I traced my fingers down the fabric of her shirt on her left side, from her ribs down to her hip. It was all new skin under there. “Can you feel that?” I asked.
“It feels good,” she said, her voice tight, like she was terrified to say anything else.
This was a decision for me. But it also wasn’t. April had never hurt me just to hurt me, and that mattered. But she had known she was hurting me and done it anyway. I had watched her destroy herself for attention. And here was this small woman, as soft as water, as strong as iron, with the responsibility of the world crashing down on her every moment, just sitting there texting her mom.
But it wasn’t the strength that I loved. It wasn’t the growth or the change or her face. I loved April. The decision I made was to stop denying myself that love out of spite or fear. I was done holding back.
I flattened my hand out and tucked it under her shirt, feeling the seam where the new skin met the old skin on her back. And then I pulled her into me.
She tasted like April.
We went slow, remembering each other’s bodies. It was the best parts of something new all mixed with the best parts of something comfortable. Even the clumsiness felt like a dance. I had been falling for months, and she caught me.
Afterward, I felt more than ever that April was still April—maybe she had been taught a couple of lessons, but she was still as bold and wild and smart and stupid as the day we met.
Sleep came quickly for her, almost like there was a switch in her brain. But for me, what with the species-level-threat anxiety, it did not.
So I took out my phone. April was the social media icon, but I’m not immune to the scroll.
I wanted to know more about Altus. What I found was . . . a lot. The Premium Space was now open to thousands, and those people had plenty to talk about.
One of them was a YouTuber who played video games very well but also was known for having opinions loudly. I popped in my AirPods and watched his video.
“This is going to change everything,” he said in a clear, authoritative British accent. “This is like the internet times a thousand. I know that I usually am just on this channel to joke around, but this is . . .” He seemed at a loss for words before there was a cut and he continued: “The Premium Space isn’t just about what you can make and sell and build. They’ve found a way to capture the experiences of other people and let you replay those experiences in your head. You think their thoughts, feel their emotions, and live inside of their bodies. You can understand someone completely. We have been searching for a solution to the division that the internet has created, and this might just be it. To truly understand your enemy is maybe to no longer have enemies. Can you imagine? Not just that, but the possibilities for education. You can learn through someone else’s understanding. I know the Premium Space is only open to a few people right now, I’m sure there’s lots of testing to do. I can’t imagine how difficult this is to pull off, but I’ve been inside the Premium Space for less than an hour and it has already changed my life. And I’m sorry this video is so short, but I need to go back in. I need to see how far this stretches.”
My skin was crawling. I was thinking about Kurt “You Can’t Joke About Anything Anymore” Butler, and whether people like him would work to understand me or if I would be asked, once again, to understand people like him. Call me a pessimist, but I think if bigotry could be solved by access to more information, it would have been solved by now. Hate isn’t about a lack of understanding; it’s about hate.
I ached with anxiety.
Powerful people always thought they had the solutions. What they couldn’t see was that their power was, itself, the problem. “If only we could truly know each other” is a nonsense argument because, even if Altus lets you truly know one mind, there are billions of minds and you simply don’t have the time. And what’s going to keep you from just visiting the minds you find most comfortable? This felt like an old story, and once again, no one was going to listen.
I looked at April, breathing softly beside me.
Except maybe her, I thought.
I reached my arm across her rib cage. She stirred gently beneath my arm and made a little noise. Jesus, I love her so much.
I couldn’t help pulling her to me even more tightly.
“What’s even holding us together?” she asked me.
“Love,” I said. “I guess it’s been love the whole time.”
And then, because I guess she couldn’t help herself, she said, “Also our arms.”
I laughed so hard and suddenly felt so safe.
—
“April,” I said, turning around to face her, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”
“OK,” she said. “I love you.”
Just like that, after all this time. I propped myself on one elbow, and I almost made a joke of it, but then I saw her eyes.
“I love you too.”
I reached around her and she nestled her head into my neck. Our bodies pushed together, warm and human.
April May
@AprilMaybeNot
I’m sure there are going to be a lot of questions but first I’ll just say, it’s nice to be back. Here’s a video: youtube.com/watch ?v=U1dirHGODpM
45.8K replies 2.3M retweets 8M likes
Janice Ashby
@PresidentAshby
@AprilMaybeNot My personal relief, and the relief of the nation, at this news is immense. Thank you, as always, for your voice in . . . interesting times.
52K replies 36.9K retweets 658.5K likes
Tyler Oakley
@TylerOakley
@AprilMaybeNot GIRL! Welcome back! Come to LA, old-school collab. Let’s eat weird candy and
