As he assembled the wood, a scream filled the air

CW: Suicide, non-consensual touch, Harry Potter reference

Philip walked up to West Outlook Point. It was a warm and partly cloudy summer day in Wisconsin and his shirt was covered in sweat. The view of Devil’s Lake alone was worth the hike. It was years since he was at the park, and he basked in the beauty of the surroundings, temporarily forgetting the events 22 years ago on the rocky sandstone ledge. He was twenty minutes early for the rendezvous.

22 years ago

Philip was organizing his gear at the campsite. It was late afternoon and it was time to prep the fire for dinner. This was the last night of the annual neighborhood camping adventure — considering the number of kids who just graduated high school, this may truly be the last meal they will ever have together.

As he assembled the wood, a scream filled the air — well something between a scream and a heightened yell — from the adjacent campsite. Although he never heard the sound before he knew from the pitch and timber that the sound could only have come from one person.

Rachel.

His thoughts flew to the not-uncommon bear sightings in the area. He looked over to the campsite and saw her family standing idly by — everyone that is, except Rachel. Rachel was running, at full force, into the forest, up the yellow trail. No one was following her and she was not looking back.

Philip instinctively ran after her. He had no idea what had happened, but he knew he had to follow her. He knew that Rachel, in her frantic state, would be much faster than him, but he also knew exactly where she was going.

The rocky outlook was in full afternoon sun, and it was clear to the other side of the lake. Rachel, clad in a yellow buttoned short-sleeve summer shirt and matching shorts, was huddled into a ball at the edge of the clearing, adjacent to short scrub brush. He ran to her.

“Rachel… talk to me! What’s wrong”

“It didn’t go well. They hate me. Dad said I was disgusting. Mom told me to leave”

“What… what?”

“I told them… I told them I was gay” She responded intermittently between erratic breaths.

“Oh shit” Philip responded, taken completely off-guard. Her queerness was no surprise — they talked many times before — but to bring it up to her family on the annual camping trip…

“I’m done… I’m done! I can’t live this way anymore.”

“Hold on here, Rachel. Let’s calm down a bit.”

She looked at him in an odd way he never saw before and oddly smiled. “You remember how we always wished we could fly?” She rose to her feet.

“Rachel, no. RACHEL NO!” Philip yelled, quickly regaining his balance.

Rachel darted to the rocky precipice. Philip instinctively, in Matrix-like fashion, tackled her just before the drop off, grabbing her by the waist, rotating her away from the cliff and using his weight to throw her to the ground. A textbook linebacker tackle of a squirrely receiver, just as he was trained on the JV squad.

Rachel’s head bounced off the sandstone surface. She remained conscious, groggy, but yet forceful. Philip kept his weight on her, fearful of what she would do if he relented.

“I want to fly Philip! I want to fly! Let me fly!” Her voice was cracking as he could feel her energy dissipate.

Philip pinned her arms down over her head. Although in an awkward and suggestive state, he hoped that someone would have heard the commotion and come running and find them — he needed someone else to help him — but no one came.

“Rachel, this is going to get better.” He started in a low but hurried voice.

“No one believes in me. No one loves me.” She responded.

“I believe in you” came the response. Philip nudged her head to establish direct eye contact; “I love you”.

The statement stilled the air. Philip knew that it came from a place of exasperation, but he also knew the word ‘love’ had a different connotation with him, as opposed to most other people. He hoped beyond hope the phrase would be taken in the correct light, as an expression of close friendship and not as a romantic overture.

He guessed wrong, as Rachel jerked her left wrist free and pulled his head down to his face and kissed him passionately. The actions were all-so-sudden that it was three or four seconds of her lips prying his open that he pulled his head and torso up and quickly dismounted. Freaked out by the entire episode, he looked away, displaying no emotion.

Rachel flipped over and rose to her knees, the manic episode having passed. She moved toward him and they hugged each other for a long time.

Current Day

Rachel was perched on the boulder, her legs dangling over the steep rock cliff. Her eyes were closed, head raised, arms supporting her reclined position; she was basking in the afternoon sun, clad in a yellow tank top and white shorts. Her skin was darker and her chestnut brown hair was shorter than he remembered.

