by K. M. Szpara
“Are you afraid to sit next to me?” Elisha asks.
“No. Yes.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I want to respect your space.”
“You don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile; I’m not going to break. I’m not one hundred percent better and I probably never will be, but I am getting better. It’s hard. Every decision I make, every conversation I have, I have to sort through what’s mine and what’s yours. Sometimes it’s both—and I’m learning that’s okay.”
“Sorry,” I say. “We haven’t spent a lot of time together, lately, so I wasn’t sure.”
“I know. Looks like you’ve really hit rock bottom.” He takes a long sip of his tea, attempting to maintain a look of concern, but he falters, smiling.
“Meet the new all-pajamas-all-the-time Alex.” I hold out my arms.
He sets the teacup down. “I’m into it.”
“Good, because I have two pairs.”
“We can get you some clothes from the donation closet at Empower Maryland, if you’re being serious.”
“No, I’m good.” The suggestion throws me. Empower Maryland did help, in the long run, but we still only barely trust each other. “Didn’t really need as many clothes as I had, before.”
“Okay, but if you need anything…” He peers at my tablet, still on the table. “What’s this?”
“Nothing.” I reach for it, but Elisha beats me to it. Not that I put up much of a fight. “It’s just an idea,” I say, leaning over while he reads my notes. “I don’t actually have the means to—”
“This looks great,” he says. “A clinic that specializes in helping debtors who’ve been affected by Dociline?”
“Yeah, I thought—” I rub my hand over my growing stubble. “I know a lot about Dociline and working with your mom made me realize that I could actually do something about it. I thought I didn’t have anything to contribute without my bank account.”
“I’ve been struggling to figure out the same—minus the newly broke part.” Elisha sets the tablet back on the table. “I think I’m going to quit my job at Empower Maryland. I took it because I was looking to do something for myself, but Eugenia kind of stuck me with it, and I think I hate it?”
I snort. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny.”
“It kind of is?” Elisha chuckles, too. “I can do anything I want! And I have no idea what I want to do. When I think about that too much, I miss being your Docile.” He lowers his voice. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
Elisha straightens up with renewed energy. “But, you know, this clinic looks pretty great.”
“You did say that.”
“I meant it. You could apply for a loan to get it started. I bet Empower Maryland would pitch in.”
There’s that name, again. “Think they’re going to help the Third?”
“Almost all their money comes from Dutch. He’s one of your best friends. In fact, I bet he’d love to get in on this. He was your CFO.”
“True, but—”
“And Jess! She can help with the doctor part.” Elisha flicks his hand as if he’ll figure out her job description later.
“I can’t ask all my friends to drop what they’re doing and come work on a nonexistent organization.” Elisha’s never worked a job like this, before. He doesn’t know how hard it is—how much risk—
“Yes, you can.”
“At least one of us needs a real moneymaking job. Plus, if Jess quits, Dylan’s stuck at the Silo all alone.”
“True.” Elisha slumps back in his chair. “I bet she’d invest, though. When does she get home?”
“Okay, maybe. Maybe I’ll ask.”
“Ask! It’s a good idea.”
“Okay, I’ll ask.” I take the tablet and set it off to the side. Have another sip of my tea, lukewarm from how long it’s been sitting. Elisha watches me.
“What?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about what love is, since Verónica asked me, on the witness stand.”
“Oh?” My face warms. I hide it behind my teacup.
“I meant what I said.”
“You were under oath.”
Elisha looks at me as if I’ve made a bad pun.
“Sorry.”
He wraps both of his hands around his still-steaming cup and pulls his knees up against his chest, boots catching on the edge of the chair. “I had sex with someone else—after we broke up.”
Not what I was expecting. I try to relax my face. Seem casually interested and definitely not jealous. “Oh?”
“Yeah. It was fun. Different. I like him and trust him, but I don’t have feelings for him.”
I assume he’s talking about Onyx, but don’t make him say it. I haven’t forgotten that he confessed to having let Onyx hit him, before.
“Not like I do for you.”
I’m forced to re-relax my face all over again, at those words. To pretend I’m not hopeful and interested. That I don’t feel the same.
Oh, fuck it. “I still have feelings for you, too. I shouldn’t. I know they’re not based on a consensual relationship.”
