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There is no magnifying glass more powerful than a relationship.
-Master Fjeld
***
For the next few days, tension hung about the Refuge. Abraham was polite and courteous, but he and Keralan didn't say more than was necessary to one another. They managed to divide up the work fairly and went about their tasks alone. Though he wasn't sure what they would speak about, Abraham waited each evening in the main room after lights out. After the third night that Keralan failed to join him there, Abraham realized he wanted to go back to the way things had been, even if she had crossed a line. He simply wasn't sure how to repair the damage or reinstitute clear boundaries.
One evening he ran into her in one of the corridors as she was carrying clean towels to the bathroom. He sighed when he saw the way she avoided eye contact with him. He didn't want things to go on the way they were any longer. He suddenly had an idea.
"Put those away and come with me," he told her. She glanced at him warily, nodded, and put the towels in the bathroom. She followed him down the corridors. He went to the front door and started the opening sequence. He wouldn't do it too often, because it consumed a lot of energy, but it was worth the diversion. Once the door was open, he led Keralan through, leaving it open behind them.
The primitive wall paintings in the cave were ancient and faded. He wasn't sure how long they had been there, but he knew it was a sacred place for the people who had visited there long ago. When he pointed out the crudely painted human figures and animals that an untrained eye might miss, Keralan ran her fingers over them in awe. She said that she wished she could know what people were like in the past.
Abraham purposely held off explaining that she shouldn't be touching the washed-out images in order to best preserve them. Instead, he led her through narrow stone passageways, squeezing past oddly shaped stalactites and stalagmites. Small lights here and there, allowed them to see just well enough. Finally, through the twists and turns they neared the stairwell. The cool damp air of the cave gave way to warm dry air. Light from the sky above filtered down, from a circular opening.
"Sunlight!" Keralan cried. She practically flew up the stairs in her excitement. Abraham hurried after her. When they were out in the open, he couldn't help but smile, witnessing her reaction. Shading her eyes from the sudden glare of the sun, she stared in amazement at the desert sands all around them.
"Oh...it's so...it's just incredible," she murmured.
It had been some time since he'd been up top as well, and the truth was, it was easy to forget the reality of their situation while they went about their lives underground. As always, the beauty of the dessert was stunning. Its immensity never failed to humble him. All around them, the setting sun cast a warm orange glow onto the dunes. Their timing was just right to see the sun begin its descent beyond the horizon. They stood there for some time, not speaking. Abraham couldn't help but want to watch Keralan's face with the way the light warmed her skin and made her eyes glow. He thought that she was even more beautiful than the dessert.
"Can we sit out here for a while?" she asked him.
"Sure," he said. "There's no harm in it."
She smiled, pleased. They sat in the warm sand, Keralan at his right side. For a few minutes there was only silence.
"I want to apologize to you," Keralan finally said, her eyes on the dunes. "I think that I was insensitive with what I said a few days ago. I just want you to know that I would never do anything against your wishes."
Abraham felt a wave of relief.
"Thank you, Keralan. That means a lot to me. I'm sorry, as well."
Keralan sighed.
"It's no big deal. We're friends, right?"
Abraham nodded. To his surprise, Keralan abruptly took his hand. She grabbed it and placed it into hers and held on.
"What are you doing?" he asked her.
"I'm holding your hand. We're friends. Friends do that sometimes, right?"
Abraham frowned. Adults held the hand of a small child to guide them and keep them close. He remembered seeing girlfriends hold hands back in his home province. But men and women didn't hold hands unless they were partners. Having Keralan hold his hand wasn't a normal thing. He was sure of it.
Keralan didn't seem to notice his unease, and he didn't want to be rude, especially after they'd just made up. It was just their hands, he told himself. But the longer they sat there, together, physically connected the way they were, the more Abraham didn't want to let go. He liked it. He could feel something, too. There was a sensation of energy in his hand, subtle though it was. It didn't stop there. With growing fascination, he felt it slowly travel all the way up his arm, through his shoulder, and straight to his heart, where it soothed and relaxed him in the most pleasant way.
It wasn't a bad thing. Neither was it sexual. But it made him confront something that he had been trying hard to ignore. He didn't just have feelings for Keralan, or simply enjoy her company. There was something deeper at work that made him feel like holding onto her forever.
At his side, Keralan said, "you know I've been to the wealthiest corporation in the wealthiest province. I thought it was so amazing. I mean, it was very impressive. A feat of engineering like no other, perhaps. Henry said that he had seen places more beautiful than Shebai." She laughed briefly. "I didn't believe him. But this...this is more..." Abraham sensed the way she had to stop to collect herself. A few moments later she continued. "This moment, right now, is more beautiful than any in my whole life."
