Sweet Clematis

by R. Cooper

  No one had ever thanked him like this before. Clematis wondered if Flor knew that, or why Flor thought he was bad with gifts. Flor took care with him but held him firmly, and Flor smelled like sugar and grass and probably what sunlight smelled like, if it had a scent. His lips were almost on Clematis’s skin, and that made Clematis shiver too, but he didn’t say a word. He kept still. Then when it was too much and the trembling in his legs spread to the rest of him, he bowed his head and closed his eyes and very carefully did not think about anything at all, not even when Flor sighed, soft and pleased, before finally letting him go.

  Chapter 7

  “TODAY IS one of my half days,” Clematis explained to a confused-looking Sasha. He used a plastic spoon to spread strawberry jam on one of the butter crackers he’d bought on sale last month.

  Sasha paused before taking a bite of his sandwich. “Since when do you have half days?”

  “Oh, well….” Clematis focused on spreading the jam evenly over the cracker. “Mr. Harbaugh decided that would be easier for me since I’ve been having a tough time staying downstairs for so long.”

  “I still don’t understand why he doesn’t have me work downstairs.” Sasha seemed to have forgotten the sandwich in his hands. “Many of those books are in braille, and a lot of the labels on the recordings are as well. And dark isn’t going to bother me.” He flashed a smile at that.

  They were in the middle of the institute, sitting on the stone steps that led down to the play area for the younger children. Clematis always ate his lunch outside in the spring and summer, and today for the first time, Sasha decided to join him.

  He tilted his head up toward the sun as he had when he first unwrapped his sandwich, and then sighed. “It’s nice out here. Quieter than I thought it would be.”

  The younger children were always being led back to class by the time Clematis got his lunch break.

  Despite saying he enjoyed the quiet, Sasha had begun to talk almost immediately. First about his morning, and then about the pastrami in his sandwich, and then as if he had wanted to bring up the subject all along, had said the warren was almost unbearable these days. That had led to the talk of Clematis’s new schedule and his work in the archives.

  Clematis spread his wings to soak up more of the sunlight and licked jam off his thumb. He glanced over, but of course Sasha hadn’t seen that. He hadn’t intended it to be sexy, but doing it again would be pointless. Even if he described in detail what he could do with his tongue, Sasha would probably not be interested. But Sasha had invited himself to lunch with him, and that had to mean something.

  “You could ask to join me, if you wanted,” Clematis suggested after several moments of internal debate. “Not every day, of course. But if you wanted to help with the recordings and all that old funky sound equipment you love, why shouldn’t you?”

  Sasha’s eyebrows went up, then down. He paused again, deliberately this time, then set his half-eaten sandwich on his knee. “You think I’d be down there solely for the equipment?”

  “The journals and notebooks have been interesting too, what I’ve seen of them.” Clematis prepared another cracker while chewing the last. Jam on crackers had been his lunch in grade school, more often than not. Even a child could make it. “The humans who founded the school did not seem to have much idea of what they were doing in the beginning, but they knew they wanted to help. They’re so eager and excited!” Clematis hummed around another bite. “And the children. So many of these children were written off by their parents, sent here to be forgotten, but they thrived.” A sigh ended his sentence. “I miss Professor Jordan.”

  Mr. Harbaugh had replaced Professor Jordan. Mr. Harbaugh was probably a very good administrator, but he wasn’t interested in the teaching aspects. Clematis hadn’t been to the classrooms in months.

  “I didn’t really get to work with him, but I know he liked you.” Sasha angled his head down toward Clematis, who was a couple steps lower than him. “You had more fun when he was here. Or at least, I thought you did. You never talked to the other office people much, but you floated through your days. Now….”

  “What?” Clematis stopped with a smudge of jam at the corner of his mouth.

  “Now the warren is quiet. Everyone seems tense. Mr. Harbaugh stops to talk to me about everything. And you’re never there.” Sasha gave a start. “Half days?” he asked again. “So now I’ll barely get to talk to you anymore?”

