Sweet Clematis

by R. Cooper

  “I’m fine,” Clematis said, because he was. At least, fine enough to walk out of the building and into the parking lot before his voice broke. “I left. I’m fine.” It was midmorning and he was fired, but he was… he was fine. “I didn’t know what to do. Thank you for talking to me.”

  “Clematis, that was really a favor to me. There is nothing like hearing the guilty silently panic at the word attorney.” Walter had a tremor in his voice as if he was tired, but that didn’t keep him from adding, “If you need more advice on what to do, don’t hesitate to ask me. I’m glad you called. Hyacinth and I have been worried.”

  “Ah, the gorgeous youth is calling.” Hyacinth sounded closer. “When are you next coming to town? We should have another visit before the weather gets colder.”

  “Shush.” Walter fondly shooed Hyacinth away. “But yes, come see us soon, if you can. In fact, do you need us to come see you? It might take some doing, but we could. I was serious when I offered to help.”

  Walter got tired standing for too long. “I’m not going to make you get on a bus,” Clematis whispered in horror. “Not just to see me.”

  “But you’ll visit?” Walter prodded. “We can discuss any actions you might or might not want to take. There’s no rush. Although of course, any evidence of any patterns of wrongdoing would be something you would want to make sure you have before you exit the building.”

  Clematis thought of Collette and shivered despite the sun beaming down on him. “I don’t like to make trouble.”

  “Luckily, I do, if you need a little trouble.” Walter did not sound old or tired anymore.

  Hyacinth was laughing again. “My hero.” A big, smacking kiss sound followed that. “Now, will someone tell me what is going on?”

  “I should go.” Clematis looked over at the security guard, who was watching him as though he was also expecting a scene.

  “But you will be okay?” Walter asked worriedly. “You’ll tell us if you’re not?”

  “I’m not—” Clematis stared at the ground. “I’m fine. There’s no reason for you guys to bother this much.”

  “For a smart young man, you say such foolish things,” Hyacinth remarked, evidently listening in now. “It’s the same reason you won’t let my bluebell get on a bus to come see you.”

  “Humans are fragile,” Clematis hissed at him, although Walter still heard it.

  Walter made a funny, happy sort of sound. “So are fairies, Clematis. So are you.”

  “Oh.” Clematis swallowed. “Do you—”

  Beeping cut him off. One of the timers for Walter’s medications.

  “Come visit soon,” Hyacinth chirped. “Excuse me.”

  “Call me,” Walter added seriously. “I’ll help.” Then someone, probably Hyacinth, dropped the phone. Clematis listened to the sounds of him fussing over pill containers and clinking glasses of water, then politely hung up.

  CLEMATIS WENT home and spent another day in the dim light of his apartment. He went out the next day only because he needed food and he couldn’t touch the leftover honey. Mrs. Galarza stopped him on his return trip, or really, stood outside with the dogs and watched him go inside his apartment in the middle of the day when he should have been at work. She might have also noticed the dollar store candy, sticky buns, and fruit juice.

  He was on a tighter budget now. No more organic fruit, especially out of season.

  He greeted the dogs, and then her, before giving up and dropping his head.

  “I was fired,” he admitted, strangled. His face burned no matter how much he wished it wouldn’t. “I can make rent,” he defended himself quickly. “I’ll start looking for jobs tomorrow.”

  Most fairy jobs were low paying. Flor’s nursery respecting him so much was the exception, not the rule. Some of the fairies he’d known in Los Cerros had done some posing or sex work, mostly online, but Clematis didn’t know how to do anything like that, and he had a feeling humans wouldn’t pay much for that either.

  “Come on.” Mrs. Galarza sighed at him. “We can eat lunch and watch my soaps.”

  She gave him an entire bag of caramel popcorn she made in the microwave and they sat through one episode of Diedre’s Secret and then half of another soap before she turned to him and said, “Your friend was crying when he left the other day.”

  Clematis covered his face.

  “I’ve never seen anyone cry but look like he could punch through a mountain.” Mrs. Galarza clucked her tongue. “You made him a little wild. I hope you meant to do that.”

