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moonchildren
XIX. Voice Memos.

XIX. Voice Memos.

It’s seventy five degrees. Sage missed the sun, and the sand. Sometimes, they wonder what life would be like if things hadn’t happened the way they had. March is the windiest month in Miami, and the air is humid. It’s always humid. Things don’t feel the same anymore. It’s a long and expensive trip across the country, and Sage doesn’t much like flying. In Florida, they lived in Upper Eastside, in a house down the street from Morningside Park. Someone else lives there now. It probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore.

Last night, Sage landed in Miami at eleven thirty. Today, they have plans with friends from elementary, who they recently got back into touch with after years of not speaking. They could be completely different now. They wouldn’t be the only ones. There’s a swimming pool in the hotel. Sage, this morning, went swimming there and cleared their mind a bit, but isn’t in the mood for that today. Anyway, Sage isn’t really a fan of swimming, and is terrified of open water. They prefer walking in nature or visiting the zoo.

Amity and August meet Sage at the entrance of Miami Zoo, where they used to spend their free time together before Sage moved away. August was always a girly girl, and she hasn’t changed: but Amity is nearly unrecognizable. “Hey,” she says, pulling her fingers through the purple streak in her hair. “Where’s your brother? You came alone?”

This is why they haven’t been in touch. Amity never was shy about her crush on Rio. This would be fine, in itself, if she weren’t so aggressive about it. Sage remembers her throwing herself onto him, handsy and outspoken, despite him telling her to stop. They were young, then, and already Sage's friends were becoming interested in boys. Sage ignores her greeting, following their two old friends into the zoo. “Hey, guys. I can’t believe it’s been almost nine years since I’ve seen you. We were just babies.” Sage feels out of place here, awkward, like spending time with strangers. The girls feel like strangers. After enough time apart, everybody does. Sage's mandolin is in the hotel room, lying on the bed along with their notebook. More than anything, playing music helps Sage calm down and sort out stress.

August wears a pink dress and a denim jacket. “I saw some of the demos you posted.” She was always the most supportive of Sage's friends, and she’s definitely the one they missed most. “You’re good! Do you think you’ll ever start selling albums?”

This is something Sage has never thought about. They enjoy music, sure, but certainly don't think they’re talented enough to go anywhere with it. “I dunno.” They mumble, scuffing their feet on the ground when they walk. “Probably not.”

Sage's favorite part of the zoo is the sea animals. They’ve always loved penguins and aquatic creatures. “Why not?” August hands her friends their tickets, buttoning up her short jacket. “You’re so talented! Don’t you think, Amity? Sage doesn’t even stutter while singing!”

At eight years old, Sage hadn’t yet begun their identity exploration. They were interested in baggy clothing, and long hairstyles, and this really meant nothing at all. Sage's parents and brother always tell them to stand up for themself, as if it’s easy. They’re all so good at it. It feels uncomfortable going out without Rio.

The teenagers walk, stopping to watch the exhibits and take photographs. Sage feels uncomfortable, as they always do upon receiving words of affirmation. They suspect it’s a lack of confidence, but they’ve never figured out how to actually become confident. Rio seems to have mastered it, and Sage has always been envious of him.

“So, anyway…” Amity looks like a punk rocker, complete with facial piercings. “You didn’t answer my question before. Where’s Rio? Did he come, too?” She has a sly look in her eyes, the same one Sage remembers from their friendship days. “I follow him on social media. He’s even hotter now.”

“Ew.” Sage wrinkles their nose, feeling warm under the sun. “Don’t talk about my brother like that.”

“Oh, come on.” Amity chuckles, sticking her tongue out to expose a silver stud. “Don’t be such a prude. Everybody probably thinks he’s hot.” She does have a point, but Sage won’t willingly think about this. It’s not actually pleasant to remember people want to fuck your brother. “Did you know that he posts nudes and sex videos on the Internet?”

August looks astonished. Sage feels disgusted. “Stop talking.” They want to say more. The words catch in their throat on their way out, and swallow themselves. It’s hot. Sage isn’t used to the heat anymore. It takes a very long time to speak. August was the only kid at school who never made fun of them.

“He does it a lot, actually. God, I wish I could be in one of his videos. He does it with, like, three people at once. Did you know he has these spiky things in his dick?” She grins, enjoying getting a rise out of Sage. She’s always been this way. “I’d love to know what that feels like down my throat.”

There’s a breeze tickling Sage's hair. Outside a dolphin terrarium, they sweep their fingers across the glass, feeling nauseous. Graduation is in two months. Sage can’t believe they’ve come this far. They’ve thought about going to college, but don't think this is something they’d enjoy. To be honest, Sage isn’t exactly sure what they want to do with their life after graduation, and it’s never been something they were really pressured to figure out. Maybe they’ll move out, but probably not.

“Shut up, Amity.” August scowls, giving her friend a stern look. “You’re not even old enough to look at that stuff.”

Sage begins to walk. This morning, the thought of spending time with old friends was exciting. Now it just feels like spending time with strangers. “So what? You’ve never lied on the Internet before?”

