Myron put his cracked waterskin on the general store counter. “Do you do repairs?”
The shopkeeper looked smooth-skinned from the waist up save for his ears; a glance behind the counter confirmed he was a centaur. He picked up the waterskin and winced. “We do,” he said, “but not for this.” He slid the skin back to Myron. “That crack’s too deep; you’re better off getting a new one.”
Myron shrugged and smiled good-naturedly. “Had a feeling, but thanks for looking. Got any in stock?”
The shopkeeper snapped his fingers, and a young satyr off to the side hopped off a shelf and went into the back. “Anything else you need, sir?”
“Do you do postal drops here?”
“Sure do; I assume you’re sending it inland?”
Myron gave the shopkeeper a knowing grin as he pulled a well-stuffed envelope out of his pack. “What gave that away, the horns?”
“Horns are fine, son,” the shopkeeper said with his own grin. “We get a few minotaurs around here, especially this time of year. Your accent, on the other hand…” He took the envelope and weighed it in his hand before tallying up Myron’s total. “You here for harvest?”
“Harvest and sowing, if I’m lucky,” Myron said.
“Where are you working?”
Myron motioned with his head. “Up at the barley farm.”
“Irenaeus' bunch?” The shopkeeper laughed. “If that den of chaos doesn’t drive you out by midwinter, you’re here for life, son.”
“I can handle chaos,” Myron said. “And I don’t stick around.”
“So you say,” the shopkeeper said. “They are a strange bunch. Particularly Eutychia…”
Myron raised an eyebrow. “Why Eutychia?”
“No one really knows,” the shopkeeper said with a shrug. “But that girl is carrying something…”
The slap of money on the counter startled the two. A well-built but still somewhat feminine fawn left a couple of coins on the counter and held up a pack of jerky. “Not a girl,” they said with a grin and a wink before walking out.
The shopkeeper looked back to Myron. “See what I mean?”
Myron just didn’t react. “Thanks for the new skin,” he said and walked out.
“Not that I’m ungrateful,” Myron said as he set the handcart down, “but why’d your family hire me?”
Eutychia set their own cart down. “You ungrateful bastard,” they said with a grin. “You mean as opposed to a centaur?”
“Or buying a horse,” he finished.
Eutychia cranked the electrical switch to start the conveyor belt. “First off, horses can’t work the equipment.”
“Fair enough.” Myron moved his cart to the end of the belt and started gently pouring the contents out.
“Second, centaurs eat a lot.” They paused. “That doesn’t mean you’re cheaper, but it’s just not as lucrative a job for them generally.”
“Even if they could move the carts quicker?”
Eutychia smirked. “Lot more to this job than moving carts. As for you…” They shrugged. “You’re here, you get the job.”
Myron smirked back. “Love those kinds of jobs.”
They switched carts. “So, how’s life been?” Eutychia asked.
Myron furrowed his brow. “Since…?”
“Since you were here six years ago?” they said with a gentle smile.
Myron looked away. “So you do remember me,” he muttered.
“You’re hard to forget.” They stopped short. “Is that a bad thing?”
“You tell me.” He looked back at them. “Felt like we left things on a bad note.”
Eutychia winced. “Guess you’re not wrong,” they muttered. They shuffled their legs a bit before continuing. “I shouldn’t have led you on. I didn’t mean to; I had every intention of following through.”
“So what stopped you?”
They opened their mouth, closed it, and sighed. “It’s complicated,” they said, “but the short version is I’m in a long-distance relationship. And it wasn’t about not cheating on them,” they said quickly. “It… wouldn’t have been fair to you.”
Myron considered it. “Because you would have been thinking of them the whole time?”
Eutychia nodded sadly. “You wouldn’t have deserved that.”
Myron nodded back. “I appreciate you saying that.” He picked up his cart. “For what it’s worth, there’s no hard feelings here.”
“Thanks,” they said. They picked up their cart, and the two walked back toward the fields.
“How much more in this harvest, do you think?” Myron said as they walked.
“Ohhhh,” Eutychia said, drawing out the word, “we’re halfway there.” They hummed a tune Myron didn’t recognize and walked on.
The harvest was complete, the grains were bountiful, and the celebrations were merry. Myron strolled into the farmhouse in time to pull a plate together from the last of the spread.
“Where’ve you been, son?” Irenaeus—the family patriarch—said, clapping him on the back.
“Getting my mail out,” Myron said.
The older fawn nodded. “You do that often, don’t you?”
Myron smiled. “Gotta make sure my girl knows she’s loved.”
“Good man.” Irenaeus clapped Myron’s back. “Get some meat on those bones; harvest might be done but we’ve still got a lot to do!” And he walked off.
Myron just looked across the table and made eye contact with Eutychia.
They nodded. “Yeah, he says that to me too,” they said.