Abraham watched her face as she gazed across the sand. He felt the way her energy had changed. He saw a tear roll down her cheek. Sadness enveloped him. There was nothing he wanted more than to pull her close and hold her. There was so much he wanted to say to her.
But he couldn't.
Even if Abraham could just toss aside the sacred vow he'd made, he doubted that Keralan felt the way he did. Even if somehow, she did, Abraham would never do anything against Master Shahid's wishes. His task was to watch over and protect her for him. Nothing more. That was what he intended to do.
He looked out over the dunes, feeling the comforting heat of the day soak into his body from the sand. The sky changed colors quickly, first from orange to red, then red to purple. Finally, it deepened into the most beautiful indigo. The air cooled and the wind began to whip at their skin.
The silence no longer felt awkward or unpleasant. It felt right. Without a word, Keralan, squeezed his hand. Abraham squeezed back. It startled him to recognize that while he sat there, holding Keralan's hand, he had his first true taste of real happiness in a long time. He wondered at it. It was just one simple moment in time, like so many before, and yet it felt entirely different. He didn't need words to describe it. It was the feeling of it. If there was a word for it, it didn't matter.
That night, they went back to having their usual conversations after lights out.
***
The next day, they were both in good spirits as they went about doing their chores. Abraham noticed that Keralan spent most of her free time in and out of the book closet. He knew by then that Keralan was the kind of person who would lock in on something and give it her full attention. That wasn't a bad thing. It meant that she had the ability to be fully present with something.
They typically sat in meditation together each day after lunch, though Abraham strove to meditate morning and night alone in his room and even at random times throughout the day when he found time. He figured that once a day was enough for Keralan. He knew it took great determination and perseverance to be as dedicated to it as he was.
That afternoon, he sat on his cushion in the main room. When he was done, he opened his eyes. He never timed his sittings but waited for a sign or an inner nudge to tell him he was done. Sometimes it was only ten minutes after he began. Other times it was hours. He glanced at his watch. It was 17:00. It was a good time to make dinner.
He glanced over his shoulder and noticed that Keralan was there, once again standing inside the book closet. She had been so quiet that Abraham had not known she was there.
"What is it you're reading now?" he asked.
"Hmmm?" she murmured absentmindedly.
He spun around on the floor to face her. She was holding a book, her neck bent forward. Her dark hair hung down around her face.
"Oh," she said, looking his way briefly, "it's just some history of the provinces." Keralan placed the book back on the shelf. "That reminds me," she said walking over to him. She knelt down before him. "I found some paint containers in the maintenance room. Perhaps they're left over from the garden room mural. So, I wanted to ask you..."
Abraham cocked his head.
"Sure, ask away."
"Would it be alright if I paint a mural in the refuge? Please say yes! I mean it seems we're not going anywhere anytime soon. And if I must, I can paint over it in the future. I just want to paint. I used to paint at home, you know."
"Yes, you mentioned that." Abraham saw no harm in allowing her to paint a wall. She was right that it might not matter too much. "Go for it," he said, giving her the okay.
Keralan's face lit up with a broad smile.
"Oh, thank you Abraham!" she cried. She moved towards him slightly. It was almost imperceptible, but Abraham thought she had caught herself about to hug him. "Thank you," she said again, nodding her head towards him. She got up and left, no doubt heading for the maintenance room.
Abraham was taken aback by her sensitivity towards him. She understood that a hug was going too far and had stopped herself. He appreciated her thoughtfulness, but at the same time, he was uncomfortably aware of the disappointment he felt that she hadn't embraced him. The longing was almost physical. He rubbed his chest, noting the slight ache there. He shook his head, trying to snap out of it.
He had just finished meditation, so he was as centered as possible. He didn't think more sitting would help him. Anyhow, he had dinner to prepare. With a sigh, he got up to go to the kitchen.
He did his best to concentrate on pulling together a meal. They had leftover rice to use up and the tomatoes were beginning to ripen, so they had several sitting on the counter. He sighed, realizing that he wasn't feeling very creative, but he pushed on. A few minutes later, he had a plain dish of rice, spiced garbanzo beans, and tomatoes. He shook his head, thinking that he usually did a better job. He couldn't stop thinking about hugging Keralan. It bothered him that after holding hands, he seemed to be ready for the next step. Perhaps, he thought, holding hands wasn't a good idea after all.
During their meal, Keralan said nothing about the boring dish.
