I’d never seen Aster adopt such a blunt attitude about my writing before, but after this point he remained committed.Earlier he had seen my writing as only a background activity in my life, an enjoyable pastime like playing solitaire or making the bed in a certain way in the morning.After I finished my breakfast and cleared the table, he escorted me into the living room and insisted I resume my seat.
“How long should I go for?”I asked.
The book, if you can.I want you to write a clear future for us so that we won’t need to worry about it.
“But what about this afternoon?The rain’s leaving.Should we go to the beach?”
He shook his head.The beach can wait for a later time.I want us first.You and me.
Aster pressed the tip of my nose playfully, but there was no levity in his tone or expression.I turned to my laptop and opened my document, and even though I was now doing the thing I’d been hoping to do since I arrived, I felt as if I’d just lost something important.
THE CAFE
After Aster decidedthat writing was the best use of my time, I threw myself into my writing with everything I had.I sat at my desk for a minimum of ten hours per day, alternately typing or reading over what I had written.On one afternoon, I noticed a stiffness in my back and had to stand up and stretch before continuing with my work.
Aster perched on the arm of the sofa behind me in a dramatic burgundy suit that looked like a costume for a theatrical production.He stiffened when I rose.Don’t stop.You only just started.
Aster had grown increasingly irritable since I found him in the lighthouse tower.He insisted he could handle his own problems whenever I asked him directly how he felt.When I approached the topic of his insecurities from a more indirect stance he admitted more or less that I had made him to be too real—that he was a person now more than a mythical idea and that he worried that his more flesh-born, human self would never reach the fulfillment of his over-grand desires.
A slight goatee had formed on his chin.The style appeared intentional, but I had no idea if he made his facial hair grow that way through his muse magic or if he shaved it like any other man.
I’d asked for a muse… and I’d found a creature even more novel than that.
“I’m not quitting for the day,” I said.“I just need more circulation.Repetitive strain is a risk.”
Aster leapt from the sofa and pranced catlike to a space in front of me.I will tell you what the risks are, when there are risks.The great risk here is your succumbing to your own laziness, and both of us falling into the void because of it.
I stepped back.“What’s up with your attitude all of the sudden?Didn’t you want me to live life to the fullest?”
We don’t have time.It’s running out.I understand now what desperation drove you to call for me,Aster continued with no trace of levity.You say you want to become great, but when we met, your brain was reaching into an empty space.You didn’t even know what you wanted to become great for.Want alone is never enough, Stella.
His words made me shiver.I knew to brace myself for a round of rudeness from Aster now and again.I knew his stress caught up with him at times.Before a few days ago, he had never considered his own future, but now it weighed on him with an anxiety that matched his own grandeur.Paranoia nibbled away at him.He wanted to know he could last, that his ambition alone could carry him through.
“Is this about yesterday?”I asked.“About your fear of being forgotten?”
It’s about this,Aster said, pointing to the growth on his chin.When it started coming in, I thought it was a fluke.My hair doesn’t grow.But apparently, it does.I’m changing.I’m aging.
“Don’t be dramatic.Hair growth doesn’t mean age, not necessarily.”
I’m not being dramatic.
“Well, I’m aging too, and I can tell you that nothing will happen overnight.There’s no reason to panic,” I said in an effort to comfort him.“We’re making good progress, besides.I’ve got five thousand words typed.Most people would be impressed with half that much.”
Most people, he repeated sullenly.
“You know, in your mood you won’t be able to do your best work,” I said, ignoring the mockery.
My mood?
I nodded.“What you need is a distraction.”
What sort of distraction do you have in mind?he asked idly.
“How about you go into town?”I suggested.“Look for a restaurant for us to go to.We’ve already pledged to share our lives together, and you say you never want to leave me, but we haven’t so much as gone out on a first date, and I want that to change.I’ll have another five thousand words finished by the time you get back.”
Aster blinked and hesitated.I didn’t know if he was genuinely considering my suggestion or if I had only distracted him from his frustrated spell.Then he walked around me and sat in my seat behind the desk.I’ve got a better idea,he said.You go out and find a restaurant.I think you could use the distraction more than I could.I’ll read what you’ve written so far and save you time editing later by telling you what the flaws are.Later we can get another five thousand words out easily.
After the past couple weeks of passionate lovemaking and swimming, I wasn’t used to Aster’s being this obsessed with my writing.His enthusiasm might have come from a fear of mortality, but it excited me.He looked like he had an idea—like he could see the goals in our reach, things that would make the book sensational instead of mere entertainment stops for people with nothing better to do.
