Milo was sitting at the table, not eating, and staring into space.
The household were quite used to him doing this under ordinary circumstances. Post-concussion, he had come up with a lot of really great ideas (most of them terrible), and he had a working knowledge of hugging to dissect, so they were even more used to it now.
It wasn’t even pinging any alarms that he’d decided to join them for dinner. He’d probably been measuring the counter space for a three-slotted toaster, and the imitation circuit in his distracted brain noticed people sitting down, so he sat down too. It just wasn’t quite versatile enough to make him pick up a fork and put food in his mouth.
Milo was not thinking of headphones and three-slotted toasters. Milo didn’t have room in his head for anything but Calliope… and a vague certainty that he ought not to get up from the table just now.
He wanted to touch her again.
And it was driving him crazy because he didn’t have any way to, you know, say that.
Not safely.
She got to pick before, and she got to be in charge of everything, and that was perfect for him because he knew she wanted to and he wasn’t making her unhappy. Quite the opposite. And sometimes after that she had decided she wanted to touch him, even just hold his hand or put her arm around his waist or play with his hair… and that was really great. That was spectacular.
But when she was done doing that he didn’t want to, you know, chase after her like a cartoon character or make her uncomfortable or hurt her. And she was busy. She had a baby and… art stuff. He didn’t want to bother her.
He wanted to tell her to give the darn baby to Hyacinth and let’s go back in the bedroom and have sex right now, but that probably wasn’t okay. Or a very nice way to say that. There should be flowers… except he already gave her flowers that one time and that did not go well. Or chocolates. But there weren’t any heart-shaped “I love you” chocolates in the stores anymore and there wouldn’t be until next year. Which was forever.
So he was kind of hanging back and observing her from a distance, like she was a gorilla and he was doing a nature documentary, casting occasional no-eye-contact glances in her direction in case she looked like she might want to ask him into the bedroom again, so he could say yes right away. Or, if it seemed like she didn’t want that, he could fade back into the bushes and pretend he was never there. Shh. Don’t anger it. It’s beautiful, but dangerous.
He was doing this extremely badly and the gorilla thought he was adorable, but he was in no condition to notice.
He felt half excited, half sick, like when he used to hide in the alleys and wait for an opening to steal something from the starcatchers.
Before the boy with the broom and before the dress, he couldn’t talk to people, he could only grab things and run. He had to eat, though. Starcatchers were the only people bringing supplies into the city and he couldn’t trade with them like a normal person, so he had to wait until a lot of them set up together and try to take something when they weren’t looking.
Hungry, and with a head full of edible possibilities, he would watch and wait, and run scenarios, and dream of what he might get.
Stuff in cans and bottles was good — small, easy to carry and it stored well. One time he stole a jar, a big jar with pickles. Too big. He dropped it, and then he couldn’t eat any of it, because of the glass. He’d cried. Soda bottles were smaller, sturdier and better, but he had to prioritize food over drinks. He could drink water out of the gutters, even if it made him sick sometimes, but it didn’t satisfy like food. Canned fruit was really good, you could drink the syrup. He would even do that with a can of green beans, like soup, but with canned fruit it tasted a lot better, and it was good cold. Canned pasta was good that way too.
But despite all the possibilities in cans and bottles, he would always circle back around to bread. Just some bread. If he couldn’t get anything else, he’d be happy if he just got some bread. He could live a little while longer if he could just get some bread. Even if he had to have it with gutter-water. He didn’t mind so much about bread and water during the siege.
Being so near to people talking and trading in all kinds of food and just wanting some bread, and not having it, was very much like sitting near Calliope and not quite being able to touch her. Including feeling like maybe he’d better not get up from the table.
Oh, yeah. I would’ve picked bread over Calliope back then. Boy, was I dumb.
