i
SUGAR-BUMPS!
Emma
hated to be late"and this was important. She’d been waiting for
this to happen for months: this event which, so far, would be a
unique one. How many times she had already reviewed the list of
‘firsts!’
1. Her first time to receive a friend from her own
country, here in Taiwan
2. Her first time to meet a “net-friend”
"someone whom she had met online, and never met in person
3. Her
first time, knowingly at least, to meet anyone, and talk to them, who
was gender-queer, like Emma herself.
4. Her first time to lay eyes
on Ethan in person, even though they’d met online a bit more than a
year ago and had become gradually closer since, to the point that
Ethan had definitely become one of her favourite people on the
planet.
Emma was distinctly jittery, but undeniably thrilled and
impatient to get their visit started"and here was a slow-a*s blue
truck pulling right in front of her as she was getting ready to pull
off the highway onto the freeway that led to the airport!
Muttering
to herself, Emma jammed on the brakes of her Tercel and blared her
horn"as a warning, she told herself, instead of a protest. She
looked at the radio clock"as the dash clock, she knew, was 13
minutes fast. Sakes! Ethan’s plane was due in just five minutes,
and the airport was still several kilometers away. . .she glared at
the pickup truck as she zoomed past it, turn signal flashing in
notable exception to the “ignore road safety regulations”
attitude prevalent on this Asian island, and sped off at the fastest
possible legal speed for the airport.
ii
The
plane veered to the left, approaching the airport. Ethan’s nerves
were rustling with anticipation. He’d never visited Asia before,
though he had a fascination with international cultures and their
languages, and was unusually quick at picking up new ones. He was
rather more familiar with the culture of Japan; he hadn’t had any
formal learning about that country, but he’d still learnt a lot
from extensive reading of Japanese comics and watching animé "though
he was savvy enough to know that comics are never a reliable guide to
a country’s culture, but not experienced enough to know clearly
what elements to believe and which to discount. He knew this island
had be bruited about by Japan for fifty years and expected,
therefore, that there would be at least some semi-familiar things
here. That was his working hunch, at least, and it had been backed up
by what Internet research he’d hastily done before leaving the
States.
Time had been in short supply recently. Real life was
stressful for Ethan. He knew his parents loved him, but they were
sometimes inflexible, intolerant, and uncooperative. It wasn’t
always easy to discuss serious matters with them"especially these
in which Ethan had an emotional investment, and darned if there
hadn’t been a slew of those recently! Ethan had at length
reconfirmed (?)with a feeling of surety that he was gender-queer a
few years ago; it made him a little sad that he still didn’t feel
the time was right to broach the topic with them"the foundation of
familial love was sturdy as these things go, but the foundational
assumptions they cherished about their child would surely be shaken
in short time if he told them"and they would start to feel that all
they had thought would now become unstable, unreliable. Ethan knew
this in his heart"he had gone through a “young-adult’s crisis”
himself when the conviction became solid.
The Internet was,
usually"with notable exceptions"a more welcoming, more accepting
world. It was still pretty baffling to Ethan how so many ‘Netizens
had, for some reasons he felt went counter to his own logic, become
attached to him via his blog. It was a weird thing"it was a very
frank he maintained"full of rages, whining, more or less full
admission of his mind’s and body’s challenging “talents” and
his personality’s quirks. To Ethan, the blog was like Dorian Gray’s
“picture:” a testament to his many flaws and shortcomings as a
person, which however were largely disregarded by his followers. He
was, on principle, routinely anxious about personal interactions,
always expecting to be rejected, disrespected, ignored, blamed"and
taken cruel advantage of. And sometimes, all these things did happen,
destroying Ethan’s self-confidence and peace of mind"and in some
cases, wrecking his financial situation.
