It was only a few minutes past nine, hardly more than half an hour after she'd first woken up, but Glinda already felt as though she'd been footslogging to the Deadly Desert and back. Alone and in the relative safety of her own room, Glinda found that she had no more energy left to spend on useless acts of bravado, as no one was present to witness them. It was only her left now to notice the tears that were running freely down her cheeks and chin, only her who would hear the quiet sobs, stifled by her pillow. As proud as she would have been if she could have later said that Korrell's words had not cut deep enough to wound her, she had already lost the strength to even pretend.
Perhaps, she had sheltered herself too much. Perhaps, if she'd talked to more people about her sexuality (or lack thereof), she'd have had a broader range of experiences and already learnt by now how to deal with negative responses, built up her immunity so to speak. Of course, she'd always taken a chance by wearing her ring, but it was a calculated risk, for she knew quite well, that only few outside the ace community knew about its meaning. She could barely have been more unfortunate to find one of those rare examples in someone as hostile as Korrell.
When her tears slowly began to dry up, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her sight was blurry and her eyes felt raw and puffy. She was glad there was no mirror around to show her just how terrible she looked. Her head was almost empty now, heavy with exhaustion rather than thoughts, and like a lifeless doll, she stared blankly at the white wall opposite the window.
Eventually, she realised that her hands were less idle than the remainder of her body. Her fingers were playing with the little black ring on her right hand, twisting it back and forth, circling the delicate rose ornaments. She paused, then pulled it off her middle finger and held it up for closer inspection. She had to blink a couple of times for her eyes to adjust their focus to the small object. Fiyero had offered to buy it for her, around the time of their break-up. In the end, she'd paid for it herself though, arguing that it was up to her to buy accessories meant to be worn as a form of self-expression. It hadn't been too expensive anyway.
With one swift motion, she snatched the ring with her free hand and closed her fist around it. She jumped off the bed and rushed to her dresser, pulling open one of her messiest drawers. She dug a small hole between the scarves and gloves and winter hats and chucked the ring inside, covering it immediately and pushing the drawer shut with a bang. She wouldn't take any more risks for now and who knew; maybe she was no longer in need of that ring. Maybe someone who passed so beautifully as an ordinary cis het shouldn't try to draw such attention anyway.
In an attempt to distract herself, Glinda grabbed her phone and her ear buds from the desk. She found herself some good music and went through her social media accounts, checking for updates. At first that seemed like a good idea, since none of them were dedicated or even mentioned her ace identity. They were just about a somewhat short, but pretty, blonde girl in her mid-twenties with a keen interest in fashion - and architecture, but that was only apparent from that one side blog she'd never told her friends about. The longer she browsed through her profiles, however, scrolling past the more or less staged pictures of herself, the stronger her new conviction became that Korrell had been right to some extent.
With every post she read, with every picture she found, Glinda believed more and more that, although there were plenty of aces who truly deserved their place among other kinds of queer folks, she herself might not be one of them. She looked and behaved exactly like any other heterosexual girl she knew. She was even planning on marrying a successful, wealthy, sporty male and having his children, with the expressed goal to make her parents believe she was exactly the daughter they had always hoped for. How would her closeted, but advantaged life-style ever compare to the hardships other, openly asexual, members of the community might endure along the way?
Fiyero had lost his parents and the wealth he would otherwise have inherited – a sacrifice she wasn't bold enough to make. Thousands of others were bravely opening themselves up for potential ridicule by readily announcing their asexuality to anyone who'd listen, but she avoided coming out to anyone, unless they figured it out themselves, Fiyero being the one and only exception to that rule. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, for admitting it hurt; but whichever way she looked at it, with so much straight privilege under her belt, Glinda found it hard to contradict Korrell.
She was still deep in thought, when her phone suddenly rung and vibrated. Caught so terribly off guard, she shrieked and ripped the ear buds out of her ears. She almost dropped the phone itself. Fiyero's name was flashing on the display and Glinda was taken slightly aback, finding it somewhat eerie, that he would call this very moment, when she had just been thinking of him.
