We Awaken (6 page)

When Ashlinn finally visited me again, the relief was unfathomable. I had just started to worry I would never see her again, which was unfair considering how I had just worked out my feelings for the girl. Soon I probably would have decided the whole affair was a product of my imagination.

I had fallen asleep beneath my sheets, flat on my back, and the next thing I knew the ceiling above me became far more expansive and my bedroom fan vanished. A hotel room bed was beneath me now, one I had slept in as a child. Sitting up revealed a suite my family stayed in many years ago, except it was warped and twisted in a surreal manner. The walls were a violent shade of yellow and billowing like sails. A door clicked open, then slammed shut, and around the corner came Ashlinn in her cape, its billowing putting the walls to shame.

“Hello, heartbreaker,” I sang happily. She gave me a casual salute in return, then perched herself on a cushioned plastic swivel chair that was placed diagonally from the bed. She began scanning through the little binder that would normally contain phone numbers and maps, then announced without any forewarning or trepidation, “I’m asexual.”

“What?”

So many questions: What the hell is that? Why the hell are you telling me? Does this mean you’re not interested?

But there was no time to ask; she was speaking again.

“You heard me. I thought it was only fair to even out the playing field. You accidentally opened up to me, so I’m just returning the favor.”

She still hadn’t looked up from the binder, seemingly engrossed in its contents.

“Okay, but what does that mean? Isn’t asexual that plant reproduction thing we learn about in school?”

Evidently that wasn’t the right thing to say, because she finally looked up and her face was unusually still.

“You honestly don’t know?” she asked worriedly. I shook my head and wished I could burrow under the blankets more. The whole situation was making me feel like an idiot. She had been so good to me when I told her I was a lesbian, and I couldn’t return the kindness.

“Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m not a plant. I just don’t experience sexual attraction.”

Oh. This was not how I expected our next meeting to start. All the hopes I had of us finding a way to make a relationship work began to fade away.

“I don’t know if I understand,” I admitted slowly.

“I was serious about researching other sexualities. Look this one up later.”

Her tone was even, but there was a bit of a malicious undercurrent. Whether it was directed at herself or at me was up for grabs. Deciding not to dwell on whatever was making her angry and risk upsetting myself, I tried to change the subject. Better than addressing how uncharacteristically crushed I felt at the idea of her never wanting to be with me.

“We’re in a hotel room. This is Baltimore, correct?”

Ah yes, stating the obvious always does so much to soothe someone’s nerves.

“It’s based on a room in Maryland, yes.”

I got out of bed and walked over to the window where two layers of cheap curtains hid a striking view of the harbor. Moving them aside let in soft yellow light, which illuminated each building and sidewalk. It was morning. I registered Ashlinn’s presence behind me moments before she began speaking.

“I did a good job on this one. It’s beautiful.” And nothing more truthful had ever been spoken. The sun was rising, casting the reflections of gleaming silver buildings onto the water.

“I always thought so. My parents, not so much. I remember this window from when we came on vacation,” I told her, giving it a tap. “In the morning before Dad and Mother woke up, Reeves and I would slip behind the curtain and just watch the city come alive. We’d count the cabs lining up in front of the hotel and guess which color the next one to arrive would be.”

As I told her this, a line of cabs pulled up on the street below us, and I looked back at her pointedly. She just laughed, holding up the binder from before, and said, “Let’s order room service.”

Looking through the menu revealed a long list of items one wouldn’t find in a grocery store. Between the descriptions of pan-fried unicorn meat and well-juggled macaroon kebabs was simply the word smoothie in delicate cursive, and I took that to be the most harmless of everything on there.

Ashlinn told me to call the front desk and order, but I retorted that we were in a dream, so that really shouldn’t be necessary. Lo and behold, without either of us lifting a phone, there was immediately a knock on the door and the food arrived. She ran over and opened the door, then took the tray from a well-dressed arm connected to someone I could not see and kicked it shut behind her before scurrying back.

