“This is fabulous!” Ann declared, gazing into Lola’s eye. Just the one. She’d politely removed it for examination. “I think you’ve patched it better than the Mark 8! You’ve got less internal structure to play with. Your design is so elegant.”

“Oh,” Lola said. She had covered the socket with a white silk patch from her purse. It had a red diamond embroidered on it, like the playing card. “You know, that explains why it went all screwy when I tried to clone the spells off the Mark 8. I can’t get in there without breaking the glass, and there are spells anchored to the glass. The stupid designs are patented and they don’t have to release them for a decade! It’s damn near impossible to jailbreak an eye. They don’t want you to. They want you to buy a new one.”

“They do. Milo, my friend Milo, could only find the Marks 1 and 2 at the library. I had to steal Erik’s eyepatch and go into a shop and touch everything.”

Lola goggled at her. “What, you just looked at everything and remembered it? A whole shop of eyes or just the Mark 8?”

Ann looked away. “I guess maybe the whole shop. I don’t know. They’re not all that different. Milo… Milo is good at figuring things out.”

“It sounds like you’re good at figuring things out, Ann,” Veronique broke in.

“I can if I want to, but it’s not my favourite,” Ann replied. “He taught me everything I know.” She nodded firmly. “Lola, I’m sorry.” She handed back the eye. “You’ve done a wonderful job. It really shouldn’t still be pulling left. Unless…”

She turned back to the bar and sipped her cola through the tiny red straw. “Vero, I’m so dreadfully sorry. I’ve been ignoring you.” She smiled at Lola. “We have an alliance. We weren’t going to split up until we both found someone. I think talking about prosthetics is rude when she can’t.”

“Alliances were made to be broken, Ann,” Vero said.

The woman with the eyepatch snickered. “I think you figured out something else about me and you don’t want to tell the whole bar like you did about the Descoteaux Mark 6.” She removed the patch and replaced her eye. It spun around once and then settled. “It’s all right, Ann. I’m sort of proud of myself. I like showing off, but it makes people uncomfortable. Can you tell what else I’m missing?”

“No,” Ann muttered against her hand. “But it’s on the left, isn’t it?”

Lola plucked the pink satin glove off her left hand and revealed a metal device with exposed gears, pulleys and wires. She bent all four fingers and the thumb forwards and then, with hardly a sound, backwards, all the way, until they were curled against what would’ve been the knuckles of a normal hand.

Ann covered her mouth with both hands and screamed.

◈◈◈

“She threw glitter at me!” Pierre cried, pointing. “You saw it, Calliope! Didn’t you see it? Like I’m somebody’s fairy godmother! You don’t throw glitter at a person! That’s just hurtful.”

“I’m sorry, did you or did you not surround me with a magical picture frame that said ‘Visit the San Rosille Zoo, See the Dancing Giraffe!’?”

“Oh, that was hours ago!”

Calliope had a hand on each person’s chest and was holding them apart like anti-glue. “Cut it out, you guys, I’m serious! You’re scaring the Swans!”

The one with the short blue hair and the dress had backed up to the wall and was hugging their shoulders and shaking their head. “I don’t like conflict, I don’t like conflict, I don’t like conflict…”

“Kelly, it’s okay,” said the boy with the green hair.

“It’s not okay, you said they were nice!”

The boy with the green hair frowned at the arguing dancers. “I thought they were.”

“Felix, it’s not like that,” Cerise said. “This is just…”

“You are damaging our reputation with your persecution complex!” Pierre spat. “Don’t fake like you’re the bigger person here, you… Ouch! Damn it. Ow.” He turned away and pulled his shiny purple tailcoat more tightly around him. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

Cerise lowered her voice to a mutter and spoke behind her hand, “Calliope, you have to be careful where you touch him. He’s…”

“No you don’t, it’s fine!”

“It is not fine,” Cerise said. “You were yelling about how you paid for all of that. You’re proud of yourself and you think I’m a fake person for not doing the same thing. Because I’m magical and I could. Why don’t you admit what you bought yourself with your magic?”