Her grip around her phone tightened. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, but no matter how much she wanted to accept the call and pour out her heart to him, she couldn't. She felt like she had betrayed him, outed him to someone who was so outrageously disrespectful that he had dared to insult and dehumanize Fiyero on grounds of his lack of interest in sexual relationships. It hadn't been her place to tell and it had been the wrong place to say anything to begin with. She'd been foolish to believe that Korrell could have been converted so easily. It should have been obvious to her that relating Fiyero's story would only serve to make matters worse. Now, she felt like she had somehow abused her friend's privacy.
The phone stopped buzzing momentarily, then started up again when Fiyero tried his luck again. This happened two more times, until Glinda finally shoved it under the quilt on her bed to get the temptation out of her sight.
Spending all day in her room, mostly brooding, intermittently trying but failing to sleep, too sluggish to move to her chair and turn on the computer and too afraid to touch her phone, Glinda almost lost her sense of time. Eventually, the room was dipped in a golden and pinkish hue by the setting sun right outside her west facing window. It was an unmistakable clue that the day was drawing to a close, however, she had paid little attention to the exact time at which this usually occurred this time of the year.
There was a knock on the door and heaving a heavy sigh, she called for the boys to come in.
"Hey," Tibbett said quietly as he slipped through the only half-opened door. Crope followed him, widening the gap a little for his tray to fit through.
"We thought you might like some of our risotto?" Crope offered, putting the tray down on the bed next to Glinda. "And some chocolate mousse for the endorphins."
Glinda was grateful, she truly was, but could only muster a weary smile. Still, she picked up the spoon to sample to risotto; it was divine. She put the spoon down for the time being, but her smile improved a little.
"Thanks guys," she said quietly, briefly making eye contact.
"Well, we figured you wouldn't eat otherwise, so it was our duty as flat mates," Crope explained solemnly.
"On top of that, we hoped it would make you more inclined to accept our sincerest apologies," added Tibbett.
A small chuckle escaped her, but it was quite mirthless.
"What is there to apologise for?" she shrugged, her gaze still downcast.
"Bringing him here," to begin with.
"Even though we couldn't quite have known..." Crope's trailed off when he noticed Glinda's lips twitch nervously.
"He didn't seem like a bad guy," Tibbett explained rather than defended their choice to invite Korrell.
Glinda shook her head, but didn't quite feel like looking up.
"Of course, that wasn't your fault. There are plenty of people who seem nice until you discuss certain topics with them. I suppose ace exclusionism never came up before, huh?"
She risked a glance. The boys were both staring down on their hands.
"I wish we had jumped in earlier to defend you though," Crope admitted sheepishly. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to her. "We were quite stunned by the stuff that was suddenly coming out of his mouth. We were shocked at the sudden change in his behaviour and I suppose, we were also a bit lost."
"Well, and your revelation also took us by surprise, to be honest," said Tibbett, taking a seat on his boyfriend's lap."
A sense of shame overcame Glinda and a small voice in the back of her head chided her that it was all her own fault.
"I did mislead you there, didn't I?"
She took a shaky breath and bit her lip, but Crope clumsily shuffled closer, balancing Tibbett on his knees, and wrapped one arm around her shoulders.
"No, sweetie, that's not what he meant. We were looking for a queer flat mate and you qualified. We never asked any questions and so, we foolishly jumped to our own conclusion."
Tibbett nodded.
"We're only wondering why you never told us. Maybe not right away, but eventually? We're all pals, right?" He hesitated, licking his lips and studying her face thoroughly. He frowned. "Did your boyfriend leave you when he found out that you're ace?"
"No, that's not how it was," Crope immediately countered, believing himself to be in possession of all the relevant facts. "Fiyero is - "
"Also ace," Glinda quickly cut him off. "That's why we started dating in the first place."
Crope stared at her with wide-eyed confusion.
"What?" Glinda exclaimed, almost laughing beside herself. "I never said he's gay, you once again just assumed he was."
Tibbett's questioning eyes darted back and forth between his flat mate and his boyfriend.
"A few days ago, we discussed Fiyero's difficult coming out," Crope explained to him, somewhat awkwardly. He turned back to Glinda. "And you knew exactly what I was thinking," he muttered, a little grumpy. "You just didn't care to correct me."
