by Roan Parrish
“Sue tells me you’re looking to start anywhere,” she said once we’d sat down.
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, uh, you know. Within reason.” Visions of cleaning up vomit and scrubbing gum off statues swam in my head.
She smirked.
“Would you be interested in shadowing someone in my department as they set up the activities for the kids and take them through the museum? You wouldn’t be paid, but you’d learn a bit about what goes on, and if you enjoy it and it seems like a promising fit, we can chat.”
The terms were vague and the money was nonexistent. I wouldn’t be able to quit Buggy’s yet, but I didn’t care. I’d wanted to figure out what I enjoyed doing, and this was a path to that.
“Yes,” I said immediately.
Ann raised an eyebrow.
“No questions for me?”
“Uh…” My mind was a complete and total blank. “Not at the moment,” I said, which was something Dane said when he wanted to buy himself time to revisit an issue later. It sounded dignified when he said it. It sounded ridiculous coming from me.
And so, a week later I began shadowing Amira, learning how she designed the activities the kids did during their time at the museum, what the goals of those activities were, and how she worked with teachers to set them. She had me put together coloring packets and clipboards and arrange ropes around certain parts of exhibits.
After a month of me not acting like an idiot, the museum ran some kind of background check on me so I was allowed to be around children, and Amira had me hand out papers and walk kids to the bathroom during the activities.
I loved it. I’d never known how much I would enjoy working with kids, but I found their comments hilarious and their questions astute. I loved to watch their minds get blown when they saw new things or understood something for the first time.
Amira had a degree in education and childhood development, so I asked her a zillion questions, which she patiently answered. Little by little, shadowing her became more like helping her, and then like working alongside her.
“I’m going to talk to Ann,” Amira told me one day. “You’re working. It’s not right for you not to get paid.”
“But you don’t actually need me,” I protested. “You were fine without me, and if you force Ann’s hand she might choose to get rid of me instead of pay me.”
Amira agreed to wait a little while, but made it clear she didn’t like it.
One day last month, I brought in a diorama I’d made to show Amira. It was about cacti, and in one half showed how little water cacti needed to survive in desert conditions. On the other side, it showed the way cacti could be propagated in water. One plant thriving in two seemingly opposed conditions.
“I imagined it as a big, like, museum-sized diorama, you know?” I told Amira. “So next to the desert side would be a time-elapse video of a cactus in the desert with days and days of no rain, utilizing its stored resources. On the water side would be a time-elapse video of a piece of the same type of cactus growing roots in water and eventually growing a whole new lobe. Then for a you-can-touch part, we could have a whole bunch of samples at different stages of the water propagation process, and ones that had been without water. I mean, if there was a budget, the kids could each take home a little cactus lobe in a jar of water.”
I trailed off. Amira was examining the box. It still showed the name of the liquor company on the outside. Dane got all my boxes for me from the bar.
“That’s a great idea,” she said finally.
“It is?”
“Yeah,” she said. “It is.” She looked thoughtful. “Look, you need to let me talk to Ann. You have ideas and are artistic enough to carry them out. You’re great with the kids and easy to work with. Is there a position open for an exhibit designer? No. Do I think Ann should hire you anyway? Yes.”
I started to protest, but she cut me off.
“I’m an educator. I’m not an artist. It would be very useful to have someone who could execute simple, low-cost pieces that would aid in the way we present material to the kids. Just let me talk to her.”
I worried my lip. Now that I was close to something I wanted so much, I was scared to risk losing what I already had for the potential to get something better. But I knew what I’d say to Dane if he were in the same position. Go for it.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay, thanks. I’d appreciate that.”
I spent the next week biting my nails until I was called into Ann’s office.
“Amira is forcing me to hire you,” she said wryly.
“Um. Sorry?”
Ann shrugged. She had this particular kind of New York insouciance that kept me off-balance.
“She’s right. She made it clear what a valuable addition you would be to the museum education department. If you’re interested, I can offer you a position on a trial basis. We’ll reassess in three months and decide if you’re still a good fit. What do you say?”
“Yes! Oh my gosh, that’s so awesome. Yes, for sure.”
“Felix,” Ann said, and her smile seemed genuinely amused instead of simply friendly. “Don’t you want to know how much it pays, what your hours would be, et cetera?”
I cringed and nodded. But the second I left Ann’s office, I texted Sue my undying devotion, and then made a beeline for Dane’s apartment, to tell the man who actually had my undying devotion that I wasn’t a loser anymore.
First thing the next morning, I gave my two weeks’ notice at Buggy’s, grinning the whole time.
I’d actually done it. I’d gotten the kind of job I hadn’t even let myself hope for all these years.
Dream job, dream man. Seriously, how the hell was this my life?
Dane
We were going to Felix’s mom’s house for the weekend to celebrate his birthday, but tonight Theo and Caleb, Rhys and Matt, and Sofia and Coco had come for dinner. I’d never had so many people in my apartment at one time. Hell, I’d never had this many people in my apartment total.