“I bought a life,” he said. “I bought a reason to go on. If you can’t see that, you’re just faking when you say you’re the same as me.”

“I see what they’ve done to you and I know they don’t care about you,” she said. “That’s what I see. I’m not happy with people throwing coffee on me and calling me a trap, but I’m not going to sell myself to a bunch of invisible things that don’t care about me just to make those awful people happy.”

He rolled his eyes.

She caught it and whipped her head towards him, pointing a finger as if drawing a pistol, “I signed that cute little card we sent you at the hospital, Pierre! They stole your shoelaces and put you on suicide watch because they thought you did that on purpose. You tried to fake like that was funny too, remember? ‘Ha, ha. They would’ve locked me in the Walled Garden but they figured out I wasn’t rich. Ha, ha.’”

“Ha, ha,” he replied, with a blade-thin smile. “‘I stayed with a ballet company with plenty of awful people because the costume designer did a racist caricature of me, and when I saw it, he said they wanted me to play an evil wizard later. And I believed him!’ Laugh or cry, Charlie?”

Cerise opened her mouth and seemed to be winding up to scream, but Calliope pushed in front of her and spoke first, “Pierre Martin Savatier, you stop calling names and apologize to Cerise right now! If you keep acting like a kid I will treat you like one. I will literally find a chalkboard and make you stay after the place closes and write her name a hundred times. Grow the hell up!”

Pierre grimaced and rubbed his chest with a hand. “Oh, my gods. There is no reason in hell that should actually be scary. I don’t even have a middle name. I only said it was ‘Martin’ to be funny. Did it just get colder?”

“Calliope is a mother and her real middle name is funnier than your dumb jokes,” Cerise muttered. “She has powers. If you don’t want her to scare you, pretend you’re a decent person.”

“I’m not going to pretend a name you tell other people to call you yourself is somehow offensive,” he snapped. “If you don’t want to be…” he cast a sideways glance at Calliope, “someone else, why don’t you drop the act? A woman can wear overalls and trim trees! You’re a coward, Cerise. You’re a coward or you’re a fake. You can’t really be a woman and not want to be a woman! Even if doing it scares you, don’t you want it? Don’t you want to be who you are like I want to be who I am? How can you not want it?”

“I am a woman,” she said. “I’ve been a woman. I don’t need help from the gods or the approval of people I hate to make me a woman. I don’t have to want what I already have. Didn’t you know you were a boy before,” she gestured at him, “all that? Why else would you do it?”

“Because I couldn’t stand my body and I knew it was wrong! I fixed it!”

“You did not ‘fix’ it,” she said. “Don’t act like there are some nice people with tools you can hire for a day to repair your plumbing and it’s no big deal. You sold yourself for the bare minimum some inhuman monster would pay, and it cheated you. You’re not even fixed.”

He straightened his lapels. “It’s a work in progress. I’m fixing it. I’ll fix this too.” He put a hand on his chest. “Then you won’t have anything to say about it. And I’m going to be taller!” He grinned.

Cerise put both hands to her head and shut her eyes. “My gods, do you hear yourself sometimes? I can’t even tell if you’re kidding. You’re going to get yourself killed trying to grab some dream image the Invisibles are dangling over your head like a carrot on a stick. A woman can wear overalls and trim trees and a man can be short, Pierre!”

“I think it’s like how you wanted the toe shoes, Cerise,” Calliope said.

Cerise turned and goggled at her. “What?”

Calliope frowned. “Or however you call ‘em. The ballerina shoes. You said you could mess yourself up forever learning to dance that way without someone to help you and you tried anyway. You were a ballerina already and you still are, but you wanted the shoes, right?”

Pierre sputtered. “Calliope, this… This isn’t a stupid pair of shoes! This is who I am!”

“So were the shoes,” Cerise said numbly. “Don’t call pointe shoes stupid, this is the first thing I’ve ever thought about you that I halfway respect.”

