Dewey Belong Together Read online

  Before I could hang up, I heard him laugh again and say, “Not as much as you will—”

  This was great, perfect really. I was about to take the biggest leap of my life and go after someone I’d been interested in since I was seventeen, and dammit, now I was doing it alone. And not just anyone, a guy. It was true that I'd never been into dudes, but Max’s personality is so damn bold and bright it never failed to draw me in. From the day we first met online, I knew there was some kind of spark between us, and I did all kinds of foolish things to try to win his attention and show him I was worthy of it. I was eighteen when after a very excellent day of verbal sparring with Max, I knocked on my mom’s bedroom door and cried in her arms as I told her I was interested in a guy, but I didn’t really think I like-liked guys, so was I gay or what? She held me and rocked me back and forth while she prayed to Jesus that I would be led down the “right path” for my immortal soul.

  Luckily, my mother believed in mental health professionals almost as much as she did her Lord and Savior. She took me to see Tom, a therapist, to help me try to sort out the spaghetti-like tangle of gay panic in my brain. Tom helped me understand that I didn’t need to slap a label on my sexuality if I didn’t want to, and that it wasn’t crazily uncommon to be attracted to one special person of the same sex. He also told me that there are all kinds of orientations out there, like people who are attracted romantically to someone, but not sexually. Or not sexually until a strong romantic connection is forged. I liked how that sounded because it explained so many things, like why I only liked looking at the ladies in porn but I loved talking to Max. Maybe I was one of those people that needed a strong romantic connection first, and my physical attraction to Max would develop over time. Or maybe I was one of those people who thought that a person’s body simply wasn’t nearly as important as their mind, heart, and soul. Yeah, I liked that.

  With Tom’s help, I got fairly comfortable with the idea of Max and me. In theory. So comfortable that at twenty I told my best friend, Norman, aka Deathdrop, about my feelings. After laughing for a solid fifteen minutes over how much Max hated me—which had to be impossible—he slapped me on the back and offered himself up as a test case to see if making out with a guy really did anything for me. I learned two things that day: one, a mouth feels pretty much like a mouth, no matter what genitals it is eventually attached to; and two, when your best friend tries to slip you the tongue, shit gets awkward, fast.

  Despite our weird make-out session, Norman and I were cool. Except this stunt. This right here put him in the category of traitor to the realm.

  So why had I kept my feelings secret from Max? Long story short—plain and simple terror. Tom and I had worked on my crushing fear of rejection, but I still hadn’t worked up the courage to put myself out there with Maximus. I know, glaciers moved quicker than I did when possible romance was involved. But when I read the message on the guild forums about this gathering, I knew I would beg, borrow, and steal to get the time off work and the money together for a trip to Tennessee. Finally, this was my chance to tell Max directly how I felt.

  Breathe, I told myself, just breathe. Be mindful of your body and let your feelings wash over you. Focus on staying calm. Nobody accomplished anything by playing it safe. After a few breaths and a few more platitudes, I thought, Screw deep breathing, hello pharmaceuticals. In my pocket were two little white pills, each one capable of calming me down before I had a full-blown panic attack on the tarmac. I took one of the lorazepam and let it melt under my tongue. I was grateful my slower exit from the back of the plane would give me a bit more time to let the fast-acting medication work. I didn’t exactly like relying on antianxiety meds, but desperate times and all that. Not that I thought taking medication was a desperate measure, just not one that I enjoyed. Especially considering what my daily dosage of various meds already looked like, all piled up twice a day.

  After I deplaned and grabbed my duffel from the luggage carousel, I saw a pillar and leaned against it, pretending to use my cell phone while I searched for Max. Would he be tall? Short? Would he think my tats were cool? Dammit, I was acting and thinking like a swoony teenage girl. And why was it suddenly so hot in here? I collected myself and did a quick scan of the room until I saw a woman holding a sign with our names on it. And sweet Lord of the Rings, she was beautiful; tall and voluptuous, with bangin’ curves and a pretty face. She looked kind of like that model on Instagram, Ashley Graham, but a bit bigger. She was wearing a cute T-shirt, jeans with a few rips, and red Converse like the Tenth Doctor which made me smile a little. Her light brown hair was done up in a retro style in a red bandana, and she was also scoping out the thinning crowd.

