lightbulb
I shake Ismael’s arm. It’s not moving but I continue trying to shake it anyhow.
“TBC has a *you*?”
Ishmael looks disgusted. “Of course he does. Everyone does. Everyone means everyone.”
“I want to meet him! Can I meet him?”
Now Ishmael looks amused. “Sure.”
“In the Conversation Tent?”
“If you like,” Ishmael says. His mild reaction to my excitement gives me a twinge of annoyance. I hate when I am excited and others don’t share in the fun. I punch his arm.
“Ow. Look, I talk to angels all the time. It’s of no great consequence to me to talk to another one.”
“Well why didn’t you suggest it to me before?”
Ishmael looks uncomfortable. “That’s not really the way it works,” he said nervously. “That’s a little too….meddling.”
Bagheera snorts. “Idiot pansy angels.”
Ishmael glares at the panther. “I’ll get him,” he says, and vanishes.
“C’mon Bagheera!” I rub the big kitty’s head. “We’re going to meet TBC’s angel!”
“The last thing this place needs is more angels,” Bagheera grumbles. But he stands up and I place a hand on him and will us down to the Conversation Tent.
And she is there. She’s got a neat, dark bob, and has a very traditional robe and even a faintly glowing halo. She is not slight, though. She’s got almost horsey-strong features, and looks like she could bench press my weight. Easily. She is holding herself very strong and tall, and looks utterly unlike Ishmael, who is strong but looks entirely like a surfer dude. He wears sandals and slouches. He doesn’t have anything remotely resembling a halo, but he has huge, big strong wings that are solid and real to the touch. TBC’s angel has bright blue eyes, and dainty wings that look to made of light, not skin and bone.
She looks very solemn.
“Hello!” I say. I am so happy and also feel like musing her up a bit. I cross the tent and take her enthusiastically into my arms. She returns my hug, but is stiff with surprise. “Welcome to my Oasis,” I add.
Ishmael is grinning, and Bagheera is purring loudly. “Tezareal, this is my charge, Eliste. And her spirit guide, Bagheera.”
Tezareal squints at me, then looks at Bagheera with distaste. “Hello little oracle,” she says. “Ishmael, you do end up with the oddballs.”
“Tezareal,” Ishmael says with a warning note in his voice, “she’s not dreaming. She’s an oracle. This is her Oasis. She *built* it. Consciously.”
“I–” Tezareal’s eyes get very round. “Oh, my.” She looks around more carefully. “You’re quite right, of course. My apologies, oracle. You indeed aren’t what I was expecting at all.”
Now isn’t that interesting. “Sit down, please,” I say. “There’s tea. Or would you like to see more of the Oasis?”
“More?” She asks faintly.
“Of course,” I say. “This is just the Conversation Tent. Most of the Oasis is behind the gate.” I look over at Ishmael, confused.
“Darling,” he says, “surely you’ve noticed by now that you aren’t much like most other people?”
“But–” I break off. Tezareal should know me. Inside and out, shouldn’t she know what he knows?
“Don’t worry, dear,” Tezareal says soothingly. “You are in the best hands with Ishmael.”
“Let’s sit,” Ishmael says. Now he sounds nervous. The two angels flank me, and Bagheera flops himself down on my feet. Idiot cat. I rescue my feet and thump his broad side. Ishmael hands me a plate of madelines, and somehow I feel like this isn’t going well. I hand out tall glasses of Persian tea and set a bowl of sugar cubes on the low table in front of me.
“So,” I say. Tezareal reaches out all of a sudden and touches my cheek with her fingertips. Then she leans in over her tea and gives me a quick kiss, right on my lips.
“Ah,” she says, sitting back with a half-smile on her face. “I do know you.”
I want to cry and shout all at once. “What am I doing wrong?”
“Wrong?” She looks baffled by the question. “Whatever could you be doing wrong?”
I feel Ishmael rub my arm but I ignore him. “I want to go out there,” I say. “I don’t want anything to stop me. I want to just be out there. I want it to just be easy. I want to just do what I want. I want him to love me as much as I love him. And just that. Nothing more, you see? There doesn’t have to be more. But not this. I’m fighting this all the time and I don’t know how to stop fighting.”
“Of course you do,” she says. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you do. Ishmael, haven’t you been telling this poor child *anything*?”
“She’s a bit stubborn,” he says through gritted teeth. I consider spilling my hot tea on him.
Tezareal puts down her tea and takes my hand in hers. “He loves you as much as we do,” she says. “Are you listening? Because you need to hear me now. He doesn’t love like you do. He loves like we do.” She looks me right in the eyes. “He loves you like angels love.”
Like angels love. Boundless, never ending, with perfect faith.
Not like I love. I hang my head.
“I’m not a burden then?”
Tezareal sits back a bit. “He’s a human,” she says. “Humans trip over themselves. He does that like any other. So that love he feels for you gets expressed in sometimes…” she grimaces. “…faulty ways.”
“Ishmael, what am I doing wrong?”
Tezareal looks supremely annoyed for a moment, but then Ishmael scooches closer to me and wraps his arms around me. I lean back into him. He smells like fresh ocean breeze.
“You’re learning,” Ishmael says. “You’ve never dared to love like this before. It’s all right. You’ll figure it out.”
Tezareal nods.
“I think I’m going to make him mad,” I say. “If I do what I want to do I’m going to make him mad.”
Tezareal shrugs. “Perhaps.”
He loves like angels love. “He’s not going to run away,” I say.
“Can’t you feel the connection?” Tezareal asks. “If you turn away from him, he will turn away from you. That is the pact between you. What else do you need?”
“To think,” I say.
“NO,” they all three say in unison.
“Stop it,” Bagheera says.
“Just live,” Ishmael says. He cuddles me closer. “Just live.”
