Sammy left a note on the coffee pot.

Texts! With Addresses! LUV U!

I pulled it off and stuck it inside my sketchbook. I loved her too. So much. I’d gotten so lucky with a randomly assigned roommate. She was more attentive than Okaasan, which reminded me I hadn’t even told my parents about the trip. Otoosan would support me, but would Okaasan let me go? Could she stop me? I grinned at my own rebellious tendencies, feeling unstoppable as I toasted a waffle.

On my way to class, a block from the art building, Kennan found and flagged me down. He seemed to be in particularly good spirits; a band he really liked was coming to town. Apparently, they had agreed to play at his place. He encouraged me to come and bring Sammy. I listened to him drone on about music. He wasn’t unpleasant to be around, I just hoped he would eventually stop hitting on me.

I tuned him out after a bit, wondering if Harmony would be in drawing class or meet me after.

In the art building, we came across Professor Vitelli sitting outside the studio. He was in a chair beside the front door, talking to a group of confused students. After a few seconds, the professor said something and they laughed nervously before making their way into the classroom. We hesitantly walked up next.

“Good morning Mister Kennan, Miss Rachel, do you have a moment?” Professor Vitelli said warmly. I looked at Kennan. That was not the professor’s usual routine.

“Sure, Professor, is everything ok?” Kennan answered first.

“Oh, everything is excellent, thank you for asking. However, I have a rather personal question, Mister Kennan, if you would be so kind as to indulge me?” Vitelli said. Kennan looked at me again. He gulped audibly.

“Uh… What’s up?”

“What would you do today if I decided that this was no longer a drawing class. What would you do with your time?” Professor Vitelli asked.

“Are you cancelling class?” Kennan asked suspiciously. The professor chuckled.

“No, I’m sorry, but I’d still like to know. I’m curious.”

“Well, would there still be a class?”

“Would you want one?”

“Yeah, I think so. I came here for art school. I want art classes.”

“What would the class consist of?”

“Hm. I’ve been kinda dying to get back to making mosaics again, so that would be super cool…”

“Back to your mosaics, I completely understand. Perhaps there is a nexus between the two, drawing and mosaic. Even within the parameters of our class. Stretch the rules a bit, see what you can make of them. For next week’s sketchbook assignment, ignore the material requirement. Make a mosaic.” Professor Vitelli said.

“Dude, sweet, thanks Professor!” Was all Kennan could muster.

“Of course, what about you, Miss Rachel?” The professor asked. I had completely forgotten that I was also present in the moment.

“Oh. Yeah, uh, hi. Sorry, hi Professor.” I stuttered. He smiled at my nervousness. It somehow assured me that it wasn’t a trick question.

“Hello again Miss Rachel. What would you do with this Friday morning time?”

“I think, I mean, before classes started, I would’ve said sleep. For sure. Mornings are like… But now, my roommate makes me coffee every morning, so eight AM is a real time. Like, all it took was some coffee and then the routine, and now I’m here. Ready to go… I think I would miss drawing class if it were gone. I’m not, like, saying that to suck up to you or anything. Professor, I’ll be honest, I didn’t draw that much before this class. Sculpture was really what I came to art school for. Now I think drawing is kinda crazy, it’s different than I thought. But uh, I don’t think I really answered your question…”

“That’s quite alright, continue.” He smiled.

“So, this week, Harmony and I are going to Cincinnati after this class, for the weekend. I don’t really know how long… Probably ‘til Sunday…”

Professor Vitelli and Kennan both blinked their surprise in unison. Neither responded.

“I guess, right now, if I didn’t have class, I’d go to Cincinnati earlier. But next week it would be something different. I think I would try to bring drawing to new places, rather than always to the art building.”

“‘En plein air’ is the term I would use for such an activity, and I highly recommend you explore it. Take your drawing pad to Cincinnati, try not to complete any sketches this week within the confines of your home. I’d love to see what you discover.” The professor beamed.

“Alright! Sure thing, Professor!”

The old man nodded, pleased at my excitement, and waved us inside. He turned his attention to the next group of students gathered behind us.

Kennan watched me curiously. He wanted to ask about Harmony, but didn’t know how. When I went to sit next to Harmony’s favorite back corner seat, he noticed and sighed. I felt bad for him. It was empathy, knowing he liked me and was disappointed I didn’t feel similarly. I was careful not to confuse that with guilt; I didn’t owe him anything.

Harmony arrived fifteen minutes into class, after Professor Vitelli had already set up an arrangement in the center of the room. They winked at me as they came in, and sat down beside me, but didn’t say a word. We just drew together in silence.

--

“May I have your attention briefly? Headphones out please.” Professor Vitelli said, miming the removal of headphones for those who couldn’t hear him.

“Snack break.” Harmony whispered to me.

“I’ve seen good progress from each of you, take ten minutes to walk around, get a snack, and stretch. Go outside, talk to your friends, don’t look at your drawings until you return. We will reconvene then.” The professor finished.

“Let’s sit in the hall for a bit, I’ll show you what I’ve done so far for this weekend.” Harmony suggested.

“Rad.” I nodded and followed them out of the studio to a nook in the hallway where we sat.

“Alright. I’m going to forward you a link for the hotel and the aquarium so you can send them to Sammy.” Harmony said as they fiddled with their phone. I wasn’t even surprised they knew Sammy had asked for them.

“Cool, thank you.”

“I think the most convenient plan is for me to go get the car, then pick you and Sammy up to go to the party. Provided we leave before eight, we shouldn’t get to Cincinnati too late. A little past midnight.” They said. The idea of being in Cincinnati by midnight felt surreal.

“You think we should go to Kennan’s?” I asked.

“I thought you felt more comfortable being there, just in case.”

“I mean, kinda… We don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind, it’s no imposition.”

“Ok, to be totally honest, I think things are going to be awkward with Kennan for a bit so part of me doesn’t want to go tonight. And Sammy said she was gonna be there, so she’ll look after them.”

“Did something happen?” Harmony asked.

“Nothing happened, I think I just accidentally told him about us.” I winced.

“I see, and you regret telling him?”

“Well no, but… He likes me and I feel like that’s gonna be weird.” I said. Harmony pondered.

“Kennan usually responds well when he learns of our relationship. He’s disappointed at first, but then he drunkenly tells me that we look hot together and he’s working on a mosaic of us as a gift. He tells me not to tell you, but I always do.” Harmony said with a sad smile. They were looking up into the air as if piecing together the memory.

“That’s kind of sweet actually.”

“I think so. I’ve never seen the mosaic, my iterations never last long enough.”

“Ok. Well, then maybe it’s best we give him today. So that next week we can just go to the party and be open about it.” I decided.

“That seems fair, then we leave after lunch?”

“Uh… Yeah! Works for me, I gotta finish packing.”

“I need to pee, don’t forget to send the addresses to Sammy. Kiss?” Harmony asked. I nodded and they kissed me briefly on the cheek before standing up to leave.

I blushed. Harmony’s casual affection was sometimes more intimate than sex.

[drawing]hallwaynook[/drawing]

“Would you all return to your seats please? Thank you.” Professor Vitelli said.

Everyone did so.