  His heart was racing again. His legs were shaking. Clematis muffled his words against his palm, but they were still audible. “He said he loves me.”

  “Ha.” Her short laugh startled him. “So you sent him away. I’m confused, but perhaps fairies are different than I thought.”

  “He said he loves me,” Clematis repeated, jaw clenched. “Me.”

  “Obviously, he had to go,” she remarked helpfully. The dog in Clematis’s lap sneezed.

  Clematis peered at it through his fingers. He couldn’t look at Mrs. Galarza. “Yes. You… understand?”

  “Well, my husband ran off with his assistant, so I’m not someone to hand out relationship advice worth much.” She slurped a little as she drank some iced tea. “But he was messy, wasn’t he? Your Flor. Loud and direct and passionate. It must have been exhausting for you, having him around.”

  “No.” Clematis lowered one hand. “Flor isn’t exhausting. You don’t have to worry about him and what he’s thinking because he’ll show you. It’s when he looks at me.”

  “He did like to look at you,” Mrs. Galarza agreed.

  Clematis squirmed in his chair. “It’s how he looks at me,” he corrected.

  “Well, now he won’t look at you ever again,” she said comfortingly.

  Clematis snapped his head up and found her watching him with a gleam in her eye. “Yes. No. I can… I can make him look at me again. I can make him do anything. He begged for me. Flor begged. For me.” Clematis dropped his head again and turned away. “I could call him and he would cross town for me, without shame. He’d be happy to. But he shouldn’t. No one who should have Flor would do things like that to him, or even think about doing them.”

  “You wouldn’t want him to be too happy.” Mrs. Galarza bobbed her head kindly. “Have some more candy, and then we’ll work on your résumé.”

  “No place that will hire me will demand a résumé.” Clematis stiffened in confusion, then shook his head. “But I want Flor to be happy.”

  “Then call him across town and tell him you forgive him for loving you,” Mrs. Galarza huffed. “But I thought you wanted to find a job. Ooh, be sure to put on there that you know sign language and that you speak Spanish.”

  “I don’t speak Spanish.” Clematis turned to her in exasperation. “I’m not mad at Flor for saying he loves me. I’m saying he shouldn’t love me.”

  “You might not speak the language, but you understand me just fine,” Mrs. Galarza sniped back at him. “In the meantime, I know some more people who could use someone to walk their dogs.”

  Walking dogs was something Tulip did to earn money. There was nothing wrong with it. Clematis liked dogs and he had hated wearing buttoned shirts and khakis pants to work. But the institute had felt real, especially when he got to work with the kids.

  He released a long, shuddery breath. “I really liked that job. For once, I thought, maybe… maybe I would get to have what I wanted. I didn’t visit the classrooms every day, but once every few weeks was all right.”

  “Getting only little pieces of what you want is like eating half a cupcake.” Mrs. Galarza scowled. “Like being hungry all the time.”

  Clematis shrugged. “Hunger isn’t so bad.”

  Mrs. Galarza turned off the TV and fixed him with a piercing stare. “What would your Flor say to that?”

  Flor wasn’t his, but she wasn’t going to stop saying that if Clematis argued. Clematis lowered his gaze and listened to the
mad rush of blood in his ears. “He would feed me. And if he couldn’t, he would tell me to go get something.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “He would say I should have what I want, even if he doesn’t understand why I want it. Sometimes, he would try it with me.”

  Mrs. Galarza clucked her tongue again. “What a beast you’ve fallen in love with.”

  Clematis slouched down miserably in the chair, then gave a start and stared at her, wide-eyed.

  Somehow, she wasn’t smug. “The first time you showed up with him, I could see how you felt. And how he didn’t. But that didn’t last long. He’s not as stupid as I thought at the beginning. Now, you’re the hot fudge on his sundae, the bow on his Christmas present—”

  “Flor’s mom’s Jewish,” Clematis interrupted, mostly to make her stop. “Which makes him Jewish, I think, although he does Christmas stuff. Maybe because of his dad, or David.”

