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jessequinones · 23 days

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Stop Using Slurs in Children Stories!

I bet that caught your attention. You might be thinking, what stories use the N-word, or the F-word, well...none that I found. However, there are two slur words that are often used in writing mainly in children's literature because I don’t think enough people know them to be slurs. Those words are cripple and savage.

Before I begin, I need to address a few things. First, I'll only use these words in full for educational purposes so nothing gets confusing. Secondly, I’m not hating on any of these authors. I genuinely think these people might not know cripple and savage are slurs. However, I still need examples of what I’m talking about to explain how common these words are used in writing as well as explaining why it’s a bad idea to use them, so I’m using these authors, not as targets but as examples based on the books I have.

Both of these words (cripple and savage) have a lot of history behind them, and while I strongly suggest, not using them, if for some reason, they have to be used, you need to hire a sensitivity reader who’s a part of the communities that has been affected by said words before you publish your story.

Cripple:

Before I begin, please understand I’ve consulted with a disabled person who’s well knowledgeable in this topic to help smooth out my points. I’m not apart of the physically disabled community. As I’ve been told there’s a big debate going on within the disabled community in regards to if mental disabled people are allowed to use the word cripple or not. This is beyond my understanding of the word, and the community so when I mention the word cripple, I’ll be referring it to the physical disabled community and not the mental one. Everything I’m about to say has already been said by the physically disabled community. I’m not adding anything new or talking over them. If you would like to know more about the language of disability, please read Cy-Cyborg’s article on the matter: https://writingwithcycyborg.blogspot.com/2024/02/LanguageOfDisability.html

Cripple is a world that’s defined one of three ways, to either describe someone who can’t function properly, to describe a situation that’s overwhelming, or to describe an object that isn’t working.

Example one: DragonFire: Sphere of Eternity (book 1)

“I mean, this morning, no offence, you were crippled.” (Describing a person.)

Example two: “The economy was crippled.” (Describing a situation)

Example three: DragonFire: Age of Legend (book 3) (describing an object)

The word cripple, even when it was used in a medical sense has always been a word to punch down and insult the physically disabled community. It was used to attack them and point out their disabilities. It became a common replacement for the word injured because it has a more of a punch. Instead of calling someone “severely injured” use cripple instead, it’s shorter and a lot punchier of a word. Over time it became part of normal vocabulary to use it while describing something as severe, despite it still being used as an insult at the same time. Let’s look at an example of how it’s being used to describe an injury in Robert Vane's A Dragons Chains: Book one of the Remembered War

“I moved my three non-crippled legs…” In this example, the dragon has an injured leg. Why did the author use the word cripple instead of injured? I think it’s because of shock value. Is it cheap shock value? Yes, but shock value for the reader is still shock value. Tell me, what’s the difference would be if the author replaced the word cripple with injured? “I moved my three non-injured legs...” Does using the word cripple add to the sense of urgency? Add to the sense of how injured that character's leg is? Or was it merely just a place for shock value?

But how often is this word used? Let’s take a quick look at the DragonFire series. There are currently four books in this series at the time of writing, and the word crippled is used twelve times throughout four books. Knowing it’s a slur...that’s a lot.

Some of the examples in which it was used are in things such as DragonFire: Fallen Star (book 2) where it reads:

“...he yelled, his scythed tail coiling round, only for the far less crippled dragon to kick him off.” DragonFire: Order of Enishra (book 4)

It’s not just the DragonFire series which does this, other examples include, The Last Monster on Earth by LJ Davies

Which uses it four times in one book with examples such as “Lock these two in the truck with the cripple…”

Warriors: Forest of Secrets (book 3) has this line. “As Fireheart said goodbye to Yellowfang and went back to hunting, he felt a new surge of determination to bring Tigerclaw’s guilt into the open. For the sake of Redtail, murdered; for Ravenpaw, driven from the Clan; for Cinderpaw, crippled...”

And even Wings of Fire, one of my favourite book series uses it.

Here’s a question for you. Is it ok to use that word if the impact is meant to be insulting? In the Wings of Fire example, Queen Scarlet defeats Dune in combat, and is about to kidnap the main characters. Dune, still breathing can barley move upon which Scarlet killed him. Scarlet is one of those pure evil types of characters, this is something I could see her saying, but let’s take a step back and put your eyes in the eyes of a disabled child.

Here you are, a disabled child. You already know what the word cripple is, and it’s been used against you (don’t act like this doesn’t happen). You read Wings of Fire and you come across that sentence. What is the intent behind that sentence in the eyes of a disabled child? Are you supposed to be scared of Scarlet? Angry? Or are you upset, because even in a fantasy book with talking dragons, you can’t escape from real life or that word?

Some of you might say, “What if only the villains use that word?” While I can see Queen Scarlet calling Peril a stupid retarded motherfucker. It’s not something you want in a children's story, so why does cripple get a past?

I hope you’re getting the picture, it’s a very commonly used word, one which the disabled community has begged able-bodied people not to use. The word injured gets the same point across and it doesn’t have a history of it being a derogatory term. While replacing the word cripple with injured or severely injured isn’t a perfect fix, it’s at least getting rid of the other word which is a start at least.

Now before I continue with the other slur, I can hear some of you say you’re aware disabled people are using cripple to describe themselves. Why can’t able-bodied people use it? Here’s the thing. Not everyone in the disabled community is doing this, and it’s not a monolith. The word cripple has been used as an attack against the disabled community for decades. It targets them, puts them down, and it’s only used against them. You only use the term to refer to something as injured so there's no reason to use it on an able-bodied person. The community in which it was used against is taking that word and trying to empower it amongst themselves. You’re not gonna complain if someone who’s black uses the N-word, so why are you upset when disabled people use the word cripple to describe themselves but are saying you can’t? That word belongs to them and their community, not yours. Also, one more thing before I go, not everyone in the disabled community uses this word or wants to hear it. There have been plenty of disabled people who are fine using that word to describe themselves but won’t say it around others if other disabled people express they don’t want to hear it. So be mindful if you’re gonna use it and please hire a sensitivity reader.

