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(1.8 years)
Meirada had called me to the balcony. It is a place both I and her hold dear, which set me to wonder what sort of conversation she wanted to have. I could see her through the cool glass doors. Light filtered into the dim hallway, where the guards and I waited. She was alone on the balcony, sitting at the edge, a thick stone railing beneath her. She was alone, until the guards waved me through.
The marble was cold beneath my feet, complying with the shadow it’d been left in since the sun passed its daily high and began its descent to the forests north. She moved little as I stepped into the light, only slumping further into herself. A guilty gesture, I guessed, but one I’d scarcely seen from her before. There was space beside her. Right where I would usually sit if we were here together. I silently took the spot.
Sitting down on the cool railing, I let the solidness of it steady me, and quell my fear of the fall below. A soft sigh came from my right.
When I looked over, Meirada was sitting up. A smile unlike any she’d given me before creased her face—one of love, of joy, and of deep sadness. Her lip was already quivering.
“Rii…” She whispered. “You came.”
I smiled softly, as I placed this month’s walking stick on the ground. “Why would I ever stand you up?”
This seemed to break her out of her worried state, at least for a moment, as she gave a small laugh. “Yes… perhaps it was a silly thing to think.” Her regular volume and tone returned, but still with a hint of wistfulness. “I…”
Meirada paused to take a deep breath. Her brows furrowed, as she stared towards the sky. After a moment of gazing at her in concern, I followed her stare. And we sat in silence. To me, it was comfortable, but I could tell hers was lined with anticipation. Something she wanted to say, and did not yet have the words. To wait, I figured, was the kindest thing I could do. If she needed time, there was nothing to do but give it.
I allowed my eyes to drift closed, as the gentle wind ushered them so. I breathed with it, taking a sweet moment in letting myself be. The layers of my dress resting softly on my legs; the cool, fresh air; the closeness of another. It was nice.
“It’s… not the end of the world.” She began. Her laugh came again, but this time unsure. “I mean… it feels like it, but… it’s not. Really, it’s not.” She bit down on her lip.
“Even if it is, I am always here, Meirada.”
She took another, deeper breath. “I… I know. That’s— well, that’s what’s so scary about it. I don’t… want to lose you.”
“Whatever it is… no matter what.” I gently placed a hand on her shoulder, as she tensed. “I can promise you, you won’t. As long as you want me here, I’ll be happy to stay.”
Meirada hunched her shoulders, bringing her knees up to her chest with skepticality. “I don’t… understand how you can say that. What if I’m about to tell you I committed murder, or— I don’t know, have been torturing a basement full of children for years?”
I thought for a moment, my eyes crinkling with amusement. “Well… I’d want to know your reasons, for sure. But it only depends.”
She gave a shivering sigh. “Wow…”
“It’s not one of those things, though, is it?” I guessed gently.
“No…” She admitted, her head falling into her hands. “No, no I— Ugh…” Her voice was muffled now, as she covered her eyes and her mouth, as though she were protecting herself. “I feel like a child. But it… really doesn’t get any easier. You’ve never used your Voice on me once. You can’t even control love, and yet—” She stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide. “Oh. Yeah. Um. Okay. That… isn’t how I wanted this to go.” Meirada slumped again, dejectedly.
“It’s okay. Just keep going. I’m listening.” I laid a hand on her back. Meirada’s shoulders rose, as she took a deep breath. Her shirt was soft, a wonderful deep red rimmed in golden thread.
“I…” She continued timidly. “Yeah, I mean, I guess I already said it. Rii, you—” She sat up, her brows furrowed, one hand still over her mouth; cinnamon on cinnamon. Her cream colored eyes appeared almost opalescent in the dappled evening sunlight. “You’re amazing. You’re kind, and gracious, and dedicated. And I… I think I’ve fallen for you, yeah. And— and before you say anything, I know…” She reared up, waving her hands. “There is no possible way you… could return these feelings. Because, well, you already… have feelings… for someone else. She’s the entire reason you’re here. And I’m…” She took a deep, long breath. Her voice was strained, cracking, before, but this was calmer. “...I’m okay with that.”
I tilted my head down, trying to look in her eyes. She didn’t seem to want to return my gaze. “Are you… sure?” I asked quietly. “It’s okay if you’re not.”
