Rachel rested her hand on Aiden’s leg. Every few minutes, she would reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear or take her mug in both hands, and the firelight would hit her ring and her earrings, and she shimmered.

Aiden’s hair was still short, but the fade was not precise to the millimeter. He must have abandoned his weekly cuts once he stopped documenting himself on a daily basis. He had grown a slight paunch, perceptible only to a learned eye. He was wearing a gold amulet with symbols carved into the center.

“Tell us about what’s around your neck,” I asked him, glad that he could still wear jewelry even if he was going stealth.

“It’s a Tibetan protection amulet,” he said. “Rachel and I visited Tibet for my birthday a few weeks ago.”

I paused for a moment because I could feel the reaction coming: Damn, if only I hadn’t been true to myself, I could have traveled the mountains of Tibet, buying appropriative jewelry.

Blithe made a choking noise and asked where the bathroom was. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

Agatha hummed to herself as she licked honey from inside a little ball.

Aiden and Rachel filled me in on their renovation plans. They were breaking through a wall and expanding to build Aiden a boxing studio and a sunroom.

When they spoke of boxing, I wanted to punch him, punch his face inside a circumscribed ring, get punched, punch back.

“All his little hobbies,” Rachel said.

“I’m getting pretty good at boxing and at growing these greens we’re eating. I think you’re going to enjoy having a house husband.”

“Yes, these ancient dandelion greens were quite crisp, and I do love when you come in sweaty and masc from the gym.”

“We are aware that we live in a desert, so we’re getting a hydroponic gardening system put in that uses rainwater, and we’ll only use drought-resistant plants,” Aiden said.

I told them I was seeing someone.

“What does she do?” Rachel asked.

“She’s a historian.”

“In what area?” Aiden asked.

“Of spaces and cultures that have resisted capitalism.”

Silence. The insects of the canyon hummed into the night. Blithe came back to the table.

“Well, in a hundred years, we will not have made the cut,” Rachel said, laughing, trying to lessen the weight of the c-word. She tossed her head back and the earrings shook.

“What’s going on with you, Blithe? I heard you were thinking about leaving the country,” Aiden said.

“It’s time for me to find my lineage.” He spoke with barely suppressed anger, and the conversation died again.

“How does it feel to be stealth?” I asked Aiden, with genuine curiosity.

Rachel and Aiden looked at each other. “Well, we consulted with the Rhiz to make sure they were aware of the situation. The Upholder told us that it was up to us whether we wanted to enter into this neoliberal institution. He would not interfere. He reminded us that, historically, most Rhiz members had been, in fact, closeted. In order to marry and remain in the Rhiz, we will give twenty-five percent of all investments and inheritance for reparations.”