However, though Ethan
always expected that the ugliness of his psyche and the goofiness of
his faces would be more than enough to keep people away and frighten
the neighbors, people kept following her blog. They greeted him
warmly; they ruined the mood of his outraged or distressed posts with
hugs and encouragement sent in personal messages. Most of them, it
seemed, grew attached to him rapidly. They responded to Ethan’s
periodic self-hatred with professions of undying love.
The whole
situation was, to Ethan, absurd. If he hated and feared people that
much, why did he intentionally post his heart’s feelings in a
public forum? If he wanted to avoid Internet fame and maintain an
aloof anonymity, how come he plastered his photos and silly gifs all
over his journal?
And yet, for all that, Ethan did in fact often
come to like his followers, and even to think of them as friends. And
sometimes they were even useful friends"less generous with their
money as with their hugs, but they couldn’t be blamed for that,
really; Ethan himself couldn’t exactly go tossing his money around,
either. But at crucial times, they really did come through for
him.
Most recently, circumstances had been ganging up on Ethan"a
menacing melange of rent, medical garbage, and the annoying, pesky
requirements his body had for things like food and shelter. Ethan had
felt entirely unable to cope, and thought that, even if it was a lost
cause, appealing directly to his followers would still help him feel
better. He really felt that he needed some hugs, and with his vivid
imagination, he could almost convince himself that they were real
ones. . and, though it was probably a futile gesture, it would be
better than keeping his anxiety and frustration pent up inside; he
was likely to at least get a bit of help through his PayPal account,
too. And so he had waxed eloquent, and waited, refreshing his inbox a
bit more frequently than normal for some response from the madding
crowd.
Each refresh brought new messages, he found. Ethan was not
very surprised to find a bounteous harvest of hugs and
sympathy"something he cynically prided himself on being able to
draw on at any given time. And why not? He had realized early on that
his followers were quality people, even though most of them seemed to
be troubled with physical and psychological hamperings, and a good
number of them had gone through similar challenges in their own
lives.
And this time, his followers had really come through for
him like gangbusters, far exceeding his immediate needs and leaving
him feeling perplexed as to what to do with the windfall, even as he
was emotionally overwhelmed and a little frightened at the ferocity
of his net friends’ love. Well, at least this was a less dismal
crisis to deal with, and his financial pressure was largely obviated
for a time. A curious flurry of posts and messages had been the start
of it, including reblogs of Ethan’s original plea for help,
increasing its audience. Once Ethan realized that his immediate
financial needs had been met about an hour and a half ago, he started
to worry, but no, in the main, the donors had refused to hear of her
refunding their money"which was probably good, as his records and
receipts had a way of getting muddled up or lost.
Yes, he should
use the excess money for needs and/or wishes"some said for both or
either"and the rest had been divided exactly in half,
conscientiously honoring his post’s statement that he would do so.
That had seemed to him to be specifically of no help at all, but then
some things even more curious had come together in astounding and
seemingly coincidental ways.
Ethan had needed a job"and due to
his combination of health and mental needs, it had to fill certain
finicky specifications. He’d been aware of the need, but had
despaired of finding anything that would fit him. He had sent his CV
rather sporadically around the state, in something like desperation,
and had given up hopes of hearing back from anyone months ago"and
indeed, not a one of those companies had ever written, called, or
emailed with a job or interview offer"just brief and apologetic
letdowns couched in polite, sympathetic phrases. Although he seemed
to have excellent qualities, one thing or another impeded their
ability to offer Ethan a plum job. Teasing him, could be.
But
then, 73 days ago, a phone call had come through from someone Ethan
had never heard of.
Apparently his résumé had made a positive
impression on one of the employers who had turned him down"though
his skills and talents had not been perfect for that job, the
personnel manager there had heard from a colleague about a job that
the colleague had despaired of filling"one that fit Ethan’s
special needs and interests so well that it read like the plot device
of some amateur author who relied on coincidences entirely too
much.