“Let’s talk briefly about framing. All of your power and talent means nothing if you cannot frame it. Now that you’re looking at your compositions, imagine you are doing so for the first time. What is the frame? Where is your still life on the page? What –” Vitelli began before being interrupted.

“Uh, Professor?”

“Yes, Miss Charlotte?”

“Aren’t we all drawing the same thing? Just from different angles?” Charlotte asked.

“Are you? Would you please stand up and show the class your drawing?” The professor asked gently.

Charlotte did so. She’d rendered an excellent replica of the glass vase on the far left of the arrangement.

“Mister Greg, you’re right beside Miss Charlotte, why don’t you share your drawing as well, let’s see if they look similar.”

Greg stood up begrudgingly. He revealed a light shadow study of the entire arrangement, though the individual objects were nearly indistinguishable.

“Anyone in the class want to try answering what framing is for me? Yes, Mister Kennan?” The professor pointed.

“It’s basically what we choose or choose not to include in the drawing.” He answered confidently.

“Precisely. And? Why does that matter?” Vitelli asked.

“For… Context?” Kennan tried.

“Yes. For context. Without context, who can understand your piece. Is Miss Charlotte’s vase a centimeter tall or a kilometer? Should we, as the viewer, know the answer to that? Does Mister Greg’s arrangement lie on the ground? Is it elevated? Think not only about what is in your drawing, but what is not. Make the decision to include or reject portions of the subject purposefully. This exercise is not purely about the skill of the pencil, it is about being decisive. Be decisive. You may both sit down now, thank you. I look forward to your presentation at the end of class, Mister Greg.”

Greg Walton-MacVarnovsky huffed.

--

I raced home as fast as I could.

Out of sheer laziness, I hadn’t packed the night before, and I figured it would take Harmony about an hour to get the car. I needed to decide what I was going to wear for the next three days. And pack a makeup bag.

I dumped the contents of my backpack into a chair and ran through the days in my head, mentally noting outfits. One for the car, to and from. One for the aquarium, something that could get wet. And something nice, for an evening out. Harmony hadn’t mentioned an evening out, so I wanted to surprise them. It needed to be cute and something they hadn’t seen before.

 I set to work, dividing my closet out and packing things into my backpack.

“Hey Rachel! I just got your text, are you excited?” Sammy yelled, crashing through door as she got home.

“I am so fucking… nervous. I mean I’m excited, but also like, what if I’m boring after the first day? What if I do something really not-cute like puke at the aquarium?”

“Girl, Harmony is so in love with you. I bet you could puke on them, and they’d ask if you were ok before cleaning themselves up.”

“Ugh…” I groaned. Sammy was right, but the idea of Harmony being more perfect didn’t help my anxiety.

“It’s ok to be nervous. Harmony’s probably nervous too.”

“Harmony’s always nervous, but somehow they keep it together.” I sighed.

“If you need support, tell them. That’s what a partner’s for.”

“Shit. You’re always so full of wisdom.”

“Love you, girl, now pack or you’re gonna be late.”

“Thanks mommy.” I joked.

Sammy stopped in her tracks and looked at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Hold up, I’m trying to figure out if that’s my kink or not.”

“SAMMY!”

She burst with a hearty laugh and stumbled into the kitchen. I returned to my sorting as she pulled a pan off the drying rack to make lunch.

“Um, ok, I need more advice…” I said from my room.

“You two still going to the aquarium?”

“Yeah, but like, what do I wear to an aquarium? Am I gonna get wet?” I knew a lewd joke was incoming before I even finished my sentence. Sammy winked as I rolled my eyes.

“Well, that aside… Girl, I’ma be honest, I wear the same shit every day. I could not tell you what proper aquarium attire is. If there’s a dolphin show or something, then you’ll probably get wet though.”

“I don’t know if we’re doing that. Fuck, oh well, I’ll just pack an extra shirt. No white… I guess blue’s ok? Long-sleeved, ‘cause it’s probably pretty cold in Cincinnati too, right?”

“Yeah probably. Though for an aquarium you’ll be inside most of the time.” Sammy said, dropping some chicken into a sizzling pan.

“That’s true…”

I crammed the remaining clothes and squeezed a sketchbook into my backpack before dragging it into the bathroom to fill up a toiletry bag.

Sammy cut up the chicken and tossed a salad together as I franticly searched for my phone charger. Between mouthfuls, I eventually found it under the pile of stuff I’d ejected from my backpack when I first got to the dorm. I finally relaxed for a minute and sat down to eat. Out of intuition I checked my phone.

            Got the car, on my way. Harmony wrote at twelve twenty-three.

Fuck. It was really happening.

--

[drawing]car[/drawing]

The car was comfy for an old Honda. It smelled like Windex.

“Would you do me a favor and pull up Google Maps?” Harmony asked. I realized that as we were eastbound on the highway out of Chicago, we were no longer within the normal series of events Harmony experienced.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll just put the hotel address in, is that ok?”

“Perfect. Thank you.” They visibly relaxed.

“Are you, like, excited? I’m kinda nervous.” I admitted.

“I am, and nervous as well. I don’t often stray outside the city, and if I do, it’s purposeful. This is far more impulse than I usually feel comfortable indulging.” Harmony forced a laugh and merged out of the fast lane behind a van.

“You definitely surprised me. I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

“Is that good? I feel safe. More so than normal.” Harmony said.

“When do you feel unsafe?”

“Perhaps safe is not quite the right word, though I do feel safe with you.” Harmony said, opening their right hand to me. I took it.

“What do you mean then?”

“In previous iterations I’ve relied heavily on my familiarity with the loop. It feels safe, so to speak. By knowing exactly what will happen or at least how things play out, I can stem the inevitable flow of stress that comes from being alive.”

“And, so, now what? You can’t predict stuff and you still feel safe?”

“I don’t like being in situations where I don’t know what’s going to happen. But here we are, going to Cincinnati, a place I have no memory of whatsoever. And I’m ok.”

“Harmony, if you ever feel like you’re not ok, especially while driving. Please let me know.” I said, vividly reminded of Harmony’s seizing body.

“I will. I promise. But this is precisely why I feel so safe. It’s almost as if… I have you inside my loop. I can rely on you. I’m not alone.” They looked at me for a moment.

“You’re not alone. I feel safe with you too.” I squeezed their hand.

Harmony drove. I offered at a few junctures, but was secretly glad they didn’t accept. I’d driven plenty in my hometown, but five hours of highway was a bit intimidating. Harmony seemed comfortable. It was baffling to imagine how much driving experience they must have had. How many hundreds of years had they been alive? Did muscle-memory carry from one life to the next?

After finishing the original cast recording of Waitress, I had to pee desperately. Harmony pulled over at a rest stop and took the opportunity as well. They paused for a moment in front of the two bathroom options available: MEN and WOMEN.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. We can go somewhere else.” I said, stepping away from the door to the women’s rest room.

“Cisnormativity at its finest. I suspect there’s a family restroom somewhere.” Harmony walked around the building, locating a third door with a baby-changing station sign on it.

“Is this ok?” I asked.