  Clematis slowly straightened his posture. “Do you want to?” He let his spoon rest in the jam jar. “You want to talk to me?”

  “Am I not supposed to?” Sasha suddenly looked unsure. “You’re always nice to me. And sort of dorky. I thought—”

  “Dorky?” Clematis echoed.

  “Well, I’m a dork too, so it’s okay.” Sasha scratched his chin. “Do I have mustard on my face?”

  “No,” Clematis assured him without hesitation while carefully studying Sasha’s brown eyes and plump cheeks. “You really want to talk to me?”

  “You keep saying that.” Sasha frowned. “Is that bad? Your wings aren’t moving or I can’t hear them.”

  “Flor told me I should have talked with David, but I didn’t think David would want to listen to me.” Clematis took a quick breath. “Flor said that was a mistake. That if I had joined in when David went on about his thesis and old fairy tales, that David would have loved it, maybe even loved me—as a friend, of course. David already loves Tulip. And Flor.”

  “I still don’t know how to feel about knowing these things about someone I have to listen to in class.” Sasha shook his head. “But I guess he knows about fairies for a reason.”

  “I would bet a bag of molasses cookies that David learned about fairies originally for Flor,” Clematis said, then ate a plain cracker as if that would fill the strange hollow place in his chest. “Anyway, talking isn’t usually what people want to do with me.”

  “Ah.” Sasha was silent for a while. “So you are that beautiful.”

  “Yeah.” Clematis ate another plain, distressingly buttery cracker.

  “I kind of figured.” Sasha cleared his throat and sparked with embarrassment. “From, well, you, and also the things the ladies in the office say—mostly complimentary things!”

  “They like my ass but think I slept with Professor Jordan, that he was one of those bosses.” Clematis knew all that already. “His wife was polite and kind to me. I would never have slept with him unless she wanted me to, or didn’t mind. Also, he had a beard, and I have never been sure about beards. Sometimes I like them, but not always. Anyway, he didn’t think of me like that. Some people don’t. More than you’d think.”

  “Like this Flor person?” Sasha guessed. “Who only wants to talk to you? Or who wants you to talk to David?”

  “Obviously, I can’t do that now.” Clematis was certain of that. “But since I don’t want David to hate me forever, I can do a little.” He glanced around, then leaned in to whisper although no one else was around. “They’re having a party for his birthday tonight, so I got him a present.” Clematis dug into his pocket and pulled out a small, clay cube. A few sides were smooth and the rest had bumps in them, or carved spirals. He placed it gently in Sasha’s hand so he could feel it.

  “This is from Ms. Elzofri’s class?” Sasha smiled before handing it back. The cubes were mainly little sensory distractions for students who needed them, with different textured surfaces for them to silently play with in class.

  “Yeah. I asked her for one since she makes new ones all the time.” Clematis carefully tucked it away again. “I figured David could keep it in his office. Flor says he has one—a tiny, crowded, shared one, but an office with a desk and everything. He could use it, or it could be a cute paperweight. Is that silly?”

  “I think it sounds good. And it’s free, which is my favorite part of any present.” Sasha picked up his sandwich and finished it, so Clematis took the opportunity to have some more jam crackers. “You going to give it to him tonight?”
Sasha asked, wiping crumbs from his face.

  Clematis shook his head, then sighed at himself. “No,” he added aloud for Sasha. “I’m going to give this to my friend Frangi, and Frangi will give it to him. You’d like Frangi. He’s a student too. He doesn’t seem very mature, but he must be, to be keeping a human already.”

  “Um.” Sasha furrowed his brow. “What?”

  “I’m pretty sure Frangi will be there tonight.” Clematis rubbed his nose and worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “If he’s not going, I’ll give it to Stephanie to give to David. Flor—will be busy.”