"I felt uncomfortable discussing it," she dismissed his grumbling. "I hardly ever do. Other than you two, only Fiyero himself and Elphie know about me being ace. And Elphie was an accident. Like Korrell, only with a better outcome."
"How did he even know?" both boys asked at the same time, then called "Jinx!" and grinned at each other.
Glinda shook her head at them, but allowed herself to smile a little.
"I assume, there is a fairly simple explanation for that," Tibbett said. "Crope suggested he might be a clairvoyant of sorts."
The boy in question rolled his eyes.
"It was a joke."
"You're right," Glinda replied, burrowing her hands under her blanket, "it is fairly simple. It's my ring. It's a symbol that aces use to recognise each other: it can be any style or material, but it must be black, worn on the middle finger of the right hand. Even though I'm about as closeted as they come, I always considered it quite save to wear it, as its meaning is not commonly known among non-aces. I just got really unlucky this time, I suppose."
Tibbett curiously reached out to lift up her hand and was disappointed to find it bare.
"I... I think, I need a break from accidental outings," Glinda explained, averting her eyes. Crope nodded, while Tibbett pursed his lips thoughtfully.
Bringing her arms behind her back to lean on them, Glinda almost knocked over the tray of food the boys had brought her. She glanced at it and decided that she should eat the risotto before it went cold.
"Well," Crope concluded their conversation, urgently prodding Tibbett's side with his forefinger to make him stand up, "now that we are in the know, you could help us brush up on our ace knowledge a bit. And if there's anything you want us to do or not do..."
"It's fine," she replied, smiling at her spoon. "I had a bit of a meltdown today, but generally speaking, my skin isn't that thin. I can take the one or the other joke."
"Good. As long as you let us know. And now, enjoy your dinner. You can just leave the dishes outside the door when you're finished, and we can put them away for you."
Amused, she quirked an eyebrow.
"That's sweet. But I'm not an invalid. I'm sure that leaving my room and doing basic tasks would be considered therapeutic.
"And now, away with you two, shoo! I think I'll quickly eat and after that, I'll get ready for bed a little earlier tonight. I can't show up at work looking like this." She gestured at her face, her still red eyes and lackluster skin.
The boys obeyed her wish and exited the room, so she could have her peace and quiet.
Going to work the following day was a challenge for her. Getting out of bed already wasn't easy, not to mention leaving the house, writing reports and meeting people. She had two client appointments that morning and one in the early afternoon, but somehow, she got through them without a hitch. It was a strange feeling, going through the motions without being entirely in sync with herself. It was like some weird sort of out of body experience, watching herself work and talk, rather than feeling the sensation of actually being the one doing it. She felt dazed, her eyes seemed unable to focused and yet, her brain and mouth still produced meaningful conversations, leaving everyone blissfully unaware of her bizarre state.
Sitting at her desk, looking through spread sheets, she often caught herself rubbing her right pointer against her middle finger, irritated by the absence of the thin metal band that she'd gotten so used to over the years. It was distracting. When she went to wash her hands before lunch, she absentmindedly tried to slide off the ring. Of course, her finger was already bare and for a moment, she panicked, thinking she had dropped it somewhere. When she remembered why it was missing, she strangely didn't seem to find much comfort in the realisation. She still felt the loss, only slightly differently.
Around quarter past four, Dayae came up to her cubicle, asking Glinda if she would join her for afternoon tea. The Munchkin's usual break buddy was on sick leave, and she always found it awkward sitting in the cafeteria all by herself. Glinda only hesitated due to her foul mood, but Dayae's famous collection of Munchkin-style tea treats proved too tempting in the end. In her mind, she argued that a good helping of sugar and chocolate would surely help lighten her spirits.
Glinda was on her third nougat and hazelnut brittle biscuit, still wondering if the sweets were actually having any effect, when Daye suddenly grabbed her hand, inspecting it with a confused look on her face.
"Hey, whatever happened to your ring? Did you notice it was gone? Have you lost it?"
Glinda froze. She swallowed, nervously wondering if she could somehow withdraw her hand without coming across as rude or erratic - or worse, arouse suspicion. She waited another moment before hesitantly pulling back.