I grabbed the swivel chair and a coffee table and pulled them toward the window so we could sit and look at the still water. As I sat on the coffee table, she handed me my smoothie, which was fluorescent orange and alarmingly glittery.

“What sort of drink is this?” I asked, holding it at arm’s length. She reached for the straw and took a sip while it was still in my grasp, then shrugged.

“You know, it’s really hard to manufacture tastes in dreams. I’d call this particular smoothie air flavored.”

I tried it reluctantly and she was absolutely right. There was barely even a texture to the drink. Well, you can’t be perfect at everything. We looked out the window and counted the cabs. She claimed the purple and blue ones while I called out the yellows, but we never really figured out who won. It felt so natural to sit there with her and make fun out of nothing.

There was a comfortable silence apart from the occasional shout of a color until something large and pink in the water caught my eye. I stood up, pushing back the coffee table with my legs, and got as close to the window as I could. It was a fleshy mass causing huge ripples with wriggling tentacles.

With a gasp I said, “Is that the—”

“Yes. That is the kraken. You said you expected him to appear in your dreams, did you not?”

I nodded slowly, watching as the creature ducked below the water, then erupted out again, which was a mind-blowing sight, but I was almost as taken aback by the fact she had remembered my offhand comment. My willpower was weakening, and I could feel myself falling for her even more, which just wasn’t fair at this point. I barely even knew her, and yet she had more of me than most others, and she wasn’t even solid. Or interested.

My curiosity was bottomless, but I didn’t know how to go about learning everything I could about such a fascinating mystery. The only facts in my possession were her name, her sexuality, her job as a creator of dreams, and that she knew my brother. My brother who was in a coma.

“Shit,” I whispered, “this is one fucked-up courtship.”

Usually I left the swearing to Ellie, but this occasion seemed to merit such language.

“We haven’t even gotten started yet,” Ashlinn crooned back at me with a wink. I choked a bit.

“You know, you remind me of Ellie,” I told her after regaining my composure.

“Not sure if I should be offended, considering it seems like you are currently avoiding her.”

“Don’t be. It’s just you are both really open about things. Not afraid to speak. I always liked that about her.”

“Should I be worried about competition?” Ashlinn asked me coyly.

“Not in the slightest. If anyone should be worried, it’s me. What took you so long to see me again? Not holding your interest anymore?”

If the world were kind, that would have come off as joking.

“Quite the opposite, actually. Has it been a long time? It’s always so hard for me to tell. I haven’t done much since we last met. Saw Reeves, made a few people happy. The usual.”

“How is Reeves? Did you tell him about Dad?”

She nodded, her eyes not quite meeting mine. “Yeah. He took it well enough, and I think he might have already had a feeling something else was wrong. There were tears, but if anyone can power on, it’s that boy.”

“Well, I’m glad he handled it better than I did.”

She took my hand for a second and squeezed it. “I think you’re both doing great. He really loves you, you know.”

“I think I actually do. And I really love him.”
And maybe you too.

If it wasn’t completely ridiculous, I could almost see myself starting to get jealous of Reeves. He got to see her all the time while I was left to pine away. It was still difficult to believe she was visiting him, and I was almost tempted to ask if she could bring me along next time. I owed my brother a carnation, some comfort, and a few stories. Before I could make any regrettable decisions, though, the dream began to evaporate around me, and I realized the morning was due. If only there was a way I could just remain asleep.

“Try not to take so long next time,” I told her, and she waved as I was sucked away from her world.

Upon waking I rolled over and grabbed my cell phone to immediately begin researching asexuality. This time I remembered everything about the dream, and the details weren’t escaping me like they usually did. I could recall her request vividly and had every intention of figuring out as much about her as possible. It was quiet, meaning Mother was already at work, so I had all day.

