Like honey water, mingled and dissolved.
But the thing I like best? Sitting in the sun,
your heartbeat against mine, and we are involved,
Like cats, in savouring the warmth of the day.
I wonder, when I tell you ‘I trust you’
Do you know I really mean ‘I love you’?
I trust you. I never thought I would.
I trust. I had never thought I could.
I guess there’s little else to say…
“I love you. ”
I had so much trouble with this piece! Not because it was difficult to write, but because I’m absolutely terrible at gauging what I should rate things.
It definitely seems to have amused my friends a great deal. Anyway! This is a sweet, romantic little poem. I wrote it as ace spectrum and demisexual specifically, so hopefully it’ll resonate with readers because of that.
Jess is a cat. Well, no, she’s not really a cat, but she – I shake my head. It’s best not to think on it, really. My girlfriend is a cat. Thinks she’s a cat. I can’t say I was paying much attention when she tried to explain. I should have been paying attention, I know. I can be an idiot. I know. I sprawl over the park bench, slumping down so that I’m almost falling off it. I deserve to have my butt hit the ground now, but I can’t quite make myself slide off entirely and the universe isn’t really helping. I walked out on her. Stupid. My legs are sore from running they’re not used to doing, and my ears are stinging with cold. I kind of wish the shock’d stayed, really.
I walked out on Jess. She thinks she’s a cat. What else was I supposed to do, really? Call a doctor? Yeah, I don’t think so. I should call Jess. Try to talk to her. I didn’t mean to run out, I swear, but I did. She told me she was a cat. A cat. Supposed to be a cat. Maybe I should call a doctor first after all and get her examined, but… She trusted me. I may be an ass at times, but she trusted me enough to tell me she’s crazy. God, Jess. Why do you have to be so… you? People can’t be cats. Not really.
We were snuggling on her parents’ bed – I know what you’re thinking and just don’t. That’s gross. Even if it is Jess we’re talking about and I thought I’d give my life for hers. I didn’t think she’d be able to shock me like that, though. Anyway, we were snuggling on her parents’ bed, totally dressed, because that bed has the best headboard ever and they weren’t home and, anyway, they probably wouldn’t care even if they were. Jess had her head resting on my shoulder just so in that way she has, one of her hands twisted up in the duvet and she said… You don’t forget a sentence like that, you know. You really don’t. She said, “Jules? I’m a cat,” and at first I was confused. You can’t blame me for that, right? Whoever says they’re a cat? Unless it’s for, like, Halloween or something. It took me a while to figure out that she wasn’t kidding. People don’t say stuff like that unless they’re kidding. Jess does, though. Apparently. She was dead serious.
What happened next is a bit blurry. I spent a lot of the run up here unable to think because I was focusing so much on running and not thinking. I know I excused myself to Jess, because I remember thinking of how shrill my voice sounded. Anyway, I think I did. And I went. And I ran. I ran all the way to the park because that’s easier than trying to hear your girlfriend explain what the hell she’s talking about. I ran because it’s easier than trying to figure out why my girlfriend would tell me she’s a cat. It’s easier, okay? Asinine, sure — you won’t hear me arguing otherwise — but easier.
Except that… at some point my lungs started to burn and my legs started to feel like, I don’t know, something even flimsier and wobblier than rubber and I saw this bench and I collapsed onto it. I’m still trying to catch my breath from that run. I must’ve been running forever to get this far. But then you slowly start catching your breath and your brain kicks in again and you realise that you may just have made the biggest mistake of your entire life.
I didn’t even give her a chance to explain. Because I’m an ass. It’s not like I needed that confirmed or anything. She’s Jess. I know her as well as I’ve ever known anyone. She’s accepted me for all of me, and that makes her the coolest girl I’ve ever met. She was totally okay with me telling her I’m asexual and totally not interested in sex. Well. Maybe. If Jess asked me to and it mattered enough to her, I wouldn’t mind having it? I guess? But I don’t know. I don’t get that obsession with sex. At all. Jess puts up with having to explain innuendo to me all the time. (I put up with her telling me how hot this or that celebrity is in whatever we’re watching, so it evens out.) I was scared shitless of telling her, though. I guess that’s why she trusted me. Because I trusted her. That’d make sense. Also makes me the Worst. Person. Ever. Oh, God, Jess. I’m sorry!
