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Autumn and Winter Romance

A Romance with Asexual Tones

By Colleen SweeneyPublished 6 years ago 7 min read
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I met Robert on Halloween in 2015. I was dressed head-to-toe in early twentieth century clothing as a vampire who could not bring herself to dress in modern fashion. I was particularly proud of myself because I had managed to spend less than five hundred dollars on the costume, which I could use for multiple purposes outside of Halloween. I was also the most fancily dressed at the Halloween party — that was, until Robert walked in the room.

He was dressed similarly to me, except he was in a nineteenth century black suit that fit him extraordinarily well. His hair was dark and combed back and he was sporting a most voluminous beard. His look was familiar, but I couldn’t pinpoint who he was supposed to be just yet. The moment he glimpsed me across the room, he made a beeline for me. I was sitting off in a darkish corner, because I had become self-conscious about the level of detail in my costume when compared to others in the house.

“Is this spot taken?” I shook my head, and moved a couple of inches to make room for him. We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before he said, “It seems you and I are destined to talk to each other, dressed as we are.”

I smirked, smoothing my skirts and fidgeting with my ornate hat. “It would seem so.” I turned to face him. “Here I am as a turn of the century vampire and you as you are.”

“But who am I? Maybe you’ll get it right on the first try, since everyone I’ve encountered so far thinks I am Charles Dickens.”

“So, you are an author?” He nods. “Well, that narrows down the possibilities,” I said with a playful smile. “Do I get hints?” He shrugs and I readjust myself on the bench to get a better look at him. “Are you a foreign writer?” He shakes his head. “Okay… American.” I contemplate a moment, taking in every part of his costume and beard. Of course, as I size him up, I get a good look at his eyes, which reminded me of the ocean on an overcast day.

“You’re definitely not Edgar Allan Poe.” He shakes his head emphatically. “Hmmm…I know! You’re Herman Melville, right?” He nods, with a confident smile. “Yes, what a pair we are,” I say, leaning back against the bench.

“Can I ask a rather personal question? Feel free to tell me to get lost if you want.”

“Ask your question, Melville.”

“Are you one of those ardent history nerds that goes the full enchilada with costuming?” I look at him questioningly. “I can’t think of a right way to ask this.”

“Are you inquiring if I am wearing a corset?” He nods, inching to the edge of the bench in preparation for me to tell him to go away. “Yes, I am. It’s not improper to ask; it’s not like it is 1900 or anything. When I costume myself in these fashions, I want the full experience and I don’t want to half-ass it. I mean, looking at you, you’re the same way.” He smiles and nods.

“I’m Robert,” he says, offering his hand to mine. “Sloane,” I reply, shaking his hand.

We spend the party in our dark corner, talking about books and Halloween. Just as we begin diving into our general likes and dislikes, we notice our friends blatantly staring at us. I pantomime, taking his wrist into my hand and opening my mouth so my fangs protrude, and pretending to bite him. He fell back as if he were being drained. They looked away in disgust and we both laughed.

“Do you live in Forsyte Cove?”

“No, I live in Boston. I am just down here as a favor to a friend. Particularly, the guy standing over by the bats staring at us.” I turn to see where he is pointing and the guy disappears behind a wall partition.

Suddenly, “In the Hall of the Mountain King” begins to play. Someone shouts that the song is for Robert and me. Taking the bait, Robert stands up and takes my hand in his. We begin haphazardly waltzing around the room, since the only waltzes we’ve seen were in movies. As the music begins to speed up, he begins spinning me fast. I squeal, since I have vertigo. He stops and apologizes, leading me back to our bench.

We part ways an hour later and I know it is likely the last time we’ll see each other, since we live such a distance apart. It was a surprise to me when Robert called me on November 2 to ask me on a date, which we set for the following Friday.

I wondered as I walked to the location of our date if he would be able to recognize me without my vampire makeup and last century clothing. I also wondered if he had the Herman Melville beard, or was it something he had put together for Halloween. I soon found out when he approached me, without the beard.

He was just as handsome and he was dressed in a much more complementary style. He said the same thing to me. We went inside a little Italian restaurant and started our date.

During this date, we both discovered we never told each other what we did for work. Over a glass of white wine, I told him that I was a librarian at the O’Loughlin Library, mainly tooling around anywhere I was needed. He told me he was an accountant for some large company in the Boston area and waited patiently for some sort of judgment from me on that account. When he received none, he continued talking.

“I want to circle back to the library you work for: the O’Loughlin Library, which is the creepy library in Forsyte Cove. I’ve been in there and there is definitely something off in that place.”

I smiled and said, “I’ll grant you, it is a very old library, but it isn’t as bad as people make it. The reference section in the basement is an entirely different story. There are drips, strange banging noises, and it is so quiet that it is unsettling. But in the five years I have worked there, I have yet to encounter anything otherworldly.”

After dinner, we took a casual walk around the local park to continue talking.

“I’m sure you’re curious about why I asked you out on this date,” he says walking to a nearby bench.

“I was wondering when you’d get to that,” I said jokingly, taking a seat beside him. “Seriously though, I already know the reasons. Kevin and Rhett already told me. I think it’s sweet, if I am honest.”

“Well, I mean it’s not every day you encounter a woman dressed as a vampire in early twentieth century clothing.” I laughed, sweeping my hair off my shoulder.

“I could say the same thing about you — it’s not every day you meet someone dressed as Herman Melville. How did you achieve that beard, by the way? Because you don’t have a lot of facial hair as it is, or did you shave it all off in the last week?”

“I have a very talented friend that helped apply the beard.” He rearranged his scarf. “Are you a fan of Melville?”

“To be honest, I’ve never read Moby Dick.” He feigned disgust.

“And you call yourself a librarian?” He started laughing and got up from the park bench. He walked me back to where we had met up and we said our goodbyes.

***************

We continued going out through the month of November. On our third date Robert and I both shared that we were asexual. It came up so casually, with him saying that this was typically the date when sex was usually expected and that he wanted to be completely honest and say that sex wasn’t going to happen. I stared blankly back at him, and then smiled widely.

literature
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About the Creator

Colleen Sweeney

I've been writing for over twenty years, spurred on by the death of my grandpa and unable to find a way to express myself. I graduated from college with a degree in Creative Writing, and a minor in Psychology.

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