Brother Lubos, if you read this—though I doubt that you have the time, busy as you are—know how deeply grateful I am to you. I do not believe there is anyone I would trust more in this matter.
For those of you who do not know him, Lubos is one of the most senior cupids, a Power who has worked for several centuries with many successful cases. He is a slow-moving angel, cautious and attentive to detail, so he is often assigned to the cases that will last many years. Few of our brothers and sisters have his patience.
When I went to him, he was very gracious, though surprised that a first-wing would approach him. My proposal intrigued him, though, and he invited me to come with him to observe Freya for a time.
“Quite an aura,” he observed when we had found her.
It was an understatement. In the bland office with its small workspaces and people trying to make themselves small in them, Freya seemed enormous, and she blazed. She moved through the place with long, confident strides, and people moved out of her way, even people who were more senior than she. She always spoke respectfully and kindly, regardless of the rank of the person to whom she spoke, but with a directness to her gaze. Those eyes sometimes made others uncomfortable, but more often they encouraged the object of their attention, making them feel significant, stronger. At least the humans may have thought it was her eyes, and they were part of it, certainly; but the real warmth and strength came from her aura, which washed around anyone who stepped within a foot or so.
Lubos and I watched her for some time, staying out of the way as she worked. (I do not know what she was doing—there was a good deal of shuffling papers, putting them in order and tucking them away, speaking to people on the telephone, and typing on her computer.) She did all this with the same bright energy she used for everything, not stopping even in the middle of the day when the workers were given time to eat. Freya received five different invitations to join others for a meal. She fielded off two, thinking that those others did not like each other, and promised to join them another time, making a note to herself as she did to talk with them about the source of their tension. The others she brought together into a big, laughing group, and they all returned to work lighter of heart.
“You see?” I said to Lubos, absurdly proud, though I had had no hand in this woman. “Surely she is worthwhile.”
“Hmm,” Lubos said. “Humans at work, though, are sometimes different than humans alone. Yes, she commits her heart and soul to her work, and to the people here. But what is she like at home, when she can be most herself? That is the best indication of a human’s nature.”
He had an excellent point, and I made my own note to remember this for future assignments.
So we waited throughout the day—under Lubos’ wing, I was safe to stay beyond my own reach—and followed her when she departed with cheerful waves toward her coworkers.
I half expected her to head for the train[1]—the T, they call it in Boston—but she instead had her own car, a large silvery thing that Lubos tells me is an SUV.[2] My Cleaner friends will recognize this—these cars are particularly detrimental to the environment, as they use up many resources and put out much pollution. I could not think why Freya would have such a car, but she climbed into it with an air of relief. A tension that I had not noticed drained away from her as she started the engine.
“Power,” Lubos told me. “Many humans enjoy the illusion of having greater strength or size than others. It is a feeling one more often finds in men than in women.”
I think it was more than that, though. There was certainly a shade of that in Freya’s thoughts, but it was more. She turned the radio to loud, fast music with throbbing beats, and I could sense her imagining those beats washing her mind clean of the things that troubled her.
And she was troubled, despite how bright and cheerful she had seemed. Something was weighing on her, and past the brightness of her aura, it had been difficult to see it.
As we followed the car on the wing, I asked Lubos if he had noticed the shadow or its source.
“A private trouble, I suppose,” he answered me. “I do not think it was anything that happened while we have been observing. It rests deeper than that.”
“How can you tell?” I asked him.
He thought a moment before he answered me. “You learn these things as time goes by,” he said. “Most of the time we can only read surface thoughts and emotions, because that is what we are accustomed to seeing from each other. Angels have little to hide. Humans, however, learn to protect their true feelings from others as a defense mechanism, and so sometimes you have to look deeper. Only the most powerful angels can see straight to a human’s heart, though it does get easier as you spend more time with a specific human.” He smiled. “That is why I am grateful for the opportunity to work these long cases. I can see so much more as I get to know the humans.”
When Freya was stopped at a red light, he turned to me. “Mind you, it works both ways with the more perceptive humans,” he warned me. “Some of them you could watch for a hundred years and they’d never get a glimmer of your presence, but others—and she is one of them, I think,” he added, looking down at the roof of the car, “will begin to suspect that you are there. You must always have a care when you have been with a human longer than a few weeks.”
This is why, I am sure, Danit has told me to lessen my time with Lamarr and Tammy. (Not that they need my help anymore—they are planning a weekend trip for their two-month anniversary.)