◈◈◈

“It’s beautiful! It’s so beautiful!” She danced both feet on the crosspiece of her barstool. “Oh! I can’t even tell the base model! Is it an original? No! I think it’s a Hauermann — but I love what you’ve done to it! I can’t even hear the shifters… Is it shifters or an entirely new gear? You’ve fit everything in the same space! The scale is perfect! Lola, you are a brilliant modifier. Why do you bother with the gloves? Don’t you want everyone to know? Oh.” She touched a hand to her mouth. “No. I suppose I know how it is. When people see it, they want to talk about it and they stop talking to you, don’t they?”

“They do, but they don’t usually want to talk about how my mods are brilliant.” She rolled up her sleeve to show Ann the join, just below the elbow. There were greenish scars running into the skin where flesh had been merged with metal, and a ring-shaped locking mechanism for removing the device.

“What happened to,” Vero began.

Ann touched her shoulder and shook her head. “Vero, don’t. It’s like how we were talking about the closets. You never get done coming out of the closet, and you just get tired of explaining yourself over and over and over. My friend Erik has a metal eye and he gets tired the same, except for him it’s not something he can hide. I’m not sure if everyone knowing what’s different about you right away is better or worse. It’s hard, either way.”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t mind having a sticker,” Lola said. She indicated the one on Ann’s chest. “But it bothers people. Sometimes I get irritated and I don’t care about bothering them, but most of the time I do. I guess I’m not brave enough.”

Ann removed the sticker and shook her head at it. “This isn’t brave. This is just the bare minimum I can tell people about myself. This is me trying to be fair. I hide a lot of things. Even from people I shouldn’t.”

“I don’t think you’re obligated,” Vero said. “I don’t roll up to a chip shop and go,” she exaggerated her Southern accent and slowed her voice to a drawl, “‘Excuse-moi, Je suis a big ol’ lez. If you’re not comfortable with that, je ne want pas any of your delicious greasy fish. C’est bon?” She shrugged. “But I guess if they shot their mouth off without being asked and told everyone they weren’t, I wouldn’t eat there.” She paused. “Unless it was very good fish.” She laughed.

“I think a lot of the time it’s just not relevant,” Ann said. “But these things are still a part of me. When I don’t talk about them and I just let people assume… It would be different if it were just me, but Milo, Milo sees how I act and he begins to think these differences aren’t just differences, they’re wrong. I sort of want to prove to him that’s not how it is. I can show him I was honest with people and they still liked me, so they would like him. But I’m not being honest.”

She sighed.

“You don’t have to love this about me, and if you need to know what happened I’ll tell you the whole story. All of it. But I need you to know that this is me. If you’re not okay with it, we probably shouldn’t drink together anymore.”

Much like Lola had done, she rolled her left sleeve to the elbow, and then the right.

◈◈◈

“You guys have cake and coffee in there?” said the girl wearing two different plaids. She sounded wounded, but she did accept the cup and the plate. She put the plate in her lap and held the cup with both hands, breathing in the steam.

“Oh, hon,” Pierre said.

He crouched, wary of dirtying his costume, and then he gave up and sat down on the cobbles beside the girl, putting an arm across her shoulders. He was magical. He could clean it before the next show if he had to.

“It’s not that we don’t want to give you cake and coffee,” he said gently. “We do, and you deserve it. Don’t ever get the idea you don’t deserve it. We’re always fighting about what to give all the Swans. But you have to understand, it’s not just you, it really is all the Swans. Our margins are razor-thin and we have to balance the books. We’re not a real charity, it’s just Lalage and Barbara and us — and a bunch of busboys and dishwashers we don’t really need who are getting paid less than they should. This is okay, but if we make it a regular thing we might crash the whole system, then you don’t even get chicken, steak or fish.”

“I’ve been where you are and you can’t tell me you’re not all thinking about taking the plates and the cups and the forks too,” Cerise put in. “You’re not stupid, and that’s a warm bed for a night or two if you take our things and sell them. Nobody here is going to tell anyone if you do, it’s like the man said, this is okay if we don’t make it a regular thing. But we can’t afford it for everyone and it’s really not fair to pick and choose. Calliope, sweetheart, do you need some help with the rest of the cake?”