Ethan had learned French in school"so well, indeed, that
at last Mlle. Le professeur told her in something like resignation
that there was nothing more she could teach him, for he had
outstripped the teacher. “The only way you could improve on your
skills now would be to move away from here and live in France.” So
that summer, Ethan had...as a student. That experience, plus his
predilection for extensive reading, made him well nigh a native
speaker. The kind that this school needed for its new position"fluent
in both French and English, and in the cultures of both France and
the United States. There was only one catch: one that the school
assumed would not be a problem.
The teaching job required language
teaching experience abroad, the personnel officer told him. Ethan
heard this provision with a sinking heart. The time he’d s spent in
France could not officially count, as he had been a student then,
even though he had been coaching French children in conversational
English. The school’s semester would begin in about seven months,
in the fall, and the job required six months’ experience teaching,
at least. It seemed an all but perfect job: teaching ‘distance
learning’ classes, creating interactive language exercises for
online learners. It offered a substantial salary that would help
Ethan to be more financially secure and independent, and his time was
entirely flexible. But Alas! there was not enough time to make that
sort of teaching experience magically happen and appear on his CV; it
seemed to be an unreachable goal.
Ethan didn’t really believe in
coincidences. When, the next day, he got two statements in his email,
he felt as if he could suddenly hear the voice of Destiny calling to
him. The first was a statement from his PayPal account. Astoundingly,
his friends, and some of his friends’ friends, had come through for
him with what is called rather fittingly, a vengeance. Not only did
the donations and orders for handmade specialties of his cover the
insurance costs (which would allow for coverage abroad, if need be,
as Ethan breathlessly discovered after a frantic search in his
bedroom for his policy’s handbook), as well as the costs of
medications and tests that were needed soon, but ALSO"there was a
fair amount left over, which was probably enough to cover his rent
for at least half a year"and do him good towards eating with
reasonable regularity.
The other item was a newsy little missive
in his mailbox from his friend Emma, living in Asia. This was not
exactly a huge surprise, though the letters pleased him and were
always full of protestations of lifelong friendship, wordplay, and
wistful wishes that she could give him a real-life hug one day. . .
or even more often. They had sometimes talked about visiting each
other"Emma was an American living in Asia as an English professor;
either she would swing by during a trip Stateside, or he would fly
out to visit her, possibly en route to Japan. In fact, it was Ethan
who had first suggested this possibility, partly as a token of his
trust of Emma’s good will and sincerity. This nebulous plan had
started as a wistful wish, grew into a sort of joshing running gag,
and eventually had faded into a shared in-joke, but they still each
hoped that it could happen for real"one day.
Theirs was a close
and warmly comfortable Internet friendship"they could feel safe and
at home talking about anything from the mundane to the irritating to
the frightening, to affairs de coeur. It was like they’d known each
other for decades. But, a bit confusingly for Ethan, sometimes, they
had never actually met.
As part of her joshing, Emma shared some
news in her letter: a special deal on tickets from the States to
Emma’s resident country, special for educators. If Ethan had a job
as a teacher, or even a letter from a school abroad on official
school letterhead that he had been offered such a job and had
accepted it, the fare was a fraction of the normal cost, as part of
an educational promotion package. Emma was only kidding, though, as
she was sharply aware, Ethan knew, of Ethan’s financial hardships.
In ordinary circumstances, it was an unattainable goal, teaching job
or now. And anyhow, with the financial burdens strapped to Ethan’s
heels, he couldn’t get away from the country anyway. So with a
frustrated-sounding written sigh, Emma had mentioned that at the last
meeting of her department, the curriculum had been expanded to
include the need for a full-time, temporary teacher to teach English
to local students, scheduled to last just half a year; it would
finish late in the summer.
CLICK.
The friends’ rising
hilarious exhilaration was to remain in their memories permanently.
Elation verging on euphoria built higher and higher as everything,
during the next week or two, simply fell into place. And they
realized that in short order, they WOULD be able to come together
themselves.
iii
Emma
saw with edgy relief that she was finally at the exit to the airport.
