At first, when my seniors summoned me today, I thought that they were going to reprimand me for my continued heaviness. Well, no, reprimand is not the correct word. I knew that they would be very concerned and have much advice to offer. They would ask me if there was anything that they could do, their sole desire to help me through my pain. Still, I was not looking forward to such an interview.
But that was not why they had called me.
When I arrived, they were all smiling—Danit, Kuya, and Zezette, all aglow. They seemed almost excited, really, bursting with news. To my surprise, Lubos was with them, wearing the same smile.
“Well met, brother,” I said after I had greeted our seniors.
“Asa’el,” he nodded. His smile faded for a moment. “I was very sorry to hear of your grief. How are you coping?”
“Not well,” I admitted, “but I thank you for your concern.” I readied myself for his offer of assistance. I would have been glad to receive it, but I have to admit so many such offers of open-ended help have been wearing on me the past few days. I feel guilty, almost, that I know nothing to tell my sisters and brothers, that I cannot give them a way to help me. I do not want them to feel as helpless as I do.
Lubos did not, however, ask how he could help; he already knew. His smile returned. “I hope that I am right that what I have done will ease your hurt.” He looked to Zezette, and I followed his gaze, puzzled.
She beamed at me. “Asa’el, it has been decided by Lubos and your seniors that you have learned the lesson you did not know before. In that light, we have decided to lift the restriction from your wings.”
I blinked at her, confused for an instant—then it hit me.
“Would you like to see Freya, Asa’el?” Danit asked me gently.
My fire woman—for a moment it seemed that I, too, had burst into flames, the ice of grief and guilt finally beginning to crack from around me. I have thought much of Freya in the past few days, and I suppose it makes sense; like Shannon, now, she is a human whom I cannot help, and from whom I was restricted. But now, to see her again, to be encouraged, even, to see her…
“May I?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“Go,” Lubos said, looking very pleased. “You will find her at home.”
I went in that moment, without another word, for which I hope my seniors forgive me. I felt as if I had been wearing chains, and suddenly they were gone. What could I do but leap?
I did find Freya at home, curled on her sofa reading a fat, leather-bound book. I stood beside her, drinking her in, struck again by the similarities between her and Shannon. Both women have red hair, honest, direct gazes, and iron in their spines. But where Shannon’s potential was a dim glow within her at her best day, Freya blazes with it, her kindness and selflessness clear for anyone to see.
Two years it has been, two years and more since I was able to see her without the guilt of violating my seniors’ commands. I stood there, and all the grief came crashing down on me again, and I covered my face with my hands and wept.
I don’t know whether it was Freya’s presence—the sight of this human whom I loved from the very first sight—or else if it was a realization that has been coming for some time, but it came clear to me then. I knew in that moment that I had done everything that I could have done for Shannon, that I had gone to the very limit for her and would have gone farther, but I couldn’t save her if she didn’t want to be saved. She is as strong as Freya, perhaps more so, and if she does not want my help, she would be able to keep me away. I can grieve her loss, and I shall still, but I should not despise myself for my failure.
I have been conscious of this fact before now, but standing in Freya’s living room was the first time that I truly felt it. It was the sweetest release I have ever felt, and yet also there was bitterness in it, for it meant that Shannon was truly gone to me.
I soon realized that my grief was affecting Freya, and how not? She has always been sensitive. A frown came to her brow, and she turned on some cheerful music on her phone. Then she switched it to sad music and went to fetch one of her cats to sit on her lap. I was sorry for that, but still I did not leave her. I drew back a bit and quieted my tears, but I stayed. It had been too long; I still needed her.
After a while she stopped the music and called her mother. “Hey,” she said. “Oh, nothing much. I’m just a little bummed tonight and wanted to hear your voice.”
I was on the point of leaving, then, when she went on.
“No, it’s okay. You know, I read something once that said when you’re sad for no reason, it’s because someone died somewhere with no one to mourn them, and so the sadness get assigned to random people.” She laughed a little. “I know it’s silly, but that always makes me feel better when I’m down in the dumps. I’d rather be sad for someone who needs it than just pointlessly.”
And for a moment, she seemed to look right at me.
And I fell in love all over again.
When I finally tore myself away, I went to Lubos to thank him, fervently, for this gift. He shook his head. “We always said that we would release you when you had learned your lesson. And you have—you were very respectful when I asked for your assistance earlier this year.”
“Of course.” When I think back now on what I did then, interfering with Lubos’ work, I am deeply ashamed. I would have been very hurt to know that one of my brothers or sisters did not trust me with my own charge.
But this made me think of another question, and I asked it hesitantly. “Does this mean that I am now free of consequence?”
He grinned. “Did you think this was just a brief favor in light of the circumstances? No, you are free now, and may visit Freya whenever you like. In fact, I would like for you to do just that.” He put one wing around my shoulders and leaned to press his forehead against mine. “It would have happened soon, brother; I just thought you could use it now.”
I could indeed. It was precisely what I needed. So I will write again about the doings of my fire woman, and be very grateful for the privilege. One of my sheep is lost, but another has returned, and I am finally beginning to heal.