Two Loves

Lena’s mother called to her from the window of their small, yellow kitchen “Lena! Come in now, rain is coming and the food is nearly ready. Can’t you see the clouds?” The girl had been absorbed in some activity known only to her, shuffling along, staring down at the cracked and brittle-looking concrete slabs that made up the sidewalk bordering their street. She rarely heard her mother’s calls, lost in her own thoughts of problems to solve, and she would emerge irritated when any adult called her up out of her standard dreamy state.

“Lena!” said her mother, grabbing her arm with frustrated intensity, “Do your ears work? Come inside!” She had jogged out of the house with the exasperation of a parent ready to exchange force for attention. With her thick, clumsy English she swore a few times into the air, to relieve some of the pressure of her emotions. Lena only raised her head toward her mother, who dragged her by the arm toward the house, and muttered in absent-minded protest.

Young Lena felt an urge to leave the house that contained her family and all their anger, their resentment and frustration at things beyond their control, behind. But being only a child, she learned how to escape internally. She counted cracks in the sidewalk, the light posts on the street, the windows in each neighbour’s house. She dreamt of ways to fix the breaking, crumbling pieces of the neighbourhood: how to seal windows, level pavement, patch holes, kill weeds. She viewed the houses surrounding hers as they would be once she had given them her healing treatment, clean, perfectly whole structures with vibrant green lawns; imagining her house and surroundings as she had seen those of her wealthier schoolmates, full of life and opportunity. She dreamt deeply about these things, intensely, and they became the driving force in her life as she grew from child to adolescent.

She performed brilliantly in school, outpacing her classmates as much with her natural talent as with sheer force of will. She studied constantly, diligently, as if dedicating her whole life to a school as a one way ticket out of the neighbourhood, out of the class of her birth. Away from the neighbour’s petty squabbling, the police patrols, her father and mother’s fury at their stalled-out lives and the burden of providing for their daughter and her brother. School provided a refuge: she did not have to interact with anyone but the teacher, then only occasionally, if she didn’t want to. She could stay above her classmates’ silliness and anything that might sidetrack her, drag her off the path she wanted to choose. By extension, she gave little attention to her male classmates in her adolescent years. Though they would advance to her occasionally, she repelled them with her sternness, and they found more receptive girls to whom they could invest their attention. Lena only kept close friends, a few other girls, and remained seriously devoted to her studies, where she shone brighter than any other, impressing and gaining the scholarly affection of her teachers.

It was near the beginning of her first university year that she met the one who would pierce her stony exterior. She had chosen to become an engineer, a decision that had consumed her previous three years and stretched the limits of her determination. She had been tempted here and there by boys, by her female friends’ romantic and social antics; occasionally she felt a desire to fit into a group, change herself to be accepted. But she had held fast and remained on the chosen path. Now, having moved away from home to a shared student apartment across from the university, she felt the weight of her former self slowly lifting away from her. She felt lighter, saw humour more often, noticed movement in the bodies and faces of her new peers that she had never before paid attention to. She was too shy and studious to initiate contact with these fellow students, preferring instead to observe and enjoy the new world she was now aware of.

Classes forced cooperation and pushed people together. In an English class that she only took to fulfill the requirements of her degree, Lena was paired with an attention grabbing, outspoken boy for a group project, and immediately felt both attracted by his energy and repelled by his blunt demeanour. His name was John. He had a soft, wide face and round shoulders. His build was sturdy and he was strong. Lena noticed how the softness of his physical features contrasted with his steely attitude and the messy, rocky appearance of his hair and clothing. John was a member of the campus anarchist collective, he cut his own hair, made some of his own clothes, played guitar in a punk band. He was opinionated, everyone in his orbit knew who he was, and felt the fury of his wit and passion if they even paid attention to something he thought was unworthy, let alone disagreed with him. He was not easy to work with, or even to be near, which he saw less as a lack of social skill than validation of the righteousness of his beliefs. Lena felt the pressure of his indignance against her as soon as they were introduced. But when he wanted to be he was encouraging and funny, also brave, and these qualities gradually drew her into his orbit. It was an odd sight, she and him beside each other, a quiet, unassuming, intelligent girl and loud, unkempt John working himself up over some theoretical issue as she listened. He liked her too, appreciated the way she listened, respected her advice, and she became to him a semi-refuge, a place where he didn’t always have to fight. He could soften a bit, sometimes even act silly in a vulnerable way and draw Lena a little bit out of herself, make her laugh and respond. He watched her come to life in those moments, and felt himself valuable.

