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Precious are the moments when we give ourselves fully to another.
-Master Fjeld
***
Abraham woke with a start. The memory of what he'd done hit him like a black cloud. He pulled the blankets from his face to find that the lights were out. He squeezed the button of his wristwatch causing the digits to light up.
3:21.
"Oh my god," he muttered to himself.
Keralan was still locked her in her room. She'd been trapped there for over eight hours.
Abraham sat up. He knew he had to unlock her door, so he got up and walked down the pitch-black hall, using one hand to feel his way along the wall. Shame once again engulfed him as he neared her door. He could hardly believe how angry he'd been. As quietly as possible, he traced his fingers up the edge of the doorframe and across to the latch. It made a small sound as he released it. Quickly, he headed back to his room, knowing she might have heard. He couldn't stand the thought of hearing the hurt in her voice.
Once he made it back to his room, he closed the door behind him and slid the deadbolt into place. He would lock himself in. That was more fitting. Then, groaning with remorse, he climbed back into his bed and curled into a ball under the covers.
***
Abraham didn't sleep as much that day as he planned to. He couldn't help but hear the sounds of Keralan taking care of the chores he had abandoned. With the kitchen so close by, he could tell when she was cooking or washing dishes and was unable to sleep through the clatter.
The only time he got up to leave the solitude of his room was to use the bathroom. He waited, each time, to be sure she wasn't around. In his mind, it was better if he never had the opportunity to hurt her again. More than the fear of losing control again, however, was the crushing pain of knowing that she was in love with someone else. The hurt consumed him. It was far worse than any other pain he'd known.
The day was nearing its end when Keralan came to his door. When she knocked, Abraham didn't answer. Then he heard her muffled voice behind the door.
"Abraham, I made you something to eat. You must be pretty hungry by now. Why don't you just come out and we can talk."
Hearing her sweet voice was enough to remind him how much he cared about her, but no words came to him. He stayed silent.
After a few more moments, Keralan said, "okay, look Abraham, I'm going to leave this tray at your door. I'll leave you alone. I won't bother you until you're ready to come out. I'm going to go check on the plants now."
Abraham heard the tray contact the floor followed by her retreating footsteps. He lay in bed, contemplating whether he should get up or not. He didn't understand why she was being nice to him. She had no reason to care whether he was hungry or not.
Abraham sat up and ran his hands over his rough unshaven face. He stopped and sighed. He decided he would take the food because she had gone through the trouble of making it. He could at least honor her effort. He felt she deserved that much. It was the first time she had made anything in the kitchen all on her own.
When Abraham unlocked and opened his door, he recognized right away what Keralan had made for him. He felt a pang in his heart. He remembered telling her once that he missed the pancakes that his mother had made him as a child. He stared at the little stack of fluffy golden-brown cakes and wondered how she had managed to find a recipe.
He picked up the tray and took it into his room. He sat down and tried a bite. The texture of the pancakes, though not quite as he remembered, didn't matter because the taste of it was just right. The flavor of the maple syrup alone, brought back memories of his mother in their little kitchen. He missed the way that she made everything feel good and happy even when they weren't.
Before he knew it, the pancakes, fruit, and milk were gone. He was hungrier than he'd thought and found himself wondering if there were any leftover pancakes in the kitchen. Keralan's cooking had touched him so deeply that he even began to contemplate facing her again. There was no way he could keep avoiding her, anyway. Eventually they would have to talk. He would have to stop acting like a child and apologize. They would have to carry on together for an undetermined length of time.
Abraham sighed again. Keralan was in the garden room. Even if there were no more pancakes, he could grab a food packet to take back to his room. He stood up and went to the kitchen.
When he stepped into the warm kitchen, the smell of pancakes still hanging in the air, he saw that Keralan had left it in disarray. It was downright messy. It made him smile very briefly. She wasn't perfect, either. He got right to work filling the sink with soapy water and putting ingredients away in their proper places. It felt good to be doing something productive again.
He didn't realize that Keralan had walked into the room, until she was standing by his side. He jumped.
"Oh, you scared me," he said, feeling extremely awkward.
She said, "thanks for cleaning up, but I was going to do it. You didn't need to..."
Abraham was shaking his head, "no, it's fine, I don't mind it."
He continued at his task, feeling her eyes on him.
"Abraham," she said, "we need to talk. The dishes can wait."
Abraham wanted nothing more than to escape into busyness, but he nodded, knowing she was right. He was terrified as he turned off the water and dried his hands. He took a deep breath and turned to face her.
"And there's something that I need to tell you," she said. Abraham watched Keralan walk to the door and turn to wait for him. He couldn't imagine what she needed to say, but he followed her out to the main room, where she sat on the couch. He sat as well.
After an uncomfortable moment of tense silence, Keralan said, "I threw out all your tea."
Abraham frowned.
"My tea, yes you told me. You said there were bugs in it."
"I lied," she said, sighing.