Savage:

This word...I have a lot of history with it because it’s a word that’s used against my community, (indigenous) people. And yet, just like the word cripple, it’s used all the time and while it’s a very common occurrence where indigenous voices aren’t heard, we’ve been telling everyone to just drop this word. Unlike the word cripple, we aren’t trying to claim this word, we just want it gone.

The definition of this word is an easy one to understand. It’s to describe a person, object, or an action as barbaric, wild, aggressive, unintelligent, or barely even human.

Example one: “They’re savages, savages, barely even human” Disney, Pocahontas (1995). (Used against people)

Example two:DragonFire: Age of Legend (book 3) by LJ Davies

“I opened my muzzled to respond, but another savage roar drew our attention…” (Used as an action)

Example three:

(Used against a group of people)

Example four: “Savage weaponry” (Use to describe an object)

I’m gonna be using the series DragonFire a lot for my examples, because out of all the books I got, that series uses the word 19 times throughout books one, two, and three. It was used twelve times in book three and I guess someone told LJ Davies about this problem because it doesn’t appear in book four. But it DOES appear in the spin-off series “Tales of DragonFire: Rebellion” twice, and THIRTEEN TIMES in “The Last Monster on Earth”. Overall, that's THIRTY-FOUR TIMES in the course of five books, all meant for children.

LJ Davies isn’t my only example. Chester Young, used it nine times throughout books 1 and 2 of the Celestial Heir books Rowan Silver, used it once in Eyes of Silver: Dragons and Skylines (book 2) And Robert Vane, used it once in the Remembered War series in book 4

Let’s start by showing off some examples and the impact they have and please note, that this might be something you’re just not experienced with. So just like with the disabled child, try to imagine yourself as an indigenous child. You’re fully aware of the word savage, it’s been used against you, and your people. So when you read a text like “Trade with the savages...they wouldn’t understand the concept!”

It feels awfully familiar to lines you read in your history books about your people. Keep in mind, that you wanted to read a story about dragons so you could get away from real life.

(From the Last Monster on Earth by LJ Davies)

I know the United States called the Native Americans savage monsters while stealing their land, it was used as a way to justify their actions, make the natives appear barley even human or in most cases, not human at all, let’s not forget, for a good majority of the building of the United States, those founding fathers didn’t see anyone other than themselves as humans. Reading text, asking how people became savage monsters overnight should remind you how people labelled indigenous people in the past and still do today.

"To confirm the princess’s words, yes, there is an army out there whose numbers vastly exceed our own. Nevertheless, they are a crude mockery of the noble kind they once were, and they are now nothing but savages….There was a series of grunts and nods at that statement...” (DragonFire: Age of Legend, book 3)

I think, this text is a great example of what I’ve been trying to say. In this text, the character who is speaking and the grunts and nods are all dragons with human-like intelligence. They're a stand-in for us. The Elder (who spoke in said text) has been seen and viewed as one of the good guys. He calls his kind noble, and he’s working with a princess, (let’s not forget our history books on how the royal family treated indigenous people). He calls his attackers “nothing but savages”. In translation, their monsters, who are no longer noble or righteous. There’s an agreement with his statement, as if what he says is right and we should be agreeing with him.

In that sentence, understanding everyone is of human intelligence and is a stand-in for humans. We have an old white knight, calling the enemy savages while the royal family are the heroes who are trying to protect their land from those filthy, disgusting, savages. You can kind of see why I’m saying we really shouldn’t be using this word.

“Yellowfang will be allowed to stay here until she has recovered her strength. We are warriors, not savages…” Warriors: Into the Wild (book 1)

Savages...indigenous people, they aren’t warriors, they would’ve killed Yellowfang, and left her to rot in the wilds, Thunderclan is better than those monsters. Am I making my point clear enough when it comes to the history of this word, who it’s targeted against and how it comes across when reading in children's media?

You might’ve noticed I’ve mainly been using examples when it refers to a group of people, not necessarily showing off how commonly it’s used as either an action or an object because honestly...those are just kind of dumb. A savage roar? What does that mean?

Ah yes, because we really needed the use of the word “savagely” to get the point across that Misuk just destroyed a person's skull. The “turning his head into a bloody pulp” wasn’t enough on its own. Without the use of the word savagely how else could we get the aggression and power across? When savage is used as an action it’s mostly because said character loses control of their humanity. They become savage when they attack and the end result is a bloody mess because that’s the only way indigenous, I mean, monsters, I mean barbarians, I mean savage people know how to fight. You often see these kinds of moments when the good guy who’d never hurt a fly loses control and unleashes hell, they turn into something that’s not themselves, they turned into a savage and these moments are meant to be shown as shocking as the character forgets who they are for a couple of seconds.

Indigenous people were savages, with savage strength, and a savage kind of culture. They scalp people, beat them to a bloody pulp, and ate your children. Those monsters needed to be killed. Whenever you use the word savage, it circles back to a group of minorities who were just trying to survive. This word has been used so much, that I don’t think many people realise the history behind it, which is why I said I’m not hating anyone who uses it, but please try to get a sensitivity reader. Get disabled and indigenous sensitivity readers, even if there’s no indigenous or disabled representation in your books, the words you use, still affect us and it’s a good thing to be aware of the words of which you speak and write.

Please be aware of these words, especially if you’re writing stories meant for children because the more children see these words, the more normal they’ll think it is and the more often they’ll start repeating it. I think there’s a time and place for these words, but saying them as an excuse to make something more shocking, isn’t the time or place.

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simon-x-billy · 2 years

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Simon x Billy

Chapter 10: Let the slings and arrows commence

TW: Whump, drunkenness, a minor appearance of weed, cringey Irishisms, huge blank spaces you’re not certain are intentional.

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——-/Billy/——-

“This place sucks for scandalous road sex,” Simon declares. “The scenic overlooks keep getting looked-over. And there’s nowhere to, like, run into the trees, or behind a bush or something.”

“Behind a bush?”

“I’m speaking figuratively. Or metaphorically. Whatever. That’s not the point.”

“No? Seems to me that’d be precisely the point.”

“Don’t distract me with your distractions, Delaney. I mean, even the Jersey Turnpike has rest areas and truck stops.”

