Dreamhearth

by M. C. A. Hogarth

  “Of course not,” Jahir answered for them both.

  “Anyway, Lennea said I could come here and take naps, and that they’re the best naps in the world.” He glanced at the folded blankets on the couch, and the pillow. “I admit it does look kind of nice in here. Though you could probably diffuse some essential oils or something. Or have flowers, flowers smell good.”

  “That is a nice idea,” Vasiht’h said. “I thought about incense, but the dust makes some people sneeze.”

  “Incense is too specific anyway.” At Vasiht’h’s curious look, the Tam-illee finally released a hand to wave in a vague way. “You know. They’re used for a lot of spiritual and religious ceremonies, and everyone’s got a different incense, so you smell it and you think ‘oh, that’s not right.’”

  /Perhaps we should hire him to decorate our permanent office,/ Jahir said, amused.

  /I’m not making the mistake we made with Pieter this time,/ Vasiht’h answered sternly. /Let’s make sure he didn’t leave anything important off the form./ To Joyner, he said, “So what is it you do?”

  “I’m a carpenter.”

  /Not an interior decorator, but right track, at least,/ Vasiht’h said, and Jahir’s silent amusement tickled like the bubbles in carbonated lemonade. Which… sounded good. He might have to try that later. “That sounds interesting.”

  “Oh, it’s great!” Joyner’s other hand loosened in his lap. “For a while I worked for a big shop designing things meant to be machine-assembled, or genie-created. But I started out doing it by hand, and I’m back in a shop doing that now. I love it. And I love my family, too. And living here. It’s all good.”

  “So… what can we help you with?” Vasiht’h asked.

  “That’s the thing.” Joyner’s ears sagged. “I feel like I’m so lucky, and yet I can’t stop being anxious that it’s all going to vanish. Like, the next time I breathe in, when I exhale, something awful will happen to make up for the years I spent happy.”

  Vasiht’h could sense Jahir’s mind working through the link, grouping possible causes: organic ones, like diet and exercise and sleep problems, or historical ones, like a childhood example of someone losing something important. It bemused him, the speed at which his partner assembled the permutations. Pieter’s dreams of leaping over obstacles on ski slopes came to mind, the ease and the exhilaration of competence.

  “That’s not unusual,” Vasiht’h said. “Anxiety plagues a lot of people. Particularly people with good imaginations.”

  “I never thought of myself as having a good imagination,” the Tam-illee said with a frown.

  “You design furniture,” Jahir offered. “That requires the ability to imagine it, turn it in your mind, see it from multiple angles, and conceive of how people might use it.”

  “Or misuse it,” Joyner said, chuckling. “The times I’ve thought ‘no, if I do that someone will smack their shin into it when they turn away’ or ‘that corner’s got some baby’s bruised forehead written all over it’…!”

  “Exactly,” Vasiht’h said.

  “And you will note,” Jahir added, “that your ability to foresee negative outcomes is not always undesirable. That quality allows you to plan for the safe use of your designs.”

  Joyner’s eyes were wide. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “The goal, then, is to keep it useful and learn to put it away when it’s not,” Vasiht’h said. “But I’m guessing you’ve been to other therapists before?”

  “A few,” Joyner admitted. “They taught me a lot of things. Some of them work, but I forget to do them and then they stop working.”

  “Like what?” Vasiht’h asked.

  “Well, like not eating any trigger foods,” the Tam-illee said, starting to tick them off on his fingers. “And not listening to music that depresses me, or has bad lyrics. Talking to friends. Getting enough physical contact with people I trust. Exercising regularly. Getting enough sleep, and sleeping at the same time every day.” His smile was embarrassed. “When I do all those things, I’m almost not anxious at all. But that’s a lot of work, you know. It’s like I have to be an entirely different person to manage my anxiety.”

  “It can certainly feel that way,” Vasiht’h agreed, sampling the rue in the mindline. /That certainly takes care of all the things we might have suggested./

  /So it has./

  “Which of these strategies worked best for you?” Jahir asked.