"Yes," she said, her voice too thick to speak clearly. She, as quietly as possible, cleared her throat and started over. "Yes, I believe I must have. I realised it this morning."
"Oh, what a shame," replied the slightly shorter brunette, reaching for Glinda's hand on the table and intertwining their fingers, eyes still fixed on the nude finger. "It was so pretty, so unusual."
"I suppose it was," Glinda almost whispered.
After the incident, she found it incredibly hard to return her focus to the task at hand. In theory, going home and putting the ring back on would not have been too difficult, of course, as it wasn't truly lost. Yet, she knew that it would bring her little satisfaction. While she had long appreciated the ring as a pretty accessory, its main purpose had always been a symbolic one. Rather than losing the piece of jewellery itself, Glinda lamented losing the courage to wear it as a symbol of her identity. In her current state, she wasn't confident enough to be confronted about her sexuality, not even by a fellow ace. She still hadn't come to a definite decision whether or not she should even continue identifying as anything different than what others believed her to be.
She jumped when the phone on her desk, buried under a pile of open ring files, came to life with a shrill ring. It took a moment or two for her to figure out what the unpleasant sound was and with some embarrassment, she realised how far her thoughts must have drifted. She couldn't quite remember how to locate the device; it was used for internal calls only these days, since most other calls were handled using her mobile. Glinda hardly ever received internal calls.
Flipping over her stack of files, she finally found the phone, but also flung the handset halfway across the desk. Cursing mildly under her breath, she reached for it and pinned it between her shoulder and ear, so she could start tidying up the mess she had produced.
"Hello?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." It was Dayae's voice, and she sounded genuinely apologetic, although that helped little to soothe Glinda's incipient annoyance. "I –" her voice had dropped now, just above a whisper, and looking beyond the half-walls of her cubicle, Glinda could see her cautiously checking her surroundings. "I was just wondering whether you're all right."
Glinda shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Remembering their earlier conversation, her fingers once again began rubbing against each other in search of the missing ring.
"Yes, I think... I'm fine, yes."
"Well, I noticed how you were just sitting there, staring into space."
"I did?" she replied, although she suspected playing oblivious might not work this time.
"For at least an hour," Dayae intoned and Glinda felt herself beginning to melt from the humiliation.
"Oh," was all she was able to say.
"You're still sure you're okay?"
Glinda drew a shaky breath. She briefly glanced up and in her colleague's direction.
"You're right, I guess. I'll go home soon and tomorrow I'll be as good as new."
"If you say so," the Munchkin said after a brief pause, sounding not very convinced.
"Well, thanks for the wake-up call, I suppose." She tried to laugh, but it came out rather faltering. "See you tomorrow."
After hanging up the phone, she finished tidying the desk and began to put away her materials. She stuffed her laptop in her bag, together with one of the ring files and a small booklet. She would at least attempt finishing her work.
Walking up to her boss' desk with her jacket already on and her bag under her arm, Glinda presented Mr. Nikidik with a fait accompli, telling rather than asking him that she was leaving early. While he wasn't impressed, he had no good reason to refuse her.
The tram left the moment she reached the stop, but she didn't feel like standing around and waiting. Instead, she thought it might be nice to walk a station or two. Perhaps, it would help her to clear her head and, besides, exercise was known to help the body release happy hormones. Since the chocolate hadn't helped as much as she had hoped, she was willing to try another method.
One or two stops easily became eight or nine and she soon lost track of how many more trams had passed her already. Walking further than she had initially intended was no decision she'd consciously made, rather it was the result of her wavering indecision of whether the walking was actually aiding in sorting out her mind or not.
Mid to late twenties, good-looking, rich, successful. Male. Over and over, she repeated these stats in her head. That's what she was after, what she was supposed to be after, according to her mum, her dad, her aunties and according to the majority of her friends. They didn't know yet. They didn't know that she would have a really hard time finding someone exactly like that. And, hopefully, they would never have to find out. She'd just have to make it happen somehow.