Here I am, sitting in a park on a cold winter’s evening with snow falling (and, really, world? More snow?) and I walked out on my girlfriend, my best friend, because I couldn’t return what she’s given me. Idiot. Oh, Jess… Jess who likes lazing on the couch and making me sit on the floor. Or her lap. What did I do? I pull up my hood and snuggle into it as deeply as I can. Getting snowed under won’t do anyone any good. I put my hands in my pockets to keep them warm. Warmer. My gloves are still at Jess’. Sure, I could go back to fetch them. I probably should, but… I’m already over halfway back to my house and Jess probably doesn’t want to see me right now, not even to fetch my gloves. Maybe she’s tossed them in the fireplace. Probably not. She’s not vindictive like that.
Seriously, I should just call her, right? Apologise. Try to explain. Maybe. Not sure. I could. I’d have to make it clear that I’m not making excuses. I could tell her that. I’m not sure what else I should say, but I’m already digging my phone out of my pocket and dialling her number. I’m not sure if I’m still breathing because it doesn’t feel like I am and I have no idea what to say to her, but I won’t hang up (I can’t) and then I hear her voice and I rush to tell her not to hang up and that’s when I realise that I’m talking to her voice mail.
“Don’t delete this, Jess! Please! Hear me out. I was an idiot and I’m really sorry. I’m sorry for running out on you and not even giving you a chance to explain. You were there for me and I should’ve been there for you. I – I’m not sure I deserve this, but… I wanted – I wanted to ask if you’d, y’know, give me another chance at this? To listen to you. I don’t want to make up excuses, but you really sprung that on me and… I don’t know what’ll happen with us, I really don’t, and I’m sorry, sweetheart. I want to be supportive of you the way you are of me, but this… This is a lot and maybe I shouldn’t be calling you right now and sleep on it first, but I’ve called you now.” Deep breath.
“I have no idea what to say, so I’m sorry I’m rambling. I’m trying, Jess. ‘Cause I love you. You’re the awesomest person I’ve ever met and… Man, I don’t know what to say to you. I messed up, Jess. Really messed up. I ran because I couldn’t deal with what you said and I know you’re angry with me and you’ve got every right to be, but please let’s talk. Not, not today, but soon. Give us both a chance to gather ourselves together again, yeah? I’m gonna think on what you told me anyhow. Sorry I screwed up. Love you. Call me, ‘kay? Bye.”
I take another deep breath and scrub my forehead with the hand holding my phone. Pocketing the thing again, I sigh. All I can do is wait. This is Jess’ decision. A snowflake lands on my hand. Shit! Shitshitshit! I haven’t told her my gloves are still there or where I am in case she’ll worry! I get voice mail again the second time I call. “Hi. Me again. I just… I’m at the park. I’ll be going home. Don’t worry about my gloves. I can come and get them when you’re not home or something. And… I thought… Maybe you’d worry if I didn’t let you know where I was, so I figured… Now you know. I’ll… try and avoid you a while? I don’t know if you want to see me, so… I’ll try and do what you want, Jess. I’ll miss you. Bye.”
And there’s truly nothing else I can do now but wait. I suspect she’ll text me. I turn off my notifications so I won
’t know whether she has and put my phone back in my pocket. I close my eyes and tilt my head to the sky until my face is cold from all the snowflakes. I’m an idiot. I dig my phone out and reset my notifications. I hate waiting. I mean, I’m not going to walk out on Jess without a fight, without trying to fix things, but I can’t force her. I won’t, not even if I could. I don’t know what I’ll tell people, though. My brother and sister adore her for always giving them presents. I’ve no idea where she gets the lot of them, but she always has something small to surprise them with when she comes over. They’ll be devastated. I’ll be devastated.
Stop thinking, Jules. I’ve got to stop thinking. I need to go home. I don’t really want to get sick or anything and I told Jess I’d go. I check my phone for texts. Nothing. I check my settings again. I should definitely get notified. Good. I wasn’t sure there. I get up and teeter. It’s still a decent walk home and apparently my legs are still made of rubber. I am walking, though. Walking and trying not to think. One foot, then the other. One foot, then the other.