She felt, with her lit-teacher’s mind, that she was now to exit
from her ordinary routine and enter a wondrous new stage of life.
Of
course, there was never any serious debate about it"Ethan would be
staying with Emma; that had been established long before, in “if
you ever...” messages. There was no question of Ethan staying at a
motel or youth hostel, even if one could be found in the rural area
where Emma lived.
Emma had made it clear that the visit’s
unusually long duration would make no difference. It was never a
competition, but still, Emma longed for a special distinction: to be
Ethan’s closest friend. Emma supposed that it was unlikely, all in
all, seeing has she had just been reading about Ethan attending his
long-standing best friend’s wedding, and she did not want to be
unfair, of course; still, they would be living together for half a
year, and she would have a good fighting chance to try. A worry
remained in her mind, that she would say something wrong or that the
two would simply not hit it off, and it would be a very awkward and
unpleasant six months, but still, Emma was eager to do her best to
give a good impression and to provide Ethan with a delightful
time.
Emma loved Ethan very much, probably as much as a person
who’d never met the object of their love could do. In love? Well,
that was harder to determine, but there was love, and Emma was in the
midst of it, and if they developed their friendship into a deeper
bond, then Emma was surely not going to complain about it. Emma
wasn’t asexual, as Ethan was, but that didn’t seem to matter to
Emma, who did not need sex to be a part of a relationship to qualify
it as real, and who did not have a habit of cordoning off her friends
into “just friends,” “close friends,” and “sweethearts.”
To Emma, the term “making love” was a bit silly, or at least not
applicable, for she would not seriously wish to couple with someone
she didn’t love, and anyone she did have sex with would therefore
already be loved; there was no need to make love, for it already
existed"not that sex was a common thing for Emma, by any means. She
would show or share her love for her friends in any way that seemed
mutually acceptable and suitable"from simply sitting close together
to holding hands and hugging to little kisses to"well, to things
that Ethan would not feel an urge to do; it didn’t matter to her.
If the bond, the connection was there, Emma was delighted with
everything and felt satisfied that she had a close friend, which was
the thing now that Emma had wanted so badly for so long; she had been
away from America for 14 years already, and had not made any real
friends on the island at all. Of course, having family along was
good, but a person also needs friends, Emma opined; the feeling was
different and probably the function was, as well.
Both Ethan and
Emma had made numerous friends through Tumblr.com, perhaps more
friends than they had ever made in real life"and they ranged from
casual-friendly to the profoundly intimate"some had heard their
hearts’ deepest secrets, some of which had never been spoken out,
or written about, for any human being prior to that. That certainly
was the case with Emma"even though some of the secrets were about
quite recent events and changes in her life. She knew from various
posts on Ethan’s blog that he’d had similar trusted and
affectionate confidantes.
Both Ethan and Emma had shared private
information with each other, and there was clearly a bond of trust
between them. Emma had quickly been able to feel sure, without overt
proof, that Ethan was a trustworthy soul, good at his core, and trust
had been easy, while, despite Emma’s uncertainty about how Ethan
had come to this point, he had recently told her in a message that he
trusted her entirely: a message that had made Emma nearly swoon away
with pleasure. In recent months they had begun to chat via Skype, and
had quickly established a comfortable rapport. Emma had felt fairly
sure that that would be the case, and they certainly had quickly lost
the initial awkwardness, formality (Emma’s), and vagueness and
impersonality that had marked their earliest exchanges"askbox
messages and, soon, FanMail or “submit” letters; Emma seldom had
messages of any real import that could fit into an ask box, with its
limited number of characters, and Ethan too had frequently written to
Emma at length"something which could hardly fail to delight Emma,
to whom a long and heartfelt message was tantamount to flattery or
even to flirting, in a way. Sometimes, since then, Emma found herself
writing pages and pages to Ethan.