  Then it hit me like a raining iguana—this must be Max’s girlfriend. I was lusting after Max’s girlfriend when I should be focused on Max. And oh my god, he has a girlfriend. I hadn’t even considered this possibility. I assumed that anyone who played a video game as much as Max did had to be single, at least most of the time. I didn’t let the fact that this was a blatant stereotype deter me in that assumption. Disappointment and irrational anger wrapped around me like a blanket. I tried to be nice. I really did.

  “What, he couldn’t be bothered to pick us up so he sends his mousy girlfriend?” I was almost shocked by what came out of my mouth. I didn’t know this girl, and it wasn’t her fault I was crushing on Max. And calling her mousy because she looked a bit uncomfortable wasn’t fair.

  She looked jarred for a moment but quickly lowered the sign and stuck out her right hand. “Maximus. Good to meet you, Wrath. I see you haven't picked up any manners lately.”

  I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, and my head reared back. “Max?! You’re a … chick?” I asked, my mouth gaping like a codfish, and my arms limp at my sides.

  There was probably a loading bar hovering over my forehead as it all sunk in. Max is a chick. A girl. A woman. A woman, for the love of Pete! I’ve spent nigh on ten years sexually confused over being in love with a girl. I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, break dance, or throw something against the damn pillar behind me. All of that angst, all of it for nothing. I mean, okay, I did learn a lot about myself going through counseling. I know if Max had been a guy, I would still try to pursue something because I had come to believe that what resides at the core of a person was far more important than the packaging it came in. But faced with this strange new reality, my resolve wavered. If Max was a girl, didn’t that make him—er, her—a liar of epic proportions? It wasn’t only me, everyone thought Maximus_Damage was a dude. There’s no way she could be ignorant of that. And she what, just rolled with it? The Max I knew had integrity. It was one of those noble qualities I admired but that sometimes annoyed me about him. Her.

  Argh, this was a total mess. I suppose a part of me was relieved that Max was a woman, despite the deception. I wouldn't have to face the judgement of being in a same-sex relationship, should I be able to convince girl-Max that I was worth taking a chance on if she happened to return my feelings—please, God, let her return my feelings. Not that I gave a shit on an average day what others thought of me, but being in a gay relationship in my hometown? Not recommended. Mom could finally stop praying for my immortal soul. Plus, other than that one ill-thought kiss with Norman, all of my experience had been with women. I was on much firmer footing on the seduction front with girl-Max.

  I fumbled through a few words with her, trying to sound cheerful and not like a dick. I was in shock, that was it. Plain shock. This beautiful woman, holding her hand out to me, was the one I thought of as the love of my life. How would I move forward from here? There’s no instruction manual or game guide to tell me what to do because no strategy had ever been dreamt up for this situation, I’m sure.

  After having my testicles come under what sounded like a viable threat, we made our way to Max’s car, her stubbornly insisting on pushing the luggage cart even though I knew my bag was heavy as all hell. Conversation between us had come to a standstill, both of us probably
lost in thought as we made our way through arrivals and to the parking lot. I mean, besides all my inner drama over the discovery of Max’s gender, what do you say to someone you know because you talk to them every day, but you don't really know?

  "So this is a bit weird, huh, princess? Seeing someone from the game in person?" I asked, floundering around to make conversation. I wondered how discombobulated she was that it was just the two of us. I knew I was having a hard time processing that I had four days to get Max to return my affections, or by some miracle, be with her if she already did,. Maybe Norman had done me a favor after all.

  "It's a bit strange, yeah. I've never met someone from the internet before. Not a big Tinder user. Um, I've organized a bunch of group activities, but we can always ditch the itinerary if you'd rather hang out and game while you're here. I have a PS4, a Switch, and a spare laptop," she replied, like she was trying to be hospitable but was uncertain how to proceed.

  I thought about the work she had probably put into this weekend and felt a twinge of guilt at being happy it was crumbling to pieces around her.

