Nymphaea

Chapter 28: Truth can hurt

Ayve lay awake in the dark when Stephen had already fallen asleep beside him. He silently sneaked out from under the cover and sat down on the floor at the other side of the room. He’d prefer a balcony but there was none. His hands raked through his hair, massaging his scalp in the process. The talking had left him colder than he had anticipated. He had felt something, yes, but it hadn’t turned him upside down. It probably had been a fool’s hope to think a man his age could unearth feelings he had suppressed for ages and overcome them in a few hours’ talk. He’d have to live with them.

Nonetheless, all this wasn’t fruitless. Ayve could sense that letting Stephen in on all those small things that Ayve had not shared with anybody for ages brought Stephen closer to him. Made Ayve accept Stephen more.

Which didn’t immediately make things easier. One of the topics they’d drifted to by chance made Ayve aware of the problems they still had to face. Whatever the thing between them had been in past years, now it most certainly was a serious relationship. And despite their little night spent together in Dresden nine years ago even though Stephen had a pregnant girlfriend at that time, Ayve knew from Stephen’s cultural background and his life style so far that Stephen valued fidelity. And that clashed with something he’d have to do in the near future.

Ayve feared Stephen might actually take it badly that he hadn’t told him about Alannah as soon as they’d gotten back together. The idea of Stephen being mad at him or disappointed or even question their relationship because of that made him feel sick. Of course Stephen hadn’t shown much of such temperament so far but any man’s patience could only be stretched a limited amount, Ayve supposed. And Ayve had confronted Stephen with several ‘big truths’ already.

At times Ayve wondered whether the whole thing was worth the trouble. What he actually fought for. It could all be so easy. Just stop striving. Stop wanting something for yourself. But somewhere deep inside him there was still a stupidly naïve glimpse of hope.

Ayve didn’t want to imagine his closer future without Stephen. He didn’t know what he expected. He had no plans. But being around Stephen actually felt good. It felt like being accepted. Like being himself rather than being the good son, the responsible politician or… the broken one. Yeah. That’s what he was for Pheus, wasn’t he? The one that had been abandoned by his tribe and had yielded to every bit of affection Pheus had to offer. The bundle of bones, skin, blood and dirt he had found later.

And even if he’d be able to show Pheus that there was a strong side to him, Ayve would always be reminded of the past years of misery in Pheus’ presence. It wasn’t even Pheus’ fault. But Ayve’s affection for Pheus was the desperate longing, desperate clinging to the only person available to warm up and rest against in a cold storm. Just that the cold storm was over, even though Ayve still was a little dishevelled by it. And Pheus would always be a symbol for the storm. For the desperation. There was no happiness with him. None that Ayve could see. They could live out their longing (though even in that way lay obstacles) but they wouldn’t be able to satiate it.

Stephen was a different case. Being with him gave Ayve the hope that there might be something else. That there might be… no, Ayve did not believe in happiness. He didn’t think he was capable of that emotion. The thought did strange things to his stomach but it was the truth. He must not strive for what he could not have. Even human philosophers had realised that. Hadn’t Schopenhauer claimed it was foolhardiness to want happiness? That it was wiser to seek contentment since happiness was short-lived and the higher you climbed the further you would fall? No. No happiness. Ayve could hardly imagine how that felt. But peace, a bit of tender affection, a place to belong to, even a family… hadn’t he come to a point where that almost seemed realistic? Would he be able to enjoy this or had the long years of loneliness helplessly spoiled him?

He’d have to try it out. That was all he could do. But for some reason Ayve thought Stephen was the right person to attempt it with.

Stephen was not light. He’d gone through enough in his own life. Things that probably had given him the ability to cope with everything that was Ayve. And Ayve felt guilty for being responsible for some of Stephen’s bad times in life. He dreaded the day when he’d have to tell Stephen about why exactly he’d been attacked. And that day was close. But Stephen had revealed a remarkable toughness. Ayve looked over to the bed. To the innocent man who lay there with untidy hair, breath softly flooding his lungs, than ebbing away, then flooding them again, than ebbing away. And suddenly tears welled up in Ayve. Not the flood of tears Ayve prayed for. Only a few miserable drops as on the day he’d told Pheus that there was no hope for them. But tears still. It was good to know that he was at least capable of crying. And he longed to be close to Stephen, to feel him, to smell him.