Naturally, chatting had a
different dynamic and feeling...and Emma had been a little anxious at
first"she’d been thrilled when Ethan had shared his Skype
username, but still, she had dragged her feet, which had suddenly
felt distinctly cold. She put off logging on to Skype and adding
Ethan for almost a week, imagining that he’d be online when it
happened, and that Emma would have to start text chatting before she
was mentally prepared. In fact he had been, when she’d finally
braced herself and added her; she’d [page 13 of the MS] waited
until it was nearly time to leave the office, and mentioned that in
the invitation to chat, nimbly avoiding an actual chat at that
time.
Nevertheless, after further messages elsewhere, Emma had
soon felt ready, even though she was scared she’d come across at an
inarticulate, indifferent conversationalist. Ethan had seemed quite
willing to talk, and soon Emma had been put at ease. The experience
of chatting had helped the two to bond further.
Though they had
shared personal, private information before, in stages that marked
the growth of mutual trust between the friends, they still had never
had a real, intimate heart to heart conversation, even after chatting
had made such conversations more convenient...which was, in a way,
disappointing.
For Emma’s part, she was entirely convinced that
Ethan was absolutely marvelous in every significant way; Emma loved
him with intense fervor, part hero worship and part respectful
enthusiasm, and the rest a strong desire to be loved back in equal
measure.
Perhaps what Emma admired most about “Ivey,” as she
sometimes thought of him, was how resilient he was. Beset by troubles
that interfered with his health, peace of mind, and finances,
tortured by constant pain, he nevertheless maintained his sense of
humour, and he created myriad quaint and amusing entertainments for
his readers: brief fiction, hilarious videos, GIFs, and more. Readers
also liked his emotional outbursts"from frustration to rage to
elation. It became clear to regular followers that Ethan’s life had
may challenges, but that though at times the pain and anxiety were
overwhelming, he always came back. He did not fear keep him out of
the picture for long.
Roberta Flack would have understood: even
though the blog maintained a general equilibrium between Upset Ethan
and Charming Ethan, Emma was in agreement with many other of Ethan’s
‘Net friends: the painful aspects of Ethan’s life, though not
ignored outright, were met with sympathy rather than annoyance, and
they tended to think of Ethan’s Antics whenever they thought of
him. In other words, Ethan’s personality, as far as they knew, came
through vividly on his blog. The fun parts, the clever and humorous
bits, inspired affection and love, and in this dominant context,
readers not only offered sympathy (and some had had similar obstacles
to happiness in their lives), but expressed resentment against
whatever was troubling him. Hugs seemed to be the main currency of
exchange at Tumblr; to paraphrase Paul McCartney, it was plain that
the hugs you gave were equal to the hugs others gave you"because
they were the same hugs!
Emma had, however, suspected that though
the blog was usually well balanced between the enjoyable and the
unhappy, there was probably more to Ethan’s personality. Even
people prone to extremes of feeling behaved differently when they
were off stage, unobserved by their audience...and though Ethan was
“onstage” very often, actively blogging, Emma was eager to
partake of a more nuanced Ethan Experience. One thing she loved about
close friends was how they didn’t feel pressured to converse
constantly; to her, an hour spent idly in pleasant, silent
camaraderie with a friend could feel like a delicious, prolonged
embrace that needed no words to be expressive. Emma hoped for such
times. Indeed, if Ethan were always “on,” as his blog was, it
would be fairly bizarre, and Emma wanted Ethan to feel peaceful as
possible, comfortable; In her love for Ethan the best thing would be
to get her love back as hugs are given back: as the same love in the
opposite direction, or felt by them both. , from Ethan as he was in
his relaxed and unguarded moments. She wanted to know the real man;
she wanted to love him for who he really was. Loving him so strongly
without knowing Ethan in the round was, in a way, a bit unqualified.
