“The bag? Sure.” What do I care about a bag?
She smirks and begins scrolling through her phone at lightning speed. I might expect a different person to cry or yell. I know Tiffany better at this point.
“Will you text me when it comes in? The associate has my number. It’s under your name on the list, so they might call you first.” Her expression changes to pity and her voice drops to a breathy whisper. “You know this doesn’t have to be the end, Pontius. You’re a real peach. An awkward, hairy peach with a lot of weird quirks that are hard for most humans to accept.”
“She’ll like me,” I protest. I know humans are put off by my odd features: my large red eyes, my fur, my mandibles, my wings. So many parts of my appearance have been called ‘creepy’. My mate will be different. She has to be different.
“Of course she’ll like you. But being with a Mothman isn't easy. Not everyone is as open-minded as I am. Don’t be surprised if this new girl isn’t willing to indulge you the way I do.” She shifts her legs, drawing her skirt a little higher up her thigh. “You know, plenty of rich men don’t limit themselves to only one woman. I’m okay if you want to keep our relationship—private.”
“No!” I recoil instantly. Even if, like a lot of humans, she finds the idea of touching me appalling, I would never cheat on my mate.
“Well, if she rejects you, you know how to reach me.” Tiffany mimes holding a phone up to her ear.
“She won’t reject me,” I say, more to convince myself than Tiffany.
“Promise to text me when the Burkin is available?” She leans over and presses a very light kiss to my cheek.
My antennae fold back defensively, I lean away from her and scan the crowd again. I hope my mate didn’t see that; I don’t want her to think I’m in a relationship.
Tiffany stands. “At least it’s relatively early. My whole night isn’t a complete waste.” She’s already typing on her phone again. “I'm sure I’ll see you soon, Pontius.”
I barely acknowledge her exit, returning my focus to the crowd.
I was excited when the Decrypting first happened, when cryptids stopped hiding in the shadows and joined human society. Between shrinking habitats and satellite imagery it’d become more difficult to stay hidden. Leaders amongst the various cryptid species got together and decided to exposeourselves. I was seventeen and ready to go out and join human society, but it proved harder than I expected. Even now, fifteen years later it can still be difficult to find places I feel comfortable. A lot of human infrastructure doesn't make it easy for cryptids to be ourselves. Things have been improving, and I’ve been using my own resources to make it better.
Fresh out of college, I started a tech company with my two best friends. We've been successful, really successful. More than enough for me to invest in local community improvements. Like buying a large share of the Moonshine, so I could focus on creating an all-species bar. Trying to make a space that’s accessible to everyone.
Moonshine is doing well now too. There are a few obvious cryptids in tonight’s crowd. No other Mothmen. We're rarer than a lot of species, and even amongst our own kind we're solitary creatures. Despite my best efforts, it's hard to imagine another Mothman choosing to hang out somewhere this loud and crowded.
Still, I’m pleased with the great turn out tonight. The audience is split into small tables, they chat quietly over the noise of the movie. The combinations of sounds is already grating on my nerves. Tonight’s film is about a teenaged Denise Richards, falling in love with a robotic dinosaur.
My mate is watching.
Could I convince her to love a monster?
It’s all I’ve ever wanted, someone who will accept me no matter what I look like. Someone who won’t flinch away when they see my glowing red eyes, or my fur, or wings, or mandibles. I know Mothmen have taken human mates before, but I don’t understand how. I would never force myself on someone, and even Tiffany—who was more accommodating than most—set hard limits in our physical relationship. There are many things I haven’t had a chance to experience.
My mate will be different; she will understand me; she will let me touch her, hold her, be close to her. Marry her. Keep her in my nest. Fulfill every wish she’s ever desired.
I will do anything to make her like me, to make her mine.
As soon as I figure out who she is.
I can’t stay here much longer. I used to admire human nightlife from the outside, coveting their parties and social lives and music. It was disappointing to learn that, in person, these events are too much for me. I pay my tab and head into the cool September air.
I will wait.
My mate has to leave eventually. I’ll watch the door until the bar closes if I need to. Mothmen are nocturnal, it will be easy to wait.
Hours pass. The night stretches so thin that I spread my wings and fly up to perch on the roof of the building, where I can comfortably sit as I watch the door. Each patron who leaves the building briefly spikes my hope, until their smell reaches me. Everyone of them is wrong.
I tuck my wings a little tighter around my shoulders. No one seems to notice me; it’s easy to fade into the darkness when you are shaped like a large black shadow.
Finally, a perfect beauty steps onto the street. I know, as soon as I lay eyes on a mess of red hair, that I've found her. I feel it in my nose, in my chest, in every atom of my body. The driving urge to swoop down and claim her for myself. Pluck her up and take her back to my nest.
It’s her. My mate.
Her red hair is piled high on her head in a perfectly messy bun, a wide smile shows off perfectly crooked front teeth, a pair of thick glasses rest on her perfectly freckled nose, her mouth opens and produces a perfectly infectious laugh. Everything about her is perfect.