“I…” She hugged herself close, her face twitching with buried expressions and desperate determination. “...I want to be. I really do. And I don’t expect you to return the feelings—that’s true. I know that’s true. I’d never expect that of you. But it… it hurts. It really does. Knowing that you’ll never feel the same. Seeing— seeing you go on this incredible journey, all for her, and thinking, what if she was that devoted to me?” Meirada brought her knees up to her chest, and buried her face in them.
“Of course.” I said gently. “And you’re allowed to feel that way. Why do you think it feels wrong?”
She paused, contemplating. “I just… don’t want to impede your journey. You’re so kind, and I— I’m so afraid that you’ll… I—” She buries her head in her hands again, with a defeated sigh. “It’s so complicated. I’m afraid that you’ll leave… but I’m also afraid that you’ll feel forced to reciprocate so you can stay. Which— which isn’t necessary or right, and—” She casts her gaze down at her knees guiltily. “There’s the anger. The…” She hesitates again. Her body is tense and motionless, her voice strained, as though the words themselves were having to claw their way against a stubborn, stone throat in order to escape. “...this rageful little voice in my head, that feels so hurt that you don’t love me that it… makes me want to hurt you too.”
I do love you. I thought. Just not in that way. I hope you know that.
“And it’s awful.” Meirada murmured despairingly. “But I do. I don’t know what these feelings could drive me to do to you, and so I had to tell you because—”
I nudged her lightly, and she looked up at me, surprised.
“Meirada. I trust you.” Is all I said.
She stared at me in weary disbelief, before shaking her head.
“You… you shouldn’t. I don’t trust myself. Not anymore.”
I snuck a little closer, and bumped her shoulder with mine. “Why don’t you?”
Meirada let herself lean on me, though her eyes still stared straight ahead; clouded with shame and fear. “Because— because I’m so afraid that at any moment I might snap, god dammit!” Her voice was raised. In stark contrast to her quiet shame before, it surprised me. “See? Even now, I’m practically yelling at you… and I’m usually so level-headed, I just— I— I don’t know why this is… happening to me.”
She shook her head dejectedly.
“You make me feel so many things. I love you. I admire you. I want to kiss you. I…” She lowered her voice. “...I want to chain you up and force you to stay with me, even though I promised I would never do that if I didn’t have to. Only— I don’t want to do that. Or, I don’t want to want to do that. I don’t want to hurt you, but I do, and— it’s so frustrating. I feel like a child. I feel insane.”
She turned her back to me, and I began to play with her hair. “I understand. It makes sense. You’re bound to feel frustrated, especially when feeling things you don’t want to feel. And… love…” I gave a knowing smile. “It’s a feeling like no other, truly. And though it might hurt to talk to me, I’m glad you are. I might be the exact right person, and not just because the feelings are about me.”
“I know… I…” She stopped to sigh. “Talking. Hah. It’s so strange. Do you ever just… wish everyone would know your feelings so you don’t even have to say? I— I guess you…”
I laughed, though it was more in guilt than humor. “I do. Believe me.”
“I suppose it’s much more dangerous for you to understand than I. I may be the leader of this city, but you’re a Dictator.” Did her voice perhaps ring with a tinge of fear? Was she still afraid of me? Perhaps I don’t know many who wouldn’t be.
“It’s true. But you and I are similar in that way. We both have power, people just have to trust us to use it well.”
“How could anyone trust me with power, if I’m acting like this over something as simple and silly as love?” Meirada asked quietly.
“Why do you trust me with my power, if I’m willing to use it over something as simple and silly as an old, worn sweater?” I whispered back.
Meirada fell silent.
I remembered a flame, a crackle in the air. A heart ripped clean from its chest, the floor soaked red and sticky. My throat burning.
I remembered the point of an eight-sided die poking into my thumb. The revenge that carved emptiness into my soul even more fiercely than the grief did. A broken promise.
I blinked the tears out of my eyes, but did not wipe them away.
“Perhaps love isn’t the silliest thing after all…”
“Although it is strange.” I continued. “That your heart might draw you so intensely toward somebody that it’s hard to think of anything else. That not being with them feels like the worst torture anyone could bestow. You’d think we’d at least get a choice in the matter.” I gave a little laugh, and apparently that managed to coax one out of her too.