“It sucks,” he says. “We definitely shouldn’t act on them.”
“It would be irresponsible and counterproductive.”
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Elisha says, putting his feet back on the floor and his teacup back on the table. He says it like he’s worked out a heist. “Let’s start your clinic, together. I want to be with you—want to be around you without the pressure. I liked when you showed me how to help my mom, in the safe house. Let’s take some time, and let’s make a deal.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t fall in love with anyone else.”
“Okay?”
“Sex, fine.”
“I don’t see a lot of that in my future, but—”
“Then it should be easy for you.”
“What about you?” I cross my arms. “You should be exploring, dating, falling in love with other people.”
“I’m exploring myself, right now, and that’s honestly enough,” he says. “We can check in with each other, in a while. Until then, I would like to date our clinic.”
“Any clinic would be lucky to have you.”
Elisha stands and pulls on his sweatshirt. Walks down the narrow hallway toward the door. I follow, reaching past him to turn one of the dead bolts. Elisha reaches for another, exposing a scar I haven’t seen since January.
“You removed the cuff,” I say, surprised at myself for not having noticed.
“Yeah.” He pushes up his sleeves and holds out his arms to me. “Wasn’t easy finding your jeweler.”
I reach tentatively forward. “Can I?”
“Yes,” he says.
I slide my palms over his, until my fingers wrap gently around his wrists. With my right thumb, I brush the worn-down “US” once branded on his skin. Scar tissue I covered up with rose gold and opal and diamond. With my left thumb, the thin line across his wrist, still red. As if pressing too hard would open the wound—the ache—back up.
Elisha runs his hands up my arms, takes hold of my shoulders. Looks at me with his warm brown eyes. “Can I?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He rolls onto his toes and presses his lips gently against mine. I’m afraid to move. Afraid to push him, afraid to lose him. I wrap my arms around his back and waist. Feel his muscles tense under my fingers. He kisses me again, and again, parting so slowly I feel dazed. Heady.
Elisha leans his forehead against the base of my neck and I rest my chin on his head. When he finally looks at me, he says, “I’m not giving up on you, Alexander Bishop.”
I don’t answer him, because I want him to feel like he can go on without me if he needs to. He’ll see me, soon, anyway. We’re neighbors, now, and I think I promised to open a clinic with him. This isn’t goodbye. It’s a beginning—one we’ve agreed on. Together.
ACKNOWLE
DGMENTS
To those I love most. Without my wonderful parents, Kathi and Ed, this book literally couldn’t exist but, more so, it wouldn’t if they hadn’t always encouraged me to follow my (many and unrequited) dreams (see: dancing, singing, acting, archaeology, and academia). I can’t possibly put into words how much I love you both and what your support—each in your own way—has meant to me over the years. And, Hilary, don’t think I’m getting through this without saying something mushy and heartfelt about you, even though that is 100 percent not your style. There’s no one I’d rather have shared my childhood with and I am enjoying the hell out of being an adult alongside you. (P.S. I’m definitely going to show this to your offspring, someday, and embarrass you, xoxo!)
To those who read the drafts no one will ever see. To Chase Jennings, my first-first reader! You’re the reason I nailed down the debt/economics/political aspects of the book—and one of my oldest friends. Without you, I might not have evolved into my current form. To Faith Erline, I will never forget the day you told me, “That’s what I want to read!” If you hadn’t read the twelve chapters I sent you that night, and every incarnation of every chapter after that—hadn’t spent hours spitballing and listening—I wouldn’t have made it.
To those in Baltimore. To Sarah Pinsker, my parter-in-con-selfies-at-midnight. In driving to Canada and back. Writing in coffee shops and attending award ceremonies and saving seats on airplanes. Thanks for being my fellow Lawful Good. To Mike Underwood, I was a baby writer and you were not only a published novelist, but a publishing professional. Without your kindness and wisdom—without your taking me seriously—I may not have found a home amongst professionals. To Karen Osborne, who is my favorite Racecar Mouth.