Felix was enjoying it, though. He got along great with Caleb and Theo, and with Rhys. But he’d especially gotten close to Matt over the last few months. Since Matt worked in the city, they often met up for lunch or dinner, and I was glad Felix had a good friend.
Every time they got together, Rhys would text me, ecstatic, and say that our husbands were best friends now. I would reply that Felix wasn’t my husband. Rhys would send a winky-face emoji and nothing else.
The truth was that I didn’t care at all about marriage. It wasn’t important to me, and it didn’t conjure feelings of permanence or safety in and of itself. If Felix wanted to get married, I’d do it for him without hesitation, but there were things I cared about a lot more.
I cared about the way Felix called me on my shit now, unconcerned that he might make me shut down. That when I did shut down, he gave me space to think things through but never let me off the hook for talking about it later. I cared about how some days Felix let himself show me the parts he wasn’t as proud of—the demanding, insecure parts that he called bratty and I thought simply needed me. And I loved it.
I loved when he begged me, when he told me exactly what he wanted from me, when he told me what to do. Out of bed, it made me feel good, like I was giving him a gift no one else could. In bed, serving him made me ecstatic with joy and lust, and when Felix showed me his pleasure, I felt it as my own.
I cared about the way he would grab my hand as we were walking or pull me down for a kiss because I was too tall for him to reach. About how at the end of the day he’d throw himself into my arms like that signaled the beginning of our time, separate from the time for the outside world. I cared about the sounds he made in his sleep—the tiny fretful sounds when I pulled away to use the bathroom or get a drink of water, the snuffles and sighs he made secure in my ar
ms, and the sexy moans that spilled from his lips when his naked skin would drag against mine just right in bed, waking him enough to touch.
Over the last six months I’d reset myself. I wasn’t experiencing the desperate, conditional relief tinged with fear that had accompanied getting sober. These last months, I felt like I’d woken up and a weight that I’d never known I bore had been lifted from me like a soiled garment. I’d talked through the guilt of cutting back on the time I spent with sponsees with Felix and with Caleb. It was still there but lessened.
But it was going to a meeting and telling Vicki about the reasons behind my decision that had done the most to wipe it away. When I’d explained how I’d been feeling, she looked horrified. She told me in no uncertain terms that that was not the way a sponsor should feel. “Very few people stay connected to the program for this long,” she said. “Not because they don’t care. Because it can be painful when it doesn’t need to be. It can make life more difficult.” She’d laid a hand on mine and said, “Help that harms you is no help at all.”
It was what Caleb had said to me in Sleepy Hollow. Hearing it from Vicki, who’d seen more sponsors and sponsees come and go than I ever would, had made it easier to step away. To turn my energy toward passing along the things I’d learned to others who could do more good than I could. I’d assumed I would miss it, despite how drained I’d felt lately. But I didn’t. The rest of my life simply flowed in and filled the space, until there was no void, only fresh new experiences. With Felix. With the bar. With myself. With Skeleton.
That damned cat. She’d worked her way into my heart just like she’d worked her claws into every piece of furniture I owned.
We’d had a cat when I was little. Patches, a plain-looking calico cat with a sweet disposition who’d followed my mother like a shadow and died a month after she did. I had forgotten the day I came home from school and found my father, mute and shaking, standing over Patches’ body. I’d buried her in the backyard. Over the years, I’d often find my father out there staring at that stretch of grass.
Skeleton considered herself queen of the apartment and my abortive efforts to curtail her freedoms were fruitless, so I quickly stopped bothering. She greeted me at the door when I came home and slept in my lap on the couch. She curled up next to my pillow in bed, whether I was alone or Felix was staying over. She jumped into the bathtub after I showered and lapped delicately at the water.
And, fuck, just watching her made me so happy I couldn’t believe it.
My apartment, once a quiet, lonely, empty box, was full.
I had much less to do than I had before, but now I enjoyed the things I did. I liked seeing the bar thrive under Johi’s expert hand and providing a place for people to hang out that was different than the hundreds of other bars they could go to in the city.
With more space, my mind had turned to other things. Instead of always trying to keep myself occupied, now I felt curious to see where my mind would wander because so often it wandered to a future with Felix. I enjoyed simply sitting still now because it meant Skellie would sit on me.
A future. That’s what I had now. For so many years, I’d been scrabbling to get through each day. Now, each day smoothed into the next like the rambling conversations Felix and I had, ebbing and flowing with the rhythm of our time. Even my body felt different—strength turned inward, a calm conviction that I was powerful enough to carry out any of the futures we dreamed up.
And little by little, that future had developed in my mind into something specific. Something permanent.
* * *
—
Felix had looked at me like I’d lost it when I told him he needed to explicitly tell our guests that he didn’t want any expensive birthday gifts—until I told him about Theo’s well-meaning Christmas gift to me two years before. Though I’d returned the car to Theo with deep thanks, I’d told him that any future gifts, if there had to be future gifts, should be under twenty dollars. He’d shrugged and agreed, and Caleb had rolled his eyes fondly and mouthed “Rock stars” at me.