It took a while for her to speak again. A while, as we gazed out into the reddening sky. As we breathed together, my hand on her shoulder, and her head on my lap. The breeze was cool and calming. The city below bustled with its usual evening activity, and yet the noise never reached us. Never punctured our little bubble of silence and anticipation.
“It doesn’t feel… bad? To love you, I mean. Even though I know what they’d say. ‘Who could fall in love with a Dictator?’ But… oh, who cares? What feels bad is all that comes with it. Why, even though I’ve known for as long as I’ve known you that you’d never feel the same—why is it still eating me up inside?” Suddenly, she reared up in anger, knocking my hand away from her. “And that feeling? It’s horrible. You should never feel that way towards someone you love. There’s an entire saying about it: ‘if you love someone, let them go.’ But then, what? How do I… make it leave?”
Carefully, I placed my hand back on her shoulder. She was full of tension, her muscles tight and wired. I pulled her into a gentle half-hug.
“Anger is built into our nature. Humans are… selfish beings, at our cores. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just evolution. Survival of the fittest, survival of whoever can look after themself the best. But we’re also social. We figured out an even better way to survive a long time ago: together. Only… that’s something we’re still figuring out. We have all these emotions that are meant to help us survive. Anger for things which hurt us, so we can fight them. Joy, so we feel a drive to keep living. Fear, so we run when we can’t fight. But when other humans are thrown into the mix, when there are emotions that aren’t our own, when there’s no danger, it gets…” I trailed off. Complicated? Certainly. Dangerous? Sometimes. Worse? I… don’t know. It gets to a place where we have to figure it out together, only we’re already unpredictable enough to each other that it makes it one of the hardest things to do. Fear, anger. At our very cores, emotions are the reason for every horrible thing that a human has done to another human throughout history. Emotions are the reason we hurt people, and the reason we are hurt by things other people do to us. Emotions make us want revenge, even when it gets us nowhere. Emotions make us want power because it simply feels good. And yet, they drive us to live. They drive us to love. They fuel passion, and connection, and creation. They frame lives in simple colors, and give all that is human meaning. Why do we do anything we do? If nobody knows for sure whether or not there’s a cosmic reward out there, or a higher being watching, or just the black empty void of space waiting to swallow us whole.
Because, one way or another, our lives make us feel. It is both the worst, and the best part of being human.
Now, how do I put all that in a single word?
I didn’t. Instead, I just moved on. I’d have to think long and hard about what word might represent all of that, or if there even is one, but I didn’t have time for that then.
“To each other, we’re unpredictable. But there’s something in us, a little thing called ‘empathy’, that lets us know we aren’t alone. We see little bits of ourselves in other people, and we know, for all our differences, other humans feel emotions too. I’d… like to think it makes us want to take care of each other. Perhaps that’s wishful thinking. And it’s certainly not true of… everyone. But for most of us, on a basic level, we see another human in pain, and we want to help. So we’re always in combat, in a way. Because what good comes to us, from helping them? Some people decide that it’s nothing, so why help at all? And then they don’t. Some people decide that it’s something, because hurt people are also often vulnerable, so they do. And some people decide that it doesn’t matter, because pain is pain no matter whose it is, and no one deserves to be in pain. All I mean to say is… it’s in our nature. No matter if you were expecting it, no matter even if I had no hand to play other than simply being here; in your mind’s eye, I hurt you, so your emotions act accordingly. There’s a reason that the saying exists. If it were intrinsic, we wouldn’t have to be told. We wouldn’t have had to learn how to push past our own desires and let go for the sake of someone else.” I took a slow breath, and gently offered her my other hand. She was still facing away, leaning on me with one leg up on the railing, and one hanging over the edge. She placed her hand in mine with hesitance.
“Meirada, you need not feel shame for your anger, or your grief. You cannot work through an emotion that you don’t acknowledge and accept. What matters most is how you do that. I can’t tell you how to, because that’s a battle only you can fight. But I will do my best to help you, in whatever way I can.” I squeezed her hand. “I may not love you romantically, but I do care. I really, really do.”