He wanted to touch her hair. Just the little piece of it that had fallen over her shoulder. He wanted to smooth it back and tuck it behind her ear. He wanted to plunge both hands into it and hold her head and kiss her on the mouth, but he’d be happy if he could just tuck that little piece of soft, dark hair behind her ear. He could live a little while longer if she’d just let him do that. Maybe if she noticed it and it was bothering her but she didn’t want to put it back herself, maybe it would be okay if he fixed it.
But she was smiling and talking to Hyacinth and she didn’t care about him over here needing to touch her hair so he wouldn’t die.
Erik thought Milo was drunk. He was flushed and warm and thinking about weird stuff that didn’t make any sense, and in Erik’s experience that meant drunk. He didn’t think Milo liked doing stuff like that, only Ann, but maybe they were trying something new. Like hugging. Erik thought it was good for Milo to try new things, and he thought he’d better not mention anything in case Milo got embarrassed or scared.
Anyway, it’s not any worse than Calliope and my uncle with the brownies. Except they don’t forget to eat.
“Milo,” Hyacinth broke in. “I know headphones are extremely interesting, but if you don’t put gas in your brain, it won’t go!”
Hyacinth thought it was the headphones. She’d seen the drawings in the basement.
Milo had yet to produce any drawings about sex with Calliope — just the rose, and that had been during sex with Calliope. He hid it in the closet, folded up in the toe of a pair of pink satin shoes.
“Milo!” She waved a hand in front of his face, then a dinner roll.
It was like when David had that goddamn pet snake. Sir Thomas Rattletrap, Esq. You had to bonk Sir Thomas Rattletrap, Esq. on the nose with a dead rat to get him to eat, and sometimes even then he wasn’t interested.
Honestly, David! Why are we so concerned about feeding an animal that’s too stupid to feed itself?
…Because it’s cute and we’ve grown accustomed to it, she answered herself, three decades removed. Barnaby would’ve been very amused. Or perhaps he already had been, three decades ago.
“Do you suppose it would make any difference if I hit him on the nose with it like it’s alive, or would he get confused and bite my hand?” said Hyacinth, waving the roll. “Mordecai, you’re going to have to start baking bread with a tail.”
“I’ve got string,” Calliope said.
“Calliope, can I touch your hair?” Erik asked.
“Huh? Sure, kiddo.” She leaned her head to the side to make it easier.
Erik pet her hair gently with two fingers. It was different from his hair, much coarser and thicker, but it wasn’t anything special. It smelled like soap, not at all like happiness and sunshine. He cast a glance over at Milo and shrugged.
Oh, my gods, that is so miserably unfair, Milo thought. His expression crinkled imperceptibly towards dismay as Calliope reciprocated and told Erik he was “fluffy.” I have better hair! Erik doesn’t even condition! A tiny whimper escaped him, unnoticed.
“Milo and Ann have the best hair, because it’s like a project with them,” Calliope said. She went around behind him and pulled his braid out of his shirt, then laid her off hand on his shoulder while she expounded on Ann and Milo’s hair art.
Milo tipped his head subtly back towards her, but he didn’t dare do anything else. He was already blushing as hard as he could.
Please notice me. I don’t care if you tell everyone how I feel. I don’t care if you make me stand up and go with you right now and everyone sees. I don’t care if you take all my clothes off and we do it right here on the table, just please notice me. And say I can touch your hair.
“…he’s super cute,” Calliope said. She leaned down and planted a kiss on his forehead. He sat there and stared into space.
“Oh, no, if he won’t come out for that, there’s no point,” Hyacinth said. She put the roll back on his plate. “Come on. Maybe he’ll eat when he’s figured it out, whatever it is.”
They cleared the table and did dishes around him. He sat there and stared into space. Calliope said goodnight and left with Lucy in the Lu-ambulator. He sat there and stared into space.
Eventually, the mage lights turned off on him.
Oh? Are they gone?
Yes, Milo, they’re gone.
He abandoned the plate they had considerately left out for him and ran upstairs to the closet.
◈◈◈
Ann knocked gently on Calliope’s door and opened it just a crack to say, “Dear? I’m not bothering Lucy, am I?”