Their home in Miami had five bedrooms, and Sage used to hate sleeping alone. When they were a child, they used to have nightmares about the family dying suddenly, without a chance to say goodbye. Nobody is quite sure where these nightmares stemmed from, but they lasted many years, and always led to Sage running into their family’s bedrooms to check if they were safe. One night, when Sage was around seven, they had a particularly bad dream about Rio, and awoke in tears. Their rooms were always next to each other, and Rio always stayed up late. He still does. When Sage ran into his room that night, he was still awake, watching a video on his tablet.

Sage had gasped, swallowing a lump in their throat. “Rio!”

He looked up, pausing his video, setting his tablet on the bed beside him. “What are you doing up? Did you have another nightmare?”

Sage nodded, running over to their brother’s bed. He scooted over, freeing a spot next to him. “Why do I keep having nightmares?” They sat in Rio’s bed; he shrugged his shoulders. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” It was hot in his bedroom, and humid. Rio had a small altar in his bedroom, back in Florida, before it became a large, shared space.

“Yeah.” Rio’s room was a mess. This hasn’t changed: he’s always had more things than he knows what to do with. “Come on.” He patted the empty space, letting Sage into the covers. They always sleep better when other people are around. Sage got comfortable, and Rio resumed his video.

He wasn’t always nice to them. When Rio and Sage were home alone, he’d slap them with wet dish towels and throw things at them from across the room. When Sage complained to their parents, Rio would swear up and down they were making things up.

Sage fractured their wrist when they were twelve, trying to perform a round-off. The wrist is made up of eight small bones, which connect with two larger arm bones. Sage's fathers knew immediately their radius was broken, and insisted they go to the hospital. Sage wore a cast for six weeks, which was bulky and made their wrist sweat, and then this was taken off, and they wore a splint instead. Since then, they’ve twisted ankles and wrists, but haven't broken another bone.

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When Sage was about six years old, they went to the ocean to fish with their siblings. Usually, Amani and Surya would come - but it was summertime, and Rio had just recently become old enough to supervise his siblings alone. As kids, Rio and Sage were always warned to be careful near open water, and to watch for bubbles to erupt on the surface, as this meant a crocodile was approaching. Still, Rio was always reckless and enjoyed taking risks, seeking thrill and having several encounters with the creatures. Sage wasn’t afraid of the ocean until this fishing trip, when a crocodile nearly pulled them into the water. It happened quickly, and Sage didn’t have time to think. Cassia was almost three years old, hobbling a safe distance from the coast, digging in the sand and driving cars over grassy hills. But she was little, and didn’t understand the danger – and so, when her car was washed away by a strong current, she ran after it.

It wasn’t that nobody was watching. It was that Sage was closer to the girl, and chased her into the water. “Cassia, you can’t just run into the ocean! There are crocodiles!” Cassia stared at them, not caring, or not really understanding. Sage had picked her up, so that her feet dangled above the surface of the water, before turning to place the girl safely onto the shore - and then a sharp pain erupted in their leg, and they were being pulled.

At first, it was hard to tell what was happening. When Sage looked back, their left leg was stuck in the mouth of a crocodile, and Rio was on top of it, holding a large stick above its head. It’s easy to outrun a crocodile. They can reach speeds up to twenty miles an hour, but they don’t hunt on land, and they’re unlikely to chase a human who’s too far out of the water. Rio always seemed fearless. It’s hard to believe he isn’t. Though Sage and Cassia were sobbing, Rio dislodged the crocodile with a sharp poke to the eye, and it swam swiftly away.

As a kid, Sage went to the ocean all the time: to fish, to swim, and nothing ever happened. They had seen a croc before, of course, they were everywhere, but they were never less than six feet away. That day was just a bad day, and it traumatized them. Somehow, Sage survived the attack with only a deep gash up their leg, which was treated at the hospital, and healed with minimal scars. Still, they don't talk about this experience, and nobody brings it up. Since that day, Sage has been terrified to swim in open water – even in Alaska, where the most dangerous animal is an orca, which isn’t a threat to humans. There could be hazardous things lurking under the surface, and this isn’t a risk Sage chooses to take.

When Sage was twelve, they found porn on Rio’s computer when he was away, and they got curious. But when they watched it alone later on, nothing happened. There was no excitement, no sudden urge to masturbate, no sort of enjoyment at all. In fact, the more Sage watched, the more uneasy they felt, until they couldn’t bear to watch another second. At first, Sage thought something was wrong with them: everyone was told that, during puberty, they’d develop urges and curiosities, and Sage never did. At first, they thought maybe they were a late bloomer. But a year later, when a friend sent them the link to an explicit video, nothing had changed. There was still that same sense of boredom, discomfort, even disgust. It was lonely and confusing, being so different from all their friends. All the other teens cared about was dating, sex, popularity. That’s what it seemed like. There were no other non-binary kids in junior high, no other asexuals, no other biracial kids with two dads. And no one talked about it, the possibility to lack sexual attraction. No one talked about it beyond saying it was abnormal and a phase of confusion. For a long time, this is what Sage thought too. In ninth grade, Sage got tired of being different. They tried to speak to the guidance counselor, the most open-minded teachers, and nobody would listen. So Sage went to their father, after school one day, after being bullied especially badly. It’s not bad to be different, but everyone acts like it is.

