Perhaps you are expecting to read about my further experiences with Shannon, but I have no news in her case, and great upheaval with another of my charges. Poor Pamela! My assignment to her case has made no visible improvement in her life, as not one of the men that she has met since I have been with her have been unworthy of her. First there was Rohan, who was too weak to commit to her; then Andrew, who could not rouse her passion; then Lyle, who was a temporary connection; and now Daniel, who, though he admires Pamela and she him, has proved himself entirely unsuitable.
She found out this afternoon just after school. They had arranged to go out tonight, their third date, but Pamela was so excited to see him that she could not wait for him to pick her up. As soon as her students had all gone, she hurried over to his classroom.
He was on the phone and did not hear her come in. “—asked you not to call me at work.”
Pamela had opened her mouth to announce her presence, but what Daniel said next silenced her.
“No, honey, work is not over. I have papers to grade, and then there’s practice this afternoon.”
Pamela’s aura shifted abruptly from excitement to shock and hurt. That word, ‘honey’, rang in her ears, and with every echo her anger built.
I did what I could to calm her, believing at first that this was a misunderstanding. Humans use that endearment, “honey”, in many different relationships. Perhaps Daniel was speaking to a child? But I could see that his aura was more shadowed than it usually was, could hear the impatience in his voice. Why would he use such a term if he did not enjoy speaking to that person?
“Yeah, I told you, Thursdays and Saturdays.”
Those are the days that he has been going out with Pamela. I knew then that he was lying to whoever this person was, which made the situation even more serious. I wanted to dive into his thoughts and find the answer once and for all, but I was too busy keeping Pamela from flying into the room on a scream. Instead I used her anger to shield her from the hurt, and she folded her arms, drawing up her spine in righteous indignation.
Daniel sighed, leaning back in his chair. “No, don’t worry about dinner. I’ll grab something on the way home.” He spun around and saw Pamela standing there, the anger clear on her face.
His expression, draining of all color, made his guilt clear to me. I looked then into his thoughts and saw him frantically trying to think of an explanation, of a way to get out of this situation. How could he explain to the woman he wanted to be his girlfriend that he’d just been talking to his wife?
He is married. He has made promises to another woman—and not long ago, unless I miss my guess—and yet he allowed himself to be drawn to Pamela? To chase her, to try and touch her heart—how dared he? And then I was angry too, and Daniel cringed, unable to look at Pamela for a second longer.
“I have to call you back,” he managed to say into the phone, and then it fell to his side.
For a moment they were silent, the room filled with anger.
“So,” Pamela said finally. “Girlfriend? Or wife?”
Daniel swallowed and deliberately set the phone on the desk. “Let me explain,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Girlfriend,” Pamela enunciated, “or wife?”
Daniel closed his eyes. “My wife,” he answered. “Her name is Stephanie.”
Pamela pressed her lips together, nodding. “And you didn’t see fit to mention this,” she said with forced calm, “before we went out? On three dates?”
“To be fair, we’ve only been on two so far,” Daniel said weakly.
I admit, I lost my temper in that moment. As Pamela stared at him, speechless with anger, I swept across the room to him and into his thoughts, calling memories of both Pamela and his wife to the front of his mind. “How dare you,” I hissed into his ear. “How dare you do this to both of them, women who have trusted you and wished to be tied to you—how could you make them enemies? How could you disrespect them in this way? You deserve neither of them.”
Daniel put his head in his hands, wilting with guilt. “Pam, I’m sorry,” he said, “but—”
“No,” Pamela said, holding up her hands, “no buts. You don’t get a but. You’re lucky you get to be sorry. You make me sick. Don’t talk to me.”
She spun on her heel, and sudden desperation had Daniel surging out of his chair, running to catch her hand. “Pamela, please—”
I placed myself between them. “Do not touch her,” I growled, and he stopped even before Pamela whirled around.
“What?” she demanded. “What the hell could you possibly have to say to me?”
Daniel pressed his hands to his temples. “Look, Steph and I have been falling apart for months,” he said. “I have been trying, but I’m miserable with her! And meeting you—it’s been such a relief to just have a chance to forget, to just be with someone who still likes to be in the same room as me.”
Pamela gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Well I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted.” She turned to go again.
And here is where I learned why it is so easy for humans to hold on to their anger. I had seen the truth in Daniel’s words—he is truly unhappy in his marriage, and to have the admiration of Pamela, to have someone to whom he can run to find peace, has been intoxicating to him. Knowing this diminished my anger, and I was displeased, for I wanted to be angry with him. I felt that he deserved it for what he had done to Pamela.
But it was mine to be the voice of logic, the calm in the storm. So I wrapped my wing around Pamela to stop her when Daniel called her again. Stiff with her anger, she turned and looked at Daniel.
He looked into her face, and his hope that she might forgive him, that she might still open her heart for him, died away. The depth of the despair that followed convinced me that he truly does care about her, and that finally allowed me to feel some compassion for him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Pamela, of course, felt no compassion—it was too soon, and she was too angry. She nodded once, a bitter smirk on her face. “Yes,” she said. “You are sorry. You’re the sorriest person I have ever met, and you should be ashamed of yourself.” And then she turned one more time, and I saw that nothing could keep her from leaving now, and so I followed her.
I had hoped that the anger would continue to shield her, but no such luck. The truth of the matter is, Pamela truly cared for Daniel, too, and so no sooner had she left the school than the tears began to fall. She fled to her car, but was unable to drive herself home for nearly half an hour, blinded by the hurt. She, too, feels her own misfortune, and begins to lose hope that she will ever find someone to love her.
I stayed with her, and wept with her, apologizing for the ways that I have failed her, telling her that I would give her the love she needs if only I could. I have never felt so inadequate before. Have I only made things worse for her? Have my choices for her all been the wrong ones, driving her to be alone?
Of course questioning what has already been done is pointless. I can only move forward, and so can Pamela. But I do not know what she will do next, nor do I know what would be best for her to do. She is so angry, and she is so lonely. I am unsure what will happen next.
One thing is sure: whatever happens, I will be at her side.