Myron looked to them and back to himself. “I think we’re good?”
“We’re good.” They shifted to a sly smile. “So, you’ve got a girl?”
Myron smirked. “Best in the world.”
Eutychia fixed him with an appraising look, and he wasn’t sure if it was colored with pride or sadness. “Good for you,” they said.
Why not both?
Winter had settled in. Everyone around was covering their smooth-skinned halves more than usual, sometimes even their furred halves. And the clear nights were the coldest.
Which is why Myron was so surprised to find Eutychia huddled in a corner of the barn staring at nothing, dried tears on their face.
“You okay?” Myron said from several feet away.
Eutychia nodded but didn’t look at him. “Yeah, just…” They shrugged. “Not having the best night.”
Myron shuffled his feet. “Do you want to talk about it?”
They turned their head, made eye contact, and motioned him over. He sat down in the hay next to her; his more considerable bulk made him sink farther in and pulled Eutychia closer to him. They just ducked under his arm and leaned against his chest.
They sat there in companionable silence for a moment before Eutychia said, quietly, “How do you handle being away from your girl?”
Myron hummed. “I don’t think it’s the same kind of situation as yours,” he said.
“Oh, I bet,” they snarked. “But still, how do you do it?”
He thought for a moment. “I write often,” he said. “I always throw a little something in there: a trinket, a memento, and then whatever cash I can spare.” He chuckled. “Honestly, I’m not sure which one she likes more.” He glanced down at Eutychia. “But I miss her sometimes. And when I do, usually I just have to…” He shrugged. “Accept it.”
“Well, there’s my problem,” they said bitterly. “I can’t accept it.” They took a breath and let it out in a huff. “How am I supposed to accept this?”
“I’m the wrong person to ask,” Myron said. “Because you love them more than anyone else in the world, right?”
“I do,” they said quietly.
Myron nodded and sighed. “I don’t feel that way about anyone.” He intentionally didn’t look down at her, knowing the usual response to that statement. “I know the idea of it; hard to read anything without finding it. But I just don’t have it.”
He chanced a look at Eutychia to see a patient look. “I’ve heard of that, actually,” they said. “It’s not that you don’t love, you just aren’t romantic?”
Myron nodded and released the breath he was holding. “I’m glad you understand,” he said quietly.
“You’re right though,” Eutychia said with a teasing grin, “you’re the wrong person to ask.”
Myron just chuckled. “Can you tell me about them?” he said. “Your… person?”
“They’re incredible. Both of th—” Their voice cracked, and they stifled a sob.
Myron blinked and chuckled to himself. “Wow,” he muttered. “I’d say you’re lucky, but…” He threw his arm around them, and they leaned in closer. “I imagine you don’t feel very lucky.”
They laughed. It was a wet, coughing laugh that left as soon as it came. “Seven years ago tonight,” they said. “It was seven years ago we promised we would be together.”
Myron nodded. “I assume you’ve tried?”
“It’s impossible,” Eutychia said flatly. “It… would take a literal miracle. And I think I just need to accept that—” Their voice hitched again. They struggled to catch their breath for a moment.
“I’m never going to hold them,” they said, tense, bitter. “I’ll never be able to show them the barley fields at sunset, never get to have my pa tell them to put meat on their bones, never get to see where they grew up, never get to g—” They choked. “Give them a hug, hold them close, tell them how much I lo—”
They broke down. Their high pitched cries echoed in the dead air of the barn as they sobbed into Myron’s chest. It was an ugly, wheezing cry of desperation and heartache, a heart so broken it wasn’t sure it could ever heal.
Myron just held her. He couldn’t do much else, but he was determined to do this well.
The winter passed and the farm endured as they always did. And as spring began to poke through, the residents of the farm—plant, worker, and family alike—started to wake up from their hibernation.
Myron barely opened the door of the bedroom as he exited, pulling it closed quietly behind him. He turned to see Eutychia staring at him, their face somewhere between disgust and disappointment.
“You not feeling anything doesn’t make this any less of a messed up way to treat your girl,” they snarled before turning and walking off.
Myron rolled his eyes and headed to his bedroom, trying to ignore how much that had cut. He had work to do today.
It was a few hours later, while he was taking a break, when Eutychia approached him, head slightly bowed. Myron made eye contact with them but didn’t say anything.
They stood there for a moment before sighing. “I shouldn’t have said that,” they said. “I know you better than that; I had no reason to assume what I did.” They took another breath. “And you confided in me; I shouldn’t have thrown it back in your face like I did.”
Myron stared at them for a moment before nodding. “It happens,” he said. “You’re not the first to say that.”
“Myron,” they said emphatically, “you didn’t deserve that. Don’t deserve that!”
Myron smiled just a bit. “Thanks,” he said. He straightened his posture and held out a fist.
