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“Well, neither can I,” Alma said tearfully.
Ling shut her eyes tightly and wondered why the world, with all of its glorious possibilities, had decided to narrow itself so rigidly: this way or that way, yes or no, feminine or masculine. Where were the maybes, the strange and beautiful variants, the deeply personal in-betweens? As a scientist, Ling had to keep an open and curious mind, to explore all sorts of permutations. It seemed to her that there were endless variations for love, too, if only people would allow their minds to consider them.
Ling opened her eyes again. “Why…?” Ling stopped, afraid to say this aloud. “Why can’t we be something new?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“What if our love is like a new species, something with no classification yet? What if what we have together doesn’t fit neatly into any labeled drawer? That doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
Alma turned her head toward the open window, through which shone a buttery spring moon.
“There might need to be compromises,” she said at last.
With effort, Ling curled herself toward Alma, the window, the moon. “I understand.”
Alma shifted onto her side, facing Ling once more. She stroked the backs of her fingers against Ling’s soft, full cheeks. She kissed Ling, once on the lips, then on the forehead. It was very nice, Ling thought. It was enough, though she knew it wasn’t enough for Alma. “Whatever you do, will you come back to me?”
“Yes,” Alma said. “Always.”
That same buttery moon bleeding through the motel’s thin curtains kept Jericho awake. Doc was gone. No sooner had they settled into the room than he’d slapped on some aftershave and headed out again, saying, “Don’t wait up for me, Freddy. I got friends in this town.” Jericho got out of bed and performed a set of one hundred push-ups, then he stepped outside for some fresh air. He was pleasantly surprised to see Lupe standing by the railing, looking up at the moon.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” he said.
“Not with the way Babe and Dorothy snore. Sounds like the roof’s about to come off,” Lupe said, making Jericho laugh. He tended to do that a lot around her. “How come you can’t sleep?”
Jericho pointed at the night sky. “Who could sleep with that moon?”
Lupe grinned. “That there is a dancing moon.”
“I was going to suggest taking a walk.”
“Dancing is like walking, only faster.”
“I don’t dance.”
Lupe made a face. “Pffft, Freddy.”
Jericho wished he’d used an alias that didn’t remind him of Sam’s teasing now that it was coming out of the mouth of a girl he was falling for.
“I truly do not,” Jericho said.
Lupe’s bright smile drooped. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like me, Freddy?”
Jericho’s breath caught. “I like you very, very much,” he admitted.
Lupe broke into a satisfied smile.
“But, um, I have another name, a middle name, that only my family and closest friends call me.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Lupe teased.
“Jericho.”
Lupe’s eyebrows shot up. “Like the Bible?”
“My parents were religious.”
“Like my abuela.”