“Nah, she’s doing a study of her mobile, but she’s not out yet. Come on in.”
Ann peeked in. “And you do have all your clothes on, don’t you?” Milo was having difficulty existing politely around fully-clothed and ordinary Calliope, let alone naked Calliope. Ann couldn’t exactly leave him upstairs in the closet. Although he was spending an awful lot of his time in there.
Calliope was in somewhat-smudged condition, but decently attired and applying a red oil pastel stick to a faint pencil outline on thick paper. She looked up from the table and smiled. “Glorie brought me another pigeon! Number six!”
The dead pigeon was resting on a blue plate, just under the bay window. Calliope did love her natural light. The drawings of the others were still stuck to the walls. It looked like a very odd theme restaurant in Calliope’s room.
“It’s lovely, dear,” Ann said. It’s horrifying, dear. She stepped in front of it and turned so she wouldn’t have to look at it. “I just wonder… Would you mind leaving him for a little? If he’ll keep? I’d like to talk about Milo.”
“Glorie puts magic on ‘em, it’s like they’re made out of polyresin,” Calliope replied. She pushed back her chair and stood. “They don’t even get flies. I don’t know why she doesn’t do that for Barnaby. Do you guys want to talk about sex?”
Is she offering? Ann! Go upstairs and get changed right now! Just in case!
Milo, I am going to need ten minutes with your libido on the back burner so I can take care of this for you, all right?
My what?
Don’t play dumb.
“I suppose we do, not to put too fine a point on it,” Ann said painfully. She tried to smile. “It’s embarrassing for me, but it’s impossible for him, so we have to do it this way.”
“It’s okay,” Calliope said. “I don’t mind. Want to go in your room?”
“No, thank you, it’s too near the closet. What about the porch?”
They sat on the steps. It was raining lightly, and the water gathered in silver puddles between the cobbles. The yard was a lake of mud with trash islands. Calliope thought it was great.
Ann took a breath and let it out slowly. “This is hard… difficult for me. You are my friend and I don’t like to think of you that way and Milo… There are certain realities we must deal with and it’s impossible to give each other real privacy, but I don’t like to think of him that way. But I am the one who can speak, so I have to be the one to explain. Calliope, Milo is… Having some trouble. He wants to be with you… I mean, be with you… Do you know what I mean?”
Can’t you just tell her I love sex and I love touching her and I want to have sex with her and I think about it all the time and I need to touch her hair? Ann… Touch her hair!
Milo, stop helping me.
“Sex or just together?” Calliope said.
YES!
Milo, I really mean it.
“Both, I suppose,” Ann said. “Intimacy. Like when you hold his hands or hug him. But he doesn’t know how to ask and he’s afraid to try. He’s not able to just touch you without thinking about it like you do. Even hugging. He thinks, he always thinks he might hurt you, or you might not like it. You need to help him find some way of asking without hurting you. Quickly, please, because he likes this new thing and he wants to understand it, and… and quite frankly, if he keeps trying to put it off and wait for you to say it’s okay he is going to ruin our shoes, so please…”
Calliope brightened. “Milo likes shoes?”
“Yes, but that’s since always. You’re new, Calliope, and he…”
Calliope kicked her leg into Ann’s lap and pointed at her simple, black ballerina flat. “Does Milo like these shoes?”
“Milo likes shoes with high heels and buttons, but he…”
“Would Milo like it if I had shoes with high heels and buttons?”
Ann’s smile became frozen, and her gaze drifted to the middle distance. “Just a moment, please, dear.”
Milo, I cannot coherently offer to take Calliope shopping for shoes with you SCREAMING like that!
◈◈◈
Hyacinth said she would watch Lucy, but she wasn’t interested in watching the dead pigeons, so the mobile and the bassinet went in the dining room. Calliope changed her shirt, washed the art off her face and hands, and put on her trench coat, for the rain, then she was good for the bus. She wanted to go to Courtney’s, like Ann’s paper bag that she took to the beach, and Courtney’s was only trying to be fancy. They were barely a block west of the fish market at the end of Mille Fleur Road, and two miles from Hennessy’s address uptown.
