Wind in His Wings

Wind in His Wings
17 December 2016
Anchorage, AK, United States
"What're you doing out here?" Tendo asks as he steps up beside the skinny man leaning on the patio railing near the Icebox's housing area. He hands the man a steaming travel mug of coffee, prepared just as the other man likes.
Hermann Gottlieb accepts it with a nod of thanks and a crooked smile. "Feeling the wind," he replies. "It helps me relax."
"Huh. That's an unusual hobby for Alaska. You know, I need to bring you a mountain of cookies or some growth hormones so you fill out that thing," Tendo jokes indicating the unzipped green military surplus parka swamping the mathematician's wiry frame.
"I believe this was Aleksis' spare," Hermann says, a note of affection in his voice.
"I don't know how you did it, but you totally have those big, terrifying Russians wrapped around your bony little fingers," Tendo teases, nudging the other man with his elbow. "So, I suppose it's only fair another Russian has you enchanted." He grins and waggles his eyebrows.
Hermann rubs his chest, a nervous gesture Tendo has grown very used to seeing. "Darja is from Ukraine, not Russia. You really shouldn't confuse the two," he replies quietly.
Tendo laughs. "Or she'll break me in half, I know, I know." He pauses thoughtfully. "Seriously, brother, how did you manage
to charm that Slavic goddess?"
His companion sips his coffee and doesn't respond.
"Trouble in paradise?"
The skinny man runs his fingers through his wind-tousled hair. "I'm afraid ... I think she's going to leave." Hermann's gaze at the whitecaps on Turnagain Arm never wavers.
Studying his friend, Tendo's response is quiet, "Did she apply somewhere else? Vladivostok? Tokyo? They want experienced LOCCENT people ...."
Hermann studies the clouds scudding along. "I'm not aware of her making such a request." He takes another drink of his coffee.
"Personal, then?" Tendo asks and Hermann nods. "You want to talk about it, Hermann?"
"No ...," Hermann says slowly, "but, against my better judgement, I will." He sighs and squares his shoulders. "She is ... frustrated with me. Our ... ah ... intimate life is not what she desires." He closes his eyes against a gust of salt-laden sea wind.
"Ah! So, she's into something you're not, huh?"
"That would be putting it mildly," Hermann remarks dryly. Tendo responds with a raised eyebrow and Hermann sighs. "I am not ... comfortable with ... sex and she is very ... unhappy with the current state of affairs."
"Oh," Tendo breathes.
"One more way in which I am broken, I'm afraid," Hermann mutters as he finally glances over at his friend.
Tendo punches the other man lightly on the arm. "You're perfectly normal," he says and Hermann sadly shakes his head. "You're not broken, Hermann. You're a perfectly ordinary guy and asexuality or low sex drive or whatever it is or whatever you want to label it is perfectly normal. If Darja can't accept that
part of you, maybe she's not right for you."
"I sincerely doubt anyone is right for me, then. There are only those who tolerate me for short periods or those who put up with me for what I can do for them," Hermann replies, the hopelessness in his voice clear to Tendo.
"Because, of course, those Russians give you gifts and I hunt you down to bring you coffee in this wind because we can just barely stand you or because we want something from you," Tendo responds. He gently shakes Hermann's forearm. "Give up and accept people like you, man. Maybe you and Darja will work it out, maybe not. Whatever happens, me and Sasha and Aleksis and Raleigh will be there for you. Because we like you, Hermann."
The mathematician blinks in confusion at the tech. "Thank you for the coffee, Tendo," Hermann says, "but isn't it nearly time for your shift to begin?"
Tendo frowns and glances at his watch. "Oh crap. It is," he says. "Listen, let's meet for lunch tomorrow. I still have to tell you this new joke I heard this morning."
Hermann nods and the two exchange pleasant farewells.
Tendo throws a last worried look over his shoulder as he walks toward his post in LOCCENT.
The winds picks up again as Hermann turns back to the water. Hermann closes his eyes and concentrates on the slivers of air slipping through the fibers of his clothes to play around his feathers. He sighs and tries to relax his tense shoulders.
‒‒This is simple,‒‒ he thinks. ‒‒Reading the wind is what winged creatures do and we understand what it says without thought. If only people were so simple. If only I'd been created to understand them, too.‒‒
He remains at the railing until the increasing cold forces him to zip up his parka. Cut off from the wind, he sighs, and makes his slow, careful way back to his quarters, where he can
finally remove his binding and stretch his wings.
The air in his room is deathly still, nothing to be read in it. He accepts the poor substitute of the book of traditional Russian poems one of the Kaidanovskys slipped into the pocket of his new coat and reads until his eyes refuse to remain open. He puts the book aside and falls asleep and dreams of lying in the sun with the wind whispering to his wings.
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