  The foxine wrinkled his nose. “Honestly, the one I liked least. Exercise. I know it’s good for me, but I’ve tried like six different things and they all bore me. I always find something I’d rather be doing. Or I get busy and it’s the first thing I sacrifice to make up time. You know how that goes.”

  “And the second best?” Vasiht’h asked.

  “Well…” Joyner drew out the word. “When I was exercising, I slept better. And that seemed to help a lot.” His smile was lopsided. “That’s why I said yes when Lennea told me about you all. Another therapist… I’ve seen enough therapists. I’m tired of talking about what I’m supposed to be doing. Being able to put my head down and get an hour of quality sleep sounds divine.”

  “By all means, then, lay your head down.” Jahir rose. “We will leave you to compose yourself.”

  “Thanks. This means a lot to me!”

  Vasiht’h chuckled. “You’re paying for our help, alet. It’s what we’re here for.”

  Pulling the blanket over himself, Joyner said, “Sure, but it’s never a bad thing to say thank you.”

  Outside in the foyer, Vasiht’h sat with his tail curled over his paws and chuckled.

  “What amuses you?” Jahir asked.

  “How often we know what’s good for us, but we don’t do it anyway,” Vasiht’h said. “Why do you think that is?”

  His partner looked up at the atrium ceiling. “I suppose there are as many answers as there are people.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  That inspired a longer pause. Through the mindline, Vasiht’h sensed his partner’s mind at work, and it felt like… weaving? Something complex with a pattern, and a lot of touching, separating threads. “I believe there are as many permutations as there are individuals. But perhaps the roots of those reasons are narrower than that.”

  “What do you think Joyner’s reason is?”

  “I don’t know that we know enough about him to guess,” Jahir said. “But if we can find that out, perhaps we’ll be able to advise him in a way that makes it easier for him to change.”

  “Maybe,” Vasiht’h said, still finding the situation funny. “Or maybe he’ll just keep coming to us for naps.”

  Jahir glanced down at him. “Would that satisfy you? To never serve any greater purpose than to offer a moment’s respite in a busy week.”

  Because Jahir had asked, Vasiht’h sat on his glib reply and really thought about it. “It would be a lot more satisfying to wave a magic wand and help people resolve their problems obviously and immediately. But maybe that’s a selfish desire? Because that’s what I need out of this, maybe. Maybe what some of the people coming to us need isn’t a fix. Or maybe the fix they need is some gradual thing we won’t be able to see from the outside.” He considered that possibility and nodded. “And that does make me uncomfortable. I want to be able to tell we’re helping.”

  “It is not often given to us, to know these things.”

  Vasiht’h cocked his head, smiled up at him. “No, you don’t get out of this with cryptic comments. We’re therapists now, arii. If we don’t help our clients, we shouldn’t be in business.”

  “And yet, the uncertainty remains. There is no avoiding it. We serve at the pleasure of life—your Goddess—and that is all we might do.”

  Vasiht’h inhaled, let the breath out slowly, counting. “And yet, we’re called to be responsible for ourselves and our decisions.”

  Something in the mindline then tasted bittersweet. Like salt on lips. And then Jahir smiled. “No one said the answers wo
uld be easy, nor that they would be given to us.”

  Vasiht’h snorted. “That must be why the manual I sent away for never came.” He shook his head. “Let’s see what Joyner MakesDo’s dreams are like.”

  The Tam-illee was snoring contentedly on their couch when they entered the room. His dreams, when they looked, were a montage of normal concerns; nothing in them suggested some dire trauma, the resolution of which would inspire a miraculous remission of Joyner’s anxiety. Naturally. Vasiht’h found himself smiling as he and Jahir soothed the most unsettled of the images from their client’s dreams. He wondered if doing therapy constituted therapeutic intervention for himself as well as his clients and wasn’t surprised to find Jahir studiously not noticing the idea.

