‘Sometimes,’ it said, ‘you try really hard and it’s not enough. You put in all you’ve got and you still never get where you thought you were meant to be. But at least you tried. Some people never try. They resign themselves to bamboozling monks and devouring maidens for all eternity.’
‘Doesn’t sound like a bad life,’ said Leslie, with another of those ragged laughs. But she kissed Byam’s shoulder, to show that she didn’t think the life of a wicked imugi had any real appeal.
After she cried some more, she said, ‘Is it worth it? The trying, I mean.’
Byam had to be honest. The only thing that could have made falling worse was if someone had tried to convince Byam it hadn’t sucked.
‘I don’t know,’ it said.
It could see the night sky through the windows. Usually the lights and pollution of the city blanked out the sky, but tonight there was a single star shining, like the cintamani did sometimes in Byam’s dreams.
‘Maybe,’ said Byam.
Leslie said, ‘Why aren’t you trying to become a dragon?’
Byam froze. ‘What?’
Leslie wriggled out of its arms and turned to face it. ‘Tell me you’re still working towards it and I’ll shut up.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Byam, terrified. ‘I’m a celestial fairy. What do dragons have to do with anything? They are far too noble and important to have anything to say to a lowly spirit like me.’
‘Byam, I know you’re not a celestial fairy.’
‘No, I am, I—’ But Byam swallowed its denials at the look on Leslie’s face. ‘What gave it away?’
‘I don’t know much about celestial fairies,’ said Leslie. ‘But I’m pretty sure they don’t talk about eating senior professors.’
Byam gave her a look of reproach. ‘I was trying to be helpful!’
‘It wasn’t just that—’
‘Have you told Jean and Eun-hye?’ Byam bethought itself of the other important person in their lives. ‘Did you tell the cat, is that why it doesn’t like me?’
‘I’ve told you, I can’t actually talk to the cat,’ said Leslie, which was a blatant lie because she did it all the time, though it was true they had strange conversations, invariably at cross-purposes. ‘I haven’t told anyone. But I couldn’t live with you for years and not know, Byam, I’m not completely stupid. I was hoping you’d become comfortable enough to tell me yourself.’
Byam’s palms were damp. ‘Tell you what? “Oh yeah, Les, I should’ve mentioned, I’m not an exquisite fairy descended from heaven like you always thought. Actually I’m one of the eternal losers of the unseen world. Hope that’s OK!”’
‘Hey, forgive me for trying to be sensitive!’ snapped Leslie. ‘I don’t care what you are, Byam. I know who you are. That’s all that matters to me.’
‘Who I am?’ said Byam. It was like a rock had lodged inside its throat. It was hard to speak past it. ‘An imugi, you mean. An earthworm with a dream.’
‘An imugi changed my life,’ said Leslie. ‘Don’t talk them down.’
Though it was incredible, it seemed it was true that she didn’t mind, wasn’t about to dump Byam for being the embodiment of pathetic failure.
‘I just wish you’d trusted me,’ she said.
Her eyes were tender and worried and red. They reminded Byam that it was Leslie who had just come crashing down to earth.
Byam clasped its hands to keep them from shaking. It took a deep breath. ‘I’m not a very good girlfriend.’
Leslie understood what it was trying to say. She put her arm around Byam.
‘Sometimes,’ she said. ‘Mostly you do OK.’
‘I didn’t make a good imugi either,’ said Byam. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t like the name. This, I didn’t want you to know.’
‘Why not?’
‘If you’re an imugi, everyone knows you’ve failed,’ explained Byam. ‘It’s like wearing a sign all the time saying “I’ve been denied tenure”.’
This was a bad comparison to make. Leslie flinched.
‘Sorry,’ said Byam. It paused. ‘It hurts. Knowing it wasn’t enough, even when you gave it the best of yourself. But you get over it.’
You get used to being a failure. It was too early to tell her that. Maybe Leslie would be lucky. Maybe she’d never have the chance to get used to it.
Leslie looked like she was thinking of saying something, but she changed her mind. She squeezed Byam’s knee.
‘I’m thinking of going into industry,’ said Leslie.
Byam had no idea what this meant.
‘You would be great at that,’ it said, meaning it.
*
It turned out Byam was right. Leslie was great at working in industry, and it meant they could move into a bigger place, near Leslie’s sister. This worked out well – after Jean’s divorce they helped out with Eun-hye, who perplexed Byam by declaring it her favourite aunt.
A mere ten years after Leslie had been denied tenure, she was saying it had been a blessing in disguise. ‘I would never have known there was a world outside academia.’
They had stopped talking about dragons by then. At first Leslie had had a fixation on them.
‘I’m fixated?’ she said. ‘You’re the one who worked for thousands of years—’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Byam said. When this didn’t work it simply started vanishing whenever Leslie brought it up. Eventually she stopped.
Over time she seemed to forget what Byam really was. Even Byam started to forget. When Leslie found her first white hair, it grew a few too, to make her feel better. Wrinkles were more challenging: it could never seem to get quite the right number. (‘You look like a sage,’ said Leslie when she was done laughing at its first attempt. ‘I’m only forty-eight!’)
Byam’s former life receded into insignificance, the thwarted yearning of its earlier days nearly effaced.
The years went by quickly.
*
Leslie didn’t talk much these days. It tired her, as everything tired her. She spent most of her time asleep, the rest looking out of the window. She didn’t often tell Byam what was going through her head.
It was a surprise when she said, without precursor:
‘Why does the