Ayve crept over to the bed and lay down behind Stephen, nestling his lean body to Stephen’s strong, healthy flesh, feeling the heat of Stephen’s skin. As soon as Ayve had laid his arm around Stephen’s upper body, Stephen seized it in his sleep, holding it tightly. The full curves of Stephen’s behind were pressed against Ayve’s private parts and he involuntarily felt them react to the stimulation. He had to force himself not to proceed.

Ayve breathed Stephen’s scent in and nuzzled in Stephen’s hair. His golden hair. In the first years after their split, Ayve had visited a few of Stephen’s snooker matches. At first he’d pretended it was just out of boredom. But the longing that had come up in him every time he had watched Stephen in those matches had told a different story. One could read a lot into these games. Stephen seemed to display his whole character at the table: patience, a coolly calculating determination, concentration, a bit of wavering in between but never giving up. Of course his sensuality was perfectly displayed as well. In his carefully measured movements, his play with his hair that shimmered in the light of the match hall and his unconscious licking of the lips.

And another talent of Stephen had been revealed to Ayve at these visits: Stephen had felt the turmoil Ayve had been in. That partly had to do with Ayve’s telepathic abilities. Being in a strongly emotional state made him easier detectable. But still: a usual human was not able to do so. Humans did not have such powers. If they had, that was due to having someone non-human in their ancestry. But Ayve could not see that in Stephen. Which in turn meant something else: such things were a sign of a clear fixation on something. Mothers often claimed they knew when something was wrong with their children instinctively. This seemed similar. Stephen was totally fixed on Ayve. Something that Ayve did not like at the time. He wanted Stephen to start a new period in his life, to find someone else. But this fixation meant something else: it was very likely for Stephen to outlive his natural life span if he did not get rid of it. This seemed a perfect motif for clinging onto life the way Ayve had described it to Stephen before, to have something unfinished, something that gave you a strong will to live. In other words: when years later Pheus attacked Stephen, Ayve was fairly certain this would not kill him. Not that this had freed Ayve’s heart of the guilt he had felt (and felt still). But he had not been surprised by what had happened.

Back then, Ayve had stopped ‘stalking’ Stephen when he had sought contact with Pheus again. No, he had not expected Pheus to react to Stephen the way he finally had. Of course not. He’d have protected him more thoroughly then. But Ayve knew that Pheus loathed the thought of him being intimate with humans. All too understandable. There had been a time when the idea alone would have invoked sickness to the point of throwing up in Ayve, too. But this feeling had gradually dissolved. With Stephen Ayve had gone farther than with any human ever before. He’d built up a trust in him, in his purity, his unsophisticatedness. Something that had attracted him even after he’d officially dropped Stephen.

Why had he dropped Stephen? Not truly for the reasons he had given. Right? He’d just felt something was wrong, something stirred in him, and he’d tried to apply a reason to it. He had seized something that was in his reach and thrown it to Stephen’s feet to get away from the cause of his turmoil. Stephen’s insecurity had been a perfect excuse. Of course it had seemed level-headed to say it was unreasonable to engage in something with someone so young, that had yet to find his way in life.

–Parenthesis: Okay, if he faced that, he might as well admit that only because Stephen hadn’t truly chosen his path in life himself that didn’t mean he had none – he was very successful in what he did after all, no matter if Ayve deemed it a suiting occupation. It fed his family better than most of the ‘decent’ things he could have done. Yes mister, that hurt, didn’t it? Acknowledging your own misjudgements? Ayve smirked.-

Where had he stopped? Ah yes: that other misjudgement. The quarrel had not been about Stephen’s behaviour. It had more been about what topics Stephen had touched upon. And in what manner. Of course he hadn’t been aware. But to Ayve it had been too much after all the times he had had to stop Stephen from asking (eligible) questions and the blame that had flared up in Stephen’s face. Blame! He took a deep, controlled breath. Nothing that had happened in his name had been done wrongfully. Not that he had done it. Or ordered it. But what stung the most was questioning his right to carry that ring. The disregard with which his only cherished heirloom was treated. For that alone he owed Pheus a lifetime of happiness. Oh, that word again…!

