Tears of Leyden (10 page)

Chapter 14

It takes us a little longer to reach the market than I remember my travel to the Gallows, and this is appealing because I know I had hurried there. I feel the verge of a headache closing in and decide against listening to the shops closing up along the road and instead pay attention to our footsteps. When I find that also too strenuously repetitive for my head, I look up to the houses and air.

The sky is a pale blue beyond the grey clouds. The sun’s light has dimmed through them, making it so that it is more of a charcoal grey than a lighter atmosphere.

Finally, we are outside his house. He leads me to the front door and unlocks the bolt. I am unused to this way of entering (it is safer to get me out unnoticed using the back way along the wall) but I am grateful for this door, so that we did not have to enter in the dark of the alley’s shadows. He lets me enter first, then follows and locks it once again.

Once he has turned, it only takes a brief catch of his eyes lifting to me to get me shy again. I turn to the room where I can rest and go silently through the kitchen. I quicken and hope I do not look as though I am trying to get away. The flutters in my stomach return.

“Ms. Thimlet,” his voice is once more soft, but bearable.

I stop and am forced to turn out of politeness. I face him only partly, and do not raise my head all the way.

“Are you in lack of anything I could get you before you sleep?”

I look up to him, my mind spinning with no set thoughts. I push away the fear rising inside me. “No, nothing.”

He looks unconvinced, but seems to agree for my sake. “Goodnight.”

I turn and step to the door and put my hands to the knob when I stop. I hesitate, but turn my head towards my shoulder. “Mr. Gilch.”

He looks up from moving and stands still.

I feel my chest tighten but hold my ground. “Thank you.”

It comes out to soft, to brief, to barely, but it lingers. I know he hears me. I step into the room and don’t look back as I close and lock the door.

I awaken the next day sore and yet better after my trip from yesterday. I dress in a slow fashion and ready myself for today’s endeavors. I pause a few moments by the window to look out on all the sights of the street. It is mostly empty, most probably at home or contributing to the protection of the wall. I turn away and go out through the door.

Nadeje is out of sight but eggs and porridge cook steaming on the stove fire. I find silverware, plates, and bowls set on the table and mean to look for something to be useful at, but not a moment later Nadeje enters through the opposite entryway. He takes care to lift the oatmeal from the fire and sets it upon a few layers of heat-sustainable linen and then does the same with the eggs. Once he has stood straight he turns and sees me.

His eyes are unreadable, but his voice is as common kind. “Did you sleep well?”

I nod lightly. “It was warm in your bed,” realizing how odd this sounded I continue. “It was cold outside though…but it was comfortable to sleep there…”

He watches me.

I feel entirely impulsive. “You slept well…too?”

He picks up a ladle and begins to stir the porridge. “Well enough,” he stops and turns to the cabinets and takes a pear from the fruit bowl.

I watch him a moment, wondering over the thoughts I had yesterday. Before I lose the courage, or think I am hearing Moeder scream in my ears again, I allow the words to come out of me. “What do you believe in?”

He turns and regards me unhurriedly, looking almost uncertain. “I do not understand you.”

I clear my brain and try to stop my voice from trembling. “I meant what is your religion? Or faith…you believe in God don’t you?”

He turns to the stove a moment then back around.

“I believe in a force that is like God. It doesn’t have a name, but it is there and present at all times, ready to serve and take. Like a creator. I suppose I believe in the spirit, not the Holy Spirit, but different…spirituality.”

I have never heard of something so absurd, but I feel absurd myself, and only want to have further absurdity.

“Is it…what is it?”

He is quiet a moment. “I would think it would be freedom and service, hope and love for the world, an understanding, and a way of life.”

“Can you teach me your religion?” It comes out softly but sincerely.

“Once more, I don’t understand you.”

I understand why he wouldn’t. I didn’t understand it last night when it came to my mind either. “Arturo told me you could teach me about your…faith. Would you teach it to me?”

He watches me calmly. “Yes,” it is soft, with hardly any emotion.

I feel a little hope flicker inside. I don’t know why I want to learn it, but since last night I had been thinking over what Arturo said about my religion, about how it made you feel sin, and about how that sin made me act yesterday. I didn’t want sin to control me, or me to let it control myself if that is how it went. I just wanted to learn how to let it not. Nadeje was the only option for this to come about.

“We could start today if you want?” It is gentle and calm.

I nod in response.

“The porridge looks finished. Would you like to eat?”

I nod again.

“First, we begin with what you believe in.” Nadeje’s voice is calming.

I watch him from across the table, unsure of what he is implying.

Between us on the table are two journals. Both look used and dusty, but I have an urge to open them and start to scan the pages.

“Tell me everything you know,” he says assuredly.

I don’t feel that assured.

“I don’t…I can’t explain…everything.”

He watches me. “What are you following?”

I glance up into his eyes and find no judgment in them. They are clear and open, comforting almost. If not for his eyes, I don’t know how I could have said it before his Spanish decent. “Protestantism.”

He nods slowly, then looks past me. “This should be almost the same then…just freer.”

I want to ask how.
How would it be like it?
However I am already too nervous after admitting my religion to a Spanish soldier to open my mouth and control it.

He looks back to me, and though I do not look up, I feel him watching. “I was Protestant too.”