Eutychia quickly bumped it with their own fist.
“My girl’s in town next week, by the way,” he said. “You should meet her.”
“I’d love to,” they said with a broad smile.
Myron nodded. “And I think it’ll clear up some confusion,” he added.
Eutychia just raised an eyebrow.
A week later, Eutychia and Myron took the light truck into town to pick up an order of feed.
“Tell me again that this job isn’t for centaurs?” Myron said as he loaded another bag into the truck bed.
Eutychia shoved their bag onto the bed. “Because we have the truck,” they said, “or do you want to find out how hard it is to pull all this?”
Myron just picked up the last bag with a grunt.
Their job done, they walked over to the trading post. The town was a little livelier than normal, the spring air and upcoming festival bringing a sense of anticipation.
And out-of-town guests, apparently, as Myron was suddenly attacked by a waist-high minotaur who ran into him at full speed and caught him in a hug.
“Oh!” Myron yelled with an exaggerated stagger. “There’s my girl!”
The young minotaur looked up at him. “Hi, Dad!” she said cheerfully.
Myron glanced back at Eutychia who just sighed with a smile.
“So I feel like I owe you another apology,” Eutychia said as the two of them drove back to the farm.
“Hardly,” Myron said. “If anyting I should apologize for not being more forthcoming.”
“Still doesn’t—” Eutychia cut themself off, realizing the circular logic, and just held out a fist.
Myron bumped it. “Her mom’s a childhood friend,” he started.
“You don’t have to explain,” Eutychia said.
“But I want to,” Myron said, earnest. “We reconnected as adults. She wanted a child, didn’t really want a husband. I care for her and—well, you saw her.”
“Yup,” Eutychia said, popping the “p” and licking their lips.
Myron chuckled. “I don’t just sleep around,” he said. “I know some others like me that do, but there’s another that’s happily married, and a few others that just aren’t interested at all.”
“And you send your daughter letters and see her when you can?”
“She deserves to know she’s loved,” Myron said with a smile. “Love comes in different forms, and…” He sighed. “I love her.”
Eutychia smiled. “So you don’t sleep around,” they said, “but you are… open?”
Myron shrugged. “Pretty much. I do like to be friends, and sometimes the attraction isn’t there.”
Eutychia nodded and steeled themself. “Are we friends?”
Myron cocked his head, curious. “We are,” he said carefully. “But if you’re asking about sex, I’d want to make sure you were…” He stumbled over his words. “I wouldn’t want you to come out of it feeling worse about your… situation.”
Eutychia nodded and took a deep breath. They let it out slowly and gently brought the truck to the side of the road. They stopped, cut the engine, and turned to face Myron fully.
“We call each other Red, Green, and Blue,” they said. “I’m Red,” they added, motioning to their rust-colored fur and hair.
Myron nodded. “You don’t have to expla—”
“I do, actually,” they interrupted. “We’re in each other’s heads. We each see what the others see, feel what they feel. All the time, constantly.” They took a breath and smiled. “I love them,” they said. “I don’t think I could ever love anyone else as much as them.
“But,” they continued, “they’re in completely different worlds. Green is a writer, a town crier, and they live in a world of flying creatures. Blue’s world has these incredibly complicated adding machines that they know how to speak to and control.” They stopped and chuckled. “And they’re both telling me I over-exaggerated like I’m not describing literal other worlds to someone that’s never heard of them,” they added pointedly, looking to the side.
Myron just stared, the gears in his head turning.
Eutychia sighed. “I know it’s a lot,” they said, “and there’s no way for me to prove it.”
“I believe you,” Myron said quickly. “That night in the barn,” he continued, “that came from someplace deep. It adds up.”
Eutychia nodded. “Thanks,” they said with a smile. “I wanted to tell you partly because you’re a good friend, and partly because, if—and I do mean if—we have sex, there’s going to be an audience.”
Myron took it in. “And they’re okay with it?”
“We’re no strangers to love,” Eutychia said before muttering “dammit, Blue” under their breath. At a normal volume, they continued. “We’ve done what we can with each other. As for you…”
They looked Myron in the eye. “Green didn’t think you could get more attractive, and then they saw you with your daughter. Blue has been fantasizing about climbing you like a tree for months. And I…” They shrugged. “I can’t give you my heart, and that’s been a dealbreaker for most other guys.”
Understanding dawned across Myron’s face. “But I’m not asking for it,” he said with a smile. He glanced around the cramped truck cabin. “Not now, though, right?”
“No!” Eutychia agreed as they turned back to face the front and started the engine. “No, we’ve got to get this unloaded. There was just no way I was going to have this conversation within earshot of my parents.”
Myron let out a chuckle which turned into a full-throated laugh as Eutychia pulled the truck back onto the road.