To those who surround me. The writing community in the greater MD/DC/VA area. My fellow queers. Space Pirates. Blowholes. Vipers. Taken in the Terrarium. Vigorous Spring. Balti/VAcationers. Roses. Szparas and Honorary Szparas. The Kids Table. Hillen Road Gang. Hampdenites. To all those who’ve listened to me ramble, helped me plot, celebrated with me—and vented. To the Baltimore coffee shops I’ve haunted. To Marley and Piper for their company. To Hanson, for their music.
To those who turn words into books. To Jennifer Udden, my badass agent, who asked me to trust her. I always will. Thank you for helping me steer a six-inch-thick three-ring binder’s worth of words onto the right path, and for your wisdom, snark, and insight along the way. Cheers to many more. To Carl Engle-Laird, who said my debut novel should be a complete thought. I feel incredibly lucky to be working with an editor who pledged to handle anything I throw at him. Thank you for overturning the right rocks, asking the right questions, and helping make Docile into the book it was always meant to be.
To the team at Tor.com Publishing and Macmillan. I knew it took more than one person to make a book happen, but I didn’t realize just how many until now. To Irene Gallo, Jamie Stafford-Hill, Mordicai Knode, Caroline Perny, Katharine Duckett, Lauren Hougen, Jim Kapp, Esther Kim, Barbara Wild, Amanda Melfi, and Matt Johnson; thank you for treating my book-child with care and enthusiasm. To Lee Harris, Ruoxi Chen, and Christine Foltzer, for your energy. To Christina Orlando, Chris Lough, Bridget McGovern, Sarah Tolf, Leah Schnelbach, Natalie Zutter, and Emily Asher-Perrin, for your Internet wizardry. To everyone who took a chance on my Big Gay Book, sorry-not-sorry for all the sex scenes.
To everyone. Thank you. I can’t possibly list all those who’ve gotten me and Docile where we are today. My family and friends and communities are not perfect but, like the words between these pages, they are mine.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hugo and Nebula finalist K. M. SZPARA is a queer and trans author who lives in Baltimore, Maryland. His debut novel is Docile; his short fiction and essays appear in Uncanny, Lightspeed, Strange Horizons, and more. Szpara has a master of theological studies from Harvard Divinity School, which he totally uses at his day job as a paralegal. You can find him on the internet at www.kmszpara.com and on Twitter at @KMSzpara. Or sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
1. Elisha
2. Elisha
3. Alex
4. Elisha
5. Alex
6. Elisha
7. Alex
8. Elisha
9. Elisha
10. Alex
11. Elisha
12. Elisha
13. Alex
14. Elisha
15. Alex
16. Elisha
17. Alex
18. Elisha
19. Alex
20. Elisha
21. Alex
22. Elisha
23. Alex
24. Alex
25. Elisha
26. Elisha
27. Elisha
28. Elisha
29. Alex
30. Elisha
31. Alex
32. Elisha
33. Alex
34. Elisha
35. Alex
36. Elisha
37. Alex
38. Elisha
39. Alex
40. Elisha
41. Alex
42. Elisha
43. Alex
44. Elisha
45. Alex
46. Elisha
47. Alex
48. Elisha
49. Alex
50. Elisha
51. Elisha
52. Alex
53. Elisha
54. Alex
55. Elisha
56. Alex
57. Elisha
58. Alex
59. Elisha
60. Alex
61. Elisha
62. Alex
63. Elisha
64. Alex
65. Elisha
66. Alex
67. Elisha
68. Alex
69. Elisha
70. Alex
71. Elisha
72. Alex
73. Elisha
74. Elisha
75. Alex
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
DOCILE
Copyright © 2020 by Kellan Szpara
All rights reserved.
Cover photograph by Yuri Arcurs/E+/Getty Images
Cover design by Jamie Stafford-Hill
Edited by Carl Engle-Laird
A Tor.com Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
120 Broadway
New York, NY 10271
www.tor.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Szpara, K. M., author.
Title: Docile / K.M. Szpara.
Description: First edition. | New York: A Tom Doherty Associates Book, 2020.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019046668 (print) | LCCN 2019046669 (ebook) | ISBN 9781250216151 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250216144 (ebook)
Subjects: GSAFD: Science fiction. | Dystopias.
Classification: LCC PS3619.Z68 D63 2020 (print) | LCC PS3619.Z68 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019046668
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019046669
eISBN 9781250216144
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First Edition: March 2020