Page 10 of Broken Heat
Even if I hadn’t seen Sani often, and we weren’t in love, we’d had a connection of mutual trust. We’d stayed in touch long-distance. We had been there for each other when needed, and now he would no longer occupy that position in my life.
Relationships were all different, some more fluid than others, some deep, some shallow. But they all touched a part of our lives and our hearts. When someone left your life, it was okay to take a break to be sad. Or glad. Or whatever it was you needed to feel.
I knew from his file that Elon was ready to move on with his life. He wanted a future with a family. But his body communicated it was not ready.
I had quite an assignment ahead of me. I needed to help him reprogram his body, tell him it was okay now to readjust to new people and possibilities.
All the professionals told me over and over, “Mykel, you are allowed to grieve.”
I’d learned that perhaps my grief in losing my friend with benefits had been greater than I’d allowed myself to feel. My body had responded by shutting down.
Perhaps Elon’s body needed to receive the same message. Even three years into it, there was no doubt Elon’s grief was great. But he was ready for a reawakening.
* * *
“How does this happen?”Elon asked.
We sat in the living room of his cabin on a plush, beige couch with a plate of five different kinds of fruit on the cushion between us.
“There’s no set rule,” I replied, hogging my favorite, the watermelon.
“There has to be some formula. I would think.” He apparently preferred grapes. The red ones.
“Honestly, no two patients are alike.”
“Isn’t sex just—well—sex? And even though I immediately agreed to this treatment, how is sex supposed to create a heat that isn’t happening?”
I observed him carefully while pretending to be interested in another bite of fruit. A strawberry this time. It was fat and sweet.
“Sex can be many things and have different meanings to different people. It can be performed for fun or to create life or as a reverent spiritual experience. Or all three at once. It can be about love. Or not. That is the wonder and beauty of the act. If performed well, each time can feel new and fresh.”
He shrugged and grabbed a cube of watermelon. “Without heats and a mate, it just seems, well, boring I guess.”
“Your records indicate your libido—”
“Tanked,” he finished for me. “I have zero drive.”
“That’s to be expected after losing a mate.”
“I know that. But it’s been three years. In the past year I’ve finally been able to go for days without thinking of Coah. Then I feel guilty.”
“And you haven’t dated in all this time?”
Elon shook his head.
“What about masturbation?”
“Sometimes,” he replied, finally popping the huge cube of watermelon into his mouth. “Oh, that is good. This fruit is so fresh.”
I nodded in agreement. We grew some here on the other side of the island and imported a lot from nearby islands. Fruits flourished in tropical climates. The two we never ran out of were pineapples and bananas.
“If you don’t mind the question, how was your sex life with your mate?” I asked.
“Coah,” he said, glancing down. “It’s okay to say his name.”
“Coah.”
“It was good. Like, we were mates and I had regular heats, you know?” He kept staring at the fruit plate.