  "No way!" I replied. "We'll stick to the itinerary you made up. We can game on our own anytime. How many opportunities will we have to unplug together?"

  "Not too damn many, I hope," she mumbled, exhaling loudly. I decided to interpret that as a sign she was tired from pushing the luggage cart, and my fingers itched to take over the chore from her.

  "Max, I can push around my own bag,” I said, moving closer to the cart.

  "I've got it!" she said, sending me a glare which spoke of fire raining from the sky if I didn’t leave it alone. But then I rarely left things alone when it came to Max.

  "I know, but it would be easier for me to push," I explained, getting into position to take the cart from her.

  "Why, because you're a guy? You think I'm weak now that you know I'm a 'chick’?" she asked, bringing the cart to a standstill and cocking her head to one side, looking straight into my eyes.

  Okay, whoa. I wasn't touching that with a ten-foot pole even if she may have been technically correct in that I did think I was stronger than her. I stepped to the side to grant her more room and gave a little flourish with my hand, saying calmly, "As you wish. I was just offering because my mother raised me right."

  “And I’m pushing because my mother raised me right, and you don’t let a guest take care of their own bags. Honestly.” She let out a puff of air and kept pushing.

  We finally stopped by a blue Jeep that looked like it was literally held together with duct tape and glue. I wondered how Max had planned to squeeze everyone in there, had the others arrived. Since it was just the two of us, my bag was tossed in the back, and I grabbed shotgun. As we peeled out of the parking lot, I watched Max from the corner of my eye. She really was beautiful, and I'd be lying if I said I was anything but gobsmacked. She had shiny, light brown hair, green eyes that kept flashing annoyance, and a cute, round chin.

  After a few minutes of trying not to be obvious about watching her, my curiosity could no longer go unsatiated. I had to address the elephant in the Jeep. “So, Max, are you going to tell me why you’re a lying liar who lies?" Yikes, even I inwardly cringed at how that came out.

  “Excuse me?” she replied, sounding offended. “I’m not a liar. What have I ever lied about?”

  I let out a snort. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, princess. Your gender. You’ve been lying to the gaming community for a decade, pretending to be a guy.”

  “I never once stated I was a man,” she defended, and I tried to recall if that were true. “You gamer guys are all the same. You assume anyone that’s any good has to have your kind of junk. Like a girl couldn’t possibly rise to the top of the ranks.”

  I didn’t bother to correct her because I didn’t want to get stuck on a tangent about sexism in video games. I knew, from reading the game forums, Max could and would talk about it at length.

  “You may have never come right out and said you were a guy, but you’ve been actively concealing that you’re a girl. You’ve never joined in on the guild voice chat. You always let the other officers take point on everything. There’s a rumor that you’re mute! You could be better than good, you know, you could be a great raid or arena leader if you’d stop hiding and step up.” Voice chat was essential to parts of the game where tight team coordination was needed. In my opinion, Max's lack of vocal participation has held her back from rising to the leadership of the entire guild.

  She blinked rapidly and stuck the tip of her tongue out of the right-hand side of her mouth. I’m going to guess this was her thinking face. It was also cute as all get-out.

  “I’m not hiding. I did play as a girl for a little while in Guilds of the Ages. Before I was Maximus_Damage, I mean. I made the newbie mistake of uploading myself into one of those websites where you reveal your real face and character name. Do you know what it was like gaming as a girl back then? Guys would message me asking for cybersex or virtual lap dances. Random dudes would shower me with gold or presents I didn’t ask for and then expect me to owe them some kind of relationship. My looks were made fun of on the forums—called fat, which may be accurate, but they meant it as an insult—and my skills were ridiculed even though I was damn awesome. People accused me of expecting a handout or a free ride because I was a girl despite never asking for anything from anyone. It was …” She trailed off for a minute, as though grappling for the right words. “Not fun. And it’s a freakin’ game, it’s supposed to be fun, right? So I re-rolled as a male warrior and no one asked me if I was a girl. Suddenly, all that crap was gone. And every time you call me sweet cheeks or princess, you remind me that you’re the type of guy I was trying to escape from.”

