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Elliott had wanted desperately to fall in love. He’d read and written about it in so many ways, had seen it in blossom like flowers in the couples around him, but had yet to experience it – truly experience it. The heady feeling of falling for another, of long nights and early mornings with that person by his side. Of years and years of getting to know them better than he knew himself. In a town comprised of about thirty or so people, half of which were married or otherwise committed, Elliott had always thought that it wouldn’t happen to him.
At least, until the new farmer rolled into town.
Everyone was interested when they heard the local farm was being taken over by the previous owner’s granddaughter. A new face would be interesting under any circumstances, but one who was going to transform the weed-ridden farm? Well, that was something else entirely. He hadn’t met her until about a week after she’d moved in, when she’d gone to visit Willy at the docks. Elliott had been on the docks, bare feet dangling over the side as he scratched out several lines from a poem he was trying to write.
“Are you… Willy?” the woman had asked, hesitating outside the door that would actually take her to Willy. Elliott was immediately struck by her appearance – chestnut hair she had pulled back in a messy bun, dirt streaked on her slightly burnt face that matched the hue of her eyes. She was, he supposed, beautiful, though not in the same way as the heroines he often read about.
“No,” he laughed, gesturing towards Willy’s home. “He’s in there. My name is Elliott, and I live in that little ramshackle shack on the beach. You must be Elona, the new farmer?”
She beamed, and Elliott tried to imagine how he would write her if she was someone in his novel. He’d make sure to mention that slight gap in her front teeth, and the way her cheeks flushed when she smiled. Or perhaps that was the sunburn the work on the farm must have given her.
“That’s me. Well, it was nice to meet you. I really need to talk to Willy, but… I’ll see you around?”
“I hope so.” Elliott returned to his poem, changing one phrase five times until finally settling on the one he had originally chosen. Later – he wasn’t sure how much later, but the back of his neck had started to feel rather toasty – she had emerged, a new fishing pole in hand, and had joined him. They sat in companionable silence, each occasionally asking the other a question, until dark.
This was how it had all begun. Elona would come by every day, usually just after noon, with some products from her farm and fishing rod in tow. They would sit and talk and Elliott found himself craving every moment he would get with her – every minute spent with her was the best of that day. Afternoons turned into evenings turned into nights, and Elliott was finally beginning to understand the feelings of the characters in those romance novels he so loved.
Well. He was understanding most of them. There was one aspect he still didn’t understand was hoping might change with time, and it was the… intimacy aspect. He’d always tiptoed around the idea, even in his novels; all his knowledge had come from other authors and not from experience. After months of time together, he felt sure he loved her. Reasonably sure. What else would this feeling in his chest be, his desire to spend his life with her? To grow old with her? But there was still one thing – the marriage bed – that he couldn’t figure out how to navigate. (Well, not always the marriage bed, but he’d always been a bit of a traditionalist.)
He’d always thought that the swell of desire would come when he fell in love. That was always how it seemed to work in the novels. Sometimes it even came first. But even with Elona, even with everything he felt about her – he just couldn’t see beyond the fact that she was pretty. Elliott could tell when a person was attractive, objectively speaking. But it didn’t make him feel anything. He thought it would come with the right person. But Elona felt right in every way, and still, nothing.
She hadn’t brought it up yet, and neither had he, but tonight was the night, he had decided. It wouldn’t be fair if she had expectations he couldn’t meet. Or perhaps he was just completely broken, and could never love, not the way he was supposed to.
They were having dinner that night, at his cabin. Not homecooked – Elliott was never meant to be a chef – but seafood from the Saloon on his own plates worked just as well. It was quiet dinner, and Elliott’s hands betrayed his nervousness.
After three unfruitful attempts at conversation, Elona slammed her fork on the table, startling Elliott. “What’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange all night. Barely talking, you’ve hardly touched your lobster, and I know that’s your favorite.”
Elliott glanced at the aforementioned lobster, unable to meet her steady gaze. “Yes, well, there was… there was something I wanted… something I needed to talk to you about.” He took a deep breath, suddenly at a loss for words, despite having rehearsed it endless times. “I don’t think I can be what you need me to be,” he said, the words tumbling out, unbidden.
Elona’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. Clearly, whatever she’d expected him to say, this hadn’t been it. “What… what do you think I need?” she asked.
Elliott cleared his throat. Yoba, why was this so hard to say? “I don’t think I can… I mean, you’re beautiful, and I hope you know that, but I’m not… I don’t feel…” he stammered, unsure how to say what he wanted without wounding her. That it wasn’t her, it was him, it was that he couldn’t make himself feel that attraction he thought all couples had.
Her eyes softened, and she reached out and took his hand in her own, her fingers small and rough from hard labor. “Elliott, honey, I think I know what you’re trying to say.”
“You do?”
“Unless I’m wrong – and I rarely am,” she laughed, “you’re trying to tell me you don’t feel any sexual attraction towards me. Is that right?”
Elliott could feel heat creeping to his cheeks with how outright she was about it. “I, um, I…”
“And let me guess,” she continued, giving him a knowing smile and a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve never really figured this out about yourself and you feel broken. You see what everyone else has and you don’t understand why you don’t.”
“Yes,” he whispered. He could feel tears forming behind his eyes, though he couldn’t explain why.
“Honey, that just means you’re asexual. Or somewhere on that spectrum. It’s fine.”
“What… I don’t…” Elliott’s head was spinning. He’d never heard the term before, though he could figure out what it meant. “You mean… it’s okay?”
“More than okay,” she said, giving him that huge smile, the one that reminded him of the rays of the sun. “I was going to talk about this with you soon, because I wasn’t sure. But it had never come up, and I was nervous to be the one to do it… I’m the same way. I don’t feel that kind of attraction. But I still feel love. And I love you.”
The tears flew unbidden now, though he was smiling as they did. “So… so it’s okay?” he asked again, not quite able to believe it.
Elona stood and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “More than okay. Let’s finish dinner up and we can talk about it some more.”
Elliott swept her tiny frame into a massive hug, so overcome he was with emotion. He had agonized over this conversation, had been so sure it would lead to the loss of this woman he loved, and instead it had proven that nothing was wrong with him, with them. He was whole. They both were.
Never had he been more excited for his future.