In the Garden, sometimes work well done is undone again. To follow our human brothers and sisters requires patience, and that requires love. Both of the latter are thin in my heart right now—I confess that, and I hope to change it soon.
For almost a week now, Shannon has been busily working on her project. She has gone all across the city, finding examples of street art, both foul and fair. She has spoken to some of the artists, and to police officers who chase them. She has researched other examples from other cities. For the first time in a very long time, she has put her whole heart into something, and it was very good.
But yesterday Thomas came back into her life, and that has ended.
She was pleased to see him, but he was not pleased to be forced to come to her. “Where the hell have you been, Red?” he asked as he came into her apartment, looking with surprise at the mess on her desk, the empty mugs and beer bottles that show her long presence in a place he was not accustomed to see her. “Called you three times this weekend.”
Shannon closed the door again, her pleasure fading a little. “I was busy. Sorry if it hurt your ego.”
He looked over his shoulder and smiled at her, but there was anger in his aura. “Don’t you worry about my ego, baby.” He went to the desk, his steps slow and lazy, and picked up a few of the photographs she had printed of the original artwork she saw last week. “So what’s been keeping you so damn busy?”
Shannon came across the room and took the photographs from him. “Look at this,” she said. “I saw this in the tunnel on the way to work the other day, and it just blew me away. It was so beautiful, and they were just going to cover it up. Then I thought, what if there is more like this? What if there is truly beautiful work out there that people just walk by, or even destroy, because it’s in the wrong place? So I’ve been looking into this, and I have found amazing things, Tom.” She dug through her research, producing more photos. “The colors of this one—and this here, the lines of this mural in Woodridge, they almost made me cry. It’s something incredible. This artwork isn’t meant to last, and that makes it more valuable than the oldest painting in the world.”
She looked up, her eyes sparkling, and it was a deep joy to see her passion and excitement. I was hypnotized by how beautiful it made her, both in body and in spirit.
I wish I had kept my wits about me. Maybe I could have prevented its loss.
Thomas flopped down on the sofa, frowning at Shannon. “Valuable?” he said, his tone a punch of scorn right to Shannon’s face. “You’re talking about graffiti. Nobody cares, Shan.”
I flew to her, assuring her as loudly as I could that this was not true, but the damage was done. Shannon had never faced this before, this carelessness in the face of something she loved, and it made her doubt the value of her work. She looked down at the photos in her hand, which suddenly seemed less brilliant and beautiful to her.
“No,” I insisted, trying to shield her with my wing. “Look at this—remember how it took your breath away? How could that feeling not be important?”
“You’re wasting your time,” Thomas said, speaking over me. He draped his arms over the back of the sofa and laughed softly, a cutting sound. “And if I remember correctly, you aren’t in good enough with your boss to waste that much time.”
“It’s not a waste,” Shannon said defensively, but there wasn’t strength in her voice, and she didn’t meet Thomas’s eye. “My boss said I could do this. I’m going to show him what I found tomorrow.”
“Well, you’ll have to be really good at bullshitting your way through,” Thomas said, getting to his feet. He came to stand very close to Shannon, leaning across her to shuffle through her papers with a dismissive gesture. “And you’re pretty good at BS, but what if he doesn’t like it? You won’t get another opportunity like this anytime soon, and you’ve got to come up with something strong.”
“It is strong,” I said to Shannon. “It is the best work you have ever done, you know that. He has no right to bring doubt to your heart.”
But he had done; I could see it, a dark shadow clouding and chilling her aura. With passion comes vulnerability, and Thomas had cut right to the heart of Shannon’s. She imagined Jace saying the same things to her, with his authority and education, and thought that she couldn’t bear it.
Thomas, radiating satisfaction, took Shannon’s face in his hands and made her look at him. “I’m just trying to look out for you, baby,” he said.
I wanted to strike him across the room, but Shannon believed him. She pressed close to him, and he held her against his chest and smiled.
Today, Shannon told Jace that she hadn’t found enough worth showing him on the street art case, and that she had more than enough to work on without adding more. He was disappointed, but not surprised. I was bitterly disappointed myself, and very surprised.
I hope that I can change Shannon’s mind, but that may have to wait until she breaks from Thomas. It is clear to me now that he is growing too pleased with his ability to control her. I cannot allow that. It will be difficult, however, for just as he wishes, she is coming to depend on him, and this frustrates me. He does not deserve to diminish her in any way, and I must make her remember her own strength and pride. How can I do that if she will not listen to me?
It does not matter. What matters is that I cannot give up on her. I will fight for her, until she knows to fight for herself.