Page 33 of Monarch
I toss the sketchpads away when it gets too much. When I go too far back in time, or maybe too deep into buried memories and locked-away feelings, but I am not angry.
I’m strangely hopeful.
I know this pain well, and this pain, I can work with.
I sit up straighter and look around, this time searching for very specific things. A blank enough canvas, some paints, brushes, and something I can use as a palette. Feeling like I’ve drunk a huge glass of water and eaten a filling meal – although I have done neither since getting off the plane – I rush around and grab all these things. I lean the canvas against the chest, as if to draw out more memories of Mari, more nostalgia that both settles and disturbs me. More pain.
And then I finally, finally,thank fuck, finally, start to paint.
Chapter Fourteen
Roos
“So that’s our focus right now,” I tell Mari as I stroke the back of their hand with my thumb.
“I still can’t believe you started your own non-profit, and it’s now as big as it is,” they say, their eyes full of an admiration I’m not sure I deserve.
“It’s not that big.”
“You said you have eleven employees and a whole office to manage. That you’ve helped hundreds of kids get the gender-affirming care they needed. No, you’re right, that’s not big, that’s huge!” Mari leans forward as if to ensure their praise lands in my ears.
I blush and look down at our joined hands. We’ve been entwined on this bed – fully clothed – for nearly an hour. We’ve talked about their life back at home, their family, and their dream to one day own their own studio that’s as successful as their mum’s. And we’ve talked more about my childhood, about growing up trans in a farming village, how my parents didn’t support me because the community didn’t, how I miss my parents desperately, and my two younger sisters, who I fear don’t remember me, at least not how I want to be remembered. How, despite it all, I still hope that one day I can see them again and that maybe, maybe things will have changed.
Chatting with Mari is easy. What’s not as easy as I’d hoped is ensuring I don’t mention Lex at any given moment.
When xe had left my apartment earlier – because there was no way I was going to let xem move back in, just like that – I had felt almost every emotion under the sun. Doubt that I was doing the right thing starting a dialogue with xem again. Fear it would all end in tears – my tears – but also fear that something really bad had happened to Lex to make xem come running back. Confusion and, yes, a small but sharp spike of jealousy, about the history Lex and Mari apparently share. Relief that Lex had returned and delight that xe was saying things I’d wanted xem to say for six long months. Excitement that Lex said xe would call me tonight, to talk some more. Annoyance that that excites me. Hope that Mari would understand, if not about Lex, but about how I’m polyamorous.
I’m feeling many of these things now as I realise this is the right time for me to talk about that last matter.
“Mari,” I say, looking up and into their pure blue eyes. “I have to tell you something.”
“Oh.” Mari pulls back slightly.
“It’s not bad.” I pause. “At least, I don’t think it is, but I guess it could be. That depends on how you view…certain things. I don’t know why, but I get this sense that you will be okay with what I tell you even if you don’t feel the same way.”
“Roos, you are being uncharacteristically indirect right now. Just tell me.”
“I’m polyamorous,” I blurt. Their expression is blank, their eyes unblinking. “I’m ethically non-monogamous. It means I have sex and sometimes relationships with more than – ”
“I know what it means,” Mari interjects. “I’m just…processing.”
Still, they’re not revealing anything. There’s no frown, but there also isn’t a smile. I lean back against the headboard and wait. “Process ahead.”
Finally, they turn to look at me, their eyes slightly narrowed. “Have you always been poly?”
“Yes, although I didn’t know it when I was younger, of course. But since I came to Amsterdam and started dating, since my transition, yes, I’ve always been poly.”
Mari opens their mouth but then closes it again. They’re looking past me at some indeterminate spot on the wall by the bed.
“Are you okay?” I ask eventually.
“Yeah, I am,” they say, and their chest lowers with a deep exhale. “I’m okay with it. I mean, I guess I’m also poly.”
“You guess?”
“Well, I haven’t had a relationship that’s been more than sex for a long time, but I’ve had more than one lover at once, if that makes sense.”
“You mean, group sex?”