No, what had agitated Ayve was that his past had invaded this isle of peacefulness his affair with Stephen had been to him. His meetings with Stephen had been like holidays from all his troubles. A place where he didn’t have to think about them. And then Stephen had dug everything up. He’d seen it coming. He’d been prepared to end it that day, sensing what this conversation was to be about. Ayve hadn’t wanted to face the past. That had been the whole point.

And now he lay there, pressed against this much younger man and prayed that Stephen would be able to cope with everything Ayve had yet to confront him with. He hadad made up his mind that he indeed would tell Stephen (nearly) everything in order to give Stephen what he needed to trust him without reserve, what he needed to build up a true, deep relationship with him. One last effort (who was he kidding here?) to finally belong to someone he saw a future with. That might actually show him a new perspective. And strange as it was, even his forced bonding with Alannah was something that looked ahead. That brought a fresh breeze in his life. At first it had looked like yet another duty, another burden, but after meeting Alannah, the whole thing didn’t feel dreadful at all anymore.

If only Stephen would be able to accept the situation…

*

Stephen was woken by the telephone call of the receptionist they had asked for. Ayve next to him turned around with a deep frown on his face. Stephen had dimly noticed at some point last night that Ayve had (once more) not been asleep. If it wasn’t for Ayve’s very special background, Stephen would advise him to seek professional help for his sleep disorder. He either had nightmares or didn’t sleep at all as far as Stephen could see. Okay, not every night but way too often.

Stephen bent down and kissed Ayve between the shoulder blades. They had made sure to be woken early so there was plenty of time before their flight went. Stephen brushed the hair out of Ayve’s face and moved his lips slowly over Ayve’s cheek, chin and throat in soft kisses. In unison with a hand wandering up his thigh, that put life into Ayve’s tired body.

Just when Stephen discovered how much awake Ayve truly was, a hand closed around his wrist and gently but determinedly removed his arm.

“What’s up?” Stephen asked surprised.

Ayve still held his eyes closed and seemed somehow upset. We need to talk.

Stephen looked at Ayve in wonder as he lifted himself from the bed and started dressing. “We have talked for hours yesterday and I thought you wanted to postpone the rest of it? What keeps us from satisfying other needs now?” His eyes settled demonstratively on Ayve’s loins.

Ayve – loosely dressed in trousers and an unbuttoned shirt – flinched and dropped into the nearest armchair. These ‘other needs’ were originally designed for a certain purpose and it seems I’ll have to make use of them in this way in the closer future and I wanted to finally tell you this in case your desire for me is brought to a sudden end by this information.

Well, it was a little early in the morning for this kind of ‘oh, have I mentioned that already?’ –game Ayve was so good at. Stephen would at this point have preferred to crawl back into bed.

He had – for a second – wondered yesterday why Ayve had not yet found a substitute for his bond-mate if feelings where irrelevant and strong children were wanted in his community. Well, now it seemed he had his answer.

“You have a new bond-mate?” Stephen asked reluctantly, not liking the sound of that word at all. Where did that put him in Ayve’s life?

Ayve nodded. His face was pale (more than usually) and he did not manage to look at Stephen for more than a second.

“Since when?”

For a bit over two years now. Even in Stephen’s mind Ayve’s voice sounded weak, conscience-stricken.

Stephen commanded himself to stay calm. Ayve had described what ‘relationships’ between nymphs were like. They were far from having the same relevance that the thing between Ayve and him had. Or had it? He stored that question. One step after the other. Stay calm.

“I suppose she’s one of your tribe? Is that why you are telling me this now?” Indeed it was denotative that Ayve put that truth on the table now. Would he have confessed it to Stephen if he hadn’t been pressed to do so? He’d had sufficient opportunities to tell him before. But then again it had been Ayve’s idea to visit his tribe, so he hadn’t really meant to hide her…

Ayve shook his head. She lives in London. She’s no pure-blooded nymph either.

That calmed Stephen in a strange way. So there really had been no need to tell him now. Ayve did it because he wanted Stephen to know. For no other reason.

Stephen drove his hand through his hair, controlled his breathing and got up from the bed to approach Ayve. He stood before him, grasping his left hand and looked down into Ayve’s eyes. He could see the strain on him, the uncertainty. Ayve worried about how he would react to this, that was plain. And encouraging. It once more reinforced what Ayve had already assured Stephen: that he was genuinely interested in him. But that question still rang in his mind.

“What does that mean for us?” He held Ayve’s gaze, nervously, anxiously.