He watched her face with concern. Why had she lied?
"I became curious what kind of tea it was. I found the tin in the kitchen and learned its name. Then, I went to the book closet and started looking through every book I could find that had information about herbs, medicines, or health. And it took a while. I only found two books that mentioned the herb. It's rare. It comes from somewhere in the far east. It's called iceroot."
"Iceroot," Abraham repeated.
Keralan nodded.
"I should have just told you what it was, but instead I flushed it down the toilet. And that was wrong. It's clear to me now and I'm sorry."
By that point, Abraham was starting to wonder what she had learned about the herb.
"What does iceroot do?" he asked.
Keralan was quiet for a moment. She seemed reluctant to tell him, but he waited patiently.
"It alters your hormones. It's takes away your libido. It makes it so you don't have any...urges," she said quietly.
Abraham didn't believe it. The master drank it every day. He wouldn't need such a crutch. And... Abraham's thoughts stopped. He remembered having sexual feelings when he'd first arrived at the Refuge. He'd known the pleasure his body could give him and had some difficulty ignoring it. He'd been only fifteen. But after a week or so, drinking the tea every morning with Master Shahid, the temptation had gone away. Effortlessly. Or so he had assumed. Abraham thought he had overcome the needs of his body on his own.
He peered at Keralan and asked her, "are you absolutely certain about this?"
"Yes," she said.
Abraham was wounded. He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't comprehend why Master Shahid hadn't told him.
Perhaps the master did not believe in me.
The thought cut deep, and it instantly changed the way he felt towards the man. If his master kept the truth from him about the tea, then what else was he hiding? In what other ways had he deceived people?
"Abraham, I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she told him.
Abraham shook his head, sadly. He was disappointed in both of them. Both the master and Keralan had lied to him.
"Why did you care that I was drinking iceroot tea? I'm a monk. Why couldn't you just let me be?" he wanted to know.
She looked at him sheepishly.
"I just...I don't know. I guess it made me angry that you didn't know what it was doing to you. I wanted you to be free from control. I...I told you how angry it made me that I didn't feel like I had control over my own life. I couldn't stand that the same thing was happening to you. At the time, I thought I was doing you a favor. But then, upon reflection, I realized that by not giving you any say in the matter, I was doing the same thing my uncle had done. I had decided what you needed, for you. And that's not right."
As much as Abraham disapproved of what she'd done, he appreciated her honesty. He was impressed with how much thought she had given the matter. She not only saw why she'd done it, but she admitted that she had made a mistake. It let him know that her ego was lessening. It made him feel proud of her.
Not even Master Shahid had been so honest. With either of them.
"I believe your hormones are now ramping up again, after all these years," Keralan went on. "I read in another book that you could experience some intense emotions, like anger, as your body begins to find balance. I think you're being too hard on yourself, Abraham. So, you lost control and got angry. It's just an emotion. And besides, I got mad first. And I hit you. I shouldn't have done that and honestly, I feel terrible about it."
Abraham was startled and relieved to know that his outburst might not be completely his fault, but he couldn't have cared less about Keralan slapping him. Perhaps he had deserved it. That was the least of his pain. Whether or not his hormones had anything to do with his behavior, he would take full responsibility for what he'd done.
"I feel terrible, too," he said, just barely getting the words out before a heavy sadness enveloped him. "I'm so sorry I hurt you," he said, as he began to cry. "Please forgive me, I never meant to."
He buried his face in his hands. He didn't want Keralan to see him cry. He'd learned a long time ago not to let his true vulnerability show.
Keralan said, "Abraham, stop. Look at me."
Abraham couldn't. He was so ashamed.
"Please. Look at me," she repeated.
Abraham eventually did so, trying hard to stop the tears.
She said, "I have already forgiven you. Please don't cry. You are kinder than anyone I've ever met. Just forgive yourself. And then, if you can, forgive me because I've caused so much trouble in your life."
Abraham shook his head.
"No, you haven't, Keralan," he said, realizing that he meant it. "You only woke something that has always been there, waiting. The time I've spent with you here..." He faltered, trying to find the right words.
Keralan smiled at him sweetly.
"I understand. I'm glad I am here too."
Keralan took him into her arms, pulling him down to rest on her shoulder. Abraham didn't fight it. He wanted to be close to her. There was nothing wrong with that, he told himself. She smelled good. She felt good. He let the tears come. The pain was too much to hold onto anymore and it felt right to let it go.
Abraham's neck lay at an odd angle, so he allowed Keralan to lower his head down to her lap, which he used like a pillow. His tears rolled across his face and soaked into her clothing. While he lay there, Keralan used her fingers to lightly stroke his face, neck, scalp, and shoulders. The combination of her touch along with the scent and warmth of her body soothed his senses like magic. He found himself relaxing like he hadn't in years, not since he was a small child being comforted by his mother.
And like a baby, he relieved himself of all care and worry and fell asleep.