“I can’t tell you that,” she says eventually, again in that small, sad voice.
“Why not? Does it involve criminal damage? Bodily harm?” I joke.
“No, worse.”
“Jesus, Maeve. What could be worse than that?”
“It’s not bad for other people but it’s bad for me. Well, not bad, I guess, but weird. It’s a really weird thing for me to do.”
Feeling very intrigued, I make sure my voice is as gentle as possible. “Try me. I hope you know me well enough by now to know that I’m not going to judge you.”
There’s another silence but this one isn’t unexpected and I wait it out. I wait for Maeve to be ready.
“When I’m stressed, I…” Silence returns. “Jesus, why is this so fecking hard? Especially with you.”
I don’t know what she means by that, but still, I wait.
“I like to… Well,likeis not the right word. I sort ofneedto, you know, when I’m stressed… I need to… masturbate.”
That final word comes out in such a rush I almost miss it and I have to replay it in my mind to check I’ve heard correctly. And yes, I’m a little shocked, but I’m also very aware that my shock is the last thing Maeve needs.
“Well, I guess that’s something we have in common,” I say eventually.
The light flashes on and I bring a hand to my eyes to cover them because it’s a little blinding.
“You do it too?” she asks, the volume back in her voice. “As stress relief?”
“Sure,” I say, lowering my hand but still squinting at Maeve who’s sitting up in bed in her lilac silk pyjamas. “I think a lot of people do. It’s a quick and easy way to feel good, after all.”
She makes a noise that’s a grunt of air being pushed through her nose. “I wouldn’t say it feels good,” she says. “I mean the end bit does, but the bit before, I don’t know… it just sort of feels necessary, even though I wish it wasn’t.”
I push my body up so I’m also sitting in bed. I adjust the silk wrap Maeve has loaned me again. “You know, it’s okay if masturbating feels good to you, Maeve. It doesn’t make you any less asexual if you enjoy self-pleasure.”
“Self-pleasure,Jesus Christ. You sound like one of the books Ma got me from the library when it came to talking about the birds and the bees.”
“Hmm. And I’m guessing your mom didn’t talk to you about the possibility of being asexual?”
“Of course not. My ma and da didn’t even know asexuals existed until I told them about it.”
I pull in a breath and look at Maeve, waiting for her eyes to find mine. “That’s hard,” I say.
“Well, do your parents know about asexuality?” she asks and it’s not accusatory as much as defensive.
“My mother has an awareness, yes, but that’s because she’s a well-read queer Black woman who works with a lot of queer people. And who knows what my father thinks about anything. I haven’t heard from him in over three decades years.”
“Your mum’s queer?”
“Yes. Pansexual, like me. It’s what made coming out so easy.”
Maeve smiles one of her real smiles. “I’m glad you had that.”
“And I’m sorry you didn’t.”
But Maeve waves it away. “Oh, they weren’t arseholes about it. Not at all. I’d softened the blow by coming out as queer a few months before, so when I told them I was asexual it wasn’t a huge deal but I think it’s been a learning curve for them, having to learn more about what being asexual actually means. And that’s the part I hate the most about telling people I’m ace. It’s the not understanding or the misunderstanding. And then there’s just this automatic burden on me to help them understand. It always feels like it’s my job to educate them.”
“Is that why you talk about it online?”
“Partly, yeah. Although not all of my friends are on social media, you know. I mean, my brother also had no clue about it, but to be fair to Marty, he never made me feel like I had to explain myself to him. In fact, he just gave me a hug and told me he was going to ask Jenna, his girlfriend, a million questions about it so he could be more supportive.”