Ayve seemed relieved that Stephen had stayed so calm, wanted to rationally talk about it (as he so loved) and sought urgently for the right answer.

I have told her when I first met her that I was likely to establish a serious relationship with a man at some point. Not an affair. A serious relationship. She knows that. She knows that the sole purpose that will make me step into her bed is the siring of a child.

Ayve halted for a second to let that sink in. But I will not fool you either. She is very young and has developed feelings for me despite regular mentioning of my inability and unwillingness to be the lover she would like me to be. And I in turn have felt inclined to give her as much affection as I felt able to without betraying myself since she deserves better than having a cold-hearted man. And I will have to be intimate with her, more than once, as soon as she reaches her fertile phase.

Fertile phase! That sounded like a scientific project!

Stephen arranged his thoughts. “So… She’ll know about us?”

Ayve nodded minutely.

„And she’s more like a friend than a true lover?“

Another nod.

“How many times do you think…”

Ayve looked worried. I cannot tell you, Stephen. Maybe three, maybe six… The original ritual stipulates more than that but I don’t suppose that nymphs truly are the only race that can add something to the already conceived child by means of further copulation.

There was cynicism in Ayve’s mental voice. Of course this statement meant he actually was aware of his true parentage.

Stephen put his hands on Ayve’s shoulders. “Just assure me one thing and I’ll bear with all of this: tell me that you won’t back out of our relationship at the first opportunity. That you wholeheartedly want us to be together and that I am your only partner, the only one you truly want.”

Ayve hesitantly placed one hand on Stephen’s hip and reached up with the other to stroke his cheek. I do.

*

Ayve was absent-minded for the rest of the day. They had eaten breakfast in silence, a time Stephen had needed to rearrange his own thoughts and feelings. At the airport Ayve made a strange request: Stephen should check in under a false name, Ayve had the papers ready for him. Stephen’s sceptical looks earned him the explanation that this was the easiest way to disguise the true destination of their trip and that Ayve could completely rule out any legal consequences. So they boarded the plane and flew to Kunming – again in silence - and from there took a one hour flight to Zhongdian in the north of the province, to finally go by bus to Doqin, originally a Tibetan place.

All that time Ayve hardly spoke a word, only giving Stephen necessary information for the trip, and hardly sought eye contact. But his slender hand took Stephen’s whenever he could. He was so different from the man Stephen had first seen all these years back. Ayve still held himself proudly but he trusted Stephen enough not to hide his exhaustion. Life had marked him: Stephen’s gaze was still caught by the grey lines in Ayve’s hair and the faded scars on Ayve’s face and hands whenever he looked at him. But it was more than that. Ayve looked tense, thoughtful.

It was late afternoon now. They’d decided on a cup of tea after checking in at the hotel, their last comfortable stay for the next ten or fifteen days, Stephen assumed, since tomorrow they were going to leave officially inhabited area. Ayve was gazing out of the window of the hotel restaurant.

“What did you tell them why you bring me along?” Stephen asked him, to initiate a conversation. “I mean, I suppose you didn’t tell them about us…”

Ayve attempted a smile. No. He took up the spoon that was placed on the saucer next to his cup and stirred his tea. I sold it as an educational step. That it was hardly possible to avoid meeting humans has already been agreed on and I reasoned it was therefore necessary to get into contact with one of them – one of you.

Ayve said that very matter-of-factly, dry, toneless. A few weeks ago he’d have spiced this with an amused smile, or an apologetic, Stephen thought. What had changed?

Stephen seized Ayve’s hand that now lay on the table, still playing with the spoon and held it tight. Ayve looked at him. And Stephen once again understood how much the man he had thought to know differed from Ayve as he sat opposite him. And he decided not to comment. Just to be there and listen to what Ayve had to say. Or as in this case just to be there and accept that Ayve had nothing to say.

They got up early next morning and went to the market. To buy additional food supplies, Ayve explained shortly. It was not a market made for tourists; it was for the local people to trade all the goods of daily life. It was situated in the streets, the goods were displayed either on tables or directly on the floor. Many people in brightly coloured Tibetan garbs did their shopping, transporting the goods in big baskets on their backs, mostly women.