As he approached, Rachel turned toward him and produced a large and genuine smile.

“Hi stranger!” she exclaimed, jumping up, embracing him. “I’m so happy you came!”

“Of course I would come. It’s your big 4–0 and I haven’t seen you in so long” was his reply. She seemed thinner than he remembered.

“Come over here and sit. You can see the campground from here — and that little waterfall… remember that night we swam naked?” She added, with the enthusiasm of a school girl.

“It’s nice to see you in a such a nice mood.” Philip said.

“It’s so good to see you,” she replied, keeping hold of his arm.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, taking in the view. Philip was somewhat taken with her mood —considerably different from the last few times they talked.

“Going to camp with us?” She asked.

“Well… I don’t think your friends would appreciate my presence.”

“They’re lesbians, not monsters!” she giggled. “We make exceptions for good friends.”

“I’ll… think about it,” was the reluctant reply.

After a few moments, Rachel broke the awkward silence, “I remember one night we were up here, and I was rambling on endlessly about grass. And not even the fun kind. I was such a nerd… I don’t know why you put up with me.”

Philip smiled, “I loved hearing your passion for whatever you were into. I do remember you going on and on about fescue… Festuca…”

“Amplissima” Rachel finished. “My favorite variety and the name of my favorite spell. Witchcraft and grass, what a combination of interests!”

“You were always Hermione, that’s for sure” Philip responded in a light-hearted tone, laughing.

“And you are a Weasley, but I’m not sure which one” Rachel responded in a playful voice.

The mood shifted as the white fluffy clouds periodically offered shade.

“Say, about the last time we were here together…” she took a deep breath- “I never thanked you… Thank you.”

“You needed a friend and I’m your friend. It’s part of the agreement,” Philip responded, reluctantly reliving that day.

“You literally stopped me from jumping off this cliff. It was undoubtedly the worse day of my life.”

“Your parents were in the wrong. They reacted poorly.”

“I don’t know what was a worse choice, coming out to my family, or coming out on the freaking camping trip. Regardless, if you hadn’t done what you done, I wouldn’t be here now. I owe everything to you.”

“You’re welcome… I guess.” Philip rubbed his neck, one of his nervous twitches. He did not question what he said that night, but was still unsettled about the incident.

She turned her head towards him and smiled.

“There’s something else I want to ask you.”

“Yeah, shoot.”

“When we were teenagers, I could attract every guy around. Steve, Cooper, Mason, and even that guy who thought he was Prince.”

“You did have a talent, that was for sure.”

“But not you. No matter what I tried, or hinted… you never took the bait.”

“Um… sorry?”

“You were my best friend, my confidante. We grew up together. We swam naked together as kids. I was convinced that either you didn’t like the mole on my neck or you were gay, and my money was on the latter.”

Philip rubbed his neck yet again and tossed his hair backwards, trying not to display his discomfort. “I just wanted to be your friend. And I wanted you to be my friend, not discarded as yet another ex.”

“What made you think I would discard you?” She replied pointedly.

“Well, you being gay for one. And two, I didn’t think of you in that way.”

“You were a teenage boy. It was physically impossible to ‘not think of me in that way’,” Her fingers made air quotes.

“Well, I was obviously not very good at being a teenage boy.”

“I was heartbroken when you started dating Melissa. I’ve never felt so jealous before or since.”

“It didn’t take.” Philip responded quietly. “But the ‘you being gay’ thing doesn’t factor into this somehow?”

Rachel’s breathing became erratic and she started crying. “I’m not gay or straight… I may be both or I may be neither.” She continued, “I’m equally bad at both — the only thing I can definitely say is I’m alone.”

“You still have a friend here… And plenty back at the campground.”

“Yeah… I’m with them out of habit. I only came here with the hope you would show up.”

“What?”

“I want you back,” Rachel said in a neutral voice. Philip was about to respond but Rachel cut him off. “Don’t say anything but hear me out. I’m 40 and I can say I’ve been in a lot of relationships. And most ended in the same manner — with me crying on the phone to YOU. And each time YOU would be supportive and believe in me — even when I didn’t believe in me.” She started crying and fell into Philip’s arms. “That’s what I need more than anything else in my life.”

