I have been deeply honored. I am so pleased that I could be of assistance, Duerre, though I am quite certain given time, you could have found a solution just as good.
For those of you who do not know, I found myself rather at odds today. Having once had insufficient time to look after my charges, today I had too much. All of my charges were either not together today, or they were content and had no need for my intervention. This is a blessing indeed, but it also meant that I had no work to be done. So I returned to heaven to offer my assistance to Danit.
She was in consultation with one of her newest protégés, a first-wing by the name of Duerre. I knew of Duerre, but we have not had the chance to speak before this. I was slightly embarrassed when, on hearing my name, Duerre’s eyes widened, and he bowed quickly, stammering how glad that he was to meet me.
“Do not, brother,” I told him. “We are no different, you and I.”
“But you have shown such promise, brother Asa’el,” he replied, “and have advanced so quickly—it truly is worthy of honor. It has been many years since a young Cupid has shown as much promise as you.” His expression brightened, and he turned to Danit. “In fact, Danit, would you be willing to allow Asa’el to assist me in this matter?”
Not knowing to what he was referring, I looked curiously at Danit. With a smile, she explained that Duerre had been seeking counsel in the matter of his first charge.
“I have tried everything,” he said, his frustration clear in his words. “There are many possibilities, and yet I cannot seem to find the right pairing.” He extended his wing to me. “Will you assist me, brother? I am certain that you could bring much-needed wisdom.”
I protested that my advice was as nothing in comparison to Danit’s counsel, but she waved that away with a smile.
“You are at liberty today, Asa’el,” she said, “and you have greater freedom to leave heaven than I do. By all means, go with Duerre and see if you can help him to find the proper course for his charge.”
Well, with Danit’s permission and Duerre’s insistence, how could I refuse?
I went with Duerre back to Earth, to an entirely different part of the world. I have visited Paris on my sabbath, but it was only a brief visit, and I did not have the chance to see how the city really lives. Have any of you ever notices that places in the Garden have their own auras? A place where so many people live slowly builds up the emotions and opinions of those people, taking on its own flavor, its own color. I have been so accustomed to the busy, brisk, almost careless auras of the American cities where I am assigned, that the taste of Paris, its sensuality, its romance, its gentle flow, was a shock.
Duerre laughed and allowed me several moments of standing by the river, just breathing it all in. He waved away my apology. “I am so fortunate to be assigned here,” he told me with a smile. “It is, I think, the one place on Earth most conducive to our power.”
I can see what he means. Paris, the city of lights, the seat of love. It was glorious.
Presently, however, I turned to Duerre, ready to go with him to seek out his charge. He shook his head, however, and nodded to a nearby metro entrance. “She is coming this way even now,” he said. He shivered. “I like to meet her here. The metros make me uncomfortable.”
I wondered at that—perhaps the press of physical presence disturbs him? I know some angels feel that way. It has never particularly troubled me.
“There she is,” Duerre said, and I glanced up to see a small woman coming up the steps from the metro, her curly black hair pinned back and a pair of glasses perched on her head. She was carrying two bulky bags and walked with purpose down the street, thick boot heels thumping on the sidewalk.
“Her name is Cordell Castañeda,” Duerre explained as we followed her. “She is thirty years old, very sociable.” He went on to tell me that she teaches au lycée, students halfway through their teenage years, and loves them and her job very much. Her native language is Spanish, which is the subject she teaches. Her family are still in Spain, but she has many good friends here, so she does not get lonely much. Her history with men, however, has been tumultuous, hence Duerre’s difficulty finding a good pairing for her.
“She has become so skeptical,” he explained to me. “She does not feel a need in herself to be tied to one person. And my own opinion is that she does not have such a need—that she is strong enough on her own.”
I was watching Cordell write vocabulary words on her whiteboard for the students. She has a low, husky voice, pleasing to hear. “But there is a need?”
“I was told that this pairing is less for her good than for the good of the man she will find. But our seniors have not told me who that is.”
This surprised me. It is not often that we are not given all of the relevant information for a case, and certainly it is not usual for a young Cupid’s first assignment.
“Well, there must be a reason they did not tell you,” I said. “Perhaps they wish you to find him yourself—or perhaps he is already so close by that it would not be necessary for you to seek far. Does Cordell have any male friends or coworkers?”
Duerre frowned. “There is one man I have been looking at for that precise reason, but he makes Cordell uncomfortable.”
“Why so?”
A pure note chimed from the ceiling, and the students began to gather up their books.[1] As they began to exit, Duerre said, “I will show you. Wait there.” He flitted out of the room after the students, slipping over their heads in the now-crowded hallways.