“Are you saying that you prefer this Jersey…thing?”

“Jersey Turnpike,” he says, as if it’s obvious.

“Whatever. You prefer the roads in this Jersey place over the Amalfi Coast?”

“Only for scandalous road sex,” he answers.

“So you’ve made a study of this sort of thing, have you.”

“No, but I’m willing to start.”

“If you could see yer face, mate. You look like yer salivatin.” I mean, who am I to stop the man gettin an eyeful?

“Bother you?”

Simon, you sly dog. “Who am I to stop yer man gettin an eyeful?”

He’s staring at my bits without a lick of shame. “An eyefull as fuck.” And that shuts me mouth right the fuck up. But it’s grinning.

——-/Simon/——-

“Absolutely not! No fucking way! Don’t even think I’m caving on this, Kelly.” To truly drive home the point, I’m angry-pointing at her as if she can actually see it.

“Johnny wants a meeting. And you want to hear this, Simon. Serious,” she emphasizes in that ‘English’ accent it took me years to understand. “Wear a suit, yeah?”

“Why does it have to be in person? And who wears suits?” Nuh-uh. Nope. No way. This can’t be happening. “Can’t we just FaceTime or whatever?”

“Simun. It’s important. And besides, you’re on a fuckin panel. And you fuckin forgot. Because you’re a twat.”

“Oh my god, when is it?” Then, “Fuck! Shit!” I’ve dropped my phone scrambling to pull up my calendar. “Grrrrrraarrrrr!”

What? It felt like something to roar over.

Kelly interrupts my roar. “Panel’s Thursday morning, be there half nine, yeah? But you got less than twenty four hours to get to Johnny’s meeting.”

“What?! Kelly! What the fuck!”

“The fuck is this, dickhead: The panel’s on your schedule. You’re the one who said yes. You’re the one who’s suddenly back in Italy — for a week — with no call! Until you want in to a party. A party in another fuckin country, you prick! Why are you back in ITALY!!! I am so fucked off at you right now.”

“Well, I’m fucked off at you right now, too! Whatever that means, I mean it. Even though everything you just said is right. God I hate that!”

“God I hate you! Such a dickhead. When’d you plan on coming back to me?”

She loves me. See? Even when she hates me. Even in that barely intelligible, supposedly-English accent.

Everyone I care about says horrible words to me as a habit, and it makes me feel loved? There’s gotta be something seriously wrong with me.

“Do I even rate a visit?” she demands.

See? She loves me. Angrily.

The phone vibrates against my face.

“Aw, hell. I’ve got another call. And I totally don’t want to talk to him, either. Sort of like how I didn’t want to talk to you, my own personal pet harpy. Text me everything, like you already planned to, whatever bye.”

I take a calming breath. I really, really don’t want this call right now.

Ugh.

“Chase. It’s been a minute.”

“I know, feels like a year, man,” he exclaims jovially. He’s jovial. Fuck him. “But don’t worry about it, I get it. You’ve been with Lisa. I’ve been with Lily. We’ve all succumbed to the ‘practically married’ lure of contentment and hibernation.”

“Inaccurate. You fell into domesticity. But me? There was never any domesticity to fall into. And Chase? Never speak her name to me again.”

“Wait, what?”

“Like I said, it’s been a minute,” I say, voice flat.

“What happened? Fuck man, I’m-” He pauses. “Hang out with me tonight. We have shit to catch up on.”

“You think?” I’ve just realized I don’t want to tell him a damned thing. And anyway, “I can’t tonight.” He doesn’t get details or explanations about why after blowing me off for a year.

And the thing that really pisses me off is that I love Lily! Always have. He knows this. It’s not like I didn’t want to hang out with them as a couple, and they know that. Because I fuckin introduced the pair of them! They just disappeared off the face of the earth. When I really needed my best friend. I am so pissed at him right now, it might just be the last nail in the coffin of my happy day. “Look Chase, I gotta go.”

“No, wait! I-“

“Later bro.”

I don't want to leave Italy!!! I DON’T! WANT! TO LEAVE! ITALY!

“Arrrrrgh!” I turn to Billy, “Can we put that song back on and put the top down? I really need to want to be me too again.”

This doesn’t get to ruin the most awesome day of my adulthood.

Um.

Wow.

Is that an overstatement?

I literally can’t remember the last time I felt so good, so positive, so yes!!! It just feels right. God, does it feel right. I don’t know how to process my reaction to this thing that’s happened with Billy. Best day I can remember? That’s some fucking heavy shit.

“What’s all this, mate?” Billy hesitantly asks. “Who are these people and why?”

“My agent wants a meeting. In person. Wants me to come back. Johnny doesn’t usually need a face-to-face, and wearing a suit? I’m somewhere between suspicious and intrigued.”

“Sounds uncomfortable.”

“And the worst part? I literally forgot about NY Comic Con. I always cosplay Comic Con. It’s the only time I ever get to be a vampire. And even more worst? I forgot I’m on a panel, and that’s just irresponsible. That’s my career.”

“Oh, right.”

What’s going on with his voice?

“Right. And now Chase remembers I exist after like a year of silence. And all I can feel about it is pissed. I want my happy vibe back,” and the moment I take a breath, “Shitfuckfuckinfuck!!!” because the phone’s vibrating again. “What the actual fuck?!” I ask the Medi/Tyrrhenian sky.

With no answer from that quarter, I turn on Kelly. “Kelly, what the fuck.”

“Shut up and listen, you dick. I’ve chartered a jet from Naples. You’re coming home.”

——-/-/——-

She hung up on me! “I don’t-” I drop my head back against the head rest and roar “FUUUCK!” at the Medi/Tyrrhenian sky.

“That’s a lot of fucking,” Billy says, unhelpfully. “Right, one empowering pop song it is. So sayin if I was you, I’d want to be me, too, would that help?”

“Aw, how sweet. And yes, I want to be you too cuz you don’t have to be me and leave.”

The song coming on halts my grumbling. He nudges my arm. “What do you need, Simon? What can I do?”

“Damn, that’s- Why do you have to be so awesome all the time? So annoying.”

“Simon, you barely know me.”