  On waking, Joyner yawned and peeped over the edge of the quilt at them, eyes bright. “That was the best sleep I’ve ever had.” He paused. “Well, maybe I slept better as a baby but I don’t remember that.” He grinned and sat up to stretch. “Fantastic!”

  “We’re glad you enjoyed it,” Vasiht’h said, grinning. “And next time, we’ll have some essential oils.”

  “Even better. You should try lavender. Or citrus. Or… hmm. You could have different ones at the start of the session, and have a new smell to wake people up? Like peppermint.” He rubbed his nose. “I know someone who sells them. She sets up shop at the commons market every weekend—have you been to one of those?”

  “No?” Vasiht’h said. “There’s a market in the Garden District…”

  Joyner waved a hand. “Tiny. Come to the one in the commons. It’s on the university side of town. I’ll send you the name of my friend, she’ll set you up.” Standing, he added, “I’m guessing my session is over? I could have stayed another hour! Can I do that? Schedule a two-hour session?”

  “Yes?” Jahir said. “You may even wish to talk through part of it.”

  Joyner laughed. “Maybe! I’ll be back next week. Thanks, aletsen.”

  After the Tam-illee left, Vasiht’h stripped the pillowcase from the pillow as Jahir took a fresh one from the cabinet. “So, what are you thinking?”

  The Eldritch cocked his head. “Am I?”

  “Very busily,” Vasiht’h said. “But not a lot of thinking. A few thoughts, moving briskly? It feels like a little trickle of water.”

  Jahir chuckled softly. “That would be apt.” He handed down the pillowcase and unfolded the new sheet set. “I am thinking there is at least one material suggestion we can make Joyner that no one has yet. Perhaps.”

  Vasiht’h paused. “Oh?”

  “He should probably see someone about the snoring,” Jahir said. “He cannot be sleeping well thus.”

  That struck Vasiht’h as hilarious, and sensing his partner’s puzzlement he couldn’t begin to articulate why. The practicality of it, maybe, coming from his dreamier Eldritch friend, when Vasiht’h thought of himself as the down-to-earth one. “I’m sure that affects his sleep quality, definitely. Every little bit?”

  “Helps,” Jahir replied, serene but still bemused.

  “Do you think we become like our partners?” Vasiht’h asked Sehvi.

  “In what context?” Sehvi asked.

  Vasiht’h was preparing a marinade for the night’s dinner, whisking citrus and thinking unavoidably of Joyner’s essential oil suggestions. He took a deep whiff of his mixture and tried to imagine it in their office. “Well, do you think we inevitably start sharing traits. Like if someone’s good with money, their partner starts picking it up from them?”

  Sehvi rolled her eyes. “Do you ever think of anything besides money, ariihir?”

  “It was the example that came to mind!”

  “Find a better one.”

  He grimaced. “Fine. He’s the mystical one, and I’m the practical one. I wonder if he’ll start becoming more practical and I’ll start going mystical?”

  “Start,” she repeated, droll. “The one brother among us who never, ever forgot to go to temple.”

  “That’s different.” Vasiht’h whisked harder. “The goddess is real.”

  “And your impractical friend,” Sehvi continued, face leaning on her palm. “The one who found and arranged for your housing.”

  “He was the one who was here!”

  “And found your first client. And scouted all the offices for rent.” She lifted her brows. “That impractical friend?”

  “He doesn’t know how money works here,” Vasiht’h said.

  “I think you’re mistaking ‘enigmatic and inexperienced’ for ‘impractical,’” Sehvi said. “For all you know, he’s some kind of Eldritch business magnate and that’s why he’s so rich.”

  The idea was so absurd Vasiht’h stopped working on the marinade and pressed his hand to his nose to keep from snickering out loud. “I am completely sure he’s not a tycoon.”

  “What I’m sure of is that you have just as idealized a picture of an Eldritch in your head as Rexina Regina,” Sehvi said. “And that’s why I sent you that book.”