“I want autonomy over the expression of my gender, and my role in society. A bathroom doesn’t give me that. But I still want a bathroom. One that doesn’t tell me who I’m supposed to be. I think cis people should want that too, it doesn’t need to be an expression of queer identity to want safe bathrooms.” Harmony opened the door to reveal a filthy toilet taped over with a black trash bag. We sighed in unison.

“Let’s… both go pee in the men’s bathroom.” I suggested.

Harmony turned to me, questions in their eyes.

“You don’t have to, I mean, it’s… Well, I feel safe in the women’s bathroom, but I know you don’t. And you probably don’t feel much safer in the men’s bathroom either, but if we both go in there, then we can kinda take the space. Like, together. At least for five minutes… I dunno. Maybe it’s –” I rambled.

“It’s brilliant. You’re brilliant.” Harmony said, touching my face as if they were about to kiss me.

We walked over to the gendered restrooms again and kicked open the door to what was previously the men’s restroom. It was empty. There were only two stalls, so we took one each. For that moment at least, the bathroom was ours.

When we got back to the car, I grabbed a sharpie from my backpack as Harmony got back into the driver’s seat.

“One sec, I gotta do something.” I answered before Harmony asked.

“Vandalism?”

“Yeah. Fuck ‘em.”

I jumped out of the car and ran back to the bathroom sign, scribbling an A over the E of MEN, then adding HU in front.

--

I didn’t wake up until the car slowed and turned on an offramp; I felt it through mist of sleep. Harmony looked over as I rubbed the nap off my face and adjusted up from my reclined position.

“Good afternoon. You slept well. You’ll be pleased to know we’re on schedule. We’ll have time for dinner in the city.” Harmony greeted, extinguishing a cigarette.

“Oh, good.” I said through a yawn.

“What sort of food would you like?”

“Hm. I’m not sure... Wait, actually, what kind of food do you like? And, um, did you bring nice clothes?”

“Nice clothes?” Harmony lifted an eyebrow with a smile.

“For a night out. I’d like to buy you dinner. Can I buy you dinner?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

I blushed and turned away, feigning a bit.

“That’s pretty cute… Yes. I accept. I have something that might work.” Harmony said.

“Looks like I get to be the hot one tonight.”

“You’re always the hot one.” They said, not missing a beat. Harmony leaned over to kiss me while keeping their eyes on the road so I met them in the middle with my cheek. My back shivered.

“But you have to pick a place. Something you like.” I said.

“Understood, I’ll think about it. Until then, take in Cincinnati.”

Harmony gestured around them.

I sat up straighter and squinted out the passenger side window. There wasn’t much. A lot of row houses. The occasional building, slightly suburban, mostly from the seventies. The back window didn’t reveal very much either. It wasn’t too busy for a Friday afternoon, not late enough for city traffic. I felt a bump in the road when I sat back down as if we’d mounted a curb. Startled, I looked ahead.

“Oh shit… That’s pretty rad actually…” I said, leaning over the dash.

“It’s the Roebling Bridge. I took a brief detour so that you’d get to see it.” Harmony was proud of themselves; I felt spoiled.

“Thank you. I’m gonna draw it. Or, like, what I can from the car.”

“Should I pull over?”

“Nah. Maybe on the way back.”

“There’s a pen and a pencil in the outermost pocket of my bag if you need it.”

“Oh, thanks but I think I brought my –”

I leaned around the passenger seat to reach my bag which I’d conveniently placed just behind me. My sketchbook was still on top, so I grabbed it, but I didn’t have a pencil. Or a pen. I’d dumped those when I emptied my bag. A sigh escaped dramatically as I looked at Harmony with disappointed eyes. Harmony wore a shit-eating grin but kept their eyes on the road. I grabbed the pencil and sat back down with a grump.

“Thanks.” I pouted as I looked up at the approaching bridge.

“Of course.”

I didn’t love their smugness, but I liked that they paid attention. Harmony undeniably cared. I forgot my pencils and they remembered. If it weren’t for the time loop it would be a kind gesture. But in context, it felt almost like an assertion of superiority. Or maybe it just reminded me that I could never provide anything for them. I couldn’t possibly keep up with Harmony’s supernatural grasp on reality.

“Can I ask you something, uh, a little weird?” I started, putting my pencil down.

“What would you like to know?”

“Wait a second, do you already know what I’m gonna ask?”

“You’re right, that is a strange question.” Harmony said, pretending to be curious. I rolled my eyes.

“Don’t be a turd.”

“It’s puzzling because the question itself is cyclical… I’m sorry. The opportunity was too ripe.”

Harmony took a deep breath, so I let them continue.

“The answer is no. I don’t know what you’re going to ask. I cannot read your mind. It may, at times, appear as though I’m seeing the future. The reality is that I’ve seen many situations play out fifty, sixty, a hundred times, and the results fall into a few distinct categories. Once I know where this instance of reality is leading, I can follow what I’ve encountered in past lives with confidence. I can rely on that. For example, the pencil. I wasn’t sure you’d forget your pencils, but you have before. I brought extra pencils, pens, and even a pair of socks your size because sometimes you forget socks. But there is still a very real possibility that you’ve remembered everything, or forgotten something else entirely, but you wouldn’t notice then, because I would be as surprised as you. And everything I prepared for would be irrelevant.”

“You’d be surprised if I remembered everything? Rude.” I said indignantly.

“Well statistically you usually forget something. But you have on occasion remembered everything.”

“Fair… But I thought you’d never been to Cincinnati?”

“I did specify that I’d driven through, but you’re right, I’ve never done this particular trip. But I have been on road trips with you before. That’s enough to suspect a similar outcome, which is enough to pack extra writing implements and a pair of socks.” Harmony justified. I pondered.

“I guess that makes sense. I actually did have a question, though.”

“Please, ask away.”

“Are you… happy with me? Like, happy to be with me?” I asked, embarrassed. Harmony glanced over at me, a worried expression on their face, eyes jumping from my left to my right.

“Yes. I am happy to be with you.” Harmony answered but didn’t elaborate. They frowned pensively.

“I’m s–” I tried to apologize.

“You – Oh, sorry, I interrupted you.”

“No, no, it’s my fault. Continue.”

“You change how I see the world. Simply put, you open my eyes. Without your insight, I have a tendency to lose track of what is happening in any particular iteration. You center me, and with that you bring a certain love for things. The little things that are so very important themselves. Like art. I’m nearly certain that without you I’d have abandoned art many iterations ago. But hearing what art does for you teaches me things I couldn’t learn any other way. I adore you. I adore what my life is, what my existence is, when you are in it. The time we spend together is invaluable to me, nothing compares to the memories I have with you.” Harmony spoke softly and firmly.

“Even though you’ve done this like a hundred times?” Tears pooled in my eyes.

“It’s precisely why I’ve done this a hundred times, and why I’ve chosen to do it again.”

“But you didn’t really choose it. You told me you didn’t want to be together.” I retorted, more abruptly than I realized. Harmony looked ashamed.

“I did. I’d decided we wouldn’t be together. Which, now that I’m saying it again, sounds ridiculous and presumptuous.”

“But are we, like, together? Is that even what you want?”

