I was speaking with Adnar’el just a few days ago—he was telling me about his sabbath, and he spoke with some awe of an opportunity he had to witness a rockfall in the isolated mountains of the Middle East. He said that there was no sign of where it first began, only a faint rumble becoming a roar, and suddenly the entire mountain had given way, massive stones flying through the air and sending clouds of dust to block out the sun. When it was all finished, the face of the mountain had changed forever, and there was nothing that could have stopped it.
I cannot help but think that this is much the same that happened with Shannon tonight. I was ready for the disaster, and I watched carefully, but I missed the first crucial movement, and then there was nothing to stop the fall.
It all began well enough. Oliver picked her up, and though she was anxious, she was also excited. A good portion of that excitement came out of her desire to share this evening—“the first success of many”, as Oliver said—with him. I remember feeling very pleased that they were doing so well together.
When they arrived at the museum, Shannon left Oliver outside the museum while she ran around making certain that everything was ready. This was not necessarily her responsibility—she was a member of a capable team, so I am afraid she actually irritated several of her teammates by implying they had not done their part, but it soothed her worries to do this, so I did not try to interfere. Finally satisfied that everything was as ready as possible, she returned to Oliver, and they both watched as the people began to come in.
I must say, Shannon had reason to be proud of this moment. In the evening light, the artworks, sprawling over a carefully constructed series of walls, glowed with passion and fury and mirth. It was like a labyrinth of color and energy, stern, forceful beauty that would be gone in a matter of days.
“It’s a pretty good turnout, don’t you think?” Shannon asked, standing in a corner of the courtyard and watching some of the guests studying one of the larger pieces. “Jace says there’ve already been forty-five people coming through, and it’s only the first half-hour.”
“It’s a credit to you,” Oliver said, running one hand down her arm.
She flashed him a quick smile. “People seem to like Nate’s piece a lot.” Before he could reply, she gasped and turned to face him straight-on. “I don’t think I told you—Jace’s boss said that she wants to show the exhibit to some of the board members of the museum on Sunday afternoon, and maybe some of the board members from the Hirshhorn, too! Isn’t that amazing?”
“That is amazing!” Oliver said, catching Shannon’s shoulders. “That’s the one you’ve been wanting to work for, isn’t it?”
Shannon tossed her hair and took a deep breath, turning her gaze out to the crowd again. “I’ll do it,” she murmured. “I’ll get there, you’ll see. This is only the first step.”
I loved her confidence, but I could also see a potential danger in this, in the pride that was already growing in her spirit. So I leaned over her and called her attention to Nate and a few of his friends, looking a bit uncomfortable as they came in.
Shannon caught at Oliver’s hand. “Look, there’s Nate. Let’s go say hello!”
An hour or so passed peacefully enough. Shannon was in her element, greeting her friends, talking to guests about the artwork, introducing Oliver to her boss and her parents. I was surprised by the latter, but she seemed just as eager to show him off as the artwork.
Perhaps I became complacent, but I honestly cannot think how I could have seen this danger. How could I have known what form it would take? It happened so fast.
There was a guest—I do not even know his name—who had made an ignorant comment about one of the pieces. It happened to be Nate’s piece, and Nate happened to be standing just there. Shannon, of course, could not keep silent. But I was very proud of her—she spoke well, her tone polite and her smile pristine, of the historical and classical references that the artwork made, all the while implying that the guest knew absolutely nothing about art. It was very sharp, perhaps, but she spoke in defense of another, so I was pleased.
It was after Nate had gone his way and Oliver had stopped his laughing that he spoke. “You’re quite the firecracker, aren’t you?” he said.
That word sent ice down Shannon’s chest, and she stepped out of his reach as he held out his hand to her. Too late, I remembered—this was what Alex had called Shannon, his special name for her.
In the moment before Oliver realized that something was wrong, memories were flashing through Shannon’s mind—the fear and anxiety she felt as Alex began to slip away from her, the way she still blames herself for the end of their relationship, despite everything she tells herself. Suddenly a chasm seemed to yawn between her and Oliver, and it all seemed to be happening again.
“But it does not have to be that way again!” I whispered to her, closing her tightly in my wings and giving her all the warmth and courage I could muster. “Oliver is different, and you are stronger now than you ever have been! You are worthy of love, Shannon.”
Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say; perhaps there was nothing I could have said that would have given her the fortitude to open herself to him. Her chin went up, and she looked Oliver in the eye. “Yes,” she said, her voice cool. “I am.”
He frowned. “Something wrong?” he asked her.
“Just tell him,” I pleaded. “He will understand! You need this, Shannon.”
But Shannon shook her head and smiled a plastic smile. “Nothing at all,” she said and took his arm again.
What more could I do? I kept a close eye on her the rest of the evening, hoping that this was not the moment I had been meant to avoid, but by the time Oliver dropped her off at her apartment that evening, he and I were both aware of a distance between the two of them that had not been there a few hours before.
“Are you sure everything is all right, Shannon?” he asked, holding on to her hand when she would have gone straight inside.
She blinked at him, seemingly genuinely confused, but inside her heart was hardening. “After a night like tonight, what wouldn’t be all right?”
He smiled, not quite reassured. “It truly was a triumph, my beauty,” he said, running one hand down her cheek.
She beamed and kissed him, but somehow this time her excitement excluded him. “I know,” she sighed and slipped out of his arms into her apartment, closing the door in his face.
I wish I could say that I don’t believe it, that I think this is a temporary setback, but Danit’s warnings are ringing in my ears. If only Oliver had used a different word! Anything else would not have sent Shannon back behind her walls. It is such a small thing on which to hinge a relationship. And yet, as Adnar’el told me, it only takes a single pebble falling in exactly the right place to begin a catastrophe.
I have not given up, of course. Perhaps I can convince Shannon to tell Oliver the truth. I know that he would understand, and if there could just be honesty between them, perhaps their relationship could be saved. I truly hope that this is the case—she deserves to be happy. But we will just have to see.