  Vasiht’h’s ears flicked back. “You did not send me that book to make a point about my preconceptions about Eldritch. You sent that book to torment me.”

  “I sent that book to make you laugh! And also to make you think about your preconceptions about Eldritch.” She shook her head. “It’s not just you, ariihir. We all have romantic concepts of love that get bruised up when we finally stumble into a relationship we want to keep.”

  “And you know so much about this from the position of your venerable years and experience,” Vasiht’h said dryly.

  “No,” Sehvi agreed. “I know this from the position of ‘nearly youngest sister in a long chain of sisters, all of whom talk incessantly about what’s irritating them.’ You did read the comments we left in the margins, didn’t you?”

  “Only up to the pregnancy part,” Vasiht’h admitted. “I quit there. Because it was ridiculous.”

  Sehvi giggled. “I know. Wasn’t it great?”

  Vasiht’h shook his head. “Your idea of great is freakish, ariishir.”

  “What can I say. Bizarre genetic sports interest me.” She tapped her finger on her desk. “But I’m serious about the preconceptions. You have ideas about how partnership should work from seeing how our family does it. But you’ve gone and harnessed yourself to someone whose family is completely different. And you don’t even know how! So you can’t stumble along assuming it’s going to work out. You’re going to have to talk about it.”

  “This is the part where I know a little more about the situation than you do.” At her skeptical look, he pointed the whisk at her. “Eldritch? Don’t talk? Ever?”

  “All the more reason to approach this with an open mind! An opener one anyway.”

  “Opener isn’t even a real word.”

  “But you knew what I meant.” She watched him, sighed. “I don’t mean to poke you—”

  “Much,” Vasiht’h muttered.

  “It’s just that I can tell you’re worried and I want to help!” She grinned. “I guess when you find the perfect someone for yourself you suddenly want everyone else to find their perfect someone.”

  “I’ve done the finding,” Vasiht’h said. “Now I just have to worry about…”

  “What?” she asked when he didn’t finish.

  To say ‘the keeping’ felt histrionic. He didn’t believe he would lose Jahir. Not with a mindline to connect them.

  Could he?

  Shaking himself, Vasiht’h said, “About making it work for us both. That’s all.”

  “That’s a lot,” Sehvi pointed out.

  He sighed. “I noticed.”

  After they’d signed off, Vasiht’h wondered at his own fears. He and Jahir had gone through so much to get to where they were, and it had felt… it had felt like he’d finally made it. Why was he finding all these reasons to fret all of a sudden? Was that just part of moving through life? That you thought you had things figured out, only to discover another challenge waiting for you on the other side? Pieter and A
metia would probably find that exhilarating, he thought. Routine bored them—maybe that’s why Ametia couldn’t give up her crusades, or find some better way to handle them.

  Or possibly that was unfair. If she truly did care about discrimination against humans, how could she rest while it still existed? Even if she didn’t accomplish as much as she hoped?

  Whatever the case, Vasiht’h was not a thrill-seeker. He found himself far more in sympathy with Lennea. A calm life, filled with productive work, a large family, and the small pleasures of the world, like good food and soft pillows, was all he wanted.

  With the meat in the marinade, Vasiht’h considered the rest of the afternoon. Walk? Read more of the novel? Garden? Weed-pulling sounded soothing, but he felt he owed it to Sehvi to finish the book, particularly after getting whacked in the face with the reason she’d sent it. His preconceptions about Eldritch. He huffed to himself. He took his data tablet back to the roof garden with a glass of mint lemonade and settled in to read. The newest chapter began with an extended celebration of the miraculous conception of the child (on which Vasiht’h’s sisters had much to say in the marginalia, all of it far more engaging than the text).

  KOVRAH: This is the most unbelievable part yet. They’re not arguing how to decorate the nursery.

  SARDA: They just had a cross-species baby and this is the most unbelievable part?

  KOVRAH: You weren’t around when Tek and his wife were expecting their first. You wouldn’t believe the drama.