Sure, she was pretty enough and definitely smart enough (although arguably too smart for some candidates' taste). She just was not quite allosexual enough. After all, what young, attractive, well-heeled high flyer would want to bother with someone so problematic? Unless she didn't tell him, unless she kept it all to herself. A perfect pass: no one would ever suspect her to be anything less than normal. Not even her husband.
She wondered whether that would mean that she would cease to exist as an asexual altogether. After all, who could claim to be oppressed, judged or bullied on the grounds of being perceived as a perfect specimen of the human species? Not in a way queer folks were anyway. Among cisgendered heterosexuals almost all negativity was born out of jealousy and being a target of jealousy only proved how fortunate one was.
Now this was all good and well, and she truly wished she could have left it at that, except for that nagging voice at the back of her head that quietly screamed at her that she just wasn't that person. She wasn't normal and ultimately, at the bottom of her heart, neither did she want to be. She was trapped between the desire to be exactly who she was and enduring the consequences and her plan of becoming someone who would do her family proud and live an uncomplicated life. The former, she felt, would affirm the label she had chosen for herself so long ago and help her justify her place in the queer community. The latter would make her exactly what Korrell thought she was: a wannabe who didn't fit in with all those other LGBT people who did not have the luxury of blending in quite so perfectly with the heteronormative crowd. She hated the thought of proving that bastard right.
She gave up. Her head was already spinning and so were her thoughts. Her arguments only repeated themselves like in an endless loop, leading to nowhere. What she needed was someone to talk this through with, but the list of people whom she could trust with this matter was extremely short. There was Fiyero, whom she couldn't talk to if she wanted to; the guilt over exploiting his example without prior permission still weighed heavy on her conscience. Crope and Tibbett were also part of her small circle of confidents now, but what did they know, being so new to all this? They would try to lend comfort for sure, but expecting their council would probably be too much to ask. That left Elphaba.
Elphaba. Glinda's walk slowed until she came to a halt. The notion of involving Elphaba in this mess made her stomach churn with all sorts of emotions. She knew that the green woman would never question her aceness or her queerness, and that thought was comforting, of course. But she was still worried about being judged for her cowardice to truly live up to those labels. Elphaba simply seemed to have so much more courage than she herself could ever possess. She also was unsure in how much detail she would be comfortable to discuss her husband plans with Elphaba. For reasons she could not even name, it just felt wrong.
Despite those and other trepidations she could hardly put in words, she took out her phone and made the call. After all, she needed help and however determined she was to find someone better suited for the task, there simply was none.
"Missing me already?" Elphaba's voice almost answered immediately after the calls had been connected.
The unexpected swiftness and boldness of the greeting rendered Glinda speechless for a moment. Given her already pre-existing reluctance, it was almost a miracle that she didn't hang up on impulse. Elphaba immediately sounded concerned when the expected reply didn't come.
"Glinda?"
"Hey, Elphie," the blonde eventually responded meekly, which only served to worry her friend further.
"What happened, Glinda? Are you all right?"
Now Glinda almost felt stupid. Ultimately, nothing had really happened. Not today, not right now anyway. She shouldn't make it out to sound so dramatic.
"I was just wondering if you are free tonight?" She briefly bit her lip. "To... well, just to talk a bit."
"Sure," Elphaba agreed without hesitation. "I can pick you up after work if you want. I guess, I should be able to leave here in ten."
A twinge of panic made Glinda's heart dither slightly. She didn't want to have this conversation at Elphaba's house or any other place her friend might propose. She needed a more neutral venue, ideally somewhere close to home, so it was feasible for her to return to her apartment whenever she wanted and without a chaperone. She looked around, for the first time caring where exactly she was, and remembered a small bar, situated in a side street, not far from her current location.
"I'm right outside the Corn Exchange," she fibbed to avoid entering in any negotiations. "It's a pub, sort of close to the Old West Gate. Do you think you could come here?"
"Of course." Elphaba paused. "That's almost on the opposite side of the city though, so allowing for the evening peak traffic, it could be up to fifty minutes or an hour until I'm actually there."
"Hm. Not a good idea then?"
"No, it's fine. That is, if you can wait so long."
