Jane's partner Frost was the first to reach out.
At the first sound of the doorbell, Jane shrunk further into her position on the couch. When bell chimes gave way to insistent knocking, Jane yanked the blanket up over her head, as if hiding.
"Jane! Let me in," Frost pounded on the door.
"Go away!" Jane yelled from her position on the couch.
"Jane, you know I'm just going to sit out here pounding until you let me in."
"Why are you even here?! Did you lose a bet?"
"Coin flip," Frost muttered to himself. "Jane! There are people who love you that won't stop harassing me until I've seen proof of life. You know how your mother gets."
Jane shuddered at that thought. Maybe it was better to talk to Frost than to risk a visit from her mother.
"Jane! Your neighbors are staring." Jane sighed and shuffled over to the door. The last thing Jane needed right now was to get a domestic disturbance call to her apartment. Perfect fodder for continued police station gossip.
Jane flung the door open and Jane gave Frost a withering look before retreating back to her stronghold on the couch. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. If they were going to have this conversation, she was not going to have it face to face.
Frost sank into the couch next to her. "Jane, there's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Oh Frost, who even cares? What does anything matter anymore?" Jane's fingers moved to her temples and started rubbing circles, eyes clenched.
"Wow, it's that bad, is it?"
"Frost," but she couldn't continue. Her throat tightened to the point where she felt she would gag. Finally she sucked in a few shallow breaths and managed, "I don't think I can live without her."
"Jane," Frost answered soothingly, wrapping his arms around her. "She loves you, I know she does."
"I know, Frost," Jane said through her tears. "I just don't think that's enough."
"Jane," Frost admonished, shaking her lightly. "Do you hear yourself? You can't live without her but her love and devotion aren't enough?"
"Agh!" Jane winced. "Why does this have to be so complicated? Why can't I just be happy with what I have?"
Maura had a similarly emotional morning and her mother Constance was taking the brunt of it. Constance had a sophisticated elegance that seemed to tolerate a limited range of physical affection, from handshakes to air kisses. This morning, however, she had uncharacteristically embraced her daughter half a dozen times and spent the rest of it with Maura sobbing into her lap.
"I love her so much, mother."
"I know you do, darling."
"I never wanted to hurt her!" Maura blubbered.
"Shh, it's ok." Constance's fingernails lightly scratched at Maura's scalp as she ran her fingers through her daughter's hair. Constance hated to see her like this. And despite being an artist herself with an artist's mentality, when Maura had first told her about the polyamory, Constance had predicted that this would cause Maura a great deal of heartache in her life. But Constance had high hopes that Maura's relationship with Jane would prove the exception. Constance loved Jane and hated to see something come between the two if there were any other way to solve the impasse. But Constance herself was uncertain of her daughter's feelings—both about Jane and Maura's own sense of personal identity related to monogamy.
"Maura, love, do you really think it would be so bad to be married to Jane? You've spent the past few months with just Jane, have you not?"
"Over a year," Maura sniffled. "But how do I know it will last? How do I know that I'll be happy?" She cried. "Is it fair to Jane to make a promise that I don't know if I can keep? Would I start to resent her? Would she start to resent me? I can't lose her mother, and I'm terrified that if we change anything it will suddenly stop working," Maura ranted.
Constance decided to take a more aggressive tact. "Maura, which are you more worried about, losing Jane or losing the sense of self that you have carefully constructed over the years?"
"Constructed?!" Maura suddenly lifted her head and made eye contact, shocked that her mother would choose this moment to confront her about her polyamorous orientation. "Mother, I didn't choose to be the way I am."
"No, I know, dear. Why would anyone choose to be that way? Of course not." Feeling Maura stiffen, Constance felt the need to backpedal, "now, don't take that the wrong way, you know your father and I love you just the way you are. I wouldn't change a hair on your head," Constance felt Maura relax at this last statement so she emphasized it by running her fingers through Maura's hair, gently pushing Maura's head back into her lap. "You are precious to me. And all I want is your happiness. And I think that you are happy with Jane, and there is nothing wrong with that."
"I never said I wasn't, mother," Maura snapped, sitting up again, this time setting her feet on the floor, one hand covering her eyes. She was tired. She was also having déjà vu. So many other conversations with loved ones trying to persuade her that she really wasn't this way or that she could change if she just wanted to enough. It often felt like they were trying to reprogram her. The attempts seemed not just like overreaching but also terribly misguided. Wasn't the whole point of life to discover who you are and live true to that self?
Constance's volume retreated, "Well, honey, I'm just saying, often we have to sacrifice something that is important to us for something that we want more." This time Maura didn't just sit up, she stood up, putting space between her and her mother. Constance winced, instantly regretting the remark. Now was not the time to preach, now was the time to cherish the unusual level of intimacy that she was experiencing with her daughter.
"Maura…" She reached out for her, but could see that it was too late.
Eyes still directed forward, Maura stepped sideways, further distancing herself from her mother and by implication the conversation. "I think I'm going to take a walk, mother," she resolved after a moment.
"Honey, I didn't mean to upset you."
"No, no, it's not you, it's just," Maura rolled her shoulders back, composing herself as she finally met her mother's eyes "I believe I need some fresh air."
Constance understood the sudden return to formality as a closing of the emotional bridge between the two. Constance herself had used this trick many times in their mother-daughter interactions; it shouldn't surprise her that Maura had added it to her own repertoire. Still, it stung a little to be on the receiving end. "Yes, dear, that sounds lovely," she politely returned.
As Maura left her parents' hotel suite, she couldn't help but think of her mother's last statement about prioritizing important things. She was annoyed by the platitude. It wasn't as if Maura was intentionally withholding something in her relationship with Jane. If Maura could be any other way, she would. There had been plenty of opportunities and incentives to do so.
Maura's mind went through a highlight reel of her worst break ups—all related to her paramours being unwilling or unable to accommodate Maura. Maura tried to be what they wanted. She tried to love them more, thinking perhaps if she could manage that then one person would be enough. She tried to empathize with them, tried to understand why it hurt them so much to share her, but she couldn't. She had an innocent, almost naïve mind that is rare enough in children and rarer still in adults. She knew nothing of the jealousy or the demanding that motivated her lovers' ultimatums. She herself had never demanded—not from her parents who were too busy with their own lives to notice Maura's silent struggles, not from her childhood classmates who neither recognized nor appreciated Maura's gentle mind, and not from her significant others who demanded that Maura conform to their own view of a proper relationship. So Maura couldn't understand demanding, nor did she understand why her lovers seemed ok sacrificing her happiness for their own. Was that love? No, it couldn't be, she had reasoned. So when the inevitable ultimatums came, Maura always ended the relationship. She was looking for a love so broad that it would include every part about her. She would not compromise.
But her mother was right. There is a difference between compromising and sacrificing. Compromising was a transaction, a bargain struck because you were afraid you could not do better. Sacrifice was a gift given willingly and without strings, because you knew that you could not do better.
Was Maura willing to sacrifice her own self to be just Jane's? Was she even capable of sustaining a monogamous relationship? But then again, what was the worst that could happen? Lose Jane? It seemed to her that she was losing Jane anyway. At that thought, Maura turned back towards home—her real home. She had made a decision.