Ann took an umbrella, a red one. Calliope approved of it, and umbrellas in general and all things rain. Everyone liked to wear their colours in the rain… possibly because of the low visibility so they wouldn’t get run over, but it didn’t matter why. It made the streets look like they were full of blooming flowers. Red and yellow slickers. Red, blue and green silk umbrellas. Some black, but those were boring people. The bus windows were great. Everything was like an impressionist painting out there.
Calliope pointed excitedly out the window at a string of thrift stores with bargain bins out in front of them and colourful rainy-day people from all walks of life examining the merchandise. “I love Mille Fleur Road! Shopping is a social equalizer! Anyone can do it, you don’t even have to buy stuff! I did a collage about it! Ooh, my collage about Mille Fleur Road has a shoe on it! Would Milo like it for one of his other walls with no flowers? How about over the bed?”
Ann was being really weird. She kept drifting off and staring at the space just over Calliope’s shoulder, like she was being operated by a distant radio and the signal wasn’t very good.
“Ann, do you not like the rain?” Calliope asked. It did make her hair way scrunchier, maybe she didn’t like that.
“Oh, do you think it might rain, dear?” Ann said, staring out the streaked window.
Calliope picked up the red umbrella and tapped Ann lightly on the nose with the black hooked handle. “I dunno, do you?”
Ann made a weak smile. “I’m sorry, dear. I think you’ve got Milo convinced it’s sunny and there are cartoon birds singing in the trees.”
“Aw, that’s too bad,” Calliope said. “Doesn’t he like rain?”
“No, no. I mean… I’m not sure at the moment. It’s just rather hard for me to talk to you when he won’t stop talking to me. I keep trying to tell him we’re being rude, but he’s too excited.”
“About the shoes?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Excited like there’s gonna be cake and a piñata or excited like we’re gonna get naked and draw flowers?”
“…Both, I think. Yes. Both.” She adjusted her dress and turned back towards the window.
Calliope eyed Ann up and down and snickered. “No one can tell because you’re in a skirt and you have, like, a million petticoats, right?”
Ann stiffened. (Not that way.) “Calliope, most people have these things called boundaries, are you aware of them?”
“Yeah, but I’m not good at them. Dad never was either. Mom was always leaving notes all over the house for him and us kids. Like ‘The bathroom door is closed for a reason.’ Oh, and on the inside it said, ‘Close this door when you’re in here.’”
“Do you need me to pin a little note to my dress that says, ‘I do not want to have a conversation about how I cope with Milo’s sexuality and physical responses while I’m on a bus?’”
“It would help, honestly,” Calliope said. She sighed and looked away. There were little puddles in the grooves of the rubber flooring. “I’ll try to remember now that you told me, but I get excited too.”
Ann! Don’t make Calliope unhappy! I don’t mind if she knows that about us… I want her to know things about us! I want her to want to know things about us! And I want to know things about her too! You can talk, it’s easy for you. You get stuff that I need all the time. Get me this!
Milo, I am already getting you Calliope in pretty shoes. I have no obligation to get you a conversation about… about whatever we may or may not be concealing under my petticoats at any given time on a goddamn bus!
I’m going to do her cards about it and you can’t stop me. And a drawing.
That’s completely different, Milo!
Why?
I don’t know! For gods’ sakes, don’t do her a drawing about it! That’s a terrible idea!
Ann had lost the signal again.
“Are you guys gonna be okay?” Calliope said. “I thought this would be fun, but I don’t really need shoes…”
NO! CALLIOPE MUST HAVE SHOES OR I’LL DIE!
Ann winced and touched a hand to her temple, then combed her fingers through her hair and rubbed the back of her head. She smiled. “We’ll be all right, dear. We’re going to have to work this out eventually, and it’s nice to have you along as a friend. The shoes are extra.”