Calliope frowned at her. “This is the cake. You and your dance partner are not having any dessert until we sort this out. Daphne says she’s all right with saying no more dessert ever if you start kicking each other and name-calling again. All your friends are sick of you fighting, but they don’t know what to do. That guy Harry says he’s sending you both home if you come back in and start up again.”

Pierre glanced into his coffee. “I take sugar. May I have sugar, Calliope?”

“No sugar, talk to each other,” Calliope said. “Damn it. All you do is dance at each other and that is obviously not working. I don’t care if you’re a pink girl and a blue boy and you’re great at it, the last thing you need is an excuse to yell at each other for ten minutes with tap shoes. You don’t even understand what you’re saying. It’s no wonder you scream and kick, I’m surprised you haven’t stabbed each other to death with the forks!”

Kelly, the one with the blue hair who didn’t like conflict, removed their fork from their empty plate and hid it behind their back.

“Don’t steal it,” said the girl in plaids.

“I’m just keeping it out of the argument,” Kelly muttered. They picked up the plate and hid that too. “Sharp edges.”

Cerise spoke against her palm, “He’s not great.”

Calliope cut her off before Pierre could, “Yes he is! He’s a great dancer and you’re a great woman and you both need to quit trying to hurt each other about stuff everyone else can see. You wouldn’t tell these kids out here that they were lying if they told you something important like that about themselves, and you need to stop doing it to each other. I don’t know if you’re trying to prove to him that it’s hurtful when he does that or he’s trying to prove it to you, but you both need to stop it and be honest. Pierre, Cerise knows she’s a woman like you know you’re a dancer. Cerise, the same but backwards. Now for gods’ sakes apologize or I will cancel your cake.”

Pierre stared at Cerise. “That’s not why you…”

“No, of course it isn’t!”

“Are you just trying to get me back because I irritate you?”

“You hurt me, Pierre, and no I am not! I really do think you’re a horrible dancer!”

“Well, I really do think you’re a horrible woman!”

“Why?” Calliope said. “Seriously, why? If it were anyone else, I don’t think you’d treat them this way. Even if you did think that. I see you two talking to these kids out here and you turn it on and off like a faucet. Ann is friends with both of you, and everyone inside loves you and doesn’t get why you act this way. If you’re not trying to tag each other back like a couple of bratty kids, what the hell is it?”

“I think it’s because they’re alike,” the boy with the green hair said.

Cerise and Pierre’s mouths both fell open in tandem. Even Calliope didn’t dare say anything.

Kelly said, “Sandra, give me your fork.”

◈◈◈

“Is someone hurting you, Ann?” Vero said. She shooed the air with a hand. “You don’t have to talk about it if someone did before, but is it still happening now? Do you need help?”

Ann shook her head. “These aren’t hurts.” She rolled down her sleeves again. She wasn’t ready for Rebecca and the other bartenders to see. She had to work with them. “It’s… it’s a way of coping. I’ll tell you more if you need to know, but it’s a long story.”

“I think it’s not fair to make you tell the whole story, because I don’t think I want to tell mine,” Lola said. “I don’t want to make you cough up why you’re a lesbian, either, Vero. But I think I know how it is.” She smiled. “I’m going to ask because I’m curious. Did you go through the siege? Are we siege buddies?”

Ann nodded. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

“Cool!” She bumped Ann lightly with her hip. “Vero, how about you?”

“I was in Ansalem, they just dropped bombs on us,” Vero said with a shrug.

“Oh, you ought to talk to Calliope,” Ann said. “She said they had shelter competitions. Like, for decorations. Did you ever have a shelter competition? It sounds adorable. I hope she’s doing all right. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Katrina had finished her set and now Q was in front of the curtain with a guitar, doing jokes and song requests while they disassembled the band.

