotted. I sit down on it and open my tote bag. "It would also be waste not to dance under a sky like this."

"Dance?" Loncey's brow furrows.

I pull out my pointes. "You once said you wanted to watch me dance. I was going to dance for you in Dublin but that didn't happen so I packed my pointes on a whim. I can't think of a better place to dance for you than under the stars, while you paint. Unless that would be ridiculously distracting?"

"It would be ridiculously perfect," Loncey says with a wide smile. "But your shoes are going to get filthy."

"My pointes," I correct them. "Doesn't matter. They can be my desert pointes for when I come out here. Maybe, one day, when I live here."

I feel an inane sense of bravery for saying that last sentence, but I did it very deliberately. Loncey and I haven't had a serious conversation about our future since everything happened with Jessica. Even on the long overnight flight to Vegas we mostly slept, watched the same movies together and moaned about how tired we were. And now I only have two more days with them until I've got to get back on a plane for Dublin. I don't want to spend that whole time talking about how we are about to be apart and how hard long distance is but I also don't want to ignore our reality. I want us to have a plan, a series of next steps so at the very least, I know it's not going to be months and months until I see them again.

"I like the sound of that," Loncey says and it's the perfect reward for my bravery. "But how are you going to dance without music?"

I pull my phone out of my pocket and place it on the rock next to me. "I figured it would be quiet wherever you were taking me so this should be enough. The question is, what song?"

Loncey steps closer. "Can I pick?"

"Sure." I hand them my phone.

They take a few moments to find what they're looking for but they hand my device back to me finally. "Just hit play when you're ready. I'm going to set up over there."

I go about removing my trainers and socks and then tying up my pointes. I'm grateful for the head torch to do so but as soon as they're on and feel secure, I switch the light off.

My eyes need to adjust to the dark if I'm going to dance without killing myself. At roughly the same moment Loncey switches off their head torch too. It means all I can see of them is a blurry silhouette and the bright white of their canvas which is now positioned on a wooden stand.

"You paint in the dark?" I ask.

"I told you, Maeve. The darker the night, the brighter the stars."

I look directly above me and feel like I can see what they see when they look at the stars. The endless possibility of the night sky. The infinite number of stars that seem to shine just for us. The perpetual mystery of where they are, what they are, and how they are.

"Are you ready?" I ask them and I feel like I'm asking them if they're ready for so much more than what's about to happen here in this desert canyon on precious Paiute land.

"I'm ready," they reply, and their voice tells me they're smiling.

"Let's do this," I say and hit play.