Rachel’s pitch did little to sway Philip.

She continued, “I’ve been looking my whole life for love — I looked at men, at women, at people who were neither or a combination of both. And I’ve come up empty. every. single. time. I’m broken and they stopped making parts years ago.”

Philip attempted to lighten the mood. “For one, you need to improve your sales pitch.”

She moved within inches of Philip’s face and stared directly in his eyes. “I’m serious. I. Love. You. Philip.”

Her admission did little to sway Philip. He was happy with his life, albeit a single life. His utopia was in savoring close friendships, and his bane was when each of those friendships would inevitably lead to sex.

Philip responded by shaking his head, “I want you as a friend, Rachel. Relationships involving sex don’t end well for either of us.”

“Why don’t you want to have sex with me? We were thick as thieves when we were in high school. We’ve been phone and internet buddies off and on since. What is wrong with me? Why does the only person in this world who believes in me not want me?”

With that Philip sat down, concentrating his stare on the rocks on the opposite side of the lake. He started “I’m not like other men…”

Rachel had been walking the fine line between understanding and angry. Her body language clearly indicated she was done with the understanding part.

“Bullshit Philip. You’re not gay. You’re a hot-blooded straight man. It’s impossible for you not to crave sex”

“Just because I’m not gay doesn’t mean I’m craving sex, want sex, or want that kind of relationship.”

Rachel continued, “Don’t you feel anything for me? I mean you came all that way to be here today. Obviously to see me, unless you’re into random lesbians.”

“I very much wish to be your friend. A close friend. A very close friend. Someone you call up in the middle of night when you’re crying. Someone you vent your frustrations to and someone who you share your secrets, and vice versa. From my experience sex does nothing but screw that up… I fear I will lose you completely.”

Philip very much felt less of a man. Always did. The overwhelming carnal craving absent, lest he was a woman in that regard. He was able, and had done the act many times, but it seemed perfunctory, a stop on the roadmap to loss and heartache. The only friends he had in life were those with which he did not have sex.

And moreover, from his vantagepoint, sex was often not associated with intimacy, as he once discovered with a classmate named Julie. Twelve minutes in an unlocked closet in the biology building between classes. Twelve minutes preceded by nothing more than a mutual gaze from across a crowded lecture hall — why he looked at her and why she returned the stare remained a mystery.

They sat in silence for a while staring to the rock formation across the lake.

She smiled at him and rubbed his hand. “Philip, I understand”. She flashed a reassuring smile as their eyes met. “Let me spend a few minutes here alone with the wind and I’ll meet you back at the campground.”

Philip looked intently at her eyes, the incident 22 years ago still fresh in his mind. “You sure?”

Her continued smile alleviated his fears. Philip rose to his feet and quietly walked away. Twenty seconds later he heard her yell to him.

“Hey, you know I never told you what the ‘Fescue Amplissima’ spell was for.”

“Ok, I’ll bite. What?”

“It was my magic attraction spell. Pretty successful if I say so myself.”

“Nice.” Philip smiled, turned his back and started back down the cliff.

After a minute on the switchback, he heard Rachel yelling from above.

“Hey Philip”, causing Philip to turn in response.

“Fescue Amplissima!” She yelled in a high-pitched voice, waving a stick at him.

Philip turned and looked upwards toward her. Something inside of him clicked, causing him to smile. He proceeded on the path down the hill.

To be continued.

— CJ Nova ❤️

Note: This story was the result of one of many flittering musings I have when I ponder the intersectionality of gender, sexuality, love, and friendship. As is true with any of my fiction stories, these characters are loosely based on people from my life, and on heartfelt conversations with those I hold dear.

A straight man who rebuts advances from a desirable woman is relatively rare in our society, and often dismissed as an aberration. If genders in this story were reversed, if a man was emotionally coercing sex from a woman, it would, unfortunately, be cliché. But yet Philip deserves respect and be understood in his context.

I can only hope that the zeitgeist continues its slow arc toward sexual liberation and everyone is given room to explore their own sexuality on their own terms, regardless of where on the gender spectrum they may reside or be headed.

Festuca Amplissima (An Asexual Short Fiction Story) was originally published in Trans Love & (A)Sexuality (Archives) on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.