It is not often now that Freya surprises me, but she did today. I am not quite certain what to make of it.
She met Sol for coffee this afternoon, and they stayed more than an hour past the time that Freya had thought it would take. She finds Sol intelligent, funny, and philosophical—“you have to be, when you’re named after the wisest king in history,” he pointed out. And he was really drawn to her as well.
I anticipated that he would ask her out, and I intended to encourage her to accept. But when he offered to take her to dinner later this week, she hesitated, her smile fading a bit.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, absorbing her reaction. “Have I been getting ahead of myself?”
“Oh, no, you’ve been lovely, really,” she said. I could see the ‘but’ coming.
“Why?” I asked her. “He could be very good for you.”
To my surprise, her spine stiffened, and I could see in her spirit a trace of indignation, as if she were rejecting my words. “Look, let me be real with you,” she said to Sol. “I just don’t think I’m in a place where I want to be starting a relationship right now.”
I had known this, but I wasn’t expecting to hear it stated with such baldness. I wasn’t expecting that she would have no interest in exploring the possibilities at all–and she clearly didn’t.
Sol nodded. “I appreciate the honesty,” he said. “Just friends, then. I’d still be willing to meet you for dinner, though—and I’ll even still pay if you want.”
Freya laughed, pleased that he was taking this so well. “We can split the check, no problem.”
And they returned to their earlier camaraderie. I watched Freya closely for the rest of the encounter. There was no sign that she had any reservations about Sol. Physically he is just her type, tall and slender with a good smile. And it’s clear that their personalities are a good match. Too, even if she doesn’t think so, I think that Freya was in just the right place in her life for a long-term relationship. With all the strangeness going on around her that she can feel but can’t explain, she could use an anchor, or at the very least a distraction.
“What’s going on with you?” I asked her as she waved to Sol on her way to her car.
She glanced over her shoulder at me, then climbed into her car. Before starting the engine, she looked down the sidewalk to where Sol was just unlocking his own car. He was beautiful to her eyes, and she appreciated his admiration, but she felt no need of either of those things. She smiled, because she felt content on her own.
I’m glad for that feeling, of course, but I don’t understand it. Even being able to see her thoughts cannot always explain them to me.