“I ask you a few questions, get a sense of you for the wedding. I mean, we should call it a wedding, even though it’s obviously not a wedding.”
“Yes, don’t get this one’s hopes up,” Detroit warns. It’s only after he lowers himself onto the couch that J sits. Skye remains hovering until Detroit shoots them a glance. Then they, too, sit.
“So...how did the two of you meet?”
“Oh, lord,no,” Detroit answers immediately. “That is the least interesting, most obvious question. How do you expect to getartout ofthat?”
J looks to Skye for help, but Skye just looks to their feet.
“Okay,” J says. “We can skip that one. I understand that the two of you are polyamorous?”
Detroit likes this line of conversation more. “We are,” he says, leaning toward J. “There’s a very stringent application process to join us. But don’t worry—you’re already on the fifth page of the application, at least.”
J can dismiss this flirtation because it is in no way sincere. It’s simply the way Detroit talks.
“Is it exclusive polyamory?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Sorry. I mean, is it the two of you with the same other partners or do you...go your separate ways?”
Detroit laughs. “Such binary thinking! Can’t it be both?”
J feels himself blush. “Of course.”
“Sometimes we play together. But we’re also free to see other people.”
Now it’s Skye who laughs. Not an open, wanting-to-be-heard laugh. A private laugh that’s spilled over to public.
Detroit swings his focus to Skye and asks, “Do you find that funny?”
“No...it’s just that phrase.Seeing other people.”
“What about it?”
“It’s actually the opposite of what it means, isn’t it? You’re not justseeingthem. We allseeother people—it’s a question of whatwe do when we see another person and want them. Yes, you and I see other people. But we also do much more than see them. You more than me.” Skye turns to J. “You understand what I mean, don’t you? I’m just making a point about how silly that phrase is.”
“I’m sorry,” Detroit tells J. “I had no idea this was show-off time! Suddenly my partner has become a lexicogitator.”
“A lexicographer,” Skye corrects.
“Yes,I know the word,” Detroit seethes. “I was just playing with it for our guest.”
Skye goes back to looking at the floor. “You’re right.”
“And let’s keep it that way!” Detroit says with an attempt at a lighthearted air. “Now—I’ve already forgotten your question. Did we answer your question?”
The interview continues on a path that can only be called circuitous.
When J asks them how they spend their days, Skye says they work in costuming, and when they start to say what Detroit does, Detroit shushes them and says, “I want to be a mystery. You can write that down in your notebook.Detroit is a mystery.”
J asks about their names.
“I was conceived in the city of that name. But I won’t tell you by whom.”
“My mom was a hippie. My brother is named Oak.”
J asks about their performance art.