I feel like I’ve just been slapped in the face by his seriousness.

“That’s not true,” I say, softly.

“No, hang on, hold up, that came out wrong.” He squeezes my hand. “You haven’t known me long enough to see my bad bits. That’s all I meant.”

“Ok. That’s accurate, I guess.”

“So what do you need?” he asks again.

“Long term parking at the airport. Is that a thing that exists here?” I ask.

And because he’s aiming for perfection, he replies, “Let me drive yeh.”

“That’s way too much to ask. We’re almost home.” The word ‘home’ just kinda rings out, hanging there in the fresh silence.

A few minutes later, Billy pulls off into the hotel’s courtyard, makes a big u turn, and asks, “Want to run in and get your stuff?”

“Nah. Let’s just go,” I sigh. “Walking into that room? I’d never want to leave.” And I really don’t want to lose a minute of this absolute rush of a crush I’ve got on this guy, and the high of actually getting to have him.

That is, getting to have him for all of a hot second, at most. I mean, seriously, what the hell? God just punched me in the nads with fate.

——-/-/——-

“I can’t believe how completely I forgot about Comic Con. That’s like, I mean, it’s kinda part of my bones. My frickin identity. Happiness that sort of mushrooms up into the atmosphere over the Javitz Center at the same time every year. My very bones should have been screaming at me really loudly to remind me. And I just didn’t hear them this time.”

He nods once. The vibe in the car turns weird.

So that’s an obvious cue to start babbling.

“Yeah. I feel like there is zero reason for them to want me up there on a panel. They said they want a voice young people like to hear. Something about being confident enough, to find an agent, a publishing deal, blah blah blah. I dunno, maybe it kinda makes sense, kinda. I’m supposed to talk about what it was like getting started so early. Pfff. Like it’s my job to convince them all to be graphic novelists or some shit. Which in itself makes no sense. I am not a graphic novelist. My books have only ever been prosaic.

“And they want me being real-me on a stage with a microphone, ‘educating’ this community? The community I treasure as my family of choice, even if they’re all strangers. My esteemed fellow aliens, vampires, a gratuitous number of capes per capita in attendance. Hardcore Horus Heresy with chainswords and shit. I AM VAMPIRE HUNTER D, FOR GOD’S SAKE!!! I feel like a fraud.”

I do love this next fantasy: “I mean I would totally almost-kill to have somebody turn them into graphic novels. And even more almost-murdering for manga.” I shiver, theatrically. Then it occurs to me, “Oh my god, I’m a character. Holy fucking shit, can you imagine a manga me??? That’s just fucked up!” I reprise my theatrical shiver. Instead of jumping and clapping, which is what I really want to do.

“Mmm,” is all I get back.

Now all I can think about is this weird, sour pall hanging over everything. In the car at least. I think it would be impossible for the Amalfi Coast to have a pall. Except when Vesuvius erupts. Obviously. That’s a big, hot, body-melting pall. (So? I’m scared of volcanoes, I’m not ashamed.)

Oh please, stop my brain from trying to fill the awkward silence growing between the two of us. It feels horrible and I want it to go away.

Oh God, I can feel it coming, the babbling turning into incessant nervous chatter. It’s somewhere between word vomit and lactose intolerance. Sentences become explosive diarrhea of the brain, and particularly unpleasant word-gas that lingers with a foul smell. Gross? Yeah, gross.

“Yeah, and I have to find out how badly Johnny wants to kill me right now. Oh my god. Two of the people who hate/love me most in the world. And I have to see them both this week. There will be blood. Lots of it. Mine. More-“

“This week,” Billy intrudes on the incessant chattering.

“Yeah, this sucks! Worst timing ever. Why doesn’t God want me to get laid?”

Billy doesn’t laugh like I’d hoped. Instead, he’s gone all stiff. Definitely something I said. His grip tightens on Lola’s steering wheel. This is weird. Why is he being so weird? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be anything but gregarious and positive. Now he’s just kind of gone invisible on me. Blank. Like he’s not even there.

“I’ll have Leo mail your things back to yeh,” he offers.

Huh?

Why?

“Huh? Why? I’m confused. If anything, I’ve needed more stuff, not less.”

“Well, if yer leaving…..And yeh have to…..” and he just sort of trails off at the end. Then after a beat, he mumbles to himself. “I should have known.” The mumbles turn to grumbles. “Never fails. Never fuckin fails.”

“I know, right? Murphy’s Law.” Then it occurs to me, “Murphy must have been Irish. And stout.”

He doesn’t take the bait.

“Right, well, it’s been really fun, Simon. More than fun. Seems like such an inadequate adjective for, well, you know what I mean.”

“Huh?”

“It’s just- I’m glad I got the chance to know you a bit better, before yeh had to be goin.”

“Oh! Is that what this is? Billy?”

He waits in silence, a look of blank resignation on his face.

“I’m coming back!”

He pauses, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But nothing drops. “You are,” he states, as if I’m about to correct him.

“Of course I am, you idiot! How’d you put it? ‘Thick as pig shit’?”

“You are,” he repeats. Finally he glances over at me. He looks distinctly grey. Not his hair, I mean his face.

Oh frack. I think I really fucked this one up. Fucking Kelly! She gets me all worked up with her bald-faced contempt for my input and ineptitude.

“Billy. Look at me for a sec.”

As he glances over, I say, “I’m coming back. I wouldn’t just run off after what happened. You should at least know me better than that, Delaney. And anyway…” I have a bit more difficulty spitting this one out. “I like y- Us. I like us. You. What happened. I’m-”

Then a horrible thought arrives. “Do- I mean, do you want me to go?” comes out kinda quietly, sounding straight-up cowardly.

“Course not!” he almost bellows.

The fuck? “Hey.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Good,” I say softly.

“Good? What’s good?!” I can see him folding in on himself.

“You don’t want me to go away,” I admit even softer.

“Course not!” he yells once again.

“Hey,” I try again. “Billy, pull over.”

“Where? And anyway, you’d be late for your flight.”

Maybe he really does need reassurance. Who knew such a beautiful man could be bothered by concerns of the ego, just like the rest of us. “Hey. I don’t want to go, ok? Know that, ok?”