  Flor had decided to take his troll friend from the library with him to the party. He said it was for fun, but Clematis figured either Flor wanted David to know he was doing okay, or Flor needed the distraction. Or maybe Flor just really liked that troll. He worked at the library with Tulip but was one of the managers or head librarians or something, which meant he was smart and responsible. If Flor liked him, he was probably also a mess in some soft, safe way.

  “David should have something nice, since I upset him by talking so much about—” Clematis caught himself in time for once. Then his phone chirped with a reminder. “Lunch break is almost over. We should get back.” He put the lid on his jam jar and grabbed what was left of his crackers, then paused. “Or, not, I suppose. You should get back, and I… won’t.” He’d set the reminder out of habit, but this was his new half day, which meant he went home now instead of returning to work. That was going to take some getting used to.

  Sasha scowled. “You don’t need a half day. You just need air. Why don’t they get that?”

  “They get it,” Clematis answered distractedly. “They don’t care.” Malice made for ugly colors. Sasha’s were so much prettier. “You have no mustard or anything else on your face,” he informed Sasha gently. “Some crumbs in your lap but standing up should get rid of them.”

  “Are you going to come in with me?” Sasha got to his feet, then reached out easily for the railing.

  “No.” Clematis skipped up to his side, though, and walked up the stairs with him. “I have been out here for twenty minutes with you, and Mr. Harbaugh won’t like that. But can you put my jam in the breakroom fridge for me, please?”

  “Clematis.” Sasha stopped. “What we do on our breaks should not be Mr. Harbaugh’s concern.”

  “Should be and is are two different things.” Clematis stopped too and realized he had never been this close to Sasha before without a desk between them. They had spent twenty or so minutes together, instead of Clematis playing on his phone or trying to finish another book. “I’m usually alone at lunchtime,” he marveled, although for once Sasha couldn’t seem to read his tone.

  “Oh my God. I’m sorry!” he said immediately. “I didn’t mean to ruin your lunch break—”

  “Nobody here ever wants to sit and talk with me,” Clematis interrupted him quietly. “This was a good lunch.”

  “Oh.” Sasha calmed a fraction, then offered a fleeting, shy smile. “Yeah. You’re easy to talk to, you know. Maybe it’s because I can’t see you in all your splendor, but you are. We should do this again sometime. If not for us, then because it would piss off Mr. Harbaugh.”

  Clematis glanced around reflexively, but then nodded. “Yeah. Yes. If you really want to. But I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need this job to help pay for school, don’t you?”

  Sasha considered him, maybe listening for something, although Clematis didn’t think his wings were doing anything out of the ordinary. “Hey,” he began at last, after so much scrutiny that Clematis’s wings did start to beat faster. “Tonight at that party, maybe you should try talking to David.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to the party.” Clematis shook his head, then once again sighed at himself for being rude. “I am shaking my head now. I can’t go to the party because I wasn’t invited. But perhaps I will try talking with David in the future, if he lets me. I can’t be that bad at it, if you still like me after today.” With anyone else, he might have touched their arm, or smiled with heat. He made his tone coaxing. “You’ll sit with me again sometime, provided we don’t get in trouble?”

  Sasha raised his eyebrows, then lowered his head as if embarrassed. “Are you trying to make me blush?”

  “No.” Clematis was honest. “But I don’t mind if you do.”

  Sasha cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said roughly, like someone determined to move the conversation forward. “Are you really not invited to your friend’s party? That seems, uh, mean.”

  Clematis licked his lips and found jam that he had to wipe away with his thumb. “I deserve it.” It fell from him with no fuss or trouble. “I ruined the last birthday party I went to, and I’ve hurt too many people who will be there. And when I think of this one, I—I will give Frangi the toy to give to David, and that will be fine.”

  A door opened at the opposite end of the courtyard, and one of the instructors poked his head out.

  Clematis stepped back and his wings snapped into agitated motion. “Have a good weekend,” he told Sasha formally. “I’ll see you Monday.” He pressed the jar of jam into one of Sasha’s hands, then smiled. “Feel free to have some. It’s very good.”