“It was a mistake of mine to assert how our relationship should evolve. And to put that decision above our feelings. At the time I was also trying to figure out how to tell you about all this. As a stranger. I thought it would take strain off of our relationship if… It was shortsighted and cold. I should have put all my cards down on the table.”

“That doesn’t sound like a no, or a yes…”

“If you’ll have me, I want to be with you. I want that. I want this, and I’m glad you reminded me.” They said, smiling sadly. I put my hand over Harmony’s, resting on the gearshift, and picked up my pencil again.

“That is what I want. I’m sorry. Thank you.”

“I’m also sorry, and also thankful.”

[drawing]bridge[/drawing]

--

We pulled into one of those arched entryways in front of the hotel and a valet came up to ask if he could park the car. Harmony and I looked back at the dirty Honda and giggled. I’d never seen a real valet before. Harmony shrugged and gave him the keys.

Through the rotating door was a lobby ornate enough to greet royalty. There were loveseats geometrically arranged down the center, which then spiraled around a stone fountain. The walls sprouted torch-like lamps, falsely flickering to imitate fire. A waiter leaned over an elderly couple, serving them drinks as they laughed, ignoring him completely. At the far end, three glass elevators rose up through a gardened courtyard out of view. How much had Harmony spent?

“Sir. Ma’am. Welcome. May I have a card or passport?” The receptionist asked as we approached the front desk.

“Gender neutral pronouns for me, please. I think our reservation should be under Harmony. Here.” Harmony said courteously, then handed the receptionist their credit card.

“Oh, I…. I apologize. I didn’t mean to… Thank you.” She said, glancing at me nervously as she took Harmony’s card and started punching in the information.

“No worries. You didn’t know.” Harmony said, smiling at her. She looked a little relieved.

“Harmony… May I ask you something?” She said suddenly, looking up from her machine.

“Please, ask away.” Harmony answered.

“I’m supposed to use sir and ma’am for guests, what is the right gender-neutral version of that?”

“I see. I’m not sure there is a simple answer. Gender expression is incredibly personal, people can have any number of equally valid monikers or pronouns. The important piece is to respect that identity, and if you’re unsure, ask politely.”

“It’s ok to ask?”

“Generally, yes. Making assumptions isn’t inherently wrong but be ready to accept someone’s correction if you make a mistake. Often gender identity carries trauma for that individual, being kind goes a long way.”

“Wow, thank you.”

“As for your job, it sounds like they just want you to be polite. I ask people to use Mx as an agnostic alternative to Mister or Miss, but that doesn’t appeal to everyone.”

“Mx, like Mix?” She asked, gesturing with her hand as if she were stirring a pot.

“Exactly. But usually spelled just M X with or without a period.”

“Ok. I’ll try that. I really appreciate this.”

“I’m happy to help, flag me down if you have questions later, we’ll be here for a few days. My name is Harmony, and this is my partner.” Harmony said, stepping a little to the side.

“Hi, I’m Rachel. Nice to meet you.” I smiled.

“Hi Rachel, I’m Fatima. Are you gender-neutral as well?” She asked, looking up to Harmony for support.

“Um, no, she or her for me. Or ma’am, I guess, if you have to.” I said hesitantly.

“Did I say it wrong?” Fatima asked worriedly, sensing my awkwardness.

“No, no, you did great!” I said.

“Gender-neutral is an adjective often used to describe words or concepts associated with gender. If you’re asking someone about their identity, you may want to use the words gender nonconforming or nonbinary. I tell people I’m nonbinary or that I’m an enby for short. But gender identity is a private thing. You don’t want to out someone inadvertently. It’s easier to just ask people what pronouns they use. That shows you care and respect their identity, without forcing them to disclose it to you.” Harmony explained. Both Fatima and I listened closely.

“I… I really appreciate this. Thank you, again.”

“Absolutely. The internet can be a great resource if you have other questions.” Harmony said cheerily.

“I tried to ask my son, but I keep using the wrong words and then he gets angry with me.” Fatima answered, her vulnerability suddenly exposed. Harmony’s face twisted in empathy, but I knew parental dynamics were difficult for them.

“What’s their name?” I asked.

“His name is Haseeb. Well… He says it’s not anymore. He says he hates the name. When I say his name, he stops responding, or leaves the room. I don’t know why; it was his grandfather’s name…” Fatima explained.

“Does using the name Haseeb start the fights? Has, um, another name come up?” I was careful not to gender Fatima’s child.

“We can’t even make it through dinner without fighting. What do you mean by another name?”

“Names are important. You must have loved your father, enough to pass along his name.”

“My father was a great man. I want my son to be a great man too.” She said. Harmony and I looked at one another.

“I’m sure they’ll be great. I already know you’re a great mother. Maybe there are other names of great people that would suit them. Your kid.”

“Why doesn’t he want to be named after his grandfather?”

“I… I’m not sure. But maybe if you talk about what made your father so wonderful, and listen… then you could find a name that suits you both. It sounds like your kid is trying to express themselves… And, um, names are a part of that. They probably don’t hate your father; they just want to be their own person.” I said. Harmony looked at me in awe.

“I want to listen. I’m trying. He tells me he’s not a little kid anymore. I can see it, he’s taller than me now. But every time I look at him, I see his grandfather looking back at me. I know his spirit is inside Haseeb. But… I feel like I’m losing Baba again.” Fatima said, tears sneaking out of her eyes as she quickly wiped her face with a loose end of her hijab.

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” I said, tears opening in my eyes as well.

“No, please. I shouldn’t be saying all of this to a customer. I’m very sorry.”

“It’s ok… We’re… Friends now! I think you should tell your kid. About your dad. All about him. Then really listen to figure out what the next steps are. They don’t want to forget their grandfather any more than you do.”

“You’re right… Thank you. Both of you. I don’t even know what to say.” Fatima said, eyes red, cheeks wet.

“This is what friends do.” I said.

“Of course.” Harmony nodded.

“Oh, I completely forgot that you were waiting on a room number. I am so sorry. It’s six thirty-three, and did you come in with a car?” Fatima asked, fumbling around in embarrassment.

“A white Honda, the license plate is…” Harmony said then looked at me with a shrug. Something they didn’t know.

“Here, I’ve got a photo, so Harmony doesn’t kidnap me.” I joked, producing my phone. Part of me couldn’t believe Harmony had forgotten something.

“I’ll have your bags brought to your room. Along with a complimentary bottle of champagne for all your trouble. Thank you again. Rachel, Ma’am. Mx Harmony.” Fatima said, smiling warmly.

My eyes grew wide and found Harmony’s. Champagne? Harmony grinned back. There I was, in Cincinnati, with my partner, on a romantic weekend getaway, now supplied with champagne. I shook away the buzz and beamed a smile at the receptionist as we walked to the elevators.

[drawing]hotelroom[/drawing]

Our bags were just inside the door when we arrived. The room had two full-sized beds. I almost asked why there were two beds, but I actually felt relieved. I was glad there was another bed there, and glad Harmony had thought of it. I wanted to sleep with Harmony, I couldn’t imagine taking the other bed, but I could also tell it was a gesture of respect. That was how they loved. It reminded me our first night together had concluded in Harmony sleeping in a chair.

I hopped on the bed and flipped through channels on the TV, stopping on the movie channel to see what was playing later.