Left alone with Cordell, I read what I could see of her aura. She seems an odd mix of bright energy and deep stability, a woman who knows who she is and accepts it without shame. It is a rare treasure, and I can see why she would be a benefit to someone else looking for light in the world. I also know how easy it is for the world to wear away that confidence, for long years of loneliness and whispers in the night to make a good woman into a shadow.
I wonder if that is what has happened to Angela?
Cordell tidied her desk and headed out the door to get some coffee. Just outside, she ran into someone, and on recognizing who it was, her heart dropped. “Hello, Hugh,” she said, forcing a smile.
He is a thin man with a stubbled chin and narrow black eyes. Those eyes flicked up to Cordell’s face and away. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle. Ça va?”
“Oui, ça va,” she answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. This would have been enough for her, as she went to move past him, but Hugh stopped her with a quick question. “Did you have an enjoyable weekend?”
Cordell sighed. “As I told you yesterday, Hugh, it was lovely, thank you.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” he said, waving one hand. The other was holding a stack of books tucked against his side. “It is just—you always are having adventures, mademoiselle. I envy that.”
It was then that I noticed Duerre behind the man—this was the one he mentioned. I took a closer look. Though only an inch shorter than Cordell, Hugh holds himself with hunched shoulders in a way to make himself look smaller. His aura is shaky, made of pale colors and thin energy.
I looked at Cordell. She made herself laugh, but the discomfort of his presence was sinking into her. “I don’t know that you could call two pubs and a dance club an adventure.”
“More adventurous than my weekend,” Hugh replied, waving to his books. “Friends and music and excitement—” He looked up at her with a wistful smile. “You really know how to live life, don’t you?”
Cordell took a step back, mumbling something in response to the compliment, before she made a quick excuse and hurried off down the corridor, harrying a few students into their classrooms along the way. Hugh watched her go, then huffed out a sigh and continued along his own business.
“Do you see?” Duerre asked me.
I did. It was the compliments that disturbed Cordell, strange as it may be. I could see in her thoughts that she always receives many compliments from Hugh, every time they converse. This makes her uncomfortable because she believes Hugh gives her too much credit. She feels that he puts her up on a pedestal,[2] and she wonders if he is interested in her, or just mocking her.
I turned then and followed Hugh, curious as to what his motivations really are. Duerre followed me, though I could sense his surprise.
“One thing I have learned,” I told him as we trailed Hugh down to the school library, “is that though you may be led to one person to begin, your best course may be to focus on the other. It is couples, after all, that we work with.”
Hugh set the books down on a table, thought briefly about putting them away, then sank down into his chair, putting his face into his hands. The library was small, shadowy, and quiet, perfectly suiting Hugh’s mood.
I put one wing around him, drawing his thoughts back to Cordell. It was not difficult to do; she was already there in his mind. The force of his thoughts, though, was a surprise to me. He was angry with himself for not being brave enough to speak to her longer, calling himself stupid, wondering why he bothered talking to Cordell when it just bothered her. Every thought was a kind of stomping his own soul into the dirt, pushing himself further and further down. I ruin her day every time I talk to her, he told himself, pressing his palms into his eyes. She’s too nice to tell me to fuck off, and I’m taking advantage of that.
“Cordell is right,” I told Duerre. “He does put her on a pedestal, in a way. Or more appropriately, his mind is digging him into a grave.”
“Depression,” Duerre said, chagrined. He came closer, looking down at Hugh’s bowed head. “I should have seen it.”
“Now, none of that,” I told him, a bit alarmed. Depression is insidious enough even to affect angels, if we allow it. “That is why I am here to help you, brother. And it is now clear that you are here to help him.” I put all three of my wings around Hugh, whispering joy and rest and relief to him with all my new strength. He took a deep breath and lifted his head, and the dark thoughts quieted—for now.
“But if Hugh is my concern, why is Cordell my assignment?”
I thought of Freya and smiled. “Because it is sometimes better for humans to help humans. Cordell is bright, energetic, and kind, and the moment she knows something is amiss with Hugh, she will go well out of her way to help him. Even if there is not romance between them, or even if there is and it does not last forever, she can be a light in his life that can lift his shadows.”
Duerre’s face took on a brilliant determination. “Then I have my task, it seems.”
And a long and grueling task it will be. But our seniors would not have given it to Duerre if he were not capable. And he must know that I will be there to help if ever he needs it. I think, however, that he will do very well on his own.
[1] This seems to be the way of things in schools for young people—they are scheduled to attend certain classes for a prearranged amount of time in the day, portioned out with these bells or chimes that mark the time.
[2] This is a metaphor, describing the relative position of the two people within one’s estimation.