  Then he hurried down the steps to cross the yard.

  FRANGI RESPONDED to his texts with confusion but met him outside the university’s dining hall and accepted the cube. It was only on the way home that Clematis realized he should have wrapped the toy in tissue paper or put it in a bag. But Frangi had already been running late and Clematis didn’t feel like returning to campus to find him. He didn’t know who was manning the MCC table today, or who among them would be going to the party.

  He went to the tiny shop across town that sold basbousa and baklava and bought a piece of each, which stretched his food budget but made him feel a little better. He wondered if Flor liked baklava, or if he would still think it was too human. Los Cerros had shops that sold these sorts of treats, often to the fairy and pari community there. Zucchero even offered fresh Turkish delight, although Flor might not be used to rose as a flavor.

  Then again, Flor knew almost everything about flowers. Clematis imagined Flor would pick pansies out of salads and dip them in raspberry vinaigrette, stop to suck the nectar from plucked honeysuckle blossoms, and sip hibiscus tea. He imagined Flor would share his bounty of sweet flowers with whoever he was with, one for one and two for two, laughing and smiling with every bite. He imagined a lot of things when he had nothing to make his mind stop.

  He arrived home much earlier than he was used to and puttered around his kitchen before deciding to do his laundry. There wasn’t much. Mostly work clothes, but it was better to do it now than Sunday when the machines would be full.

  He sat outside while the washing machine clicked through cycles, and wound up with two dogs in his lap and Mrs. Galarza coming out to ask him to go walk them.

  “Enough,” she told him, voice like a whip. “Go do something.”

  The Pomeranians made it five blocks before getting so tired he had to carry them both home. Mrs. Galarza had moved his laundry to the dryer for him and called him inside her place to feed him those strawberry candies that all older human ladies seemed to have somewhere.

  She ate a tuna salad sandwich made with green onions and pepper and her own bread, and told him to pick a show to watch if he wasn’t doing anything else with his Friday night. She said it pointedly, with a question in it, but didn’t demand an answer, and accepted his TV show choice with a happy sigh.

  When she passed out somewhere in the middle of an argument between that season’s drag queens, Clematis turned off the TV and took the dogs for one last quick walk before heading out for the night. He put his dry work clothes on the couch, meaning to fold them but unable to sit still long enough to do it.

  He found his phone to set a reminder and checked the time. He had no idea when or where the party was. Opening a book wouldn’t do any good. He ate an apple, then a Popsicle, then grabbe
d another Popsicle and took it with him as he tore outside.

  Night had fallen and the city was as dark as a city could get without a power outage. He walked and slowly sucked on his melting Popsicle, drawing attention that helped him stop thinking about anything but who was watching him and why.

  Nobody pulled his hair or held his wrists or called him good after they fucked him, but he was tired by the time he returned home. His mouth was buzzing. The hollow feeling was bigger, despite food and sex. He took a shower and fell onto his bed with his skin warm and damp.

  He had toys in the drawer by the bed, but he didn’t like to use them. They weren’t people, weren’t sharp enough to know him and make him listen, or whisper into the back of his neck. His mind could still wander.

  He curled around a pillow instead and tried to sleep until his phone chirped from the floor.

  One message was from Frangi, several hours ago: Pkg delivered!

  The most recent was from Stephanie: You really didn’t show. I somehow thought you would. Am I sad or proud?

  He answered while half hanging off the bed: Have fun?

  Expecting a reply in the morning, he pulled himself up and put his cheek on the pillow again. But Stephanie must have been awake.

  Bowling. Sort of fun. Then talked at Tu’s place for a while. You got David a present.

  He wasn’t sure if she was asking or not.

  Not much. He typed in the dark. So it was fun? David was happy? Was Flor all right? Did Virgil help him? Clematis was pretty sure the troll’s name was Virgil.

  For a long time, his phone indicated Stephanie was typing, but nothing came through. His phone had gone dark when she finally replied: Don’t do this to yourself.