  “He’s got the moon in the eyes when he looks at you,” Mrs. Galarza continued, undeterred. “Because you’re a good boy, with a sweet heart and a nice body, and maybe he likes to beg a little bit. There are worse things.” She made a soft, approving noise and settled back into the couch.

  Clematis stared at her until his eyes were dry. His lips twitched. “You think I’m good?”

  “I don’t trust Brenda and Fritz with just anyone.” She rolled her eyes and turned the TV back on. “And I enjoy our evenings together.”

  “Oh,” Clematis said, quiet. “I do too.”

  She didn’t say anything to that, but after a beat she sighed, and then her lips turned up in a soft smile.

  HE FINALLY answered the many texts from Sasha that night, after Mrs. Galarza had fallen asleep during the news and he walked the dogs for her before returning to his apartment. All he said was I’m fine. But it seemed to calm Sasha down some.

  He didn’t offer to hang out. Sasha would ask questions about a new job or say something about the institute. Or, Clematis suspected, he would be angry. And Clematis didn’t know what to do with that. Which was why he didn’t tell Flor either, or anyone who messaged him from the group.

  Stephanie had kindly nagged him about something on Saturday, which he obviously hadn’t answered, and then messaged him again that morning about a movie some of them were going to go see.

  He ignored that and cleaned up, picking out something to wear while looking for work. Frangi invited him to the movie too, and asked something about sign swear words. Something about Adam teasing him and he wanted to make sure he knew how to answer.

  That one, Clematis responded to. Then he went out to little shops and convenience stores and asked about jobs and came home at the end of the day and drank juice that tasted artificial.

  He did not think about Flor, except as he walked past the arcade, and again when he smelled donuts, and when he was on his couch and the TV was off and silent.

  He hoped he hadn’t hurt Flor, knew he had. But he didn’t call him. Some people liked him, missed him. It didn’t mean what Flor thought it did. Flor would realize that soon. He felt bad now, but in the past he had gone weeks, months, without seeing Clematis, and it had never bothered him. Clematis could wait now, get a job, do other things, and in a while when they met up again, Flor would have moved on.

  He could have done that already. He could find his happiness at any time.

  Clematis went to bed and did not think about Flor wrapped around him. He rolled over to curl around a pillow instead and caught the glint of the mood ring on his nightstand.

  He was so focused on that, the glimmer of it in the dark, that he didn’t realize right away the shimmer in his eyes wasn’t the ring at all. He buried his face in the pillow, but his gasp became a sob, first one, and then another. The sounds that came out of him hurt to make, dry, heaving cries that tore up his throat.

  He cried in the dark with his hands fisted so tight in the bedding that his muscles gave out and he couldn’t hold on anymore.

  He eventually curled into a ball on his damp, sparkling bedding and tried to remember how to be numb.

  Chapter 18

  HE MEANT to go out again to look for work but he took the long way around the campus to the sports complex instead, and found Frangi in the bleachers, watching his human run laps. Frangi was supposed to be studying—he was probably the first fairy officially enrolled at the university, although Clematis had never checked—but every few minutes, he would look up from his book to sigh at his shiny Adam.

  Adam worked out for pleasure. The sort of thing humans and weres did.

  Clematis watched him from behind a pair of plain, oversized black sunglasses. He thought the glasses were Flor’s, but he was doing his best not to think about it.

  “You gonna tell me why you’re here, or nah?” Frangipani asked without looking away from the human he adored. “’Cause you’re being even moodier than usual, and without naming names, I saw Flor last night, and he kept asking me if I’d talked to you. And let’s just say, some fairies I know can be scary intense when they are worried.”

  “I’m not talking about Flor right now,” Clematis said, although his voice trembled on the name and he flushed all over and his wings stirred. Maybe Frangi wouldn’t notice. Frangi could be oblivious to a lot. He tended to daydream. Wait. “Moodier?” Clematis almost lowered his sunglasses to peer at him. “Since when am I moody?”

  “Since the entire time I’ve known you.” Frangi didn’t bother to look at him. “It’s more obvious now, though.” Adam was currently on the far side of the track so Frangi returned to pretending to read his textbook.

