What Is Love?

by Jen Comfort

“Good. In victory, you deserve whisky. In defeat, you need it.” Who was this woman who paraphrased Napoleon and had the confidence to taunt him?

And unlike Maxine and their mother, whose brains seemed to take the concept of living as a personal challenge and could weather nuclear winter in a trash bag if they had to, Olive’s brilliant, neurotypical brain needed the light; the steady sureness of authority and consistency and dependable adult role models.

“Rats are highly cooperative, intelligent creatures who can memorize a route in a maze after only a single pass. They would thrive in the upper echelons of scholarship.”

There was nothing she couldn’t do with enough embittered feminism and classist rage.

“Fortes fortuna iuvat.” “And as I’m sure you well know, that phrase has been attributed to Pliny the Elder immediately preceding his death during a foolish campaign to rescue his friend from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Perhaps it might be better translated as ‘misfortune favors the bold.’”

“Look, there’s even a little owl, to symbolize that all your ancestors are giant nerds too. Which is ironic because did you know owls are actually the himbos of the raptor world? I had a torrid affair with a chick who works the eagle exhibit at the Bronx Zoo. She said owls are apex predators, so they don’t actually need intelligence to survive, which is why you almost never see a trained owl. It’s like trying to train a panda. There’s just not enough gray matter per metric ounce of snuggle.”

“It’s okay! I like to be scared. It’s a sign I’m doing something bold. Something worthwhile. Life’s scary, dude! We’re hurtling through space on a rock protected by a fragile shell of atmosphere, and none of us know what the fuck we’re doing here. That’s terrifying!” She pulled back and shrugged. “Embrace the fear. Accept that it’s always gonna be there, under everything else, and get busy living.”

“Would you rather die like Pliny, saving your best friend from Mount Vesuvius, or would you rather live, knowing you could’ve been an Answers! ultimate champion if only you’d risked enough?”

This was a pattern of questioning that had likely fueled the poor choices of men since the dawn of civilization. And it was in that very moment that Teddy’s brain unlocked the epiphany that should have been so obvious: Pliny the Elder hadn’t sailed his troops into the arms of an erupting volcano to save a mere friend.

Atmosphere rushed past him, buffeting his body, and it was . . . soft. The air was soft. He’d expected his stomach to drop the way it did when an elevator descended quickly, but it wasn’t like that at all. This was like emerging from the dark, climate-controlled library into a windstorm and being caught up in a sudden gust. It was surprising, and it made his muscles brace, but it wasn’t . . . it wasn’t frightening. The sky greeted him like he was a long-lost child. Welcome back! said the wind. This is where you belong. Why were you inside so long?

How had he lived his whole life only seeing migrating geese above his head? His entire perspective had been so limited. But now, he could see there was so much more. It wasn’t that he’d craved that singular experience—geese hardly crossed his mind at all—but he was now aware of an endless host of things he’d yet to experience with what remained of his life (he was thirty-five, so by all accounts, he was approaching the halfway marker), and he was filled with the exhilarating urge to do them all. He wanted to watch the sun never set from the North Pole in July. He wanted to swim in equatorial water. He wanted to touch the bottom of Lake Baikal and float in the Dead Sea. He wanted to lose his breath in a crowd at Shibuya Crossing and catch it at Point Nemo.

“If you want to earn a woman’s love at some point in your life, you must first understand her rage,”

“You can’t fight or fuck your way out of every serious conversation.”

“Please give a welcome to our first set of players!” came longtime announcer Gilbert Johnson’s booming baritone.

I see what you did there...

halcyon

weird obsession with the word halcyon.

“Would Elton John like his coat back after taping?” Teddy returned smoothly. “No, not at all. This was a gift.” In a stage whisper: “He’s a fan.” “Did you know he composed a Broadway original called Lestat, which closed after a mere thirty-nine days?” “Did you know his birth name was Reginald Dwight? Elton and John were the names of two of his bandmates.” Zola made a disgusted noise from the third podium. “Get a room.” She sputtered. “What? Ew. Teddy? Ha! Never.”