For a moment, Glinda considered taking the tram towards the city centre, but then she'd most likely have to rely on Elphaba to drive her back home later, which would only complicate things further.
"I'm okay with that, as long as you are."
"Anything for you, my sweet," laughed Elphaba and hung up, leaving Glinda temporarily frozen on the spot.
The abrupt end of the call puzzled her, as did the term of endearment Elphaba had used. She'd laughed though, which meant that there was no reason to take her words too seriously. Surely, it had only been an attempt to cheer her up. Oddly, she found it difficult to say whether she felt reassured or disappointed at this.
Having nothing else to do, Glinda decided to go ahead and secure them a good seat at the pub before the after-work crowd swamped the place. It had been ages since she'd last been to the Corn Exchange, but it was all very much as she remembered. The stairs, which were designed to appear ancient and rickety, but were probably fairly safe, led from the inconspicuous entrance to the upstairs portion of the building, where the actual bar was set up. There were a few private booths, but mostly scattered tables, fashioned out of large, repurposed wooden wire spools, surrounded by cargo boxes that served as seats. Filled burlap sacs and even a few handfuls of spilt grain gave the impression that the Corn Exchange had never completely given up its original purpose. The windows were boarded up to keep out any natural sunlight and the number of cobwebs and the thick layer of dust suggested they were rarely cleaned. It was all part of the concept.
Although she herself favored the seclusion of the half-closed booths, Glinda thought that Elphaba might prefer the rustic style of the spool tables. She was certain, that the light was obscure enough to undermine the vibrancy of Elphaba's emerald skin and the music was definitely loud enough to drown out any words that were spoken further than a metre away from the listener. In terms of privacy, it was the next best thing. The seat she ended up choosing also enjoyed the added benefit of a terrific view on the bar's ornamental highlight: the mummified head of an elephant, it's trunk wrapped around a bunch of withered flowers. Again, Glinda wasn't really a fan, but was ready to bet her last penny that Elphaba would appreciate the weirdness.
It felt a little strange to sit there all alone and drink alcohol, but since she could hardly sit there for an hour or so without ordering, she decided that it would be fine for her to indulge at least in one small cocktail. As she was waiting for her drink, she tried to think of something to occupy herself with. After all the brooding she'd just done, she wanted to avoid more useless pondering before her new brain truster arrived. She began by, maybe needlessly, texting Elphaba the address of the bar. With any luck, it would help her to arrive slightly earlier.
In the end, Elphaba made it to the pub within the timeframe she had predicted, which was not a minute too early for Glinda. Having spent the past few minutes staring almost unblinkingly in the direction of the entrance, she'd spotted her green friend before she had noticed her and quickly waved her hand to get her attention.
Elphaba had evidently come directly from work and was still wearing her suit and austere braid. She fleetingly touched Glinda's shoulder in a manner of greeting, then sat down opposite her.
"Interesting choice," she commented after briefly scanning her surroundings.
"Well," Glinda said, uncomfortably shifting in her seat. It unnerved her slightly that she couldn't tell what exactly Elphaba was thinking. "I actually don't go to bars a lot and this one just happened to be nearby and it's a place I've been to before."
Nodding, Elphaba concluded the small talk segment of their meeting.
"So, what's up?" she asked. "You sounded upset earlier."
Glinda blushed.
"Did I?"
She fiddled with her phone at first, then her handbag. A moment later, she shoved her phone into her bag in frustration and put the bag down on the floor. There was no point beating around the bush.
"I need your help sorting myself out."
She could see Elphaba do a double take, her mouth twitching. She uncrossed her legs and rearranged them the other way around.
"I'm not certain I'm the right person for you to talk to," she replied evenly.
Glinda's hand darted across the table and grabbed Elphaba's, almost as though she were afraid that her friend might just get up and leave.
"No, you're the only person I could come up with, so please just listen, will you?"
She was somewhat embarrassed by the way she was begging for help and also somewhat concerned that it might have the opposite of the desired effect. Biting her lip, she slowly released her grip on Elphaba's hand, casting her an apologetic look. But after just a clock tick or two, Elphaba cleared her throat and settled into her seat. Her hand remained in place in case if Glinda still had any use for it.