“I think your mama bird loves you, but she wouldn’t like to interfere with you leaving the nest,” Vero said. “I bet she peeked out between the plants and saw you were doing okay, so now she’s in the kitchen drinking coffee with the busboys.”

“I suppose it’s possible, but it’s not impossible Cerise and Pierre stabbed each other and she took them to the hospital.”

“My brother Tony is a dishwasher,” Lola said. “He’s new, but I’m sure he’ll look after her. Or anyone who got stabbed. Who are Cerise and Pierre?”

Ann squealed. “Little Anton? I know him! He’s a dear! He’s been here a week, hasn’t he? Lola, you’re family!” Ann took both her hands and squeezed.

“Well, I hope not too close,” Lola said with a grin.

“They let cousins get married in the Iroquois,” Vero said. She toasted them with her Mai Tai. “Here’s to incest, girls!”

◈◈◈

“You’re not racist are you, Felix?” Cerise said. “I like you very much, but I can’t like you anymore if you’re racist.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t mean that.” He trailed off. “I don’t know, maybe I do a little. I think it’s because…” He sighed and turned away. “Maybe I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, none of their friends inside know either,” Calliope said. “Do you want to try anyway?”

He shrugged. “I just… It’s really hard out here and I don’t like to make it harder for anyone. But when I see someone like me, not just another molly but one like me, and they’re acting some way I don’t like… or worse, they’re doing something I think is going to get them hurt…”

He shook his head. “It’s personal. I can’t do live-and-let-live and be a good person when it’s personal. I want them to be more like me, because I’m making good decisions and surviving the right way, so I’ll be okay. Even if I’m not. They’re both mollies and the same kind of molly and dancers and coloured so… so maybe everything’s personal, you know?” He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Cerise, do you feel like he’s doing it wrong and he’s going to get hurt?” Calliope said.

Cerise paused for a moment. Incrementally, inch by inch, she nodded. “Yes.”

“What, the dancing?” Pierre said.

“No, not the dancing, you jackass, stop trying to be funny! You’re not!”

Calliope put two fingers over Cerise’s painted mouth and shook her head. “Pierre, do you feel like that too? Be serious.”

He folded his arms and turned away. “I think she’s going to get someone else hurt. I think she’s going to hurt everyone like us, like me… Like us. But sometimes I think maybe she’s not faking and… Yes. I think she’s going to get hurt.”

“You’re already hurt,” Cerise said.

“Well, so are you.”

“I think we’re all hurt,” Felix said. He looked away, up at the sky. The lights were too bright and it was foggy. There weren’t any stars. “I think we all might put a foot wrong and die too, and we can’t be sure how to keep it from happening. I guess even you folks who get to be on the inside with the coffee and cake.”

Cerise put a hand on him. “It’s better. It gets better. We take care of each other, and we’re trying to take care of you too.”

“Do you?” said the girl in plaids. “You said you were a Swan like us. Put yourself where I’m sitting right now and imagine you’re watching two of those grown-up people who have their lives together tearing each other apart in front of you. You guys are saying stuff my parents used to say. It’s not better, it sucks.”

Pierre touched a hand to his head and looked down. “If I’m being totally honest with you, Sandra, it does get better, but… It still sucks. Just not as much. Looking back, not as much.”

“You find things in the vacuum that make it worth trying to stay alive,” Cerise said.

“Dancing,” Pierre said sourly.

She shrugged.

“You guys make it sound like the siege,” Calliope said. She sat down against the wall near Kelly. “I don’t like how Milo hides and I don’t like how Ann lets him, but I never thought how they learned to be like that. I just wanted him to stop so I’d know he really likes me.” She laced her fingers together behind her head and looked at the ground. “I keep being stupid. I keep being really stupid like that and they let me.”

Cerise crouched down beside her. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about? You’re right about them. If I thought Annie might get hurt trying to pick up a girl, I wouldn’t have let her. I’ve known her since she was nineteen, and I didn’t understand about Milo being his own person until I heard him by accident on the radio. That isn’t right.”