Definitions, pride parades, and a dating website popped up on page one of the search engine, but all the information about this sexuality seemed vast and varying. Not desiring sex was something I could grasp amazingly well, but some websites said asexual people would still engage in such activities anyway while others found that highly unlikely. One blog specifically stated to not make jokes about science class, and that didn’t make me feel too hot. Eventually I ended up watching a documentary on asexuals in relationships.

Propping my tiny little screen on the bedside table, I turned the volume all the way up and grabbed some paper. My intention was to take notes on the subject as if it were an experiment, but about ten minutes in, I abandoned my notes as I had a crisis. There was a list of ways people could show affection without sex (massages, bathing, cuddles etc.) and it all sounded like more than I could ever hope for. There was an interview with one woman speaking about how she saw the beauty in others but never thought to apply the word “sexy” to any of them, and she wasn’t ashamed when she spoke of her dislike of making out.

Oh my God, that’s me.

So much of what they were saying was applying to me that I had to pause the movie and think for a bit. It seemed unfair to have to deal with more than one sexuality crisis in the span of high school.

Holy crap, could I be asexual?

For something I hadn’t even known existed before that day, it was making a big change in my view of the world. Maybe I wouldn’t ever be obligated to have sex with another person in order to make them stay with me. The thought was freeing: I wouldn’t have to pretend. It was just a matter of finding someone else who understood.

And Ashlinn is this way too.

Except it was scary. Truly, skin crawlingly scary. Things were unlikely to work out with the voyeur to dreams; I wasn’t so naive to believe otherwise. And then what? I could end up alone forever. Unloved and isolated. That wasn’t the life I wanted to lead.

This wasn’t the sexuality I wanted to have.

The documentary ended, and I felt increasingly pessimistic, then grabbed my phone and wandered downstairs to track down some late breakfast/early lunch. It was something healthy that I didn’t taste, too busy examining my desires. Would Ashlinn consider a relationship with someone like me? It seemed impossible. There’s no way such a thing could end well. Still, my mind continued to dwell on the prospect. I wanted to see her laugh so hard tears came to her eyes, to be close to her, to do the things the documentary had spoken of. Hell, I would have given an arm just for the ability to text her at that point. There was a sliver of hope, and it was more than what I’d had in the past several months.

After lunch I put on a leotard and practiced my dance. The choreography was finished, which was good, considering the audition was only one day away. Now it was just a matter of making it absolutely perfect. Those ninety seconds would dictate the course of my entire life. Every structured move that afternoon seemed to have Ashlinn’s graceful gait injected into it, and I allowed her memory to inspire each pirouette. I was just about to take a break to get some water when my cell phone rang. I jogged up the stairs to where it was vibrating angrily on the kitchen table and answered, not even bothering to check who was on the other end.

“Hello,” I wheezed, although it sounded more like a question in my breathless, postdance state.

“I have bad news.”

It was Mother. Any bad news of hers was generally apocalyptic considering the last time I had heard those words, they were in the context of Reeves not coming out of his coma.

“What?” I asked, trying to hide the fear that had settled in my stomach.

“I have to go up to Edison. For three days.” She worked her way through the words like she was walking a tightrope.

No. No. No.

“What about my auditions? They’re tomorrow.”

She sighed.

“I have no way out of this job. It’s really important. Can’t you schedule a different date?”

“Not this summer! I picked the latest one possible to have more time to choreograph.”

And also so I wouldn’t have to dance for an audience the month my father died.

I was on the verge of hyperventilating and had fallen to my knees on the kitchen floor. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to a cabinet.

“Calm down. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Regret was beginning to seep into her voice, but there was no solace in that. Did she honestly think saying “calm down” would do anything?

“It’s okay,” I gasped, not meaning it for one second, and hung up not knowing if I’d be able to take it if the conversation had continued. I slid the phone across the tile floor, not caring where it ended up and didn’t even try to steady myself. My whole future as a dancer seemed to be crumbling before me and all I could picture were worst-case scenarios. Instead of trying to figure out another way to get into the city or work on a backup plan, I just became hollow.