Page 42 of The Romantic Agenda
Instead of creating space for her at the table, they’d chosen violence—to serve her up and eat their own.
So she flipped that motherfucking table over instead.
Joy never asked to be anyone’s role model or ace queen but became intensely anxious of letting anyone down anyway. She researched and boosted other voices and strived to be inclusive of the entire spectrum. No ace left behind.
If someone said they were ace, then that was that. They were welcome in her circle. She made room in her brand of bougie on a budget to include self-care, self-acceptance, education, and awareness. Joy isn’t perfect, but she always,alwaysdoes her best because it’s the only way she knows how to hold on to people. The only way to keep them on her side.
Being accepted matters to her. Probably more than it should. She wants to belong and to be understood so badly it physically hurts. Her chest aches for it, every minute of every day. It’s whyhaving Malcolm in her life is so vitally important to her. He was the first. He’s still the best.
Still unable to sleep, she decides to head downstairs for a midnight snack. She tries to be quiet, bare feet padding down the halls and then stairs. The lights are on in the kitchen.
Malcolm holds up a pint of ice cream and two spoons. “Took you long enough.”
Joy mock-gasps as she joins him at the island. “How did you know?”
He rolls his eyes but answers seriously, “You almost never sleep on the first night of vacation.”
“I’m in a new environment,” she says, peeling off the lid. “I have to adjust. And I miss Pepper.”
“I was shocked you didn’t bring her. Mrs. Norman?”
Joy nods. “Pepper hated the drive to Arizona so much, and I didn’t know where we were going...” she trails off.
Three months ago, they’d rented a camper to drive to the Grand Canyon. Pepper hated the road trip, spending most of it hiding in one of the cabinets, but she loved being outside and exploring the paths. Joy’s current phone wallpaper is a picture of Pepper wearing her harness and perched on top of a boulder like she’s the Queen of Pride Rock surveying her kingdom.
She continues, “It’s fine. She loves Mrs. Norman and her one thousand hanging plants.”
Malcolm nods toward the couch. They walk the few feet to the living room and get comfortable.
Joy has the first spoonful. “I didn’t see this in the freezer.”
“There’s an extra one in the garage.” Malcolm eyes her. “Don’t go in there.”
“More surprises for me?”
“I’ll know if you do,” he warns.
When they arrived at the cabin, her heart had sunk because it knew none of this was for her. And that was still true. The weekend belongs to Summer, but Malcolm remembers her here and there—little things like a room with a perfect shower, a window that will face the sunrise, hiking shoes, and midnight ice cream. So many tiny adjustments solely for her and her alone. She never has to ask. He always knows exactly what she needs to feel special.
“So what do you think?”
“I think it’s delicious.” Joy shoves another spoonful into her mouth.
“Joy.”
She sighs through her nose. Guess they’re doing this now. “Summer likes you. But.”
“But?”
“But I think it’s more of asure why notkind of vibe instead of what you’re looking for.”
Malcolm doesn’t look surprised. Or angry. “You always do this.” His resignation is so complete Joy feels terrible for telling the truth.
“Do what? You asked my opinion and I answered. I don’t see it,” she says. “Do you want me to lie? Sure, okay, you two are great together. She’s super into you and no one else.”
“She’s nice,” Malcolm says. “And she really likes you.”
“For now. It won’t last because it never does.” Joy sighs, weary and tired. “Eventually, she’ll start thinking I’m around you too much, that you pay too much attention to me and not her, she’ll get mad, make you choose, and then I get put on standby.”