  Huh. And ouch.

  “And do you even remember Gamergate?" She shook her head in frustration. Oh, here we go. "Because I sure as hell do. I was very vocal on my personal Twitter about it, and on the game forums as Maximus. Coordinated harassment of women, doxing, even threats of rape and death, for the love of the gods. Is it any wonder that after years of playing a male dwarf I wasn't keen on having some kind of coming out party? Although I guess that's what this weekend is, in part. I'm not a total idiot. I knew when I agreed to host that my grand plan to deceive you all for years would come crumbling down the moment you saw me,” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm. “You know what, how about I turn on some music and save us from more of this conversation.” I hummed in agreement, needing some time to digest her point of view.

  I found it hard to believe it could be that bad for girl gamers. I kind of remember guys talking about some of the girls we played with in unflattering terms. Saying crude things. That was just harmless guy talk, right? But then how could it be harmless if a player as well-known as Maximus had concealed who she was for nigh on a decade? That had to mean something, especially when she could probably make a living playing games and streaming it online. Plenty of girl gamers hosted their own channels and had hordes of subscribers. But maybe those women got harassed too? My intuition told me that despite everything she said, there was still another reason why Max had concealed her gender online, and I was going to Sherlock it out before the weekend was over.

  I swear she spun the dial up to eleven, blasting “Mother Superior” by Coheed and Cambria, surprising the pants off me. “This is from No World for Tomorrow, right?” I asked, only slightly surprised that our tastes for prog—progressive rock—matched.

  She nodded. “It’s their earlier work, and I gotta say I love it.”

  I loved it too. Hearing the familiar music calmed me in addition to the lorazepam now soothing my brain. I decided to stow my hurt at her deception for a little while and see how things could go between Max and me. I had to say, she made some excellent points. And though I occasionally gave her a bit of hell in the game, she was also rarely wrong. I extended an olive branch to mend the weirdness between us. “I have their music on my playlist in my shop,” I said, giving her some real-life info about
me, the kind of stuff we didn’t talk about in-game. "I build computers with my best friend." Norman and I owned a fairly successful online business and had built a reputation for making crazy custom builds. The “shop” I’d referenced earlier was really my garage, not that I was going to mention that.

  “You build computers with Deathdrop? Cool beans. I built my own system,” she replied, then went back to bopping her head and mouthing the words. When the chorus hit, she burst out into song, and I had to quickly stifle a laugh. The incredible Maximus_Damage couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, though her enthusiasm was contagious. I thought, to hell with it, and joined in. We sang together in excruciating harmony for the next twenty minutes to Green Valley.

  Chapter 3

  Maxine

  "Do you want to live forever? Get over that ridge!"

  ― Maximus_Damage

  After a half hour in the car, I felt as though I was driving through an apocalyptic hellscape, one in which Wrath was the only other person to survive. I couldn’t think of any other reason why we would be cheerily singing together unless the end of days had arrived. But no, that didn't make much sense: Who sings their way through the apocalypse? As he belted out another verse, I thought, Wrath and I, that's who. As much as four days alone with Wrath might be my own personal hell, I had to find a way to get through it, sanity intact. I’d take car karaoke and whatever other agreeable moments as they came.

  I was still hopping mad as hell that I was in this position to begin with. I stuck my neck out for the guild organizing this meetup, and when it came down to it, a dozen people flaked on me, leaving me alone with the very last person on this planet I wanted to host until Sunday.

  And who the heck was he to call me a liar? Simply because a segment of people, obviously including him, had assumed I was a guy didn’t make me responsible for their assumptions. They needed to self-examine why they thought that in the first place rather than Wrath’s implication that I should be checking my head over why I “misled” the gaming community for a decade. Should Wrath out me as a girl and the proverbial shit hit the fan, it wouldn’t be hard to understand why I had made the choice I did. The guys I played with assumed I was a guy because I was in what they perceived to be their space, and I was kicking ass in it. Period. I had nothing to feel badly about. So why did I feel … bad? Because I had come face-to-face with someone I had “lied” to?