“Yeah, ok.” So unconvincing. Maybe he really didn’t go to theatre school.

“Billy! Come back this instant!” I use Ma’s voice, cuz maybe that’ll work on him like it works on me.

“Where do you think I am?”

“Behind your face!” I exclaim.

Tables? Turned.

“Ha. Ha.” He looks annoyed. He’s annoyed with me.

I decide some hand-holding might make a difference. He holds on tight.

I bring his hand to my mouth and brush my lips across the fingers. “I hate when people use this line, but I’m using it anyway. You can’t get rid of me that easy. Takes at least a round of antibiotics to affect that kind of change.”

“Ok,” he whispers.

“You know, maybe it’s a good idea that we have some alone time. I mean, it’s been an insane 24 hours.”

“Yeah,” he answers.

“Maybe we need to process,” I offer.

“Yeah,” he answers.

Wow, his mopes are just as epic as mine. We are going to have to talk about this eventually. Probably.

But for now, “I’m really not psyched about leaving, just so you know. I’d keep you in bed all day and all night, leaving Vittorio in the dark, so you lose your job and have to come back to New York with me. It’s all part of my sinister plot.” I lick his palm and finally get a snort.

“Animal, that’s what you are!” He can’t help cracking a smile.

“What’s this really about?” I ask quietly.

He lets the silence stretch on, but I can tell he’s just formulating an answer.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “When are yeh goin back? Like, leaving-leaving. For real.”

“I dunno, actually. I have thought about it a couple times. But every time, I just banish the thought. It’s a terrible idea. Going home.”

“Why?”

I roll my eyes quietly. “You know why.”

“Oh,” he says, a little pink emerging on his cheeks.

“Oh, what?”

“Just…” His voice is a little bit off, like cracked pavement. It’s been through an ordeal and now it’s got fissures. “…good. I don’t want this to be over the day it started. It’s not enough time.”

“Truth,” I echo. And I decide that, since there will be no quickie, I should scoot a little closer and lick a stripe up his neck.

His nostrils flare as he sucks in a breath. I test the plumpness of an earlobe with my teeth. His hands grip the wheel more tightly, knuckles whitening.

“Simon,” he says in a warning tone. But I just peel one hand off the wheel and suck on a finger. Not something I’ve done a million times before. Just seemed like a good idea.

“Giving me a highway handy is…” He takes a deep breath. “…is just going to get us killed. But sucking on my fingers is good. Go on ahead doin that, if you still feel so inclined.”

I giggle. He sounds full of, um, I guess, affection? And that’s how my chestal region feels. Affection. Affected. But the rest of me is definitely feeling his fingers with my tongue.

——-/Billy/——-

Why is my heart pounding so hard in my chest? It’s…

I literally feel unable to speak at the moment. I’ve barely registered the fact that I've been sat here at the curb with a busy airport in front of me. All I really have in my head is motion and color.

I’m still stuck on the moment Simon walked away. He took my face in both his hands and pressed his forehead to mine, fiercely. We breathed in and out in synchrony. My mind’s been constantly racing around madly, lookin for something concrete to cling to ever since he… And our ferocity clinging to each other, hard. Breathin together.

He could tell something was wrong, which clearly means I have to be better. Try harder. I’m slipping, and that way lies... Depending on people. Countin on ‘em. “You need to be better than that, Delaney. Control yerself, yeh great eejit. Then just breathe. Just breathe.”

A car’s horn sounds behind me, startlin the fuck out of me.

It’s been over twenty minutes since Simon got out the car and walked away. I don’t think taking up prime drive-up is the most considerate thing I could do.

Pullin out.

Red light, Billy, red light. Am I permitted to turn right on red here? I have to pull over again. It’s just

My head feels woolly and I’m staring into space, rather than the road.

“What are yeh playin at, Delaney. Just look at the state of yeh. Mind on the road. Mind on the road!”

And I never even got to kiss him. Find out how he tastes.

Um. “I need a pint.”

I really need a pint.

And someone who speaks the way I do. Kieran, and that’s yer man. Kieran. He’ll pull me a pint while talkin like an Irishman would do.

Pint

Pint, Billy, pint.

A Guinness it’ll be. Sommat thick, sommat a bit like a coffee milkshake had sudsy sex with the darkest of darkest beer.

“Black Rose it is, then,” I sigh the sigh of a thousand parched men.

Dissociation. That’s the term. Disappearing behind yer face a while, starin out into the middle distance. The void. It’ll make a man’s face go slack, leavin him looking forlorn for all the world to see, and none the wiser for it.

I feel heavy. Like I’ve gained a stone in weight and all it wants to do is compress and compress and compress me until I’m naught more than a crushed can of Fosters.

Lady Madonna, children at her feet. (Especially Irish and Italian children, because we’re all catholic.) Maria’s voice has led me to the right place, but she can’t be bothered to make me stand and go in.

My body feels odd. Like it’s only partially awake.

“Guinness.” It’ll fix what ails yeh. Because Guinness is good for you. Truth in advertising! All the vitamins and grains a fella could ever want in a meal. Consider it room temperature barley and hops soup. So thick you could chew it if yeh liked. Oh lord yes.

“Guinness. Motivation.” I’ve parked Lola in holy Maria’s recommended parking zone.

I gots to shake this off. No use dragging others down with me. I tense and release, tense and release until the body wakes up, and I can shake off this… whatever it is I’m feelin at the moment.

“Shake it off, buddy. It’ll be all right. All right? Shake it off. Get yer head in the game.” I even give it a physical try, shaking it off like a dog shrugging off fleas. You can’t really see them, but they’re there and they’ll drive that dog mad with memories. “It’s going to be all right.”

I promise myself it’ll be all right.

Game face.

——-/-/——-

I clear the door, and already Kieran’s callin me over. “Billy! Howeyeh?”

“Couldn’t stay away, mate.” I like this guy. I mean, not in that way. Oh lord, I need a pint. “What’s the craic?”

“The craic is what’s at the bottom of a pint.”

“And what’s at the bottom of a pint?” I’m askin.

“Another pint.”