“I know.” And in her voice, I knew she was crying. “Thank you. It helps… and somehow, it makes a part of me hurt even more. I’m so afraid that nothing either of us does will make the aching go away. I feel… like it’s going to break me.” The pain in her voice almost made me flinch. I knew that pain well, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. I squeezed her hand a little bit tighter.
“Maybe that’s true.” The words dragged spikes up my throat. The last thing I wanted to give her now was the even more painful truth. “There’s a world where nothing either of us does will make any of it feel better. But if all else fails, there’s always time. We’re lucky to have it. Even when it feels like there’ll never again be another horizon, with time, you’ll see the sun again. All you have to do is keep existing.” I nearly laughed. “That’s what’s so horrible about it. All you can do is wait. But Meirada,” I brushed my thumb across her palm, as though I was reading her future in it. “You are brilliant, brave, and kind. If you stay to see that sun, there is someone out there who will love you and cherish you just as much as I would have in that other lifetime.” I began playing with her hair again. “And you know… there is also the possibility that something we do can help you. We just need to figure out what that might be.”
I brought her hand over her heart. It was racing, skipping to the tune of her quiet sobs. “Just take a breath. If there is anything we can do to help, we’ll find it. I’m still here.”
She took one deep, shaky breath, and let it out in a sigh. “Okay. I— I do want you to stay, no matter what you are to me. That’s… I mean, that’s how I want to feel, anyways. That angry part of me really only wants you to stay if you agree to be what I want you to be. But I… I mean— well… I can’t just want that. I wouldn’t want you around if all I wanted was your love. It’s not like that. I just like you. So much that it hurts. Isn’t that… cruel?” She curled her hand around mine, and whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”
Before, my gaze fell on her. Her cream colored hair spilling over her shoulders, bangs just long enough to shield her eyes from my angle. Now, I looked out to the sky.
“Me neither.” I whispered back. On my tongue, there was an idea. One I had been weighing for the latter portion of the conversation, floating in the back of my mind. I wasn’t sure how she’d respond, or if she’d even know what to make of the idea, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. “There’s a… certain sort of catharsis in productive violence.” I started with hesitance, and she almost turned her head towards me. “Tearing down something built by an oppressor, going to a wreck room, finding ways to take power over your trauma. And sometimes, the best way to teach yourself something is… by demonstration.”
“What… what are you saying?”
“A way to quiet that part of yourself. The part that’s so angry… could be to let it free. In a safe, controlled environment, that kind of emotional release can be good for you. Even help prevent you from doing something you regret.” I took a breath. Long, and slow. There was no rush, even though my heart had picked up just slightly. “So, if you want to… I don’t know, lock me in the dungeon, for however long. A day, a few. I’d be okay with that.”
“No…” She breathed. “No— no that’s… such a slippery slope. You can’t just let me do that. It’s not right.”
“You don’t want to keep me here.” I said it definitively, but her nod of confirmation was welcome. “You know that. When you think about it, you know you don’t. But your feelings won’t align. If you could show that part of yourself what it really feels like to hold that sort of power over someone you love, maybe it’ll realize that that isn’t what it wants after all.”
“It— It’s an abuse of power!” She choked. “You did nothing wrong… I… what if I don’t let you go?”
I thought for a moment. I thought about my travels, and how much I loved them. I thought about my friends, and the forest, and the fruit. I thought about Meirada, and all the moments we’d had together. And I smiled.
“That… is entirely up to you. Meirada, I know you know how important my journey is. To me, and to the people I love. As long as we’ve known each other, you’ve shown me and it such genuine, wholehearted respect that I cannot force myself to believe you’d keep me down there for long. You’re not the kind of person who would enjoy holding someone they love hostage. If you were, I wouldn’t have helped you become leader of this city.” I paused. “That’s who I think you are, but nobody knows you better than yourself, and you’re the one who is doubting you.” Meirada lifted herself from my side with a strict tension, and, for the first time since the start of the conversation, she turned to face me. Her eyes were full of tears, but more than that, hurt, anger, fear, and doubt. I smiled at her, and took her hands in mine. “And I’m willing to take the risk anyway, because I trust you. Because I want to help you. And because I think I know you well enough to trust that you’ll decide on your own that you want me to be free, in due time.”