“What about Jamaica House? Jamaican slash Caribbean fusion with a musical atmosphere and a never-ending supply of ginger beer. What do you think?” Harmony asked aloud suddenly. They’d clearly been looking for a place to eat.

“Sounds… good to me. I’ve never really had Jamaican food. But isn’t it kinda early?”

“It is early, I just want to know where we’re going.”

“Is Jamaican food spicy?”

“It can be. It’s quite good, you’ll like it.”

“Or will I? How do you know? Wooooooo!” I said spookily shaking my arms. Harmony coughed in surprise at my ghostly wiggling. I’d caught them off guard, a special sort of victory.

“I like you.” Harmony finally said, recovering.

“You’re buttering me up. I can tell. Go put on your nice clothes, we’re going for a walk. Then dinner.”

“Yes ma’am.” They said, standing to attention.

Harmony grabbed their bag and disappeared into the bathroom. I realized there was a jacuzzi in there. Things just kept getting better.

I’d gotten some cash at an ATM back in Chicago. If I was to keep it off the radar with my parents, I would have to avoid randomly dropping a hundred dollars in Cincinnati one weekend. I flipped through my wallet to make sure it was still there. It was. I proceeded to gently retrieve my special outfit. A smooth pencil skirt and jacket combination I wouldn’t typically wear in Chicago weather. I tucked them under my arm and disappeared into the other bathroom.

When I reemerged to see Harmony, I was stunned. I didn’t recognize them at first. I’d never seen Harmony in a dress. Long black platform boots rose to their calf, punk but chic. The dress was a black halter-top, simple, high-neck, but with a deep split in it. I could see all the way to their exposed thigh. They were wearing makeup, mascara, and a dark eyeliner. Lipstick as well? Definitely. I had never been so attracted to anyone, at any point. Ever. Except maybe Shego from Kim Possible. Harmony sat to the side on one of the chairs, reading a bottle.

“They dropped off… Um. They… Wow. You’re gorgeous.” Harmony stuttered, putting down the champagne.

“I’m gorgeous? Fuck. Look at you. This dress is incredible. I didn’t even… You’re… Ahh. Words! FUCK.” I yelled.

“Can I kiss you?” Harmony asked, standing over me after one long step across the room.

“Yes, uh, yes but lipstick. I don’t want to mess it up… You know…” I muttered, feeling my face burn.

“I’ll be gentle.”

Harmony’s arm wrapped around my back and lifted me onto my toes. I closed my eyes and reached for their face. Finding it and guiding their lips to mine.

[drawing]champagne[/drawing]

It was much warmer in Cincinnati than Chicago, and considerably less windy. I took a deep breath and bundled up anyway because circulation was not my forte.

We walked for quite a while, occasionally ogling through store windows from the street. There were other people out, and I could tell that it was getting busier. We got looks. They seemed generally positive, perhaps wondering why we were dressed up, but I could feel Harmony’s hand getting sweaty in mine.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you alright?”

“I’m good.” I said.

“Ok.”

Harmony said no more.

I wasn’t sure whether I should push and ask, or if I should let it be.

“Can we sit for a second?” I decided.

“Sure. There’s a bench over there.” Harmony said, pointing ahead. We sat down.

“I love your dress, and I’m really happy you wore it.” I began.

“Thank you. I like your skirt too.” Harmony said quietly.

“Wearing it because you want to, and having to let people stare at you are two different things.” I said. They paused.

“Yeah…” They finally said.

“What are you feeling?”

“I’m… Not entirely sure. I feel embarrassed. I feel as if people are laughing at me. I know no one is, but I still feel stupid. I don’t usually wear dresses. Most iterations not at all.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I have a traditionally… Or… Rather, stereotypically feminine body. That’s just the way I am. I wear a binder, baggy clothes, all black… Because I feel more comfortable in the androgynous part of the gender spectrum. But actually, secretly… it feels kind of good when people, like Fatima at the hotel, mistake me for a man. It feels like a success, even though I’m not a man, and I don’t want to be one, it’s a clear sign that I’m not a woman. But when I wear a dress, it feels like a reversion. It’s as if I’m lying to people, pretending to be a woman when I’m not. It takes away any confidence I have to tell people that I’m not. Why am I wearing a dress in this body if I don’t want to be a woman?” Harmony said.

“I know you know this, but clothes have no gender. I think you’re beautiful, and handsome, in a dress and that smelly hoodie.”

“Thank you. Passing is… Impossible territory for me. The closer I get to passing as a man, the more I’m endorsing a binary I don’t support. But if I take too many steps back, I feel like a fraud. I want the middle space. In between. And I also want the space outside too. Selfishly, I want other people to see that, and know that. I want them to see me and not know if I’m a man or a woman. I want them to suspect that I’m something else entirely. But that’s an incredibly privileged position. I have a body that lets me do that, and not all enbys do. I imagine most don’t and are bound by the eyes of… everyone. Their friends, their lovers, maybe their parents. It’s stupid. It’s stupid of me. I feel stupid for wanting other people to see me a certain way. I know my presentation is different from their perception, but I want both.”

“It’s not selfish to want to be respected.”

“No, but… I have so much. And I want more. And I want it from people who don’t even know me.”

“Do you want to wear the dress?”

“I do…” Harmony said sadly.

“Does it make you feel good to wear it?”

“It did at the hotel. Here I feel… exposed. More vulnerable than I thought…”

“What if… Like, you could wear the dress and no one except me would know?”

“What do you mean?” Harmony asked, genuinely interested.

“I have an idea.” I said and grabbed Harmony’s hand.

Harmony followed as I ran as fast as my little flats would go, back a block and into a shopping mall we’d passed earlier.

I stopped at an illuminated sign and scoured the map for a certain kind of store. Once I found it, I took off again, nearly decking Harmony as I rushed past. We leaped up the escalator and took a sharp right directly into a hat and coat store. Aesthetically and aromatically reminiscent of Professor Vitelli.

“Young lady, may I… help you?” An elderly White man asked as we skidded to a halt in front of him.

“Yes. Um. We need a big coat. Like a trench coat. Think… David Tennant.” I said, puffing my arms out to the side and raising my shoulders. Harmony looked at me in confusion.

“For you or…?” The man trailed off.

“For my partner, in black please.” I smiled broadly.

“Of course. I always preferred Tom Baker though…” The old man said, half to himself.

He eyed Harmony for a moment before turning around. The man waddled over to a rack behind the counter and pulled a long, thick, black coat off the end.

“Try this on. Tell me if it fits.” The man said. Harmony took the coat and I helped them sleeve it on. It was enormous.

“This is a little big…” I mumbled

“It looks a little big.” The old man echoed, perhaps deaf to my comment.

“It’s perfect.” Harmony said, wrapping their loose sleeves around themselves, a big smile growing on their face. They looked as though they’d just discovered gold.

“Are you sure? I can hem it for you, free of charge.”

“Thank you, but it really is perfect. How much is it?” Harmony asked.

“Oh, um, well. I’ll give it you for a hundred. It’s usually two-fifty but… Well, it’s cold out there.” The old man said. Harmony’s warmth was contagious.

“A hundred and fifty.” Harmony declared, handing the old man their credit card.

