I apologize for my lie, though you should know that it was unintended: I did plan to post sooner than this. I discovered, however, that my new charges are more complex than I anticipated, and I felt it unkind to attempt to describe them without coming to understand them fully. I admit that I have not done that just yet, but I have made a better try at it in the past few days than a single day might have allowed.
Pamela is quick. She speaks quickly, she moves quickly, she thinks quickly. Her aura is one of those that moves, spinning and dipping around her in an effect that is quite dizzying. Humans feel it, too, and they often register it in irritation, finding it difficult to cut through all of that to what is at her core. I made the same mistake at first.
For those who can see, however, who take the time and the effort to look, there is a well of silence amid Pamela’s actions and thought. Within is a great depth of elegance and wisdom, like a pool at the base of a waterfall. Though the water rushes and rolls along its way, below is a place where the light penetrates and all is still. It is quite beautiful to behold.
When one knows this, it enables one with patience and even fondness for her mannerisms. Her running talk becomes meaningful when one knows that it comes from a heart full of noble purpose. Her busyness is simply a way of expelling great energy and putting it to the use of those around her.
That Rohan has the ability to see this in her makes me think more of him than their situation implied. He is a few years younger than she is, still finishing his schooling, and Danit’s description of him was of what the humans call a “deadbeat”: someone with no ambition, no purpose, wishing only to survive, not to truly live. But Rohan, too, is more than he seems. He does love Pamela, deeply, and he wants the best for her. He is simply uncertain now that that best will be found in close connection with himself.
In our training as Cupids, we were instructed to be cautious of the lie that love is enough. Love is a very powerful thing, but it is not the only thing that the humans need to have a full, good life. To fight to keep a love that is destructive is misusing that great power, and only the Enemy wins.
Rohan broke things off with Pamela for a time last summer, only to come back to her again a few months later. Just a few weeks ago he told her that he needed ‘space’, which I come to understand has more of a metaphorical than a physical meaning: he wished to put distance between her spirit and his. Now he is attempting to close that distance, but unlike the first time, Pamela is hesitant to welcome him back.
I arrived yesterday for one of their conversations. This was the first time since I was assigned that they were speaking in person, rather than by text,[1] which I feel is a very ineffective way to deal with conflicts. This time, I had the privilege of seeing what both of them were thinking and feeling, and the result has left me in some confusion.
When Pamela opened the door of her apartment to see Rohan standing there, her first impulse was to close it in his face. This was followed by an immediate rush of guilt, and she stepped back to let him come in. He kissed her, which she received unenthusiastically, and the usual pleasantries[2] were stilted, suppressed by the tension in the room. Almost as soon as they had seated themselves at the kitchen table, both fell silent in anticipation of the coming words.
“So,” Rohan said into the deafening silence. “Have you thought about what I said last night?”
Pamela grimaced and drew her knees up to her chest. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” she said, her words acidic. “But I don’t want to start over, Rohan. We’ve been together for four years; I don’t want to throw that away.”
“Well, obviously something is not working out,” Rohan said with equal peevishness.
“Wonder what,” Pamela said drily, and got up with her cup of tea.
Rohan followed her into the living room. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? But we can’t throw away everything we have worked for all this time.”
“Don’t you dare turn my words back around on me,” she snapped, setting her cup down so solidly that tea slopped over the edge. Muttering a curse, she edged around Rohan, careful not to touch him, and went back into the kitchen for a towel.
Rohan stayed where he was, refusing in his mind to get out of her path, trying to force her to be close to him.
“I have a plan for myself, Ro,” she said, wiping up the spill with fierce, hard swipes of her towel. “I’ll substitute for a little longer, then get my student teaching assignment and finish out my classes. Then I’ll probably get a job. Here. I don’t see why I have to give that up.”
“You can get a teaching job anywhere. Even in Indiana.”
“Why did you even go for that interview?” she demanded, and in her heart was a twist of anger and anguish. I understand that the week Rohan was gone for the interview was the beginning of their most recent troubles. “I told you I didn’t want to leave here.”
“I know, but it’s such a good job—”
“You could have found just as good a job here!”
“You don’t know that. Engineering is harder to find than teaching.”
“Well, if you don’t look, anything is hard to find,” she said nastily, folding up the towel and not looking at him.
“I looked!”
“No, you didn’t! You waited around for a job to come find you.”
“Yes, and it did find me!”
“But you didn’t have to take it, Rohan! You didn’t have to say yes! And you sure as hell didn’t have to decide to cut me out of your life plans while you were out there.” This time, when she pushed past him, her touch was intended to be brusque and cruel.
He ran his hands through his hair in frustration and followed her to the laundry room. “I never said I didn’t want you there with me,” he insisted, forced to stand out in the hall while she bustled around the tiny room. “All I said was that I needed to think.”
“Think about what?” Pamela demanded, pulling things out of the hamper she keeps for dirty linens. It is only half full, but loading the washing machine[3] is something she can do to avoid looking at Rohan. “After all this time, what do you have to think about? We had everything figured out.”
“You had everything figured out, you mean,” Rohan said.
There was resentment in his tone, but also wistfulness, and in these words I saw the crux of the matter. Pamela, with her swift words and decisive spirit, had always been the leader in their relationship, the decision-maker. This always had suited Rohan; over the years he has gotten into the habit of letting her take the lead. Now, however, as he begins to face the reality of his own future, he chafes at her direction, particularly when he is away from her. He wants to start out on his own path, but having followed her for so long, he now does not know where to begin.
Pamela stopped what she was doing and turned to meet his gaze. There was hurt in her eyes, but there was more anger, and a good portion of weariness. “You want to figure things out on your own, fine. Go and do it. I don’t want to deal with you right now.”
“Pam—”
“Nope.” She poured detergent into the machine, slammed the door closed, and started it up. She came to the door and pushed past him. “Excuse me, I have papers to grade.”
She cut off any attempt for him to continue speaking, and so a few moments later he left in anger and distress, still struggling with his temper. Once he was gone, Pamela went to lock the door behind him. I thought she would cry, but there is strength in her small frame; she squared her shoulder, sniffed a few times, and went on with her work.
I like them both, and I pity them both. What is there to be done? I think I will have to observe a bit longer to be certain. In the meantime, I will try to offer what comfort I can for the two of them. This is the kind of thing, however, that will not allow them rest until there is some form of resolution.
[1] I have mentioned this briefly before, but I want to be certain the meaning is clear: ‘text messaging’ consists of the sending of brief messages by phone. It is convenient for brief exchanges, but allows for misunderstanding in longer conversations.
[2] Humans make a habit of greeting one another in most of the same ways. They will ask how the other does, though they usually do not stop to hear the answer, exchange brief news, and sometimes talk about unimportant things. If one of them is in the other’s home, as was the case here, the host or hostess will offer the guest something to eat or drink. Sadly, this is sometimes the only kind of communication that they will exchange with others.
[3] I felt that the name of this device was self-explanatory. It is used only for washing clothes; they have different machines for dishes and other items.