My efforts are Herculean. If this were PE, my teacher would be proud. For whatever reason, there’s a guy in the park playing fetch with his dog. In the snow. Which is sticking around. We might be getting a white Winter Ball then! Oh, God. Winter Ball! That’s got to be in a couple of weeks! Are we still going? Jess might still be angry. Jess doesn’t really hold grudges or anything, though. I’m not sure she knows how. Please, God, please don’t let me be the one to teach her that. Let her never learn how to do that. I wish I were stroking Jess’ hair now. She always mock-purrs. You know, I’ve never really thought about that… About all the things that make Jess Jess. Never thought of them. But I do now as I’m walking home and the snow starts falling faster and thicker until it’s too much and I call my dad. I ask him to come and pick me up from an all-hour shop that’s on my route.
Mercifully dad does agree to come and I start to make my way to the shop to wait. I bat at some branches hanging over the pavement the way Jess always does and get covered in snow-dust for my efforts. I laugh and then I find myself biting back tears because Jess. I try to recall all the things I know about cats, but that isn’t much. Most of what I know comes from Jess’ cat, Lancelot. My mum and sister are both allergic, so we’ve never had any pets. I try to recall all the things I know about Jess, but there’s too much and I can’t do that for long because my dad’s going to be here any minute and I don’t want to discuss it with him. It’s way too cold to dig my phone out of my pocket again or I’d run an internet search.
When my dad shows up, I’m about frozen solid. I get in the car and we don’t talk much during the ride. We aren’t really close, my dad and I. I can’t tell if he can tell something happened, but if he can he’s not asking. I do think of confiding in him, but… You know, there’re some things you just don’t tell your parents. Ever. It just doesn’t work. Maybe… I swallow a lump, but… maybe if I visit mum’s grave (my dead mum’s, not my stepmum’s) at the cemetery tomorrow I can talk to her instead… Or to Luke. I’ll see.
When I’m home and have had dinner, I all but fly to the computer. I’m not going to expect miracles because Jess only gave me ‘I’m a cat’ to work with and I’d, like, win the world championship for Search Term Fail by a landslide, but damn it I’m going to try! Jess usually runs my searches. She wants to be a librarian, so she’s really good at them. Sometimes I think that, when she’s alone, she searches for random stuff just for the hell of it. That’d be just like her. I said she was awesome; shut up.
Anyway, you get a lot of stuff on animals thinking that they’re different animals. I tilt the chair back and think a moment. Watching Jess, you’d think I’d have absorbed some of her searching skills. She’s always explaining them to me. The knowledge just never sticks. Because I’m made of fail.
Oh. Wait. There’s some way to make it search for a specific string of words, isn’t there? I should try that. If it’s looking for words in a particular order, that’s got to help. I mean, it should weed out some of these cats-are-dogs posts, right? I poke at the search engine until it tells me how to make it search for a specific word order and try that.
Well, there. Therian. That wasn’t so hard! Jess is a therian? That sounds… I don’t know if that sounds crazy or not? It sounds weird, but I can’t find anything like ‘If your girlfriend tells you she’s a cat, you must get her admitted immediately’ or ‘Your girlfriend is about to commit murder’ or anything. Man, that makes it sound like I was expecting to find myself in a horror film or something. I know Jess. She’s the sweetest person in the world. (Seriously. Our school experimented with prizes once. She won that category by miles.)
Uh. There’s actually a lot of stuff to read about this. And hate and… Oh, wow. I didn’t know… Now I feel doubly bad for walking out on Jess. I can’t call her. Don’t call, Jules. But I want to call her. No, I want to rush all the way back to her house and hug her and snuggle up on the couch and tell her I love her and I don’t care that she’s a cat or thinks she’s a cat or whatever because she’s Jess and I love her and I should never have walked out on her because I am crying as I read over some of these results.