I was surprised at first, but it was exactly the sort of thing Harmony liked to do.

“Take care of this place. It’s important.” Harmony said.

“Thank you…” He returned. I wanted to cry as the old man fiddled with the cash register and plugged in some numbers. Harmony turned to me.

“I don’t know how you do it. I adore you.” They said.

“Get your coat. You big…” I said, looking for a word before turning away as I started to blush.

“Here you go. Please come see us any time.” The man handed Harmony their credit card, a receipt, and a business card.

“I very much hope I can.” Harmony said.

And we left to go find our restaurant.

I could smell cayenne pepper before we even arrived. From across the street, a bright blue sign in block lettering read JAMAICA HOUSE. It was an odd feeling to have Harmony describe the place, read the menu, and walk me there only to have the restaurant manifest itself completely different in life than in my imagination. There were benches out front with people sitting on them, and we could tell through the glass front door there was a line. It was packed.

“Uhm… Did you make reservations?” I asked.

“They don’t take reservations but I think it’ll be worth the wait. Is that alright?”

“Do you think or do you, like, know?”

“Intuition. Do you trust me?”

“Ok. Sure. We are in Cincinnati after all. This whole trip is me trusting your intuition.”

Harmony looked pleased. They were considerably cheerier in their new coat. I worried at first that they would feel ashamed, hiding their dress from the world. But Harmony didn’t carry themselves that way at all. I liked seeing them happy, and knowing the dress was underneath. It was like we had a secret. Another secret.

We chatted with other people in line, often because they asked Harmony to bum a cigarette. Most of them were regulars who lived around Cincinnati, and most of them were just there to pick up an order to-go. I got the sense that the kitchen supplied meals for many families in the area and wasn’t really a restaurant for tourists.

“I love that skirt, baby. Where’d you get it?” An older Black woman in front of us said. I looked up at her.

“Oh, uhm. Thanks. I got it from old navy.” I answered, looking at my back as if I could see through to the tag. Harmony watched the exchange quietly.

“I told you, Wayne! Not all of their clothes say OLD NAVY on them.” She said, turning to the man next to her, about the same age.

“Fine.” Wayne answered, sighing, and crossing his arms.

“What was that? Did I just hear you say… You’re right?” The lady said. She held her hand up to her ear to exaggerate.

“You’re right. I’m wrong.” He muttered begrudgingly.

“That puts me up by three today.” She said proudly, the context of which I didn’t understand. The man rolled his eyes but seemed amused as well.

“Have you been to this restaurant before?” I asked timidly.

“Have we?” The lady smiled.

“This is our anniversary spot.” Wayne answered.

“The twentieth, actually.” She cut in. Twenty years was a long time, longer than I’d been alive. I looked up at Harmony; they were fixated on the conversation.

“But, only the nineteenth time we’ve come here for it, ‘cause of the trip to New Orleans.” He corrected.

“Ah, you’re forgetting they catered the wedding!” She corrected back. Wayne hung his head in defeat.

“Wow, uh. Happy anniversary!” I said.

“Congratulations.” Harmony piped up.

“Thank you. Both of you. I’m Gloria, and this is Wayne.” The woman said.

“Wayne. Nice to meet you.” He repeated, shaking our hands. His palms were rough.

“I’m guessing you two haven’t been here before?” Gloria asked.

“You guessed right. We drove in from Chicago today. Oh, I’m Rachel by the way.” I laughed awkwardly.

“My name is Harmony.”

“What’s the occasion?” Gloria asked.

“Actually, this is kind of our first date.” I smiled up at Harmony who nodded. Gloria put her hand over her heart and her eyes grew wide.

“You picked a good spot.” Wayne said.

We all backed up against the wall to let out a party of three kids and their father before a flamboyant, dark-eyed, young man addressed Wayne at the counter.

“Good evening, my name is Alphonze and I’ll be seating and maybe serving you this evening. I’m so sorry but we’re absolutely slammed right now. It might be a second for a two-person table, unless the four of you are together?” The host asked. He leaned over to look past us at the line outside.

“We’re, uh… No. They’re… It’s, it’s just me and –” I tried to explain but Gloria interrupted me.

“Baby. There aren’t really any two-person tables, and there’s not a lot of room. Why don’t you eat with us?”

“Are you sure? It’s your anniversary…” I hesitated.

“Celebrate with us!” Wayne said, a big grin on his face.

“We’d love to. Thank you.” Harmony answered. They glanced at me and shrugged. Wayne held up four fingers to Alphonze.

The host grabbed some laminated menus and led us into the restaurant. Past the welcome counter was a converted storeroom filled with tables. We had to work our way around ten to get to ours, which was backed up against the wall to make room for more guests. It was definitely a two-person table, but four chairs had been pushed around it. I glanced about, but most parties were at least three people, and some had five. As I looked, people looked away. As if they’d been staring at us. I suddenly realized why.

Every single person in the whole restaurant was of African descent.

Except for me. And Harmony.

Sammy popped to mind, I hoped we weren’t the arbiters of oncoming gentrification and expulsion. Sammy would periodically mourn the loss of neighborhoods in Chicago. Specifically, because White people took over. She said there had been redlining for so long that property was worthless in some areas. Until Starbucks showed up, then a chiropractor, and all of sudden no one could afford rent anymore. I didn’t know what to do with the thought, so I sat down.

“So. Harmony. I gotta ask because I’m getting a vibe. What are your pronouns?” Wayne asked. I was surprised.

“They them please, thank you.” Harmony sat a little taller in their seat.

“Awesome. I knew I should ask.” Wayne said proudly.

“He used to dance in a gay bar downtown.” Gloria bragged.

“I never danced. I was the bartender!”

Gloria looked at him.

“Fine. But I wasn’t getting paid to dance. I wasn’t the dancer. I just danced because the music was good.”

“Oh honey, no one would pay you to dance.” Gloria said, smiling into a cup of water. Harmony and I contained our laughter.

“Wait a second. You like my dancing!”

“I do. It’s very endearing. That being said, while acknowledging you have many valuable talents, dancing is not at the top.”

“Hmpf. Well, what do you do, Harmony?” Wayne asked.

“I’m an art student.”

“Wow! Do you have pictures of your work?” Gloria said excitedly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t. I’m sorry.” Harmony looked embarrassed. The permanency of their work was a delicate subject.

“I have one picture, actually. Of the Grand Canyon one? Can I show them?” I chimed in.

“Oh, I… Absolutely. Go ahead.” Harmony said, taking a breath.

“Here.” I handed my phone to the old couple. Wayne and Gloria ooh-ed and ahh-ed.

“Are you an artist too?” Gloria asked me.

“I’m, uh, working on it…”

“She drew the Roebling Bridge on our way here.” Harmony said.

“I made some… They’re just sketches, nothing big yet. I really want to do sculpture. I think. I dunno…” I stumbled.

“Baby, you take all the time you need.” Gloria said warmly.

“While you’re figuring it out, how do you feel about spicy food?” Wayne asked.

“I want to try it.” I said firmly. Harmony grinned.

