Page 85 of Kiss Me, Maybe

“Let’s talk about it,” she says. “I’m home all day, come over anytime.”

An hour later when I arrive, she answers the door to her place. I cross the threshold to her studio, glancing around at the amount of finished projects scattered around the space. She showed me a couple of new pieces the last time I came over when we went over her role in the scavenger hunt. I’m not sure when her burst of inspiration happened, but it’s clear she’s finally over her slump. When her back is turned, I take a peekbeneath the tarp covering her newest project.

“Are you excited about the art showing?”

After calling me out of the blue, Natalia told me the McNay museum accepted her residency application. She’d applied for it last year before her slump hit, and she wasn’t sure if she was going to take it at first. The museum’s program begins with an artist showcase, and after a bit of finagling, I figured out a way to incorporate it into the scavenger hunt. At least, before Erika told me it couldn’t happen.

“You know what? I actually am.” When she turns back around, I immediately straighten. “So, what are we doing about the scavenger hunt?”

“You mean besides giving up?”

“It doesn’t have to be about experiencing your first kiss or even dating, you know,” she says. “If the original purpose no longer serves you, why can’t you just change it?”

“To what, exactly?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Natalia says in a tone that tells me she does, in fact, know. “A fun event to meet new people and make friends but also rebuild the community you worked so hard to cultivate these past few months?”

“I… hadn’t considered that.” I tilt my head at her, thinking over the idea. “I’d have to talk to my boss to make sure, but I think that could work.”

“Problem solved, then.” She smirks. “Besides, I’ve already come up with a replacement for the mural, so there was no way I was letting you back out.”

I let out a laugh at that.

“There’s one problem resolved, at least.” I let out a sigh. “If only the rest of my issues could be so easily fixed.”

It’s weird avoiding the app I’ve spent the past few months on hours at a time. I love talking to other people like me and making new friends online, but I’m never sure how close the other person thinks we are. After the shitstorm Esme caused, a few mutuals I thought I knew really well unfollowed and blocked me. I saw from other mutuals that those same creators were making videos to condemn me. It was gutting, but maybe it’s also what I deserve.

“I’m sorry.” Natalia grimaces slightly, twisting her body until she’s fully facing me. “I never wanted what happened to me to happen to you too.”

I’m not sure if it’s the rare kindness in her tone or the careful way she tilts her head at me, but I can’t contain the floodgates anymore. When the tears come, they burst free of their own volition.

“I’m sorry.” I heave in a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm me. “I’m so sorry. I—”

Natalia is stunned for a moment, and then I’m surprised when her arms wrap around me and my head settles over her collarbone. I shut my eyes and let myself feel everything I’m feeling for a moment. This pain I never realized was inside of me, finally set free.

“It’s just that… I didn’t want to be this person, you know.” She glances down at me, eyes narrowed at the corners in question. “The one who’s understood more by people on the internet than people I know in real life. It’s…”

“Sad?”

“Lonely.” The feeling hits me square in the chest the moment it leaves my mouth. My eyes sting with an onslaught of fresh tears. I try to blink them back, but it’s no use. Natalia doesn’t seem to mind, patting my head awkwardly as she waits for me to pull myself together.

I breathe in, thinking it’ll help to center myself, but when I breathe out, what comes out instead is a choked sob. “I’ve never felt lonelier in my whole life than when I realized I was ace-spec. Is that normal?”

“‘Normal’ is relative. But yes, unfortunately I know exactly how you feel.”

“Does it ever go away?” I bat away the box of tissues she tries to hand me, only to make a grab for it when she sets it on the coffee table. After using one to blow my nose (she graciously ignores the obnoxious sound my snot makes), she finally answers me.

“There’s only one thing that can help.” She smiles a rueful smile. “Finding the people who do understand and doing anything and everything you can to hold on to them.”

“The only people who understand me are peoplelikeme. And after what Esme said, they all hate me.” I dab a clean tissue beneath my eyes. “And the ones who don’t… I can’t face them because I feel like I’ve failed them.”

“What about your friends?” she asks. “Your family?”

“I don’t really talk about being ace-spec with them,” I admit. “The only person I’ve talked to in depth about my identity is Krystal. And the internet, I guess. That’s what TikTok was supposed to be for. I thought if I came out on social media, I wouldn’t have to keep coming out over and over again.”

“You wanted to skip a step.” Realization dawns in her expression. “Not that I’d classify coming out as one singular step. It’s several steps you make with anyone you deem important enough to know, including new people who enter your life. It was the same with you, once. Weeks, months, or even years of gathering all the information you could to figure out who you are. That journey was yours, but it wasn’t theirs.”

“That’s why I started posting in the first place. To share my journey. And it backfired in the worst way. Everyone turned on me. Not everyone, but…” My eyes burn again. “There’s no coming back from that.”

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