Freya stopped her car outside a pale house with large windows. She waved to a woman digging in her garden next door, and they chatted for a moment, but neither was in the mood for long conversation. Going up the steps, Freya paused for a moment and smiled, listening to the laughter of children down the street. Then she sighed, unlocked the door, and went inside.
Her cats—the gray one is Merry, while the black is Jolly—came immediately to twine around her ankles. They are engaging creatures, particularly while they are hungry. Freya fed them, tossed her high heels up the stairs, and sank down onto her sofa, unbuttoning her pants. She was a bit calmer than she had been when she left work, but that went away when her phone buzzed. It wasn’t who she wanted it to be, and she didn’t answer it.
“Ah,” Lubos murmured.
“What?”
He gestured to the phone. “She is waiting for someone to reach out to her—or wishing he or she would.”
My heart sank. It was the man I had driven away from her, I knew it.
“Oh, the hell[3] with it,” Freya said under her breath, and dialed.
It soon became apparent that she was talking to that man, whose name is Greg. Greg is not happy with Freya, and though she started off being upset that he hadn’t called her, soon she was the one apologizing. She asked if he would meet her again, offering to go out to Albany once again, but he refused.
“I just don’t feel like you’re interested,” he said to her.
“I am!” she protested.
“Then why did you blow me off?”
“That was important. A friend needed my help—was I supposed to just ignore that?”
“So you ignored me instead.”
“Well, maybe I was hoping that you would understand!”
“Yeah, well, I did the first three times, Freya. Now I’m starting to understand something else.”
She was pacing by now, agitated, her aura flaring with distress. “Look, I promise you it’s just been bad timing.”
“It’s always bad timing. I don’t get you, Freya—you say you want to be with me, but when you’re with me, it feels like you’re somewhere else.”
This made no sense to me, but Lubos seemed to understand it, as did Freya.
“I don’t want to be,” she said, falling back onto the sofa with her hand over her eyes.
I could hear Greg sighing on the other end of the phone. “Freya, you are a beautiful girl, and a ton of fun, but I’m sick of feeling like I’m not your priority.”
She let her hand fall to her side, and I could see tears in her eyes. Her aura had dimmed lower than I had ever seen it. “What do you want me to say?”
“Well, I don’t think it’s too much to ask to have you to myself for one g*****n night.”[4]
“Weren’t you the one telling me that you liked how I’m always surrounded by people?” she asked. “How everyone wants to be with me? I have friends, I have a life, Greg! Suddenly you want that to change?”
“You know what, Freya? Don’t bother. You have a nice life.” He cut the connection quickly, and Freya buried her phone under the cushions. Surging to her feet, she seized Merry around the middle, trying to cuddle him, but he squirmed free and disappeared.
Bereft, Freya stood like a statue in the middle of her living room, gulping down tears, her fists clenched, and I thought it was the saddest thing I have ever seen.
If you had as much trouble following the conversation as I did, here is how Lubos has explained it to me: that Freya has attached herself to many people, but only to a certain extent. He believes that she either makes deep connections that do not last—such as with Lila and Ramona—or steady connections that only run so deep. She is trustworthy, but does not easily place her trust in others.
“No wonder Danit would not let you take the case,” he said, glancing at me to be sure I did not take offense.
I did not. I would have no idea where to start with Freya. I badly wanted to, though. Whatever trouble she may have holding humans to herself, she has caught me, most certainly. I think she is wise and kind and good, and strong and fierce and funny. I want her to be happy.
But she is under a good wing with Lubos. He said he will have to observe her for some time before making a move, but I expected that. He has also promised that he will keep me informed, which I hope he will do. I am partly responsible for Freya’s loneliness now, and that is wrong. I dearly wish that it will not last.
[1] Many large cities have public transportation—large vehicles that follow established routes at regular intervals of time. A train in this case is many large “cars”—not the same as automobiles—strung together and attached to a very powerful engine. Usually this vehicle ventures under the earth into elaborate tunnel systems. It is all very grimy and dark. Were I a human, I would prefer a bus, which is little more than a very large car, but it apparently is also slower and less reliable than the train.
[2] Sports Utility Vehicle. I do not know what sports might require a car, nor to what utility it may be put. Lubos did not know either.
[3] I apologize for the profanity, but I wish to be accurate.
[4] In this instance, I did omit some profanity.