Wayne walked us through the menu dish by dish, and then ended up ordering food for the four of us. It was amazing. It was spicy, but in a completely different way than Japanese food. I was in love with it. Harmony must have taken me to a Jamaican restaurant in another loop. They must have known.

Halfway through the meal the chef came out. He looked ancient, with dreads that would probably have hung down to his knees.

“Congratulations you two.” He said.

“Jeremiah! You’re here! I didn’t know you were still cooking.” Gloria exclaimed, standing out of her seat.

“September sixth. I wouldn’t forget. I’m not that old.” The two of them hugged.

“Older than me.” Gloria said.

“Who told you that? They’re lying.” Jeremiah grumped.

“Hey man! How’s Lloyd? You two still married?” Wayne said, also standing for a hug.

“I think so, I’m afraid to ask. He never leaves that damned couch if he can avoid it.”

“I’ll bring you some cider next week if you want some, I’m almost done with this batch.” Wayne offered.

“I don’t do much drinking anymore, but my girls would love some. Who are these two?” Jeremiah asked, gesturing to us shakily. We stood quickly

“Hi, uh, Mister Chef, sir. My name is Rachel.” I bowed.

“Chef sir, I like it. I’ll make Alphonze call me that.” He smirked.

“I’m Harmony. Thank you, the food was delicious.”

“I’m glad you liked it. Harmony, hm? Let me tell you a secret that everyone else already knows.” Jeremiah said. He beckoned Harmony to bend over, and they did. Harmony listened as I looked to Gloria and Wayne for help. They seemed as confused as I was.

“I… Thank you. I’ll take that with me.” Harmony said, turning a little red.

“Ok, I don’t have time for anymore of this yammering. You know where I live. My show is on in twenty minutes, and I don’t want to think about what you all will be doing then.” Jeremiah said suggestively. He waved off any help before hobbling away.

Gloria, Wayne, and I sat down to finish our meal. Harmony stood for a moment before unbuttoning and removing their coat. The black dress rippled out, dancing in the yellow light. A little kid behind us ogled them. Harmony shivered and folded the coat over the back of their chair as they sat down. I looked for their eyes to see what was going on but couldn’t figure it out. Gloria and Wayne were dumbfounded.

“Baby, you were holding out on us. You look fantastic!” Gloria exclaimed. Harmony blushed.

“It’s a wonderful dress.” Wayne nodded.

“Thank you. I’ll admit I’m still trying to figure out how to wear it.”

“Did Jeremiah say something to you?” Gloria asked, voicing my question as well.

“He just… reminded me.” Harmony said cryptically, in a way only they could do. I rolled my eyes, secretly overjoyed.

“So. Wayne. Tell us about this bar you used to dance at. Is it here in Cincinnati?” I asked, poking the bear a little.

“Danced at. Very funny.” Wayne said, holding his hands up in exasperation. Gloria chuckled.

“It was, before getting shut down. Fucking cops, excuse my language.” Gloria said, wiping her mouth.

“That’s where we met Jeremiah and Lloyd. The community is still here, and there are still good bars. Are… either of you twenty-one though?” Wayne asked.

“Uhm… I’m not.” I said, looking up at Harmony to see how they’d answer.

“I’m not either.” They decided.

“I don’t actually care if you drink, but I care about these bars. I know some asshole is always looking for a way to close them down so… Be careful, alright?” Wayne said, suddenly serious.

“We will be. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Us older gays are sensitive about this stuff sometimes. You gotta understand we grew up in a different world. The fact that Jeremiah and Lloyd survived is a miracle. So many of us didn’t. So many died. Between aids and the police, nowhere was safe.” He explained. His eyes glistened.

“I can only imagine.” Harmony said, genuinely absorbing Wayne’s experience.

“Ohio still won’t let trans people change their gender marker on their birth certificate.” Gloria added.

“But hey, let’s celebrate today! You can have ginger beer! To first dates and twenty years!” Wayne said, changing the subject. I could see his eyes watering.

My heart ached.

--

“Do you think it’s ok that Wayne paid? Did I leave enough of a tip?” I asked as we rounded a corner in front of the hotel.

“Ray, you tipped Alphonze fifty dollars. I’m not sure our whole meal cost that much.” Harmony said, wrapped again in their new black coat.

“I was excited! And I wanted to pay for your dinner, like a date, but Gloria and Wayne were just too stubborn.”

“I enjoyed their company as well. It was a special night.”

“It was incredible. I’m so glad we came here.”

We spun through the rotating door and strut through the lobby, Harmony’s boots clomping on the carpet. Fatima waved subtly from her counter and we both waved back. Me perhaps more emphatically than I should have.

In our room, I flopped onto the nearest bed so hard my flats flew off. Harmony sat carefully on a chair and unzipped their boots. I looked at them, upside down from my collapsed position.

“Champagne?” I asked.

“In the jacuzzi?” Harmony suggested

“Fuck. I totally forgot. Yes. Wait lemme pee first.”

I trundled over to the bathroom, barely overcoming my sudden vertigo. I peeked in the jacuzzi as I walked by. It was truly massive.

As I sat down however, I was greeted by an unwelcome visitor. I was a week early.

“HARMONY! I’m so mad right now.” I yelled through the bathroom door.

“Are you alright?” They answered, some concern in their voice.

“Yeah, is my bag there? Can you pass it to me?”

“Certainly… I’m not looking, but I’m opening the door… Here.” Harmony’s hand passed my backpack.

I found my toiletry bag but was disappointed again. No fucking tampons. I needed to learn how to pack better.

“Is everything ok in there?” Harmony asked. From their voice I could tell they were standing by the bathroom door.

“No…” I said glumly.

“What’s up?”

“I’m on my period…”

“Ray… I’m sorry. Are you feeling cramps or anything?”

“Not yet… I… um… Fuck. Do you have any tampons?” I shrunk at myself for even asking them. I wasn’t sure if I’d just committed a huge cis-normative faux-pas. 

“Yeah, see my toothpaste on the sink? The bag underneath should have a few.” Harmony answered as if I’d asked for the salt. Sure enough, there was a small black bag there, tampons inside.

“Oh. Thank you. Thank you… I’m sorry that I ruined our jacuzzi night…” I said, actually thinking about sex.

“What do you mean? That would be great for your period.”

“Wait really?”

“Yeah, if you start getting cramps tomorrow, we should do it again. It’s helped me before.” Harmony admitted.

“How did I not know this?”

“I’ve heard sex ed in high-school is a joke.”

“Oh, you have no idea… In Getson we weren’t allowed to say the word clitoris. In sex ed.”

“I hereby declare that in my company the word clitoris is now mandatory in every sentence.” Harmony proclaimed.

“Thank you, clitoris.” I played along.

“You’re welcome, clitoris, how are you feeling?”

“Now it just sounds like we’re calling each other clitoris.” I said.

Harmony laughed.

“So, you don’t… Mind? Like, if I’m bleeding? Um, clitoris?” I asked sensitively.

“I suggest you try it. Then, if you’re comfortable with my company, I’d love to join you, and your clitoris.”

“Harmony, you’re pretty clitoris.”

“Ray, I find you quite clitoris as well.”