“How is Milo his own person?” Pierre said. “How is an alias that makes Annie miserable a person? Cerise, that’s not funny. It’s cruel.”

“Oh my gods, she never explained it to you either,” Cerise said. She threw her head back and cackled. “Oh! That’s hilarious! I feel so much better now. It almost makes up for the dancing giraffe!”

◈◈◈

“No-no, we know it’s a bad neighbourhood, that’s why we walk each other home,” Ann said. “Is he worried about it? Is he shy?” Milo was still shy, but at least he was older. And sometimes he wanted to wander up towards Papillon Island and look at the machines when no one was around.

Lola snickered. “That’s part of it. But I thought it would be fun. And I wanted him to know it’s okay. He only told me a couple of months ago. I already knew, it’s not like I didn’t know… Well, I was pretty sure.”

Ann played with the cherry stem on her cocktail napkin. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to be stuck with me until midnight. I’ll still put Milo to work on your eye and your arm. He loves that sort of thing. I’m sure he’ll figure it out. You don’t have to… We can just be friends. Or not even friends.” She had something that Lola wanted and Calliope had warned her about getting mixed up. It wasn’t a financial transaction. She wanted to be sure.

“You’re not trying to let me down easy, are you?” Lola said with a smile. “If I didn’t want your company, I would’ve said his shift ends at ten.”

“Oh,” said Ann. She looked down and blushed slightly under the makeup.

“No obligation,” Lola said. “If you’re one of those third date sort of people, I’m sure I’ll run into you two more times. Do you dance, Ann?”

“I do, but I think I’m really being horrible to poor Veronique…”

“Thanks for the Mai Tais and go dance with the pretty lady,” Vero said. “I’m going to try that one eating the pretzels. Don’t cramp my style, Ann.”

“Oh, well. All right. If you put it that way. I suppose…”

Lola grinned. “Shall I leave the glove off?”

“However you’re comfortable. I’m not dancing with your brilliant arm, I’m dancing with brilliant you who designed it.”

“It’s a package deal,” Lola said. She folded the glove and tucked it into her purse.

◈◈◈

“Cerise, don’t ‘out’ Milo, I’m not kidding,” Calliope said. “This is hard enough for them. I’ll talk to Ann, but don’t do it behind her back like that, okay?”

“Is she gay?” Pierre said, blinking.

“Huh?” said Felix and Sandra.

Cerise shooed a hand at them. “Pierre, I may be provincial but you are rude. You surprised me, but I’m not going to talk about it. It’s Ann’s business.”

“You’re the one who…”

Calliope sighed. “You guys. You two. You people, I don’t want to argue about glitter and giraffes all night and you have another show to do. Are you all right for cake, or are Seraphine and Johan going to have to clear the dance floor instead?”

“Oh, not Seraphine!”

“Ugh, not Johan!”

“Well?” said Calliope.

“I don’t think,” Cerise said. She exchanged a glance with Pierre.

Pierre nodded. “We would like everyone to have a coffee refill, and instead of our cake, we’d like Felix, Sandra and Kelly to have seconds.”

Sandra applauded. Felix and Kelly just looked embarrassed, but Felix managed a smile.

“And we won’t fight anymore,” Cerise said. “Tonight.”

“Okay, at least you’re honest,” Calliope said. “I’ll tell Daphne.”

Pierre stood up and straightened his tailcoat, examining the pants for stains. “Listen, Cerise,” he muttered in Calliope’s absence. “It’s… It’s Sinatra.”

“I know it’s Sinatra!”

“Okay, I know you know it’s Sinatra! Well, you also know it ends on ‘Send in the Clowns’ and I usually dance on the ceiling to annoy you, but I’m not going to do that this time.”

“Are you going to use the stage like a human being?”

“No.” He sighed. “I figured out how to magic a tightrope. It’s a fake one, obviously it’s a fake one, but it looks really good. I can make it look really good. I’m going to do it anyway, I’m not saying I’m not going to do it, but… It’s a dick move to spring it on you and make you come up with a way to match it. So I’m telling you now, all right?”