"Well then. Where shall we start?"
No matter how much her heart threatened to burst open with all the accumulated tension, the burning desire to share her distressing thoughts, it was still very difficult for Glinda to take the first step.
"You haven't ordered a drink yet," she heard herself say instead, groaning inwardly.
Elphaba chose a ginger beer; obviously, she'd arrived by car. Glinda decided that another cocktail might help her to overcome her nerves and also asked for a large bowl of wedges to keep herself from getting too drunk and to ensure that Elphaba wouldn't starve over the course of the next hour or so.
Once the waiter had left, she could feel Elphaba's expectant look intensifying. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to spill her guts.
"I had a rather unpleasant encounter the other day," she told her quietly, picking non-existent dirt from under her fingernails.
At first, Elphaba made the impression that she would say something, but instead, she settled for simply nodding, encouraging her to go on. And so, Glinda told her about all the hateful things Korrell had said and her subsequent coming out to her flat mates. As she talked, she observed that Elphaba had developed a sudden interest in her right hand and of course, she knew that she had noticed the absence of her ring. So far, there hadn't been any comments on that yet, however.
"The worst thing," she concluded, "is that I almost believe that he is right to a certain extend."
She paused to look up and, as perhaps expected, saw Elphaba opening her mouth to protest, but she dismissively waved her hand.
"Naturally, all the rubbish he said about Fiyero was absolutely absurd, but... You know, I do feel like he's got a point as far as I'm concerned."
"No, you listen to me now," Elphaba said, obviously done with just sitting silently. "That twat doesn't know shit – not about asexuality, not about you... He's heard some exclusionist bullshit and buys into it. His bad."
"Of course, aces in general are part of the queer community," Glinda allowed, "but Elphie, you see... my case might be just a little different than others'."
This only earned her furrowed brows and a confused look from her friend.
"Well, look at me, I'm closeted as hell and what I haven't mentioned to you before is that I have this plan. I... I sort of decided a long time ago that I'd find myself a guy - young, rich, sexy guy, you know – and then I'd marry him and we'd have children and I'd never have to tell my parents anything about being ace. Do you see what I mean? I'm doing my best to make myself look normal to others. No one needs to know. I'd just pass for your common pretty, blonde, normal girl, just like so many others. But in doing that, don't I pass up on any right that I might have to identify as ace or even queer?"
"No," Elphaba immediately objected rather forcefully. "You do want to identify as queer, don't you?" she demanded.
"Yes, I'd like to," Glinda replied, annoyed "but I'd also like to be a famous movie star. Pretending I am one doesn't make it true though. Yes, I wish I could be part of that community, because otherwise I quite frankly don't know where I do belong right now. But if people see me as a normal hetero woman, they treat me as a normal hetero woman. How can I justify mingling with and comparing myself to those who are truly oppressed?"
"Because being forced to shup up about who you really are and how you really feel is a form of oppression!" Elphaba insisted sternly, leaning heavily on the table to get closer to Glinda.
The petite blonde watched her uncertainly, trying not to shrink back in response to the intensity in her eyes.
"I've told you about my brother's habits, haven't I?" Elphaba asked as she slowly lowered herself back into her seat, giving Glinda the necessary space to proceed in the discussion with more ease. "He tries to hide his true self and it is destructive. It's not doing him any good and no approval for his acted persona can make up for that. While different people in different situations might cope more or less successfully, it is my belief, that this strategy is never recommendable."
She waited for Glinda to respond, but the blonde was too busy hanging on Elphaba's every word to recognise her cue. So, Elphaba continued.
"You can't tell me that everything would be automatically beautiful, just because you pretend to be like the majority of people. No. you'd still struggle, but you'd struggle all on your own, without much help from outside, because those struggles would be invisible to others. Life wouldn't be much easier on the grand scheme of things, so all you'd be doing is putting up a brave front while fighting your battles all alone. That's why you can't let them bully you into believing that you are not worthy of the support of the LGBTQA community. Whether they are outsiders or other members of the community, if they make you believe that you have no right to identify the way you feel, they are oppressing you."