I look up at this, and I can tell he read me.

“Do not worry about my beliefs. They are only open to you. You do not have to be open to them.”

It is something I had never heard of before, and I feel something I had never felt before. I desire more than anything to be able to understand it.

I watch him as he takes the top book from the two, and opens it up to the first page. He flips a few pages, and then skims it thoughtfully. When finished, he nods and sets it down.

“Openness
is
the first step. You have to be open to my ideas if I am open to yours. You see that?”

I take a moment before I realize he is waiting for me to respond. I do with a nod. He observes me a moment longer, then picks it back up.

“In the beginning, if there was nothing, why must there be something now?”

It is a question, and I don’t understand it as he goes on.

“If there was something divine about every little thing on earth, then why are different ideas looked on as not as divine as another?”

Once more I cannot answer, but I think he doesn’t expect me to.

His eyes are lit with a peace of mind as he continues. “Oneness of everything is how we could find the answers to these two questions. Consciousness of this oneness could lead to us having partial understanding of these questions, for never can we truly understand the world’s whole diversity.”

I watch him unsure of how to feel. It is great speaking, greater than any repetitive Preacher, Pope, Vader, or anyone I ever heard before. All I can do is watch him and try to figure it out.

He seems a little amused by my silence, and seems not to mind. “I want you to think about this, as you read the book I will give you. It is not charged by God or by a religion, it is written by someone with hope, with no conspiracy, and with awareness. I will read along in my other copy, and I will help you along the way. If you are a fast reader, I don’t want you to go fast. I want you to take your time until you understand it, and to enjoy it if you find it entertaining.”

I wait a second and then nod again. He sets one of the copies on the table.

I open the cover to reveal the pages. I start at page one, and see that it is written by hand, in blue ink, and in cursive.

“It’s handwritten,” I say, surprised, as I look up. His lips seem to turn up a bit. I look back down at it and lightly trace the patterns with my fingertips. “It is beautiful.”

I can feel him watching, and when I look up, I see a little tenderness in his expression. “Can you write?”

I look down at the page and shake my head, admiring the letters and straight lines. “Can you?”

When I look up, now he looks very amused, I do not understand why. “Yes, in two languages,” his eyes twinkle slightly. “I think that is all for today.”

I wait for more, but he stands and passes me without further explanation. I lift myself from the chair and pick up the book to take with me. It is light but not flimsy. I start for his room.

I wish I understood what he told me. After masses of other people telling me what I should believe though, I think it might take me longer than one day to learn how.

At least three days pass, and as we continue to read, I find that after years of being trained to comply, to always believe what I am told, to never question God and the Holy bible, I finally feel free. I read on my own at night, and during the day on and off Nadeje guides me through the text. Our sessions grow in meaning, and slowly my ideas grow to the point where I want to voice them. I do, and usually he corrects me, and I just feel my concepts get superior.

I find that what he said it true, reading as a fast reader is hard with this book if you want to understand and enjoy it. I find between almost every sentence, there is a hidden laugh or joy that makes me almost giggle aloud. I love the writing, and wonder at the content, leaving me to forget my past.

“So the whole idea here is that God is not, the source is, it is what we name the source of creation that we believe in. We just need to see that if he makes everything, than everything is connected. There are only partial differences… like...roles in the world. Like…our purposes.”

If anybody else had said it, I feel I wouldn’t have understood; but this was Nadeje, and I understand him.

“Throughout life we are meant to discover things. The first and last thing is to distinguish our purpose on our past generations.
To have peace during this journey you must look into yourself to find answers that are truly sacred questions. Self-discovery is what will give you peace. By realizing you are yourself and that peace is within you, you will have peace outside yourself along the way. Steps to self-discovery are countless, but some can be summarized.

Passion will guide you and flexibility will assist you. Passion is for what you love, and when you love, you are sure to give your best to that part of your life without fail. So without a doubt here in passion lies where you will know you are your best or are striving to be that, and through this comes respect for yourself. With respect for yourself you can truly respect others. You can express yourself and teach those around you to be aware of what lies in all of us waiting to be unlocked. This trapped in thing is individuality. With this you are unique and have special features, though you must also remember to be one with all. For individuality can lead to the separation of humanity. Awareness of these affects will give you divine consciousness, and then you can receive your purpose and your self-discovery being aware and unstoppable. To have this would bring our world to a higher rank. To do this we need social justice for the freedom to realize what we have been doing wrong for our society all these years.

Enlightenment comes as a type of answer to every question and a question for every answer. It is the act of becoming one in divine consciousness…”

“I don’t understand this part…”

It is afternoon, and my mind feels twisted with the words. I do not look at him, but I know he turns to me from the stove.

“Which one?”

I look for the page number, but as I find it a warm shadow is casted over the page. I forget my question and don’t move. Nadeje’s face is so close to my own I can feel the warmth of it prickle along my skin. His hands are balanced against the table’s edge as he leans over to see the text. His arms are around me, and his chest is probably not inches from the back of my head.

“This?”

He asks it as soft as ever, his fingertips brushing the paragraph I stumbled on. I manage a little nod. He adjusts his palms against the table.

“All it is implying here is that the creation of all must be under the same source if we believe in one. And that if it made us then we are a part of it which we hail so frequently. Do you understand?”