It didn’t take long and Ayve had acquired such a basket himself and stuffed the small bundle of clothes he carried with him into it. There remained plenty of space for additional commodities. Ayve bought what looked like several kilos of rice, of course speaking the local dialect. Was it easier to learn a language when you only pretended to speak, when you did not need to teach your tongue and mouth to produce the sounds correctly?

“Are your people already in need of additional food at the beginning of winter?” Stephen asked to get to know why they bought these vast amounts of additional food.

Ayve shook his head. No, of course not. They have a stock of fruits, nuts, fungi, roots – including potatoes – and the like. This rice is just a means of adding to the variety of things at hand so they stay healthy and also an aliment that will stay good until the others are consumed – therefore a safety measure for the hard times in winter. I only buy stuff for the members of my group. The other groups who don’t live with them get along without this. Although it has come to pass that one of them has sought my group’s help. Last winter Seya’s group had to and I think that was when he finally realized that his pride that had kept him so far from allocating a part of their supply on human markets diminished. We had long discussions about this before that which is ridiculous, seeing that he is the one who had pushed for seeking diplomatic contact with your kind.

They spent a few hours making their way up north in steady, yet not hasty steps since they were already two or three thousand metres above sea-level. They mostly went along the river, as a street ran along there. Stephen amused himself by gazing at the countryside and Ayve patiently waited when Stephen stopped to look at something more intently. After they had crossed the Mekong on an old bridge, they met up with local people that seemed to know Ayve. An old lady with dark, shrivelled skin and a warm smile that bared her not so numerous teeth greeted them, together with a dog who danced around them, as did what Stephen assumed to be her grandson. Once again goods changed the owner, this time corncobs, brought by the ladies son in law or however you called a man that was the father of her grandchildren but not married to her daughter (these people were Mosu, members of a matriarchal tribe that had different views on family and love, Ayve had explained in advance).

Ayve did not want to hear about Stephen carrying some of the load. He said that Stephen was unaccustomed to the thin air and would need all his energy to carry himself. Perhaps he was right there.

Stephen would have been unable to describe the path they took afterwards. He would have been completely lost on his own. For a while they had continued to wander up the Mekong and had still passed several houses. Then, at a point were the mountains were not as steep as before, Ayve turned away from the road. All Stephen could remember after that was a mixture of slopes, wooded area and green plateaus.

On one of them they spent the night. Ayve erected a small fire and roasted some of the corncobs on sticks. This time he did put up an amused smile as Stephen eyed the slim dinner suspiciously. After a while of sitting in silence around the camp fire, Ayve had crept up to Stephen and embraced him from behind, covering his shoulders in turn with one of Stephen’s warm blankets so that they were comfortable. It had felt good to feel Ayve like that, to have him close now that he was so uncommunicative (again). Yet after a short while Stephen had had to admit to his fatigue and they had gone to sleep.

The next day there had arisen situations when indeed he needed the rope Ayve had advised him to carry along. In those cases Ayve had climbed up first (with remarkable agility despite his heavy load) and bound the rope to a sturdy tree on top so Stephen could drag himself up. Once Ayve even set his basket to rest on top of the steep and came back down to aid Stephen. Stephen definitely preferred going down hill (or mountain in this case). Gravity seemed much nicer then. Thank god this was winter in an area of what Europeans would call alpine climate. He didn’t think he would have enjoyed this trip in subtropical climate spiced with a swarm of mosquitoes. No, he didn’t think of himself as the big adventurer.

But that trip had been exciting. Granted, it had been exhausting, but it had been fun as well to explore his physical limits. It felt amazing to have come this far.

This was the morning of their second night out in the wild. Ayve had already been gone when Stephen had awoken, probably to fetch water from one of the streams nearby. The birds greeted the day quite noisily. Stephen packed up his stuff and began to gather twigs and small branches from a few trees that stood a few dozen metres away from the place where they had lit the fire the former evening. He didn’t try to actually light the fire. Ayve had shown him how it was done but that was a wearisome process that needed some skill and Ayve could do it much faster.

When Ayve turned up, he carried several fishes of different size and kind as well as some more wood. Since he intended to bake all the fishes to preserve them that was needed. After the not so thrilling food of the last days this was a welcome change for Stephen’s palate.

After finishing that business they put out the fire and scattered its remains as they had done the previous morning in order to prevent a smouldering fire from emanating from the hot ashes and started walking again. This was to be the last day; Ayve estimated they would reach their destination in the late afternoon.

***