  “You think I’m moody.” Clematis crossed his arms. “You think I have moods.”

  “There is a reason I never slept with you more than the one time, fun as it was, and that reason—aside from my boo over there—is that you react to everything, Clem. Like, chill already.” Frangi finally glanced over. “You don’t cry over every fling or, say, get into fights with the head of campus security at least once a week, but you know how to hurt a person, or how to make them happy. And you would do either depending on what—not to name names—certain fairies might have said to you that day. And other stuff too. But that’s the biggest pattern. I like patterns.” He smiled, a bit mean and a bit kind. “You mad?”

  Clematis shook his head, although maybe he was. He didn’t know anymore. “You liked me anyway?”

  Frangi snorted. “You’re all right.” He leaned over to nudge Clematis with his shoulder. “Look at his thighs, though.” He sighed at his boyfriend’s distant, running figure. “I love him so much.”

  Frangi loved Adam for more than his thighs, but Clematis nodded politely and spent the next twenty minutes in restful silence apart from Frangi’s occasional love-struck sigh before he felt the urge to talk again.

  STEPHANIE SHOWED up two days later. She knocked politely but firmly on his apartment door and stared loftily at him despite being in her second nicest pair of orthopedic work shoes.

  She had only been to his apartment before to drop him off or pick him up, never to linger. Sex usually happened at her place because that was where she was the most comfortable. But she wasn’t on her way to a party or there to drag him out to some gathering with her. She was wearing her work outfit—unattractive black pants and a black polo shirt, and a lot of makeup.

  “You changed your hair,” he commented in surprise. Her braids were gone. Her new look was shorter, and a mix of black and indigo—elegant but fun.

  Stephanie preened. “A friend did it.” Her smiled abruptly shifted into something almost wolfish. “You know about friends, don’t you? You talk to them; they talk to you. They answer your texts… invite you inside their apartments….”

  Clematis stepped back and only then remembered he was in a pair of boxers and that he hadn’t turned on the lights in his apartment despite being inside all day. He quickly did that after Stephanie sailed in and he closed the door behind her.

  She glanced around, pausing noticeably when she saw the heartleaf in the kitch
en. She turned back and jolted when she looked at him.

  The lights were on now. Clematis wiped any glittering tracks off his face with the palm of his hand.

  Stephanie waited for him to say something, and when he didn’t, she put her purse down on the top of the couch and crossed her arms. “So,” she began crisply, “the institute fired you.”

  “They’ll probably say I was ‘let go.’” Clematis wiped his palm on his thighs and cleared his throat. “I’ll get something else soon.”

  “I only know they fired you because Frangi mentioned it last night,” Stephanie continued. “He seemed to think it wasn’t a secret. That I, as one of your closest friends, would already know.” She narrowed her eyes at this, studying him. Clematis glanced away first. “Which was, of course, when I learned the other bit of news you’ve been keeping from me. Well”—she softened her tone marginally, either because he tensed or for some other reason—“not deliberately keeping from me; I don’t think. Not in a mean way. Still, it was a surprise.”

  “Stephanie—”

  She raised a hand. “And now here you are. Look at you.”

  Clematis imagined he was pale from no sun or fresh air and very little sleep. He was covered in the kind of sparkle that lasted, sticky and tacky on his skin where tears had dried or been transferred whenever he tried to wipe them away.

  “I can’t make them stop,” he confessed in a whisper. “They go away and then come back for no reason. It’s probably hunger. I should go to the store.”

  “Hunger.” Stephanie raised her eyebrows. “How long have you been like this?”

  “Since the other night.” Clematis sniffled and rubbed his nose. “I don’t understand. There’s nothing here now. I’m alone again. But I can’t stop crying. And when I’m not crying I’m… mad.” He couldn’t read. He couldn’t go in the kitchen. Even looking at his phone was a risk. “Someone tried to pick me up when I went out to get something to eat, and he touched me, and I pushed him. I pushed him, Stephanie. And then I started crying again. Which scared him away.”