Laughin, I promise him, “Truer words. I’m gonna borra that, and fair warnin.”

“Free to use as fit to use,” he nods. “You’re one for Budvar, that right?”

“Ta, mate. But fer tonite, a Guinness, and do us a favor, mate. Keep ‘em comin. Don’t let my glass get empty. Just keep ‘em comin til I’ve drunk the lot. It’s been one a them sort a days, d’yeh know what I mean.”

I’m numb. That’s what it is. I recognize it. It’s this sort of blankness. I can’t think clearly, and the clock ticks along too slowly.

I’m hollow. It feels empty here in the space beneath my rib cage. A man cast out of time.

Every good Irishman knows his way around sadness. We give each new sadness its own familiar pet name, inviting it in to sit a spell and make itself comfortable by the fire, spot o tea, givin it a room to sleep in, then devouring and swallowin it down whole.

Right, Delaney. Back in the game, back in the game.

Checkin my reflection in the mirror, I look well enough. I’ve had no comments tossed my way, such as the favourites: “Are you ok?” “What’s wrong?” And the worst of the lot, “Is there anything I can do?” Fuck that.

Posture up, Delaney. Slap a smile on yer face. No clues, and none the wiser. Breathe. Deep breaths.

I scan the place. “Nice one, Barry’s here. I’ll shout him his next, yeah?” I can see him down t’other end of the bar tryin it on with a beautiful Italian bird - who, apparently, can’t understand whatever it is he’s tryin to say. She rolls her eyes and leaves him standin there gawping.

The man could likely use a hand.

“Save me Barry!” I cry full throated down the length of the bar.

Up snaps his head in confusion. When he finally spots me, his face splits into a wide smile. “Billy?”

“Melonfucker! If it isn’t that bastard Barry. Cuff ‘im and bring ‘im here, he owes me money!”

“Melonfucker?” Kieran asks, as Barry’s takin his place next to me at the bar.

“I loved my mother. Just can’t bring myself to say the real thing. But sometimes a man just needs that many syllables in an expletive. So, melonfucker it is. Howeyeh? All right, man?”

“Yes,” Barry answers with an elfin crinkle to his eyes, like the whole world is smilin back at him. He’s gone up on his toes to plant a kiss on my cheek.

“What are you on, mate?” I ask, givin his arm a nudge.

He looks at his shoes a second, and smoothes the top of his hair. Then, with a conspiratorial look, “Just a little high. Just a little. W-want a hit?”

“What sort o’hit we talkin ‘bout here?” I clarify.

“Here,” and he passes me a thin little joint.

“Um, Kieran? This ok with yeh, mate?” I ask, cos there’s not a lot o pubs as would be fine with this.

Kieran shrugs a shoulder, and Barry grins a bit harder when I take it.

“Never have been to Wales, Barry, tell me all about it.” I make m’self comfortable. Might could do with a bit o Barry’s amicable blandness while I’m so messed up about what I got up to last night.

Er…

First time it’s come to mind that it’s not just Simon leavin as has me messed up. It’s also what we got up to. In every detail of what we got up to. I’m feelin messed up, and more besides.

I am. I don’t want to be. But I am.

I pass the spliff back to Barry.

It all happened so suddenly, and so intensely. And then poof, he’s gone. Feel as though I’ve been hit by the bus for Sorrento.

Shitting my pants, more like. What the fuck?! I can’t just, I mean it was, like, last night. And this morning. And here I am, at a-

If I can just have a couple nonsensical, nothin-serious nights. Maybe gettin really drunk. Dunno, it could happen. Barry passes the joint back to me, and I fill my lungs.

I mean, if Simon doesn’t come back, at least I’ve found my local. “I’m shoutin this round, mate. Nah, Barry. Don’t argue wit me, just let me buy yous a fuckin beverage, Beverly.”

——-/-/——-

“What’s up wit’ yeh, you mopey fuck?” Kieran bumps my arm. I’m lookin at the clock and think I must’ve been starin into the middle distance a while, cos it’s suddenly 2 hours into the evening.

“Because we’re men. And the moment called for it,” I raise my pint and chuckle to myself. Appears Kieran has no answer for that.

I like it when I’m stoned and then the alcohol kicks in. It’s that point between tipsy and toppling to the dirt, when the two substances race to catch up with each other. So, not quite soused, but yet still very much on the verge of being oh so very fucked up.

“Hammered. Tanked. These are words my American friend uses at times like these. Or times like 4 shots from now.” Probly just snorted again. Can’t help it and don’t want to.

“It’s early, yet.” Kieran points to the glowing bar clock. It shows half six. “Slow it down a bit maybe.”

“Oh, I’m going bit by bit tonight,” I promise him. “D’you know what I mean, like appreciating each and every single hop and barley as it goes down.”

“Not quite what I was goin for, but-“

“Sure’n the last 24 hours weren’t at all what we was goin for,” I mutter to myself. “But happened all the same.”

“Sorry?” Barry leans in to hear.

I take a long, slow breath and shrug, “Sorry, just an old song I used to know.”

Kieran and Barry are doin some sort of silent conversatin with their eyebrows. I’ve always envied that kind of telepathy between friends. But they can’t compete with our eye caterpillars. “The two o’you make a cute pair.”

Em…

Wait. Did I- “Wait a tick, that came out wrong. Not like you’re a couple or- Em, I meant cute, like mates are cute.” Fucksake, Delaney, shut your mouth’n stop talkin out of it.

They’re lookin at me with concern, and no small wonder. I’ve caught a babbling case of simonitis. Spreads with repeated contact. Another reason to wear a condom, younglings. Wrap that shit up.

Kieran leans his forearms on the bar. “Right, like I said before, what’s up with you? You don’t seem like the same man what come in two nights past.”

It’s true. “I’m not. The same man as was here two days ago. Fuck me, that’s a weird thought to try and swallow.”

Kieran looks at me like a mother hen would do. “Billy? Where you stayin mate.”

“Don’t know. Sleep it off in the car or sommat. It’ll work itself out.”

He doesn’t much like my answer, nor is he impressed with my lackadaisical delivery.

“You’ll sleep at mine,” says Kieran, waving away my arguments. “You could do with a kip, couldn’t yeh. ‘S all m’sayin.”

