ear
is not required for faith. Anne said this as she shook her head. "We don't live
in constant fear of eternal damnation or being left behind in the rapture. We
don't live in fear... fear of loneliness or despair because we always have the
love of God."I wrinkled my nose, as I am wont to do when I am being successfully foiled and gave a meek gesture as I tried again to defend the indefensible. "See, but you allow that love, perhaps even need that love, exactly because you do live in fear of loneliness and despair. Fear drives you toward Love."
Anne took her turn to grimace and then took the opportunity of tending to a mouthful of food to put her response together nicely. "Love then is but a defence mechanism? We run to love when we are frightened and doomed and then love does not defeat the threats but instead just blinds us to them."
I laughed and so then did she. I was looking quite thin by this point and had particularly gone hungry in the past week to both save money for the dinner with Anne and in anticipation of a robust meal. My mind though was still alert and capable. I experimented with wit.
"Love is not blind but it does make for a very comfortable blindfold."
This was our sixth monthly meal and I, at least, still very much looked forward to them yet didn't feel impetus to accelerate or encourage meeting more often. For her part, she saw that my idiosyncrasies, allowed free rein in this environment, were driving me toward a brink where I would no longer be something she could relate to. I wasn't there yet but there was a distinct danger of it. For one newly born, I looked nearly dead.
In that same time, Anne was as bright, cheerful, and friendly as ever, perhaps even more.
She'd recently had a visit from her boyfriend, the Bear, and it had left her cheeks finely pinked. She was also the owner of other news.
"Next month, I want you to come to my place. We're having a dinner party. I do hope you'll come."
My reply was without hesitation and affirmative but then she stopped my heart cold.
"Beatrice will be there."
I was gripped by coldness and my mind froze in its tracks. Downcast, my eyes could only stare at my meal without seeing it at all. I could see nothing, think of nothing, and could but barely breathe. I was utterly transfixed by this thunderbolt. Anne reached a fair hand across the tableau but did not touch me, instead but offering it should I wish. I did not and, if anything, I shrunk back further when I recognized it.
Her words were gentle and reassuring, "I think she'll like you." she said but I was not assured. I knew about the letter and she did not. She could not fathom my trepidation without knowing of the letter. She sensed my continued concerns and expressed, "You've spent too many years worshipping her. You've spent too long yearning for contact with her to not take this opportunity. From attending this, obsession becomes normal and your Muse becomes a real person. How can you not see how right this is?"
Indeed, how could I not? I knew that she spoke truly and had my best interests at heart. I knew that she did know what was best in this case. She was the lynchpin, the one that knew both Beatrice and I intimately. She knew the whole story and so she was perhaps the only one who had the objectiveness and insight to bring it to a sane and sentimental conclusion. But she did not know about the letter.
"Anne." I ventured, "I wrote to her." but then I knew not what else to say. I couldn't describe why or what I had written and what it was that I feared. With a finely lined eyebrow raised, she pursed her lips into a silent 'oh?. Taking her meaning clearly, I expanded. "I tried to tell her about my fascination with her. I tried to tell her the whole history and, well, you know how I can be with the written word." She did know. She had received more than her fair share of excessively emotional and overly Romantic missives from myself describing my wholly petulant turmoils. My excited gestures continued after I fell silent. My poor flailing hands were seeking to dismiss the topic with a measure of finality but they had no say, being mute.
We each sighed and picked at our food awhile. There was a silent agreement to let things simmer. No doubt Anne was somewhat angry at my response to all of this. She had a vested interest in my not being odd for, after all, she was the one who had first introduced me to Beatrice. She was at least partly responsible for infecting me with her own enthusiasm for her friend. Yes, Anne was as much enamoured of Beatrice as I was though the difference, of course, was that Anne's relationship was reciprocated and moderated. Mine was closer to that of a stalker that was facilitated from time to time by a common friend. I say Stalker but we both knew that it was something else. Modern society doesn't have the language to describe my relationship to Beatrice. It simply cannot make sense of the concept of Courtly Love and even if it could, it would be unable to grapple with this incarnation of it.
My dear friend took a long moment to study my downcast face in sympathy. She understood the relationship even if she couldn't rationalize it.
"You'll be at the dinner party. There is nothing to worry about. Nothing whatsoever. I'll ask Beatrice about the letter. I bet she liked it. I've always loved your letters. Take heart and be courageous. Only good can come of this." she paused before a final assurance.
"You are both of you very good people. How can two good people create anything but ... goodness."
Defeated, I could but shrug and acquiesce. Certainly, I was afraid, I was also excited by the opportunity. I did want to know Beatrice. I had long longed to sit down and just talk to her but it had never come together. Mayhap this was the time.
The conversation uncomfortably flagged until we paid our bills and stepped back out into the Florentine evening streets. Anne turned to proffer a hug and, for the first time, I embraced her affectionately. It occurred to me, as I shuddered on the briskly chill streets, that this would make the upcoming affair a Christmas gathering and I had no doubt that I would be much afflicted with loneliness should I not participate. I had no family on the continent. I thanked her for her patience, apologized for my characteristic character and confirmed that indeed I intended to come to her place in a month's time.
My reward was her charming smile. "Yes," she said, "I shall look forward to it, perhaps daily. It shall do us all good. Six thirty for seven."