It had been months since she had touched me. Whether she had another lover or not, I didn’t know, although I could have found out easily — a quick look into her eyes when she would come to my house straight from work, her whole body smelling of camphor. A peek into the photos on her computer, if she chose to leave it overnight, as she sometimes did when she decided to stay for two days in a row. I knew the password because she kept it the same for everything — ATEVA004! — and I knew this password because she trusted me with it. She trusted me with everything--money, watches, bills, time. So what right did I, her chosen confidant, have to doubt her?
Her official title was “Topical formulation scientist”, mixing and measuring and melting ingredients to make pain ointment for a famous Chinese company. The work was not enjoyable for her; monotonous, uncreative. At night as I tucked my head into the crease of her armpit, she would tell me what she really wanted to be:a perfumer, developi...
You've Reached A+ Content!
Reader support is the cornerstone of our business model and it enables us to keep this site and 99% of our content free for everyone. Although we’d never put up a paywall for anything we know is necessary to our community, we do provide bonus content for A+ members like this post, the A+ member advice column and our monthly behind-the-scenes newsletter. It’s our thank you to the A+ Members who are playing a key role in keeping independent queer media alive.
In 2020, 86% of our support came through readers who enable us to pay the incredible LGBTQ humans who make this community run. Your membership contribution helps us to do this.
You can become a member and join the community that keeps Autostraddle working starting at just $4 a month.
Every member makes a difference when it comes to helping Autostraddle thrive, build queer community, and be here for the next person who needs us.
Already a member? Sign in