Ancilla: SOUNDBITE EDITION. (SERIALIZED, MATURE SECTIONS MARKED)

*Kether (PART 4, has 1032 words)

We pull off the interstate and drive along a road that winds through a large public botanical garden, and then up a hill. This is the same route we took when we went to hear the symphony orchestra and chorus perform Wagner. The university that gave me a free ride happens to sit across the street from the concert hall, and from the art museum grounds where Erastes and I embraced on the lawn and talked about why we had no future together despite wanting to belong to each other forever. It was sound reasoning that neither of us wanted to heed.

I will no longer wake up by his side each morning, my wrist bound to his. Instead, I will be walking past my memories every day on my way to classes. I have no idea if they will seem a blessing, in my exile, or a torment. No doubt they will be a mixture of both, just like everything else about this relationship; only without him delivering it, the torment will no longer be sweet.

My back starts itching again. I resist the temptation to scratch.

He helps me move the suitcase and books into my new dorm room. I have a single. It's air-conditioned. All the rooms in this dormitory are singles, climate-controlled, and grouped in suites around a kitchenette, bathroom, and den to mimic apartments. In my experience, bedrooms in apartments are not the size of walk-in closets, the way the dorm rooms seem to be, but I hadn't expected much when I listed this dormitory building, an ugly mid-story concrete tower that sits on a far corner of the campus, as my top choice of residence hall - all that mattered to me was privacy. I've lived on my own for too long to want to endure having a roommate again, not that my past roommates ever wanted to endure me, anyway; and the prettier, less cramped dorms on the north side of campus all have shared rooms.

The building seems oddly deserted right now. Either there is a lull in activity, or everybody is in an orientation meeting that I neglected to find out about. Maybe they're eating lunch.

He puts down my last overstuffed crate of books as I fuss with my new bed coverings. I am still fussing when he gently pushes me aside and makes my bed for me.

There is nothing more to carry or settle.

Our eyes meet.

Silence.

And then his arms reach for me, and I know nothing more. "Please," I whisper, afraid to trust my voice, because I know I'll start crying again if I speak louder. "Let me have you one last time. I don't want to let you go yet. I can't let you go yet..."

Our lips meet. We fumble at each other's clothes with shaking hands. Eventually, he has me down to nothing but my protective cotton undershirt, and I've somehow got his clothing off. I want to be completely naked next to him, skin to skin, but of course, that isn't a good idea with my injuries. So much awkwardness, now. We, who know each other so well and who have shared so great an intimacy for years that we know each other's bodies like we know our own, are reduced to this clumsiness. I want even this to last forever.

Of course, it won't.

He is gentle when he takes me; neither of us has the heart for more. Our hands reach and grope, confused, around each other's wrists. "Hold my hands," I rasp, and we clutch each other tightly as if sending the energy of our passion to each other through our palms could somehow preserve us from endings. We try to be slow; but when he kisses me, I feel the flood well up within me and I can no longer hold myself back; we roll together, and I am riding on top of him, hard and fast and hungry. Orgasms pound through me in waves. I feel him straining underneath me, coming with me; and then it is done, and I fall into him, and the sobs shake me until we are both covered with my tears.

I'm not the only one crying.

We cling to each other. Afternoon sunlight lands on our skin, taunting us.

The sun eventually sinks lower, and we are left in shadow.

"I cannot stay here forever," he tells me gently. "As much as I would like to."

Of course, he can't.

"Look at me, beloved. This is important. I have one last request, and it will probably be the worst one I ever ask of you. Do you promise to follow it?"

"Yes. For you, anything," I reply, choking back tears.

"Very well. I ask you to be brave for me. It is bad enough for me that I will never be with you again, but the thought of hurting you like this is horrible; I wish it could be avoided, but it can't. It was with your future happiness in mind that I made the decision to separate. I need to know that someday you will be happy again, and that I haven't completely shattered you. Please. Live and be brave. Until you can do that for yourself, at least do it for me."

I nod miserably.

"I need to hear it from your mouth, eromene."

"I promise to live. I'll be brave," I whisper, my throat swelling with more tears. I'm sure they won't be the last I shed tonight.

"Good. Thinking about you happy and whole in the future will give me the strength that I need to endure this." He sighs. "I am proud of you. I will always be proud of you. I will always love you. And if you do not let me go now, I may never be able to leave, and we both know I must."

I bite my lip.

"Goodbye, my beloved."

He gets up from my narrow bed. It only takes him three steps to leave the room. He closes the door behind him, leaving me in twilit darkness.

I am alone.

I bury my face in my pillow and start to cry again.