NINETY-SIX: Tea time

What’s stunning about this whole thing is that everything that Arous ever wanted to know about her mother, the Diofe had told her.  The thing that was missing was the what-could’ve-been that wasn’t.  That’s why Arous had to find her mother.  She thought then that she would know what-could’ve-been.  But you can never know that.

As Aclarid, I can see what is churning in that mind, in that spirit of his, if he lets me in. But I don’t have to know to obey. Her departure hurt him yet I know it has not changed him. In all my years, my existence, I have never seen one shade of change in him. I know that Diofe does not, cannot be other than what he is.  Oh, he’s done the unexpected but it surprised me because I didn’t know him, not because he evolved. The Diofe doesn’t advance or change: he changes us. He grows us up.

One Spring twelve years earlier sticks in my mind.

It was a warm afternoon in late spring. I was walking past the playroom when I heard voices: a child’s voice and a woman’s voice. It was the woman’s voice that stopped me because it sounded familiar but I could not place it.  The door was cracked so I looked in to appease my curiosity.

“One for you, and one for me.”

It was Arous.

“I will pour your tea, mommy.  How many lumps of sugar would you like?”

“I’ll take three please,” I heard the woman respond.

“Me, too,” said Arous delighted.

I leaned in a little closer to see Arous at the table. She had just finished pouring the tea for the seat across from her and now was pouring tea into the dainty cup in front of her.  The seat across from her was empty.

“Like mother, like daughter,” said the woman’s voice again.

However, this time, I saw that it was Arous speaking for herself and her imaginary . . . mother. The Diofe walked up behind me.

“Diofe, Arous is going to grow into quite Skin-Dancer.  She sounds just like a twenty-something woman. Listen. She’s having tea with her mother.”

The Diofe leaned into the door, touching it with his hand. The door swung open making the tiniest creak. Arous looked around and up, smiling at the Diofe standing in the door.

“Don’t let me interrupt sweetie.”

Her smiled glowed and she turned back around.

“Arous, darling, this is the loveliest tea in the world. You steeped it perfectly. Earl Grey is my favorite,” Arous said her in mommy’s voice.

“Thank you, mommy. It’s mine, too.”

“Arous, why don’t you have the Diofe join us,” said mommy voice.

“Why certainly,” she turned around, “Daddy, come play with me. I’m having tea with Mommy.”

The Diofe glided into the room. He was always the same in essence and he was always the same in appearance, sort of. Sometimes you might notice one of the attributes more than another.  These personalities always floated over each other.  Sometimes, people saw what they wanted to see, sometimes what they needed to see or, like most of the time, what they could see. Those who could see him for what he was in the beginning outside the first glance of man, saw him in his pure form. That form was tall with skin of hot melted bronze and long white hair and fire for eyes. I saw him this way mostly; it kept me in check. But, now, as he floated into the room I saw him as Arous saw him, skin deepening to the color of comforting and soothing night. His youth shone, his eyes sparkled black and his mouth softened. His hair fell in long braids down his back with soft, curly whips framing his face. He softened all over, he embodied nurture, patience, warmth: he was mother.

“Arous,” he called to her in a deep, rich, voice of a mother, “I am sorry that your mother can’t really be here.  How do you feel about that?”

“I miss her.”

“Yes, you do,” he said.

“I don’t even know her.”

“I know. I wish you could know her.”

“I want to more than anything daddy, more than anything,” said Arous.

There was silence for a few minutes. Tears welled up in Arous’ eyes. The Diofe waited patiently for the next question that he knew was coming.

“Will I ever see my mommy?”

“I’m sorry but I can’t answer that, sweetheart.”

“But you know everything daddy. You are Diofe.”

“That’s true.”

She looked at him. The Diofe smiled.

“Would you like some tea, daddy?” she asked.

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweet?”

“Will you tell me about my mommy?”

“Of course I will, my sweet Arous.”