I try to recall what it cost me to tell her how I’m okay with cuddling and hand-holding and all, but sex and kisses and stuff is so completely off-limits it isn’t even funny. (And it’s not like I haven’t tried or anything, so don’t even start.) I try to think of that, but all I can do is think about how Jess must be feeling, about how much she must’ve trusted me to gamble that I wouldn’t… do exactly what I did. I really should’ve waited with calling her until I’d got home. Told her what I’m thinking now. But I won’t call again. Watch me. I’d be pushing her and if she didn’t want to hear me the first times (still no calls or texts; I’ve quadruple-checked) she sure won’t want to hear me now and – God, I hope she’ll give me a chance to explain.
Before I shut the computer down, I clear out its browser history. This is Jess’ secret and I’ll do my utmost not to let anyone stumble across it. I don’t move from the chair, though. My face feels all smudgy and my eyes hurt. If I leave now, I’ll just get my family asking me questions I don’t want to answer.
I owe it to Jess to listen to what she has to say, how her own life is, and at least try to understand. If she’ll still let me. Even if we break up, I still want to be her friend and support her and be there for her or… whatever. But I’m going to have to wait. God, don’t let her keep me waiting for long. I’m not patient. I don’t know how to be patient, but I’ll learn. Jess is worth that and more, cat or no cat, crazy or sane. I don’t care. I’ll wait.
I know I’m selfish as hell in wanting her to call or text me back right now, but as I said I’m not very patient. Checking my phone every two minutes is driving me nuts, though, and I’ll be stuck in dad’s study for a while yet. I’ll try and read. Some of my favourite books are here. If I pick one that always used to upset me, then maybe I can fake my way past my parents, tell them I cried over a book. So I scan the shelves. There’s this one book… Always makes me cry. You’d think I’d remember the title, but I never do. Mum says I block it out because that’s how bad it is, but I just suck at titles. I have no clue what my school books are called either and I use those every day of the week!
The book’s not where it’s supposed to be. What? I pull out several of the surrounding books, but it’s not hiding behind them either. Oh. Well, there’s a good reason to be upset over and a mystery to distract me. Thank you, God. “Muuuuum!” I call, march-stomping out of the study into the living room. Chester points at the kitchen, so that’s where I go. I find mum busy doing the dishes. “Where’s my book? The one you hate?”
I help her out by drying plates. Turns out she lent my book to one of Marie’s classmates. Damn. Waiting anxiously it is, then.
Bleh.
Waiting is hard. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I knew it would be. I knew it was going to suck and I was going to deal with it for Jess’ sake and all, but it’s
hard. I talk — well, talked — to Jess every day and now there’s nothing. We have lunch together every day. Sometimes we do our homework together. We ride home together. Jess and Jules joined at the hip. And now… Nothing. She’s given me back my gloves and all, but that’s it. No texts, no conversation beyond a polite ‘hi’, nothing. Everyone knows something’s up between me and Jess. Everyone. She’s really, really angry with me. I don’t know if she’s listened to my messages yet or whether she’s just going to walk away from us. I deserve that, God knows I do, but I won’t give her up without trying to fix things. I won’t. Waiting for her to figure stuff out and being totally passive are not the same thing.
I pace around my room after school; pretty much everyone’s been leaving me alone because I’ve been in a super foul mood. It’s not like good things haven’t been happening or anything. I saw a mime player on the way home today, for example, and I’m itching to text Jess about it because it was actually pretty cool to watch. I can’t text her, though. I’m giving her space. So. I’m pacing around my room, trying to decide what I’m supposed to do. It’s Friday tomorrow. I could confront her after her volunteer work. That’s actually pretty funny to think about because Jess spends all her time looking after dogs and she’s scared of them. Stop it, Jules. I can’t go chasing down memories again. Honestly, I haven’t been able to focus on anything properly. It’s all been ‘Jess is a cat’ in my head all the time. Not surprising, I guess, but I just wish I didn’t have maggots crawling through my guts the whole day long, waiting for Jess to say something to me.
My phone is ringing, so I dig it out of my pocket. Belatedly, I realise that it’s Jess. Oh, God. What do I do? What do I do? Pick up? Make it go to voice mail? I’m not sure I want to talk to Jess. I feel like I’m going to throw up; what if she’s calling to say she hates me and never wants to see me again? But what if she wants to talk and anyone hears me, my part of it? Her secret’d be out and –
Feather by Feather and Other Stories Page 21
