“I haven’t for a while, but yes, I used to,” Loncey replies, their eyes fixed straight ahead. “Especially when things have been hard in my life. Like when I broke up with Geneva. And when I was thinking about moving from personal training to adult content. And a whole heap of time when I was struggling with my gender identity.”
I tuck all this away inside me and then ask what suddenly seems the most important question. “And yet you haven’t come out for a while. Is that because things are easier?”
They reach for my hand over the console. “Since I met you, Maeve, things have become so much easier. So much harder too, but also much, much easier.”
I rest our joined hands on my thigh and lean back in the seat. “That shouldn’t make any sense and yet it does.”
And then we don’t talk again until Loncey is pulling off the road and we’re heading down a dirt track that gradually gets bumpier and has more twists and turns. The peaks that were in the distance a short while ago are now inching closer and I look up to see the night sky is more intense; a darker shade of a deep, deep purple-blue and the stars have multiplied drastically.
Loncey parks the car in what I can vaguely make out is a car park.
“Red Rock Canyon,” they announce and they stare solemnly ahead of them into the desert land lit up by our headlights. “Southern Paiute land. We thank them and their ancestors forlooking after the land and we promise to honor them as we move in this space.”
“Absolutely,” I agree with a firm nod.
Loncey then reaches across me and opens the glove compartment. They rummage around and finally retrieve something I can’t identify until they’re fixing it to their head.
“A head torch?” I ask with a slight grin. “I would never have thought you’d own one of them.”
“I owntwoof them,” they say and they toss their second one into my lap. Chuckling to myself, I carefully pull it over the top of my hair and then switch it on. It shines brightly in Loncey’s eyes as I turn to them.
“So, how fecking stupid do I look?” I ask.
They reach up and switch the light off before tilting their head to the side and placing a soft kiss on my lips. “You always look beautiful.”
I’m smiling as we climb out and I follow Loncey around to the boot of their car. They pull out a canvas and the backpack they filled with paints earlier and I grab the tote bag I placed in there when they weren’t looking.
“You can leave that there,” Loncey says.
“No, I can’t,” I say and I flash what I hope is a smile that ends any further enquiries.
“Okay,” they say, looking only slightly puzzled, then they reach for my hand, “let’s go.”
Hand in hand we walk for many minutes. The path we take is well worn and has clearly been mapped out by some sort of authority. I don’t feel like we’re getting lost or heading into the deep, dark wilderness, however I do feel like we’re slowly getting further and further away from civilisation. And I don’t mind it. This is surprising in itself as I’m a woman who likes her home comforts and has turned down countless jobs working with travel, leisure and festival brands because they wouldhave involved me foregoing a daily shower or using communal bathing facilities. Yet there’s something about having Loncey lead me down this dusty path where the cool air seems to get cleaner, purer, that I like. I trust them. I will follow them wherever they lead me.
“We’ve got to go up a short incline, and then we’re there,” they say and indeed that’s what happens and we untangle our hands so we are more stable taking strides up a steeper path. I’m grateful I listened when they told me to put a jacket and some trainers on as well as the yoga leggings I was already wearing. By the time we reach a plateau I’m a little out of breath and my body feels warm. It’s another small surprise when I realise I like this too.
Fuck me, did I just enjoy doing some exercise?
“Look behind you,” Loncey says and I turn. A golden glow stretches out in the distance – Las Vegas – below an impossible number of tiny stars.
“Wow,” I say.
“Now look back this way.” Loncey gently grips my shoulders and turns me.
“Also wow,” I comment as I take in the darker tones of night and, somehow, even more stars above us, all of varying brightnesses.
“It’s hard to choose which side to paint,” Loncey says as they put their bag down by their feet.
“And yet, none of your paintings feature Vegas in them,” I say, easily recalling the canvases of theirs that I’ve seen.
“Oh, I never paint that view,” they say. “I think about it. But it feels like cheating.”
“How so?”
“Well, it’s easy to see things when there’s a lot of light.” They point towards the city. “It’s harder to see just how much detail there is when there’s less light. When things are a bit darker, weassume there is nothing there, no light, but that just isn’t the case.”
“That’s very philosophical, Loncey, but you know it’s possible for things to be easy and beautiful and just as valuable, just as special.”