“Papa,” said Sage, sitting across from him at the kitchen table. “There’s something wrong with me. Everyone at school keeps calling me a freak.”

Rio was home too that day, playing video games in his room. Amani looked at his child, who was fourteen, and very confused. “Why would they call you that? That’s cruel. You’re wonderful.” It was easy for him to say; he was their father. You have to tell your kids they’re wonderful, even if they’re not.

Sage has never met another asexual person. They would like to, someday, to feel more normal. They shrugged at Amani, who looked concerned. “People keep talking about sex and getting a partner, but I don’t care about that stuff at all. I’ve tried to care about it, but I just don’t, and all anyone in my grade talks about is sex, and it feels so gross and weird.” This was hard to admit, but Sage knew they could tell their parents anything. Maybe Sage was a freak. There are so many sexualities, and they’re all valid, even if you feel alone sometimes.

Their father only paused for a moment. “Do you know what it means to be asexual?” Sage didn’t. Until that conversation with their father, they had never heard of it. That’s the problem. There’s only one default, and it’s heterosexual. Sage has grown tired of straight-only education in schools, because it isn’t the default, and so many young people are left isolated and misunderstood.

“No.”

“It’s perfectly common. It means a person doesn’t feel sexual attraction to others, and it’s entirely normal.”

This was news. Growing up, after discovering their sexuality, Sage often struggled with feeling accepted in the queer community. There was so much discourse, prejudice against even others in the community. The fact is, Sage isn’t straight, and Sage isn’t cis, and so this makes them queer. Asexuality makes up more than two percent of the population, the same as red hair, or green eyes. Still, nobody ever denies the existence of red-haired, green-eyed people. “That’s a thing?”

Amani chuckled, smiling fondly at Sage. “Of course it is. There’s nothing wrong with you, Sage. Asexuality is real, and it’s valid just like anything else.” It made so much sense to Sage, for the first time, what was different about them.

When Sage arrives back at the hotel room, it feels somber. Their parents sit on their bed, talking to one another in hushed tones. Sage shares a bed with their brother, and it feels like childhood. Something is off. Sage's family environment is usually upbeat and optimistic. “What’s wrong?” Sage's stutter gets worse when they’re upset. When their stutter is bad, so is their anxiety.

Surya sits with his phone in his hands, and his back to the wall. Rio sits on the bed he’s sharing with Sage, He’s been in the sun all day. Unlike Sage, he never burns. “Grandpa passed away.”

Surya’s father, Arjun, is almost ninety years old, and has been married three times. Surya lost his mother to cancer in 1984, and his first stepmother in 2009. Sage has heard a lot about their late grandmother, and feels sad sometimes about never having met her. Surya isn’t an emotional man. Amani’s hand sits on the man’s back; this is how he comforts people. Sage has seen their father cry exactly twice: after the death of Cassia, and after a particularly bad argument with his husband. Sage used to think arguments were something to avoid at all costs. This isn’t necessarily true.

“When?”

Sage's hair gets frizzy in the heat. This is one thing that’s not to be missed about Florida. Their brother shrugs. “A few hours ago, I guess. He had a heart attack. Dad just got a call from Iksha.” Sage doesn’t often see their extended family. If their grandfather hadn’t come with Surya to America, they probably never would have met him.

Plato and Aristotle believed that the stars were entirely different from the four earthly elements: aether, or spirit, the material that fills the earth beyond the terrestrial sphere. The astral plane is the world of celestial spheres, crossed by the soul on the way to being born, or after death. It’s believed to be populated with angels, souls, immaterial beings, which some people have witnessed during a near-death experience. The living can’t access it, and the dead can’t leave.

Some religions believe in the Summerland: a place for souls to rest between earthly incarnations. It’s a beautiful and peaceful place, filled with rolling hills and eternal lush grass, where the souls of the deceased can gather with the souls of their loved ones. All souls, except those who are lost and wandering, gather in Summerland – even souls of the evil. Time is spent reflecting on life, watching over living loved ones, planning our next lives. Some people believe, when the soul is ready, it reincarnates, and rejoins the mortal plane. Once it gets here, it loses all memory of the Summerland.

Animism believes every object, animate and inanimate, possesses a soul. Many free thinkers don’t classify animism as any type of religion at all, but as a phenomena. Others classify animism as an aspect of religion, though it can certainly be considered more philosophical than religious or spiritual. For some cultures, unconsciousness is seen as the absence of a soul, because nothing can survive without a soul. Sometimes, it wanders out of its earthly body and returns later on, resulting in near-death experiences. If you asked Rio, he’d say it was certain he’d lived past lives before. If you asked Sage, they wouldn’t be sure. Sometimes, memories appear in their head of things they’ve never lived before, and of people they don’t know. Some would say this means they have to be true. But our minds can play tricks on us, and memories can change over time.