A shy reference librarian, and a college student who was disowned when she refused to submit to conversion therapy, meet in a bookstore. He's been waiting his whole life for her. Meanwhile, she's starting her whole life over. What ensues between the...
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A pair of plain, thin, black hoops made of some inert metal - I think he called it niobium - sits on the table in front of me, next to a box of rubbing alcohol pads and a type of slightly curved needle I've never seen before, although given how I avoid needles for anything but the usual basic sewing and mending, it's not surprising that I've never seen anything like them before. Maybe they're extremely common and I just don't know it. The needle glints in the afternoon sunlight. I assume it's a piercing needle. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that there might be special needles manufactured for that specific purpose. I fidget in the kitchen chair as he washes his hands. When he comes up to wipe my left earlobe with an alcohol pad, I shiver.
"Nervous?"
"There's a reason why I never got my ears pierced when I was growing up."
"It shouldn't hurt too much; earlobes have almost no nerve endings. I'll be quick about it." He picks up a fine pointed felt tip marker and marks a dot on each earlobe. "There. That looks even. You'll need to hold still. Jerking could have unfortunate consequences."
I nod miserably and try to think about pretty jewelry made with opals and garnets, rather than about unfortunate consequences.
He stands beside me for a minute; then he changes his mind and pulls up another kitchen chair and sits across from me, so that his face is more or less level with mine. I feel the blood drain from my face as he tugs gently on my earlobe with one hand and picks the needle up with the other.
"My eromene, I had no idea this would be such an ordeal for you. Would you rather I not do this?"
I think of the earrings he gave me for a Yuletide present. Every time I wear them, I will be reminded of him.
"No. Keep going."
"If I could hold your hand, I would, but I don't have enough extra hands for that." He thinks for a moment, and then slides one of his legs over my left thigh, pinning me down. His warmth, and the weight of his leg, are like a heavy blanket. "Does that help?" he asks. "It's the best I can manage, under the circumstances."
I nod.
"All right. This will probably feel like a pinch or a slight sting, depending on the angle of entry, but that's all. Here comes the first one."
I whimper when the needle goes through my earlobe, but it's through me quickly enough, and he's right - this didn't hurt nearly as much as I'd feared. I try to not think about the needle that's still resting in my earlobe.
"There you go," he murmurs, and strokes my head. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Then he pauses, and his face gets a stricken look for a fleeting moment before he quickly composes himself again. "Now, I think the easiest way to go about finishing off this ear would be to press the hole down just a little to allow me to thread the hoop through, then remove the needle. I'll use the piercing needle the proper way on your other ear and thread the hoop onto it first. I'm so sorry."