Her gaze fell to our hands, still interlocked. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m willing to take that risk. Power corrupts. I may not be that person now, but who’s to say what’ll happen once I get a taste of it?” The sky was a deep purple, now. Night almost upon us, the breeze turning the air chilly with the absence of light.
“You don’t have to.” I reminded her gently. “It’s just an idea. There are many other ways to work through emotions like this, of course. Or if you just need time to think, that’s okay too.” She hadn’t stopped staring downward. The look on her face was somewhere between haunted, and desperate. “Even if you send your guards for me in the middle of the night, I won’t mind.” I gave a little, breathy laugh. She gave me, in return, a small sob.
I pulled her gently into a hug. She grasped me back, as she let her chin rest on my shoulder.
“Thank you.” Meirada whispered. “I went over this conversation a thousand times in my head, in a thousand different ways, and never once did I imagine it’d go like this.” This time, she was the one to laugh. “But I should have. Sometimes I worry that you’re too kind for your own good. That you’ll trust the wrong person someday and get yourself locked up forever. And now I’m scared that that person will be me… but… thank you. I will… think about it.”
I simply nodded.
We sat like that for a bit. The moon rising just over the eastern trees, the city below now quiet and dark, only the sound of the crows and our breathing to keep us company.
“Here’s another idea.” I whispered after a while. “You could try journaling. You… could even take mine, for a bit, if you want.”
She lifted her head, surprised. “What?” She whispered back. “No, that thing is… is so important to you. I couldn’t take it.”
“You treat all things with respect and grace. I know you’d take care of it.” I turned my eyes up toward the moon. “When I first got here, the wisest members of the village I found myself in saw my grief, and told me to try writing it down. Being able to spill all my emotions onto a page really helped me set my head straight in my first few weeks here, and it still does. It doesn’t work for everyone, but maybe it’ll help you too. It can’t hurt to try, right?”
She gave a little nod. “But… yours? Are you sure? I— I wouldn’t… read any of your…”
Meirada trailed off as I shook my head.
“Many have read through it without my knowledge or consent. I accepted the possibility when I started. But if you want to, I’d be happy to let you into those pages.”
“I…” She paused for a long moment. “I have to think about that, too. Are you sure you aren’t giving too much?”
“I’m sure. I know my own limits. I wouldn’t offer anything that went past them, don’t worry. I trust that you’ll do the same?”
She nodded, seeming almost dazed. Finally she let out a deep sigh, one it seemed like she might have been holding.
“Thank you. Really, I— I am so grateful to have you in my life. Of all the people I expected to meet, let alone fall head over heels for, I mean… an empathetic Dictator is really not one of them. And thank you, for talking, and… oh, all of it.”
“I could say the same. I… I suppose thinking lowly of oneself is a mark of a reliable leader. Those who think themselves too highly end up corrupt much faster, and in far worse ways. But… sometimes I wish you could see your own greatness a little more. I wish you knew how much good you really do put out there, for the world, for your city, and… for the people who love you. And we can keep talking for as long as you want.”
Meirada took a breath, before she gently pulled away from me. In the moonlight, I saw her brush a strand of moonstone hair out of her face. “Actually, I… I think I need to be alone now. I have… a lot to think about. A conversation that I need to have with myself, maybe.” She gave me a crooked smile.
“Of course.” I ducked my head, still smiling. I placed my hand back on her shoulder for a final time. “And, Meirada… let yourself rest. Please.”
“I will.”
With that, she stood up off the balcony, stretched for a moment, and then waved goodbye. I waved back, and then she headed off toward the double glass doors. I heard them open, then close, as I turned back to the moon; now high in the star-speckled sky. Part of me wondered if I’d see it again tomorrow night. Part of me hoped I wouldn’t, if she truly did think it might help.
The night air was cool in my nose. I’ve always loved the smell of the outside, but only on this journey have I truly let myself appreciate it. I’m proud of myself for that. I hid so much of myself before. For safety, for respect, even just for fear of being judged. I’m not afraid now. I like that about myself.
I stayed outside for a while, maybe half an hour or so, before I finally got up and went in myself. I remember walking into my room, setting down my walking stick, and turning on the lamp. And then, of course, sitting down to write this. I’m quite sleepy at the moment, though, so I think it’s finally time for me to turn in.
I closed the book, and placed it on the nightstand.