“Pierre, if you’re trying to fake like you’re the bigger person here, I’m going to throw up.”

“I just don’t want Harry to throw us out for fighting!” he snapped. He lowered his voice and spoke aside, “And I feel ashamed. I don’t want to feel like this anymore, so I’m trying to come up with something to do about it. I don’t care about you, this is about me.”

Cerise sniffed. “I prefer coming up with ways to match you. It makes me feel clever. This is just patronizing.”

He snickered. “I prefer it that way too.”

“I suppose I shall dance on the railing of the spiral staircase,” she said airily. “I will have to change my shoes.”

“Can you do that for real?”

“It’s basically an inclined balance beam, I won’t have any trouble in soft shoes.” She looked back at him. “How is dancing on a fake tightrope?”

“Horrible. I never would’ve figured it out if I didn’t have your pissed-off expression to motivate me. The staircase is easier, I don’t have to do the optical. I’m always dropping myself.”

She grinned at him. “Break a leg.”

◈◈◈

Calliope returned to the bar after three cups of coffee and no cake. Cerise and Pierre were arranging themselves for the Sinatra medley. Everyone backstage wanted to thank her. Harry wanted to draw her up a share and make her a co-owner right there in the office, then she’d be able to vote. Johan offered to take her to a protest. Something about civil unions being unfair.

Calliope said she’d had enough activism for the evening, so Harry gave her the entire dish of butter mints off the desk. He said he’d tell his moms about her and they’d call her if “the children” started to act up again. She told him she didn’t have a phone, but she did take all the mints.

Veronique was at one of the little tables with a woman and a dish of pretzels. They were holding hands and watching the dancers. Calliope tapped her shoulder, “I’m sorry, Vero. Do you know what happened to Ann? I kinda feel bad I pushed her like this. Is she okay? You ladies want a mint?”

Vero laughed and took a mint. Her friend did too. “It’s all right, Calliope. She told me and Becca to keep an eye out for you. She couldn’t find you backstage and she didn’t want you to worry. She’s upstairs with this darling blonde girl, although I’m not sure if they’re making love or taking each other apart. Maybe both.”

Calliope paused with a mint in her hand. “Did she really want to? It wasn’t just because I made it about Milo not knowing he’s pretty?” She frowned. “That’s not fair. You can’t tell. Did she seem happy?”

“Very happy, Calliope,” Vero said.

Calliope managed a smile. “I guess I didn’t screw up as much as I thought.” She had another mint. “Hey, can I buy you both a drink? I’ll leave you alone if you want, but I want to celebrate. And I don’t wanna go backstage again in case Cerise punches Pierre during ‘Send in the Clowns.’”

“Are they all right?” Vero said. “They’re just so cute together. I want them to be all right and be friends.”

“I don’t know. I guess they are — all right, not friends — but I don’t get people.” She put the glass dish on the table. “You want some more mints?”

◈◈◈

Ann and Calliope returned home on the very last bus, just before one o’clock in the morning. They had a whispered, giggly discussion in the front yard about whether they ought to sneak in the back, and decided all the lights in the front room were going to pop on no matter which way they came in, unless they wanted to sleep in the kitchen.

Mordecai was in one of the nice chairs in the front room, holding a novel if not quite reading it. He put the book face-down in his lap when the door opened. They both seemed all right, all in one piece, and he smiled at them. “Lucy’s asleep,” he said softly. “How was it?”

Calliope grinned. Ann fisted both hands and shrieked, “I have a sex life!”

He stood up and waved a frantic signal to lower the volume, “Ann, shh!”

There were thumping feet upstairs and Hyacinth’s door popped open. She looked down. “Are you having it now?” she asked sweetly.

Ann laughed through a polite hand. “Oh, no, Cin. Not at the moment. Thank you. It was lovely, but I’ve had enough.”

“Then go to bed and sleep it off!” shrieked Hyacinth. She slammed her door.

