Chapter Forty-Nine

Loncey

Pink + White by Frank Ocean starts playing and I wish I could see Maeve's face. I wish I could track her reaction to the song choice. Does she think I chose it because it was a TikTok trend once upon a time? Does she think I chose it because Frank Ocean is a Black queer person like me? Does she wonder if I chose it because it's listening to Frank Ocean's music that somewhat sustains me when we're apart? Whether she thinks any of these things or not, only the last one is really true. I may have even imagined Maeve dancing to this song once or twice.

But I no longer have to imagine her dancing because it's happening right in front of my eyes. Admittedly, I can't see the detail I want to, but I can see her move. And for a long, long moment I watch her rise up on her toes, stretch out her arms and start to sway in time to the music. I watch as she lifts a bent leg and turns, doing what I think is called a pirouette, and then she kicks that leg out, the white of her pointe shoes catching the moonlight. She starts to spin, her hair flowing out around her like liquid gold, and I wish I could see her face. Is she smiling, is she pouting with concentration, or are all her features completely at peace?

I tell myself I don't need to know. I just need to be in this moment, fully present as Maeve dances under more stars than any human could count. There will be other times in the future when Maeve dances for me. There will be times when she does so within touching distance and I'll be able to observe every single expression she makes.

My future. With Maeve. Full of dancing and painting and stars. All the stars.

I sigh, and then before the music ends, I switch on the light that I have positioned above my canvas and I pick up the single pencil I brought. I use it to sketch out lines and curves, the most basic and abstract drawing of what I see in front of me. Maeve has her hands above her head now and she's taking the smallest and most delicate steps to the side, her head tilted low. I capture that. And I sketch the rough position of the moon above the desert mountains that surround us. And then I put the pencil down and I pick up the slab of wood I use as a palette and my paints.

It's time to bring the stars to life.

*****

Maeve dances for four songs in total. All Frank Ocean and all songs I love, which makes me feel like maybe something other than the music streaming app on her phone is really in charge. We don't speak about this – we don't speak at all – but I hope she knows how pleased I am that she continues to move in front of me. By the end of the fourth song, my eyes have adjusted so much to the darkness that I can catch her smiles and her little frowns of frustration when, I assume, a step goes wrong, although I can't tell. She moves so gracefully, so elegantly. Her limbs seem to get longer, her head a little higher on her shoulders, and her hands move so fluidly it's almost hard to believe they're attached to her body.

By the time she comes down off her toes for good, I have a canvas that's mostly full of paint, although it's far from finished.

"Are you okay?" I ask as Maeve sits down on a rock.

Her chest heaves and she takes a deep breath before replying. "I have no idea what that looked like, but it felt really, really fucking good."

"It looked like you were part of the sky, a supernova up close."

"I've not danced in front of someone else other than in my classes for the longest time. But this felt very different," she admits as she starts to unravel the ribbons from her ankles.

"That is a damn shame," I tell her earnestly.

"How's the painting going?"

"It's going, but it's not finished. Although I can finish it at home, or another night."

"No," Maeve says sliding on her jacket, "finish it. As long as you don't mind me being here while you do."

"I never paint with other people," I realize out loud.

"If you'd rather be alone…" Maeve begins.

"No, I don't want you to go. I quite like the idea of you being here while I paint the stars."

Maeve tucks her pointes back in her tote bag.

"Then I'll just sit here and watch the stars as you paint them."

And that's exactly what happens. We talk now and then, most often for me to point out constellations and planets to Maeve who seems more impressed than even she expects that she's able to see Mercury, Venus and Jupiter, and I soak up her small exclamations of awe and amazement.

"What about Cancer?" she asks eventually. "Where's that?"

"You'd need a telescope to see that," I answer. "Scorpio too."

"Our stars like to hide," she says her head still looking up at the night that surrounds us.

"You don't have to see something to believe it's there," I say and that pulls her attention to me and I feel her eyes on me for a long time, but I don't say anything and I focus once again on my painting.

"I don't think you'd ever see a night sky like this in Dublin, or anywhere in Ireland for that matter," she says, and it sounds a lot like a thought she didn't mean to vocalize.

"But Dublin has a lot to offer," I remind her. "It has your family. It has your niece."

"Ah yes." She rummages around and finds her phone. The screen lights up and gives her face a blue glow. "My niece who… wait! She has a name!"

Maeve claps her hand over her mouth. I put down my paint brush. "What!? What's her name?"

"Oh, it's beautiful. It's…" Maeve looks up again and the blue light reveals how moist her eyes are. "Patience Cynthia Catarina O'Martin."

"Patience," I repeat. "That's a very pretty name for a very pretty baby. Although it's an interesting choice for a baby who was born nearly a month early."

Maeve laughs as she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. "You're not wrong, but actually it has a lot of meaning, for Jenna and Marty."

"Oh?" I ask.

"Long story. I'll bore you with it one day." Maeve waves her hand around as if to dismiss this conversation. She switches her phone off and the screen goes dark again. "Loncey?"

"Yeah?"

"When am I going to see you again?" she asks and I hear the tears in her voice. I don't know if they're leftover from her joy at Patience's name or if they're there for another reason.

"I don't know," I reply honestly, but quickly add, "I hope it's soon. Very soon."

"I want to be in Dublin for a few weeks. To spend time with Patience, and also Jake is coming into town. And then at the end of March I have to go to Barcelona for a job, and shortly after that I'm in London for a week. Of course, you could come back to Dublin with me?"

Her eyes are big and full of hope. My heart is heavy and full of regret.

"I don't know if that's a good idea. I don't know how long it's going to take Jessica to recover," their gaze drops to the ground. "Or even if she will properly recover."

"I understand." Maeve nods. "So, April?"