“Okay, cool,” Calliope said. “But I think we just missed our stop.”
They got off at the next one and walked back. Ann lifted Calliope gently over the larger puddles. She certainly did need some boots for the rain. Ann wasn’t going to object to their having high heels and buttons. It was just… some of the associated issues. Which they really were going to have to work out eventually, so they might as well get Calliope some shoes.
Courtney’s Shoe Outlet had an industrial look to it that was more warehouse than minimalist chic. The merchandise was on metal shelving with rivets, the ceiling was unfinished with track lighting hanging down, and the floor was grey-painted concrete. The door had a buzzer instead of a bell, which Ann and Milo did not like. Every time someone came in, they looked up to make sure one of those exposed lights wasn’t making an attempt to kill them with electricity.
The selection, the prices and the staff were all very nice, though. Weird-coloured hair in asymmetrical cuts and an accommodating nature was like a uniform for Courtney’s employees. The name tags were extra.
There was a black carpet spread out in front of the door for wet feet, and an umbrella stand and coat rack just inside.
Calliope liked the buzzer. She kept playing with the door while Ann hung up their things. “Is that your final answer?” Zzzt! “Oh, sorry! You just lost the package tour of Iliodario! Want to play for the lifetime supply of canned soup and a donkey?”
The pink-haired woman in the fashionably tattered black clothing who was manning the counter looked up. “Hey, babe? That door runs on a battery. It’s expensive. If you need a toy, I got this rubber duckie over here that recites Gund poetry when you squeeze him.” She held up the duckie and squeezed it. “Du bist wie eine Blume; So hold und schön und rein!” the duck said, in an authoritative male voice. He was yellow. The others in the box were pastel colours for Pascha.
Calliope’s eyes widened. She stumbled over like the thrall of an evil sorcerer. “I love him! Is he for sale? I need at least six!”
Ann covered a laugh with her hand. Oh, dear, I think Courtney’s people are Calliope’s people.
I will buy her all the angry ducks she wants if she just buys one pretty shoe, Ann.
“I want to put them in an egg carton and wire them so they all go off at once!” Calliope cried, cradling the display box of babbling ducks. “Ann, can Milo do that?”
“Happily,” Ann said. She raised her voice to be understood over the ducks, “Hello, Justine. This is my friend, Calliope. She is an artist. She will be needing some shoes to go along with the ducks. Calliope, sweetheart, are you about a six-point-five?”
“Feet tall?” Calliope asked with a smile.
“You know where everything is, Ann,” Justine said. “Red tags are on sale today. How’s Cerise?”
“She’s doing quite well!” Ann said brightly. “Calliope, please put the ducks down. Justine will save them for you, won’t you, my dear? Calliope, please stop squeezing the ducks, we are here to buy shoes.”
“I’m gonna miss the little guys,” Justine said. “They’re so weird.” She put the box behind the counter. The ducks quieted slowly.
“I’ll give ‘em a good home,” Calliope promised.
“Shoes, dear,” Ann said, pointing to the entire rest of the store.
Calliope’s feet were so slender and tiny, she was like a little doll. One which Ann and Milo both would dearly love to accessorize.
Courtney’s was an outlet, meaning they had what they had, they sold it until it was gone, and they wouldn’t get more of it. The least-common sizes sold the slowest, which was nice for people like Ann and Cerise, but there were fewer of those sizes made in the first place. Ann-sized pretty shoes were relegated to the shelves at the edges. If there happened to be something in the middle section that she and Milo liked, they had to like it academically — there wouldn’t be more in a size ten in the back.
Calliope had no such limits. She was average. A little below average, actually, making it much easier for the kind with pointed toes which needed to be bought a size up. Calliope could have all the shoes.
