Shirley’s expression softens, as if sensing my discomfort. “Is this about Kai?”
“We didn’t really break up. I’m fine.” I wave a hand. But they just stare at me, offering me half of an Oreo in exchange for words. “Remember what I was about to tell you in the car, the day we had to rescue Kai?” I ask with a sigh. It feels like a lifetime ago. “You already know this, but Kai and I weren’t really dating. It was PR.”
Shirley nods, but their eyes betray a silent question:Why?Back then, I told them enough in person for them to know Kai and I weren’t dating, but I never told them the reason.
“What about the guy who called you on my phone a couple of weeks ago?” they ask. “Does this have anything to do with him?”
“No, it doesn’t.” I twist my sleeve between my fingers, feeling the fabric bunch and release beneath my touch. “I’m the problem, really.”
“How?” Shirley leans forward with genuine concern, but their phone buzzes again. “Sorry, just one second.” They let out a loud exhale before picking up. “Love, I just talked to Sam. They want to go ahead. Think about what you want to do. I can’t talk now, but I’ll see you at home. Love you.”
Love you. See you at home.Wait, they said that both times, but they talked to two different people.
The confusion must show on my face, because Shirley’s eyes widen in sudden realization. “Ah, shoot, I guess we’ve never talked about this.” A grin tugs at their lips when I don’t speak, as if they find my struggle amusing. “Got questions? Ask away.”
“When you said partners earlier, you meant…”
All I know about Shirley’s love life is that they’re pan based on the flag the Pikachu sticker on their phone is holding.
“Sam and Margot, my partners,” they clarify. “You couldn’t have known. I’ve never mentioned it before. You know how this industry is…” A pang goes through my heart.I do.“But I trust you.”
“I trust you, too,” I say. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Their smile wraps around me like a warm blanket. “I’m in a poly relationship. Sam, Margot, and I have been together for three years, and we’re trying to buy a house. Emphasis ontrying. I’m worried it’s going to go to another buyer.”
“Damn.” I blink, processing. “I hope you get it. I’d love to visit you and meet them.”
“Of course you can,” they say. A spark of relief flits through their eyes. “You should come over for puzzle night. You’d get along with both of them, for sure. I’m pretty sure Margot has seen half the shows you’ve told me about, and Sam has a nearly infinite board game collection.”
“That sounds like heaven,” I say. “Just let me know when.”
“You’re so sweet.” Shirley smiles.
“Do people ask you a lot of intrusive questions? Whenthey learn you’re dating two people?” I slump back on the couch. It’s not the same, but people seem to feel entitled to know about my private life just because I’m aroace.
“Sometimes. Some people, mostly cishet men, equate us being together to having an endless threesome. There are also people who assume we’re in an open relationship, even though we’re exclusive. Nothing wrong with open relationships, it’s just not our vibe. Poly relationships aren’t always open.” Their shrug is nonchalant, but their eyes dim a little, like this hurts more than they’re letting on. “It just gets a little exhausting, how we’re automatically seen as less committed than a couple in a traditional relationship. The way we met is pretty romantic! And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
“Hm.” The ghost of a smile appears on my face. They’re not in love with one person, but two! That’s lucky. “I kind of envy you. You have a lot of love in your heart. I can’t fall in love at all.”
Shirley studies me with a frown, and I regret my words immediately. I brace myself for the usualYou just haven’t met the right person yet, then realize Shirley wouldn’t hit me with that.
“Um, maybe you already knew this, but I’m aroace,” I say. “I like being me. I’m just struggling lately… with what’s expected of me. It’s like I don’t know how to love.”
“Nonsense. Who says you can’t love?” they say. “You just said I have a lot of love in my heart. So do you. I know you. Love comes in all shapes. Romantic love is just one of those shapes.”
“It’s the shape of our society,” I reply with a bitter edge. I don’t know who I’m mad at. It’s not anyone’s fault if they fall in love.Stop trying to fix everyone else. Maybe you’re the broken one.
Shirley pulls something out of their drawer, a block of Play-Doh they start molding into a ball. They like to play with it sometimes, says it helps with the creative flow.
“Society makes us think love is a monolith you fit into. When, in reality, love is a shapeless thing. You don’t fit into it. It fits you.” Shirley hurls the ball of Play-Doh at me. I barely catch it, and it flops from my hands onto the couch. “You can mold it, you know? Love. You can mold it so that it fits you.”
Mold it. I roll the ball of Play-Doh between my palms. What am I supposed to mold it into?
“Can I give you a piece of unsolicited advice?” Shirley says. “There was a time when I thought it would be easier to live life the way everyone expected me to because it would hurt less. I was wrong, and I’m so glad I disregarded those voices and gave myself the space to meet the real me, to love them. It was scary at first, but if I hadn’t, I would have lost myself.” Their shoulders drop, and their eyes fill with concern. “Don’t lose yourself, Sasha.”
I squeeze the ball of Play-Doh until it flattens between my palms. I don’t want to lose myself, but it’s like Asher said. If you show them the real you, you’ll disappear. So maybe the only way not to lose myself is to be someone else. To hide Sasha and give them Sassy.
Before I can dwell on their words any longer, the doorswings open. Marissa barges into the studio, a large coffee order in hand, the loud clack of her boots thunderous against the floor.