"That's an interesting way of looking at it," Glinda admitted. "I suppose, if I were to sit here with a friend, trying to answer the same question, that might be something I myself would tell them."
"But you're not convinced."
Glinda was surprised at the matter-of-factly look on Elphaba's face. She herself was confused as hell right now, but Elphaba seemed to somehow understand everything.
"It is difficult sometimes to apply principles that otherwise appear logical if it is to our own benefit. You have your general stance on one hand, but faced with conflicting points of view, you doubt yourself. You doubt whether you deserve to benefit that would result from your own, more favourable approach."
First swallowing the big lump that had formed in her throat, then chuckling incredulously, Glinda couldn't believe what her friend had just said.
"Yap, that pretty much sums it up," she sighed, slumping heavily into her seat and shaking her head. "It seems strange for someone to understand myself better than I do. It's like I didn't realise this about myself until you just laid it out for me and suddenly, it all makes sense."
She felt the annoying sting of tears in her eyes and wiped at them, trying to pass it off as a massage against an oncoming headache. Taking a few breaths, she collected herself before looking back up at Elphaba to study her.
"But you feel very much the same way, don't you?" she realised, speaking the words as soon as they popped into her heat.
"That's not relevant right now," Elphaba deflected curtly.
Glinda thought it was and she wished she could ask Elphaba to confide in her in return, but the green woman's posture had become strangely stiff, her shoulders square and her jaw muscles tense. She could plainly see, that tonight wasn't the best time to turn the tables on her.
"You mentioned the struggles that I'd face," Glinda said instead, resuming their original line of argument. "But I'm not sure if it would be so terrible after all. I do have Fiyero and you, and Crope and Tibbett, I suppose, to talk about my asexuality whenever it becomes really necessary. Why would anyone else have to know?"
"Well, that obviously depends. For example, do you intend to tell your future husband? If yes, it might make finding the right partner a little trickier than usual and others, especially your family, might become suspicious. If not, you will end up at a whole different level of secrecy."
"I don't intend to," Glinda immediately replied firmly. "The type of guy I'm looking for is not the type who would be very likely to be familiar with the ace spectrum, and I don't want to scare them off."
"What about intimacy?" challenged Elphaba without missing a beat. "In a relationship like that, it will inevitably come to that. Generally, long before the wedding bells ring. I'm not saying it can't be done, but how will you go about explaining certain, well, 'quirks' you might have?"
"I don't think I have that many," Glinda answered somewhat shyly. "And I don't think I'm that... repulsed or whatever. I expect, I can get used to most of it? And at any rate, one doesn't need to be ace to have such 'quirks'."
Elphaba hummed thoughtfully.
"Fair enough," she acknowledged. "But please consider this carefully. If you are so hellbent on keeping it a secret, you might end up living in constant fear of being discovered, and if you were to be found out, some people you hold dear might feel betrayed and accuse you of posing as something you are not. Just like that asshole friend of your flat mates' did, only the other way around. It's a risk you're taking and you will worry about it and it might cause you a lot of stress, maybe anxieties. And that's why you totally have the right to claim a queer identity if you choose to do so. Whatever part you decide to play, there are still things that make you different from the norm, that cause you anguish because of your otherness. It's up to you, but the label is all yours if you only want it."
Glinda was satisfied with that for the time being and thanking her, told Elphaba that she needed a while to think it all over.
"Very good," said Elphaba, "but please allow me just one more question. Why me? I mean, your pal Fiyero seems much more qualified to help you with this."
"Because I feel ashamed. I shouldn't have told Korrell about him and just thinking of the terrible, terrible things he's said. I couldn't even bear telling him about it all."
"I think you're overthinking this," Elphaba told her quietly. "If it bothers you a lot, you should probably talk to him. I might not know him, but I'm still sure that, most likely, you will find that he won't hold it against you."
Although skeptical, Glinda accepted this piece of advice for now. She'd think about it later. Feeling that it was time to leave soon, she took her cocktail and emptied it swiftly.
"Elphie?" she asked timidly as she put her glass down. "Would you mind terribly much if I stayed at your place tonight? I just don't think I could handle coming back to be bombarded with well meant questions and all that."
"Sure thing," Elphaba smiled.