Milo therefore decided Calliope needed to have all the shoes. As she wandered the grey aisles and asked Ann for his opinion, he was filling a mental shopping basket to overflowing. Yes, those. Those too. Those are so precious! You can have those in two colours, Calliope! And those!
He had already spent all the money in his dresser drawer and was thinking of pawning some things. Or a loan! He could get a loan! You just needed collateral, right? Like a car? He could build a car!
Milo, I am very sure Calliope only wants one pair of shoes, and she is buying them because you like them and that makes her happy, not because she likes them and they make her happy. Don’t be greedy.
Maybe if we pick out the most pretty shoes in the store, she’ll like them and they’ll make her happy and later we can get more! I should still build a car!
I think she’d like it better if you wired up the ducks so they all talk at once, like she was telling Justine.
I can do more than one thing, Ann! And I’m making cordless headphones, better coffee and a flying toaster with three slots for club sandwiches!
Calliope touched her shoulder. “Ann, is he making you uncomfortable, or is it okay?”
Ann smiled. “No, dear, he’s just being a bit silly. He’s happy and I like that… And I like shoes too. Just not exactly the same.”
“What about these ones?” She had put them on while Ann was trying to convince Milo he couldn’t build a car. They were black patent leather with lace over brushed suede on the vamp and quarter and a double line of bright black buttons running up the outside. The heel was gracefully spiked and three inches tall. Calliope tottered in them and stepped forward as Ann was watching, causing her bare ankle to pop partway out of the boot’s unbuttoned side.
THEY’RE PERFECT!
Milo, for gods’ sakes, she can’t even walk in them.
Calliope took a few more steps. The shoes were bent at a ninety-degree angle with the heels scraping on the floor and her feet poking out of the sides.
I KNOW AND IT’S THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN!
Calliope smiled up at her. “I think they fit, but it’s a lot of buttons…” She shoved her foot back in the boot and turned it curiously to the side.
Ann’s smile had frozen. “If you would just excuse me for one moment, dear.”
The bathroom in Courtney’s was a single closet-sized room past a beaded curtain and a stockroom. It said “Employees Only” but nobody bothered about that. There was a toilet, a pedestal sink, and — thank gods — a mirror and a latch on the door.
When Ann reappeared half an hour later with her makeup freshly reapplied and her dress adjusted, Calliope was buying the shoes. She smiled and lifted the bag. “Free beach tote! Let’s go home so you can get changed!”
“Milo and I would appreciate that,” Ann said faintly.
“Don’t forget your ducks, Calliope,” Justine said.
They rode home in silence. Calliope wrapped both arms around Ann’s waist and Ann let her. It was possible she didn’t notice.
◈◈◈
After Ann and Milo changed, quite some time after, Ann felt it appropriate to drag him out of bed and change again. She knocked on Calliope’s door with a frustrating sense of déjà vu. “Calliope, I don’t like to interrupt you like this, I really do not, but we still haven’t done anything about Milo asking to touch you.”
Calliope had put a T-shirt on for sleeping, but no underwear. When she turned and leaned down to get something out of the closet, this became evident. At least she wasn’t wearing the shoes.
“I don’t mind, Ann,” she said. “He can just do me some cards about it. Put them in red ink or something so he doesn’t get them mixed up with the ones about how he can’t talk. Do you guys want this collage?”
She set it on the floor against her bare feet. There was a lot of glitter, textured gouache, a ladies’ brooch and a high-heeled shoe. It was very much like Mille Fleur Road in the rain, but with dark blues for evening rather than pale greys for afternoon.
“I… suppose?” Ann said. She accepted the large canvas, it was a bit of a squeeze through the door.
“Cool. Will you have Milo take a look at these ducks when he gets back?”
“Of course, darling.”
When Milo got back, the first thing he did was run out to the stationer’s and buy a box of red pencils. It was not possible to keep pens in Hyacinth’s house. Then he knocked on Calliope’s door to help her with the ducks. He’d have to explain how he and Ann dealt with sex stuff later.
Maybe not with a drawing?