Theo gave away his money whenever he could—to friends, to charity, to pay off random fans’ student loans, and by giving people gifts—so I knew it had been well-meaning, but I also knew that Felix wouldn’t feel able to reject a gift once it was given. I’d underlined his desire to Caleb so he’d make sure no jet planes or yachts showed up at Felix’s birthday party.
As a result, after dinner when Theo said, “Presents!” I felt only the vaguest sense of dread. But even that turned out to be unfounded. Felix ripped open the large box Theo and Caleb had brought to reveal a crate of onions, potatoes, squash, and turnips from their garden. Felix thanked them and passed the crate to me, and Skeleton immediately pounced into the box, batting at the scraps of wrapping paper that curled over the top.
“Wait, wait, there’s more stuff in there,” said Theo.
Felix reached a careful hand into the box and pulled out a bag of soil and some plastic bags of seeds labeled in Caleb’s handwriting. He peered into the box again and made the aww sound that meant Skeleton was doing something adorable. He lifted out a stack of terra-cotta pots and Skeleton poked her head out of the top pot, confused about why she had been disturbed.
“Jesus, she really sold the gift.” Theo reached out and ran a gentle finger down Skeleton’s back. “We thought you might like to grow some veggies over there,” Theo said, pointing to the large window. “You get enough light.”
“Wow, thanks, guys. That’s awesome. I’d really like that.” Felix hesitated, then turned to me, as if remembering that it was my apartment. “If you’re okay with it?”
I nodded my consent and Caleb shot me a narrow-eyed look. He’d taken great interest when he found out Felix had installed Skeleton in my apartment. First it had been gentle teasing and commiseration about boyfriends with a weakness for cute animals that then took over our lives. Then it was prodding questions: Now that Skeleton moved in, is someone else going to?
Matt gave Felix a gift card for the movie theater they often went to and Rhys gave him an IOU for one weekend getaway in Sleepy Hollow where he and Matt would clear off and stay with Caleb and Theo, giving us the house.
We’d never taken a real vacation together, and I could see how excited Felix was to redeem it.
Coco gave Theo a gift card for audiobooks.
“How’d you know?” Felix asked, gleeful.
Coco smiled and inclined her head gracefully. “I know things.”
Sofia snorted and elbowed her.
“Fine, Sofia might have mentioned it.”
“Thanks, Coco, this is awesome.”
From behind her back, Sofia pulled a strange-looking white bear with a red bow stuck to its head.
“What!? Where did you find him?!” Felix demanded.
Sofia laughed. “eBay.”
“Awww.” He hugged her and the bear. “Okay, fine, I forgive you.”
She beamed. “And it’s only taken fifteen years.”
“She murdered my bear!” Felix explained, arms spread wide in entreaty.
“It was an accident and I was, like, eight!”
“Fine, she manslaughtered my bear. Bearslaughtered. She bearslaughtered my bear!”
Then they both dissolved in giggles, and Felix put the bear on the arm of the couch so it could observe us eating cake. Skeleton immediately claimed the bear as hers, knocking it onto the floor and then curling up half on top of it.
After the cake was demolished—I swore I’d never seen a sweet tooth like Matt’s—I began subtly encouraging our guests to leave.
“Okay, party’s over. Get out of my apartment.”
They laughed and left on a chorus of happy birthdays and well wishes. I was piling the frosting-smeared dishes in the sink when arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
“Thank you,” Felix said, breath warm between my shoulder blades.
I abandoned the dishes and turned to hold him close. The sense of relief I always felt at wrapping him in my arms was leavened with nervous excitement.
“Can I give you your present now?”
“You just threw me a whole party,” he protested, but followed me to the couch.
“Wait there, one sec.”
I went to the bedroom closet where I’d hidden Felix’s present, and my heart started to race. Suddenly my plan seemed stupid, my presentation ridiculous, and my gift overbearing. Maybe I shouldn’t give it to him after all. I realized I’d been standing there agonizing for a while only when I heard the unmistakable opening music of Secaucus Psychic from the living room and the sound of Felix narrating the show to Skeleton.
I smiled. Felix loved that damn show. It was silly and cheesy and emotionally manipulative, and he loved it. He wouldn’t think my gift was stupid, and he wouldn’t care about the presentation. And I was pretty sure he’d be on board with my plan…
I took a deep breath and carried the box into the living room. Felix turned off the TV and smiled.
“It’s, uh…not as good as yours, but,” I said, and turned around the box. I grabbed Skeleton when she made a beeline for it and held her against my chest.
“Is that…You made me a diorama?” His eyes were wide and soft. “Oh my God, Dane.”
It was terribly clumsy compared to his meticulous craft, but he examined every inch of it.
“It’s us. Right?”
I nodded.
“And this is your apartment.”
I nodded again.
He smiled as he traced the figure of me chopping up vegetables in the kitchen and the figure of him perched on the counter.
Then he moved on to the bedroom, where I’d put us sitting on the bed, holding hands. A tiny Skeleton was curled up between our pillows, tail wrapped around her. There was a second dresser in the room, and I’d written Felix’s Stuff on it. I’d put cutouts of brown cardboard boxes on the floor that also said Felix on them. I hoped he’d get it.
