I don’t think I can make the first one, though.
We already have commitments that night.
Ris had blinked at the response. She’d deliberately chosen a week two weeks out, far enough to plan but not so far that it would be forgotten. The public library branch near their apartment had large rooms available for meetings and gatherings free of charge, and a coffee shop was right next door. It was as perfect as she’d thought it could be.
No worries,she replied.I’ll keep you posted.
The next from another sylvan, from work.Is this like a networking thing?
She’d quickly bent over the keyboard to dispel the assumption.Not really,she wrote.More about connection. An alternative to the organizations in place.She’d held her breath when a notification appeared on her screen almost immediately, a response already.
Gotcha. I’m going to pass this time. I think I’m just in a phase where I want low emotional demand.
Something had tightened within her.Low emotional demand.As if the notion of community was one that could be paused, like a gym membership. She’d stopped checking her emails after that. She knew the responses were there, and she knew whatmost of them would say. She didn’t need to keep poking the bruise to know it existed.
By the time the ill-fated night itself rolled around, her heart had been sitting at the back of her throat, while she paced around the room at the library. Three people showed up. Two of them were from her yoga class, just down the street, and she knew without needing to ask that proximity had been the only impetus, for they were both dressed having come from class, carrying their mats. Four people in the giant room seemed silly, and Ris quickly relocated them to the coffee shop next door to save face.
It had been nice, having coffee with folks she considered near friends, but it wasn’t what she was craving. It wasn’t what she wanted to build. And now she only felt stuck, unsure of how to get around this roadblock, not knowing what the roadblock even was.
Ainsley watched her carefully from where he sat with his guitar. “They’re still saying no, aren’t they?”
“Not exactly,” she grumbled. “They’re sayinglater. Ormaybe. Ornot like this.”
“That’s still a no,” he said gently. “It’s kinda nice to know it’s not just my friends.”
She choked out an outraged laugh. “Gee, thanks, babe.”
“I don’t mean that meanly! I’m really sorry this isn’t going the way you’d hoped. I hate seeing you sad. I wish people were better at following through, but no one is. No one ever shows up when they say they will; no one ever wants to hang out or talk. No one wants to show up just for the sake of showing up. It sucks.”
“It really does,” she agreed. “I think I underestimated how invested people are in believing they’re already fulfilled. I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“You’re not doing anything wrong, Nanaya. This is just the way folks are. Remember that docuseries we watched aboutface-to-face conversations and how low ability the test group was after they were given their first smartphones? The internet ruined us for actual connection. It’s easier to text than to have a conversation face-to-face. Everyone talks about needing a village until they have to be a villager. This is why—”
He broke off, swallowing hard. For a moment, Ainsley said nothing, looking down at his guitar, strumming softly, swallowing again before he continued.
“When I say Tate was the only friend I had that I could count on, I’m not exaggerating. He was the only one that I always knew would be there when I needed someone. He might moan and bitch about it, but he showed up. He always showed up. Until those last few years. No one else ever wanted to be inconvenienced. ”
For a long moment, neither of them said anything, that same chord progression becoming the soundtrack to their mutual disappointment in other people.
“I know how much you miss him, Ains,” she murmured eventually. “And I know you’re still hurt over everything that happened and you think you didn’t matter, but . . . I hope you knowyouwere probably that only friend for him, too.”
A burst of that hard laughter. Ris realized that he hadn’t been to the Thursday night group since Fitz had come home with them.Maybe this is his group now.
“Yeah, I think I’ve worked past that in therapy. I know what being allowed in as close as I was meant . . . I just wish he had trusted me about all this as much as I trusted him. Do you know what he did when I quit that band? He left the club one night at, like, 2 a.m. or whatever stupid time he used to get off, walked over the guy’s building, it was this total dickwad demonborn, like, justsuchan arrogant fuckface . . . anyway, he went to this douchebag’s apartment and hotwired his car. By the time the sun came up, he had taken apart the engine block. Sold thewhole thing for parts by the end of the week, and gave me the money. I think that’s actually how I bought this guitar. No one wants to commit grand theft auto for a friend anymore. Like, what’s the point of being friends?! You can’t even get any of your ballerinas to meet for coffee! We’re all doomed as a civilization.”
“I don’t think I have anyone!” she blurted, heat rushing up her neck. Ris was horrified to realize she was on the verge of tears. “That’s so pathetic to admit! I don’t have anyone in my life I can count on that way. Other than you.”
Ainsley grinned. It wasn’t his blinding, brilliant smile, and she knew he might never get back that same level of carefree exuberance. Maybe, she considered, like the anxious, afraid-of-his-own-shadow dog in his crate, who was most certainlynota rambunctious little puppy, this was better.
“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me. I hope you don’t mind pushing around these creaky old bones when I’m eighty, and you’re still wearing your hot little yoga outfits.”
“There’s no one else I want to be stuck with,” she confirmed.And what happens when he’s gone? Who will be your person then, if you can’t make this work?“I just . . . I really want to make this work. But I don’t even know where to start, apparently. Three people! That’s pathetic! I wasn’t asking anyone to come and give a kidney as collateral, it was literally just coffee at the library!”
“It was too far,” Ainsley shrugged, not looking up from his fingers as he worked through another section of music. “That’s probably the main issue.”
Ris twisted from her spot on the sofa, staring at him open-mouthed. “What?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, pausing to write down the notation of whatever he’d been working on. When he looked up at her at last, his eyebrows shot up at her expression.