“You’ve only just met me. You don’t barely know me, either, man.” It’s just plain fact. He doesn’t, does he.

“I know well enough. Remindin me of meself, y’are. Meself in darker days.”

Ah, misery loves company. “Oh right? You’ve had somebody like that come along, have you?”

“Like what?” asks Barry, sounding confused.

“Like yesterday,” I almost slosh Guinness into my eye, gesturing with my pint glass in an animated fashion. “Like yesterday you were one person, and now today, you’re not. You’re nearly certain it’s down to a person or thing and then that came along and now it’s not.”

“Not what?” Barry’s lookin worried. “Was he making sense before?”

“Acourse I was,” I say. “That’s an easy question. You’ll need to throw me a harder one than that, Beverly.”

“All right, then-” Barry begins.

But not fast enough to beat Kieran’s “Who is she? Where’d you meet her?”

“Oh it’s like that, is it,” I nod. “Go on why don’t yeh, Cupid, yeh wee blighter. Straight to the heart of it. Well I’ll tell yeh. Nobody I didn’t already know. From before.”

Kieran ‘hmmmm’s thoughtfully, takin my measure as though I’m a puzzle for solvin.

“I don’t know, it’s a bit like,” and I scrunch my shoulders as I look for the words. “And then it’s too late. You know it’s gonna happen but y’don’t know when, you’ve no idea, and you make the first move! You!” I point right at Kieran for emphasis.

“And then you’re a totally different person, am I right?” I nod my head. “You lot are here with me, the one that I am now. Before, it was me, before me now.”

“Quite the philosopher,” says Kieran, wiping down a glass with a funny expression. He should write it on the bathroom wall, like all the best bar poets do.

I need to make a toast.

“Gentlemen a toast to you two gentlemen.” They dutifully hold their pints aloft. I might be swayin the slightest bit, but I’m farin just fine for recite nin’a toast. “For bein there thennn ‘nnnn here now. Thanks for helpin me work,” I pause to catch my breath, “through this. I think I just needed to (*hic*) ‘scuse me, say it out loud. And now I have! Thanks, lads. Y’ve done me a service and I thanks,” I smile at them, and throw an arm over Barry’s shoulder cos we’re old mates.

Somehow they both get that this is genuine. Which is good. Yes. Good.

Good speech. Just fine.

——/-/——-

“Right, it’s better that I inform to everyone to know that I’m just the slightest bit drunk. Just for being responsible purposeness, yeah? I mean they deserve to know. I’m sure they’ll be fine with it.”

“Who?” asks Kieran.

The world is making this, “wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wah-wah” sound. “I feel like I’m on drugs. Why do I feel like I’m on drugs? Ohhhh, I know what this feels like. Have yeh been feedin me nitrous? It feels like nitrous. Wah-wah-wah-wah.” I look up and I have no idea what I just said or why. “Hi. Heya.” Wait, that’s not Simon. Hm, when’s he supposed to be here? I’m looking around for him. He’s not spottable at the mo. But I *think* he’ll be here right now. Right? “I’m confused.”

“Yes,” says Kieran. “Yes, you are.”

“Billy,” says Simon, er, Billy, no, says Barry cuz it’s Barry standin there, smoothin his hair in that nervous gesture of his. “So you’re with- um, th-that man Simon. His boyfriend.”

I snarf my beer. Not out my nose, saints preserve us. “Boyfriend? Em. Er. That’s, em. That’s. Why do you say that?” I am definitively taken off guard. And so bluntly. Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

“What, aren’t you?” asks Kieran.

“What - boyfriends?” I can feel my chin still fallin toward the floor. They can tell it’s an honest reaction, so now it’s even more awkward.

Redirect. “There’s a song I need to hear. Is there something that will make that happen?”

They both look pretty taken aback. Cultural social lesson for the future. Thou shalt not dj.

“What’re yeh thinking?” Kieran asks.

“Just one song. But y’must make an oath you will make everyone sing, or it’s worthless.”

Kieran thinks that’s funny. But also weird. So he shrugs, “Which one is it?”

“Don't be laughin at me for bein predictable, it being Bono and the lads. But I need Beautiful Day. Like you don’t even know.”

It comes on, and Kieran hollers, “Alright you lot! You know the words! Make ‘em hear us in Galway.” Happily, everyone yells some variation of “ok,” but it all sounds like “fuck yeah” to me.

All in all, it works out pretty well. “You thought you found a friend to take you out of this place. Someone you can lend a hand, in return for grace. It’s a beautiful day.” That sounds about right. Next thing I know, the chorus riles em up and there’s a great amount of beer-sloshing to dodge. “You’re on the road but you’ve got no destination.” How did they know? “You love this town,” I holler alone, so that’s awkward. “You’ve been all over.” How does Bono always know? Then I holler at the top of my lungs with everyone else, “and it’s BEEN ALL OVER YOU!”

Bono, you profound bastard.

“Touch me,” I choke up too much to sing. “Take me to that other place. Teach me love,” I whisper. “I know I’m not a hopeless case.” Bono, you’re killing me here.

“It was a beautiful day. Don’t let it get away.” But I did. I let it get away. Aaaaand now, despite an entire pub of folk practically shoutin about beauty, I’m depressed.

Me? Depressed? When I’m this drunk? Not likely. I snort. That’s just bonkers. A scoff is the best that thought deserves. And maybe a Bushmills.

“Bushmills on the rocks, Jeeves.”

“Yeh from up in the North then?” Kieran asks. “Don’t much sound it.”

“Spent some time there.” Redirect, and anyway, I’m curious. “Why am I so high?”

Barry turns his implish little face to me, and passes me a fresh spliff.

——-/-/——-

“Baby, I’m wasted. All I wanna do is drive home to you. Baby, I’m faded. All I wanna do is hm hm hmtown. Baby, hm’sumthin, sumthin sumthin la la la, beep bop beep-boop.” And those are literally all the words to this six minute song. I like edm. It says so much with so little.

“Reckon I like this pub. The Black Rose. La Rosa Nera in Italiano,” I say to no one in particular. “Sometimes it’s good to just make a declarative statement, know what I mean.”