[drawing]tampon[/drawing]

Harmony and I sat in darkness. We’d spent the night together a few times since our impulsive intimacy in Harmony’s bed a week earlier, but that futon was considerably smaller than the massive hotel bed. Harmony still hadn’t touched me. They stayed on their side of the bed.

We’d been talking about fish, sea turtles, environmental collapse, global warming, and vacations, but I was getting tired. Part of me really wanted to use the last bits of energy I had to love Harmony. Physically. They’d done so much to spoil me and bring me on the trip and though I knew sex wasn’t payment for that, my impulse was earnest. I wanted to go down on them, I felt ready.

Unfortunately, Harmony didn’t seem to.

They hadn’t explicitly said they didn’t want to, but they were so still. They seemed content across empty space. I didn’t mind vocalizing interest first, but would Harmony just cave to my demand simply because I asked? Or did they really want to? I felt paranoid for imagining that Harmony would lie to me and perform physically just because I asked and out of no desire themselves. I knew they wanted to be with me. They’d even initiated earlier that evening.

“Ok, uh… I. One sec let me collect my thoughts.” I said, stemming the flow of our conversation.

“Please. I’m all ears. Is this further related to sea turtles, or ought I switch gears?”

“Oh, new topic, sorry.”

“Alright.” Harmony answered patiently. I breathed.

“Can… I kiss you?” I asked, my heart beating in my ears.

“I would love that.” Harmony’s voice smiled as they answered.

“Ok, great, uh, second half of the question… Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I like kissing you.”

“Why didn’t you ask? Ugh, that sounds petty. I’m just feeling… I dunno.” I complained.

“I suppose it’s because I’m nervous.” Harmony admitted.

“About… About what?”

“It’s… No matter how many times you and I dance this dance, kiss, and love, I can’t help but wonder if you truly want me, or if it’s simply my own fixation that inhibits me from seeing clearly. I adore you. I roll into each iteration wanting few things more than to be with you again, but it’s not the same for you. You don’t remember our past lives. You’ve never lived them. I can’t simply jump back into the deepest parts of my adoration for you. I need to be patient. You need room to discover your feelings for yourself, whether they lead us together or not. I don’t feel comfortable leading, it’s not fair of me with everything that I carry.”

“I guess that makes sense…” I said.

“I wonder what you would think of me outside the loop. If I hadn’t lived hundreds of lives. I don’t know who that is, some kid from southside Chicago with mommy issues. The me you know is inevitably composed of my experiences. My repetitive six months, or so, of life. In many ways, I’m not a real person. It’s difficult to believe that you might like me.” Harmony said. The thought of our relationship ending in a few months stung, but it wasn’t the focus of the conversation.

“I’ve fallen for you before, right?” I asked.

“I think so. You’ve said so.”

“And some of those times I must have fallen for you before you told me about the loop, right?”

“The vast majority, in fact.”

“Just like this one. I had a crush on you way before I ever knew about anything.”

“That makes me happy. But… It doesn’t really get to the crux of my fear. The person you had a crush on was still an impossible person. I’m a runaway caricature of whoever I was before the loop began. Even if you didn’t know, I’m still me, whatever me is.”

“You’re still real, you’re still human.”

“What makes me human? I don’t age, I’ve never been a child, and I’ll die a thousand more times without consequence. I don’t know how old I am. I could be millions of years old.”

“Ok, well, you’re weird. More than most people, but everyone’s kinda weird. You’re not as weird as John, and he ages. Probably… Plus, everyone loves him.”

“Except the cornholers.”

“Except the cornholers, fine. But you get the point. I don’t think you need to base your humanity on what other people experience. You’re supposed to be you. I’m just glad I get to see it. I don’t know the answers to most of this, but I do know that I love you… Oh Fuck. I mean I like you. I also love you, but it wasn’t supposed to be… Like… Shit. You, you don’t have to…” I flustered myself.

Oh fuck.

OH FUCK.

“I love you too.”

Harmony said they loved me.

Shit, I needed to say something back.

“Rrrrr… Rad?” I said. That was embarrassing.

“Rad.” Harmony answered.

I exhaled audibly.

“That means a lot to me.” They said.

“Awesome, ‘cause I think I just burned about a thousand calories.”

Harmony burst into laughter.

“I’m gonna go wash my hands. I feel all sticky.”

“Can I get a kiss before you go?”

“One.”

-- 

Many later, I pulled away from Harmony’s lips.

“Can you teach me how to go down on you?” I asked.

“I… can.” Harmony hesitated.

“Unless you don’t want to right now which is also totally ok!” I said, covering quickly. I remembered that sex was actually dangerous for Harmony.

“I want to. Um… Let me…”

Harmony let go of me and started to steady their breathing. I didn’t want to mess anything up, so I waited. Patiently.

I started to think about my own vagina. It was the organ I was most familiar with. I thought about how I masturbated, about how Harmony went down me, and about things that just turned me on. I thought about rush that coursed through me every time Harmony’s tongue moved. And my first time with a handheld shower head. I was excited.

“May I guide your hand?” They said.

“Yeah.” Fuck, I was so nervous.

I put my hand on Harmony’s stomach and they flinched.

“I’m sorry!” I yelped, pulling away.

“I’m just ticklish, sorry.”

Harmony took my hand gently and kissed me once on the cheek before turning their back to me. They wiggled close until our bodies were flush with one another. Me, naked. Harmony, nearly fully clothed. I felt my hand glide across their compression shorts.

“Slowly… gently…” Harmony whispered, drawing a small circle on the back of my hand.

As my fingers reached, their legs opened. I pushed into the nylon fabric and felt Harmony’s lungs expand. They kept the same rhythm though, still circling my middle knuckle.

I tried to match the pressure I felt on my hand, but occasionally I would push a little harder and Harmony would react. A short inhalation, or a moan. I felt a swell of power and control over them. They were at my mercy. I pushed a little harder. Harmony gasped.

“Not inside, Outside… And softer…” They said, reaching across their shoulder to brush mine with their free hand.

“Sorry.”

It was tempting to accelerate. I had to remind myself why we were careful. The power I felt wasn’t imaginary. I was guiding Harmony gently to shore.

“That’s good. Just like that.” They said between rotations.

Harmony stopped circling my knuckle and I stopped with them. They let go of my hand and pulled off their shorts. It was the first time they’d ever done so. I froze. The hair on my arm stood up and a tiny piece of me wanted to run and hide in the bathroom. But I didn’t. I didn’t even move until I felt Harmony’s hand on mine again.

“Follow my lead…” They whispered.

Harmony pressed inward, finding their clitoris with my finger, and drifting around it. I tried my best to replicate the turning motion I’d performed before. Their skin was quite different from the firm nylon. I felt myself leaning on Harmony, but because of the way we laid together my arm was using familiar muscles. Harmony’s vagina was inches from mine.

“A little faster now. Careful. Gentle still.” Harmony murmured, stretching their legs, and opening their hips further.

I followed, keeping pace with Harmony’s finger on my hand, brushing over their most sensitive regions only occasionally. My confidence grew. It was infinitely different from feeling myself, and yet I felt the echoes of my touch in my own body.

“Do you want to try your tongue?” Harmony asked, falling onto their back so we were face-to-face again.

“Y-yes. But I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“I trust you.”