I wince. "I'm directing a couple of scenes to shoot here in Vegas, and one in Reno. And April is Mom's and Jessica's birthdays. I've booked us all a week in Palm Springs."

"Ah, that's super nice."

"I hope so. If Jessica is well enough to travel."

"She will be," Maeve says confidently, and I know it's as much for my benefit than anything.

"Okay, so how about May?" I ask.

Maeve makes a face. "May I have two short trips in Europe and then I'm supposed to go back to New York and work with that agency again for like, a week. You could meet me there?"

"Yes, I could," I say but even I can hear how lacking in enthusiasm my voice is. Because I don't know if I want to spend time with Maeve in a hotel room, as good as my memories of doing this are. I want to have her in my own space, or be in her space, with her.

"June?" Maeve asks.

"June is good for me," I say but it's not good. June is three months away. I barely survived the six weeks we were apart previously.

"Shite, June isn't so great for me. Arabella and I are going on holiday together. It's been, like, nearly a year in the planning. Two weeks in Croatia. I can't cancel on her."

"No, you mustn't," I agree.

"So, July?" she asks and her voice is a defeated as I feel.

I put down my brush and wipe my hands with the cloth I have tossed over one shoulder. "Here's what we'll do. You'll come to Palm Springs with me, Mom and Jess. I was thinking about inviting Taylor anyway so let's make a thing of it."

"That's in April, right? Okay, that's not so far away."

"And in May, I'll come to New York when you're there," I add. I'm an idiot to let us being in a hotel room stop us from seeing each other.

"Yes. Please." Maeve gets up and moves toward me and I step away from the easel.

"We'll make it work," I tell her. "Even if it's just weekends here and there. Even if it's going to single-handedly ruin what's left of the ozone layer." Maeve grimaces as my hands slide around her waist. "Even if it never feels like enough, we'll make it work."

"And speaking of work," Maeve places her hands on my chest, "I want you to know I'm okay with you continuing to work. And also doing stuff, you know, the sex stuff. With other people. We haven't talked about it—"

"And we don't have to now," I interrupt. "I haven't slept with anyone else since we got together."

"Really?" she asks, surprised.

"Really," I confirm.

"But I don't mind. Well, I mean, I don't expect you to stay celibate, while we're apart. It's your job and also it's… you."

"What do you mean?"

"You're polyamorous."

I sigh.

"I know we've not talked about it much," Maeve says, "but I've always been aware that it's part of who you are. And I want you to know that I don't want you to change, for me, for us."

I can't help but scoff out a disbelieving laugh. "But I am changing, Maeve. You are changing me."

"But you don't have to. I mean, if you want to see other people, have sex with other partners for work or… otherwise. I think I'm okay with it."

"Really?"

She nods. "I've thought about this a lot. One of the advantages, I guess, of being asexual is that I don't place a lot of weight on sex. That doesn't mean what we've done together isn't important, because it has been. Very. But it means I don't think I have traditional views on sexual monogamy."

"You're making my head spin," I say honestly.

"We can talk about it some more another time," she says, "when your head isn't spinning, but I just thought it was important to tell you how I felt."

"I appreciate that, but I have to be completely honest with you, I don't know how I feel. About monogamy, about polyamory, even about my work. All I know is that I care about you so, so much and I want you in my life. No matter the distance, no matter the obstacles that come our way, no matter the things we don't yet have figured out, I want you, Maeve."

"I feel the same way." Maeve's hands ride up my body and cup my face, her thumbs stroking my jawline. "I… I…"

No. Fuck this. She is not beating me to it. I'm a Water sign too, damn it. I can share my emotions.

"No, Maeve. Let me say it first. I owe you that much."

Her nervous laughter is the most adorable sound on this planet. "You owe me nothing."

"Fine, then just let me be selfish and have this?" I ask her, my eyes fixed on hers which are unusually dark in the dim light. She nods. "I love you so very, very much, Maeve. I love you like I know I'm supposed to. I love you like it's predestined by the universe. I love you like the stars burn, with endless energy, infinite light and constant burning hope."

A long exhale leaves Maeve's body and I can see, and feel, how much she needed that. I make a promise to myself and all the stars in the sky that I will tell her every day so she always, always knows.

"I love you too, Loncey," she says, and she steps into my body, resting her head on my shoulder. "I don't have words like you do, but I love you so fucking much."

I hold her to me tightly for long, long minutes. I refuse to pull away before she does and when she finally does lean back, it's to look up at me and ask if she can see my painting.

*****

It's almost one in the morning when we're finally in bed. My painting isn't completely finished but I can do the final bits at home one day in the future when I need to relive the most perfect night under the desert sky. There was enough there for Maeve to see herself, a dancing moon-colored silhouette stretched out under the stars. She didn't say much about the painting but she did give me one of those smiles that only I am lucky enough to see.

And now she's lying next to me, gently snoring as I stare up at the canvases fixed to my ceiling trying to make out the stars in the darkness. I should be exhausted with all the travel, the worry about Jessica, and the time zones crossed in the last five days but I'm frustratingly awake, alert even, possibly on edge.

I can't forget the conversation we had. I can't forget what she said about monogamy or the possible lack thereof. I can't forget how crushing it felt to realize we're not going to be together alone for more than a week until July. I can't forget how wrong it still feels to have finally found something, someone, I thought I'd never find and to now have to live with her on the other side of the world.

Sighing roughly, I can't lie awake like this for a second longer. I carefully wriggle out of bed, determined not to wake Maeve, and I find my laptop. I sit on the couch and open it up. Life might be very different now with Maeve in it and work has certainly lost its place as one of my top priorities, but some habits die hard. I open up my editing software, upload a video of me masturbating with a plug in my ass and I get to work hoping that it helps me ignore some of these things I can't forget.