"You know," she said, swallowing a bite of rice, "sometimes I like to fantasize about taking a time machine into the past."
Abraham smiled.
"Too bad no one has been able to invent that kind of machine yet," he joked.
"Well, I know it's not possible," Keralan continued, "but I guess I like the idea of seeing what life was like back then. Imagine seeing it with your own eyes. There would be no denying what really happened. We are taught history, usually from those who were never there to see it themselves. How do we know what the truth is, and what isn't?"
"We don't," he answered.
"But if we could go back in time, we could know the truth."
Abraham nodded, thoughtful.
"And yet," he said, "the truth is very complex. Imagine how much you would have to witness to have a full understanding of it all. You would need to understand every single person's mindset and motives...see things from all angles."
Keralan sighed.
"Yeah, you're right of course. And I guess we'll never know, anyway. But I wonder how people have changed from before the Age of Pollution."
She meant, before the Great Death, as the outliers called it. Abraham knew a bit about that time in history. It was important for modern people to understand how humanity got themselves into so much trouble.
"I wonder," he said, "but something tells me they aren't hugely different from people alive today."
"What makes you think that?" Keralan asked. She had finished her plate.
"Well, it wasn't that long ago, if you think about it. You know what I find so interesting about that time is the way it brought about a spiritual awakening."
"I've never heard that," she said, studying his face.
"Oh, well, it's like this. Humanity matures in leaps and bounds sometimes only when there is an environmental pressure, like with evolution and natural selection. Lifeforms have had to adapt to survive. Well, humans evolve spiritually when there is suffering. Sometimes it takes horrific circumstances, like the Great Death, for people to awaken. And they did. An enormous shift occurred for large numbers of people all at once."
"Are you saying it was a good thing that so many people died?" Keralan asked incredulous.
"Of course not. I'm just saying that many of them awakened to their true selves once everything false was taken from them. They didn't have their health, they lost all their possessions, the people they loved, their identities, and they even lost the very fabric of society. They were stripped of everything they weren't."
"But they ended up dying," she repeated.
"Yes, they even lost their own lives. But that only revealed their true selves even more: their spirits. The everlasting part of us that cannot be lost."
Keralan peered at Abraham, deep in thought.
"And yet you say we are not very different from the people that lived before that time."
"That would be my guess."
"But no one is sick anymore, or at least most people aren’t. Life is relatively easy. What pushes people to awaken when there is no suffering?"
"Sometimes it is one's soul's desire."
"Like you," Keralan said, nodding. "But what about everyone else?"
"Suffering takes many forms. It is inherent in the human condition, no matter a person's situation. There is suffering even in affluent living as you experienced."
Keralan nodded and Abraham continued.
"A common form of suffering these days is loneliness. Technology has created a situation where people no longer rely on each other."
"And you," she said carefully, "you don't need anyone?"
Abraham thought for a moment.
"Well, of course I do. In the outlier society, we rely on each other more than technology. For example, I rely on the master, and the trainees rely on me. But if you are asking because you know how much time I spend alone; I would say that solitude helps me connect with universal consciousness. I am connecting in that way. It's my chosen path."
Keralan seemed to be listening intently.
"Hmmm, and yet it isn't the only path forward, is it?" she offered.
It was beginning to feel like Keralan was poking him with a stick, trying to see if she could provoke some kind of reaction.
"No," Abraham heard himself saying, "I suppose not. If I thought my way was the only way, then my ego still has a firm grip."
She said, "It just seems strange to me that you now find yourself stuck with another person. I know you didn't like it the first time I mentioned it, but could it be the universe is trying to tell you something? Maybe the way forward doesn't have to be a lonely pursuit."
Abraham was quick to say, "ah, but there is a difference between loneliness and solitude. One is a state of perceived lack, while the other is only a fact. Being alone does not mean I am lonely. We are all connected as one. The concept of separation denies this truth."
Keralan was nodding. It seemed she understood, for she didn't continue pestering him with more questions.
"And I don't feel stuck with you," he added for clarification. "Do you feel stuck with me?"
Keralan shook her head.
"No, I like being here with you. You are always so open and honest. You make me think about things in a whole new way. I feel like being around you connects me to more than...just you, if that makes any sense. It's like you are greater than yourself."
Abraham smiled.
He said, "that may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
Keralan joked, "don't let it go to your head."
Abraham laughed out loud. It felt good and so did seeing her smile. He had to admit that Keralan had a point to her line of reasoning. Though he didn't say it, he did recognize that isolation could be not only unhealthy, but unnecessary.