“I heard that declarative statement, and I thank yeh mate,” Kieran gives a big-hearted grin. Which has now refocused over my shoulder. “Barry, yeh goodfornuttin.” Kieran gives a dry smile and passes Barry his pint, allowin me a moment to down another shot of tequila.

Wonder what a Welshman’s doin down Mediterranean way. They’re a cold water lot. “You livin here, then, Barry? This your local?”

“Yes, I do. And y-yes, it is.”

I decide we need to get some facts straight. I announce, “Now, I’m not one for swallowin, but-” and halt my progress. I’ve suddenly gone blank. “Wait. What was we talkin bout?”

“How far into yer night are yeh, Billy?” Kieran asks instead of answering. That’s Irish Barkeep for, “Seems like you might’a had more drink than you can handle, Billy.”

“Well, now, see. A thing happened,” I begin. “I can’t even t-tell you. What it was, except’n how I was needin to remember - what was it?” I clear my throat. “What was we talkin bout?”

“What sort o’ day you have, mate? I’ve seen a face or two like yours is now.”

I’ve no doubt he has done, bein a bartender and such.

The concern spreads to Barry’s face.

“My day.” I try to laugh, but all I emit is a snort and a burble.

Oh look, fellas! Shiny object somewhere in a direction that does not include me! Suddenly the lads are starin at two long-legged, short-shorted birds as just come in.

Times were I’d be preparin my approach, but… I dunno. I’m just not inspired. Don’t think my dick’s much inspired either. At least not without me asking it to be. Way too much goin on in me head. Too much goin away on planes. Too much touch. Too much o’ the way he smells. Too much suckin on fingers. Just far, far too much o’ life to hold in one head alone.

What was we talkin bout? Oh…holdin me drink.

I interrupt the lads starin, “Are yous lot aware that I am an Irishman? Yes, yes you are.” I wait for encouragement to continue. “How could yeh dare to impugn my honour thinkin I don’t know how t’hold my drink. Yeh think they’da let me outta Ireland if I couldna hold my drink? Embarrassment to my country, kin and kind.”

These lot are a little bit less than kin and much more than kind. I stumble over my thoughts, all unruly and marchin about without an officer to give ‘em orders. “Y’ever have one a them moments, frozen in time, when an idea comes from your mouth — not from your brain, d’yeh know what I mean. Then back from your brain back down to where it all started — in your mouth, and then out of it. You stand on the precipice of something bigger.”

A realization heralds some new options! The room spins. “What was we talkin bout?”

No idea. None. Blank. “Oh right!” I remember! “Boys… ‘n girls, n… stuff o that nature.”

“We were?” asks Barry.

“Weren’t we? I feel like they’re right there just beyond me,” I sigh.

“What is?” Kieran asks.

“Words, man. Words!”

Kieran and Barry exchange more worried looks. Whatever.

“And then it was all, ‘K. I’ll see yous again, Billy. Sooner or later. Told me t’have a nice night. So yeah, looks like I’ll be trying for some ‘nice’ in me night.”

“Who?” Kieran asks with a frown.

“Nah! Nah, mates. All yeh need do is keep up wit me, yeah?” Then I remember sommat else, too: “Beer!”

“What happened, Barry?” Kieran stands in front of him, wipin down the counter, talkin low so they think I can’t hear. “All I did was walk a few steps to help those two lovelies, then back again to find we’ve reached nuttin but babble. It’s like we’re only getting one side o the conversation. You farin any better than that?”

“Am I?” Barry asks in surprise. “No,” he says emphatically. “And I don’t think it’s likely to get much better.”

“Well, lads,” I step in. “Here’s the truth. I had a, uh, night last night.”

I wait for some signal that they heard and understood me. They did, so I continue.

“Here’s the thing. I was out with someone last night. Someone I’ve, em, y’know, been talkin to. But we was only ever mates. Ever. Never figured for more than that, know what I mean. But suddenly, somethin happens and boom bam badoombomb release, and everything in my life is unrecognizable to me now.” I might could’ve turned a tad morose in me old age. “It felt like everything I’ve ever wanted.” Lovely. Another sentence out my mouth without originatin in my brain. “But with hi- them? Never, ever occurred to me. Not once!”

I feel my brows knotting without my permission. Was that a lie? I take a beat to think about it. Yes. Yes it was a lie. And now the room’s been set to spinnin. I’m high, so it’s actually a bit o’ fun.

“Looked so fuckin fit y’know what I mean? Dancin that way and all I could do was watch. Yeh know? Just watch…But then everything I wanted became mine,” I continue. “I had it all in my hands, and I wasn’t wastin a moment of that time on ‘what if’ and shyness. I mean lads, I think yeh know me well ‘nuff by now. Don’t yeh?”

They both nod emphatically.

“I wake up. Both of us wake up and can’t keep our hands…our…” I sigh. “The desire was there. It was just — everywhere. Can barely keep from havin a horn everywhere I go. But, like, it’s different when something that might be real is on the line. Know what I mean.”

Again, they nod emphatically.

“I just-“ Spit it out, kid. “I mean-“ Not doin much better. Out with it. “I just don’t want to go back to how it was before. Friends. I want to level up. And that, lads, is some deeply terrifying shit.” I can feel my eyes widen. “Maybe not for some, but that’s the way of it for me.”

I stare at my reflection in the bar mirror. I still look like me, even knowin all that transpired. I can’t have changed that much. I don’t look horrified. Which is good. But a bit stressed? That I am, and more beside. And maybe a whole lot worried. My eyes look distinctly hollow and haunted. “It was so good,” I mumble.

“She’ll be back, mate. The girls love you,” Kieran grins conspiratorially at Barry, then back to me. “I bet you can’t beat em back with ennathin but your stick, know what I mean. Can’t keep ‘em off you, can you?”

“I have no response to that question,” I laugh. “It’s true. I know I’m a man whore, for certain, it’s true. But it might be I’m a one-man man whore.”

“That makes no sense,” Barry objects.

“Yer just noticin that now?” Kieran observes.

And again the room sets itself to spinnin.

——-/-/——-

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