A sound of irritated crying came from Room 103. Mordecai sighed. “I’ll get her. You two just sort yourselves out.”

“Are we sorted?” Ann asked Calliope.

“I think we’re slosh-ed,” Calliope replied. She walked Ann up to her room, snickering, and then came back down to check on Lucy and Em.

◈◈◈

Ann tapped on Calliope’s door in the midmorning. She wordlessly offered a glass of orange juice, and some aspirin. Calliope took the orange juice. She’d already had some aspirin.

“Thanks.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome. It was lovely — Lola is such a sweet girl, I think we’re all going to be best friends!” She winced and snickered. “But I think we celebrated a bit too much.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Ann had ordered a round for everyone in the house and then had to backtrack because she couldn’t afford it, so it seemed like it had been okay. But that had been around people. And liquor.

Ann wrapped both arms around her waist and hugged. “It was. Really. Thank you for getting me to do it… Thank you for helping me do it. Us. Me. I sort of… I feel like I have a piece I didn’t know I was missing. I wouldn’t have known if you didn’t offer it to me, so thank you.”

“I’m really glad,” Calliope said.

Ann took a step back. She folded her arms and then hugged her shoulders. “Milo wants to know…” She pulled back her sleeve, just slightly. “Milo wants to know if you want to know about them. The scars. Why it’s… Why he is the way he is.”

“Ann.” Calliope shook her head and put a gentle hand around her arm. “If he doesn’t want me to draw them I won’t, and I won’t ask anymore. You don’t ever have to justify him. Or you. I love you both. Sometimes I get excited and run you over, because I really do want you to be happy, but you don’t have to change. You’re wonderful.” She smiled. “You’re pretty.”

“Thank you, Calliope. That means so much. But…”

Don’t, Ann.

Milo, you wanted to tell her. You know why you should and you know she’ll be fine with it. She won’t pity you. She’s better than that. That’s why you love her.

But I don’t have to. Aren’t you listening? Don’t you get how wonderful that thing is she just said? You’re going to run her over like it doesn’t matter because you want me to tell. I trust her and she trusts me and I don’t have to test it to prove it because that’s how trust works. She accepts me. Us. Both of us. I don’t want to throw that away. That’s like magic.

You can’t throw magic away, Milo. It’s like air. It’s there forever.

Just let me have this, Ann. Just for now. Please.

“But?” Calliope said.

Ann hugged her. “But I have to go get changed so that Milo can thank you too. I can’t say it for him. That isn’t fair. He’ll be right back.”

◈◈◈

Milo was enjoying an iced coffee on a park bench before work. This was an indulgence he managed about once a week, ever since he found out he liked iced coffee. He wasn’t sure if he’d switch back to the hot kind when the weather got cold again. Maybe he’d just drink it inside.

That girl is cute.

Milo glanced at the girl. Eh. I guess.

She’s feeding the birds. It’s adorable. Like a postcard. Do you think she’s nice? I bet she’s nice. Mean people don’t feed the birds. She’s blonde. I think I like blondes. I don’t know. It just looks nice. They’re supposed to have more fun. Do you think they really have more fun, Milo? Maybe people who want to have fun just decide to be blonde. I wonder if she likes park benches like us.

Ann…

I bet she’s whimsical and wears lacy underthings.

ANN!

Milo ran for the nearest pay toilet with his coffee cup held in front of him.

Damn it, Ann. You can’t just do that!

She glared back at him from the scratched mirror. You CONSTANTLY do that! You do that about SHOES! Why can’t I look at a pretty girl? It’s not fair!

I’m not wearing a skirt, Ann!

She folded her arms and glanced down and away.

Milo looked down and then up again. Ann, seriously! I have to go to work!

Damn it, Milo, just let me have this.

Milo paused with both hands on the sink for a few minutes. Ann?

…Oh, all right. Fine. Fix it and go to work.

◈◈◈

Milo departed for work five minutes later and made certain his shirt was tucked in and his pants buttoned. You’re kind of a slut, Ann, he complained.