Emma wanted to have the information gaps filled in, wanted to be able
to say without reservation, “I love you as you are"in your
strengths, in your weaknesses, in your best and worst moments, when
you’re thrilled and when you’re bored.” She never had a thought
that maybe Ethan’s true, behind-the-scenes personality could be
quite unlike Blogger-Ethan’s. She trusted in the image she’d been
assembling for Ethan: especially when filled in with supplemental
messages and chats, Emma felt confident that enough of the true Ethan
had shone through to get along with. Ethan was truly a good person
and a reliable friend.
Emma parked in the vast lot and hurried to
the terminal, where international passengers emerged from Customs.
This was it. She would see this beautiful and beloved person with her
bare eyes, would soon have all the e-hugs validated with a single,
powerful embrace. It was more from emotion than from the effort of
trotting down the corridor that Emma’s heart was beating so fast. A
moment’s fear"suppose he won’t like me anymore? Maybe I’ll
make a bad impression"realize in on moment that his affection had
been misplaced"rose in her heart"but it was just as suddenly
forgotten as she saw the throng of indifferent, unfriendly,
judgmental humanity choking the hallway. Emma was tall enough to be
able to see that passengers were flowing into the crowd, but the way
was thick with those strangers, strangely threatening...was he there?
Emma knew very well what her friend looked like from the
blog...nothing looked familiar, though...
iv
That
wasn’t so bad, Ethan thought as he pulled his wheeled luggage clear
of Customs and over to cross through the gates to the terminal
proper. They didn’t even look through my bags!”
"And now
with a step, he was properly in Asia itself, surrounded by things
vaguely alien and unfamiliar, but seeking out someone who would be
looking out for him, someone who was familiar in, and, he supposed,
with, his mind...why hadn’t they discussed what they’d wear?
Ethan guessed that Emma had made the same assumption: that their two
hearts would call to each other, and they’d just be drawn to a
common place. But in a crowd like this, a colour to look for would
have been helpful. He scanned the crowd, remembering Emma’s
appearance, trying to make a match. Would she have a beard? Would she
even be presenting as Emma today? I should have made a sign, he
thought. Then the humidity and mugginess of the climate finally hit
him; with a smooth motion, he swept his pom-pommed knit hat off and
shook his long hair free, eyes still searching. . .
v
From
some place in the middle of the crowd, a sudden flash shone out,
catching Emma’s attention. As Emma focused on that spot, a sudden,
beautiful wave of long, lovely golden hair fanned out in agonizing
familiarity, making Emma feeling instantly sure she’d found her
friend, causing a painful thought: How on earth can it be that now,
at this middle time in my life, I’m seeing this beauty now for the
first time? What a waste it’s all been up until now!
It was a
second before she realized that she was already moving, running
forward, and that she had finally seen Ethan’s face; it had been a
lens of his glasses that had caught the light. In an instant, she’d
seen his expression of concern and confusion transformed into one of
surprise and delighted, relieved recognition.
And in that moment,
all fear fears fled. Ethan knows me. He sees me and he is here from
abroad to be with me. As she saw that expression appear on the
handsome face, her heart filled up"seemed to grow three
sizes.
Ethan’s here, he knows it’s his friend, and dear Ethan
is smiling for me.
Moving still faster, growing closer, the words
rang in her mind: My love was not wasted; it was not lost or unwisely
given away. Here is my love, it is running back to me.
The moment
was upon her.
vi
Ethan
knew, before he even recognized Emma with his eyes, that Emma had
located him from amongst the hundreds of others in the mass of
strangers; they had connected for real at last. An odd clacking noise
sounded, with after a bit he knew for the sound of her luggage’s
wheels on the tile floor. He felt himself being drawn swiftly
forward, a pair of lines forming to allow them passage though the
throng as Emma and Ethan galloped to each other. Taller than I
thought, he mused.... They didn’t pause, but took in each other’s
faces quickly: It’s real at last"this needed to happen, and now"
vii
*BLISS*
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