They grew close over the course of their first year, choosing to study together when their classes differed. Lena was talking more. He listened to stories of her childhood, how she had always wanted to make worlds better than the one she grew up in. He recognized a drive and a brilliance in her when she talked about these things that made her shine brighter than any other thing did. He admired her for it, he loved to see her light up like that, illuminate her space with passion and determination. He learned how hard she worked simply to make it to the university, and still worked to gain her degree; diligent and quietly tenacious, she excelled. But he also felt a small, bitter pain in a place inside himself he had not known before. He loved her now: she had become his favourite person, his confidante and solace, his only true friend. The allure of all other subjects, beliefs, facts and people had dimmed, so she became the primary object of his thoughts and affection. And when he heard her speak of her future career, her dreams and passions, graduate school, he knew she would never see him the same way. He was sure she liked his company, appreciated his humour, otherwise, why would she spend so much time with him? He was also sure that the thought of being with him would never illuminate her the same way, and that wounded him.

Lena loved him too, she missed him when they were apart and she found herself alone with her books. He made her feel lighter, hopeful for the future. She dreamed that when she succeeded in her career, his presence would make her more capable of feeling the joy of achievement. Despite his tension and aggressiveness toward the world, he no longer argued with her. He provided a place for her to be speak and be heard, to have the desperation and urgency she used to feel lurking around every corner replaced by joy in her triumphs and anticipation of the future. She wanted him around her, present while she studied, watching her and cheering all the way. She loved him with reciprocity. He advanced, and she responded. He made a space for her to speak, she rushed to fill it. She would always be driven, it was part of her person, her dreams possessed and consumed her until they became her substance. She could be no other way, but she wanted him beside her as she pursued her passion. She wanted his company forever.

They continued their studies together, starting fourth year with their approaching graduation hanging over their heads like an anvil. Lena planned to complete a master’s degree after graduating, John wanted to work. He had abandoned anarchism and his old friends, and devoted himself solely to staying with her, anxious to prevent their paths from diverging. But he grew frustrated by her focus on school. He wanted reassurance that she would still love him once she had surpassed his academic and social standing. Under the pressure of looming exams, he became increasingly agitated, waning between the insecurity he felt about the future and his generous, soft, soothing love for Lena. He would complain in his abrupt way to her about the difficulty of finding work in their city, how they would have to find an apartment after the school year’s end, all the costs associated with the new life of adulthood that he was about to enter while she remained a student, doubled over her books with familiar dedication. When she, in her aloof, grounded tones, reprimanded him for being gloomy, told him he was refusing to see the hope and possibility of the approaching changes, he felt a stinging loneliness in her ability to remain above his concerns. Hee would always soften to her, returning to the way he wanted to be, the way he wanted to treat her. He would tearfully apologize for his rough edges, for the accusations he had begun to throw at her when frustrated by her refusal to feel anger, her complete devotion to her craft. She only felt hurt by his words, insulted, never hardened herself, never struck back.

He was uncomfortable with the way he resented her, as he knew she only deserved him at his best. Yet he could not escape the feeling that he was a secondary factor in her decisions. She relied on him, loved him, wanted to be with him, but only in addition, only when she could wrestle time away from her studies and her work. When he met her family for holiday celebrations, he felt he understood her and grew to love her more. He could see in the machinations of her family what had produced in her that steely core. He thought he would be able to accept his place, over time he would understand fully, separate himself from his desire to be needed the way he wanted to be. When they arrived back to their home at the university, he whispered to her for the first time, “Lena, I love you more than anything” She smiled sweetly, they shared a kiss, then went to eat and rest before classes began again.

One evening in March they sat down for dinner, books in hand, preparing for their final exams and the coming transition. John was cooking, and facing the stove he began to finally say the thing he had only hinted at before:

“Lena, can you stop reading for a second?” he asked with false confidence, looking down at the stove, afraid of what he was going to say. She turned her head towards him and replied in the sort of daze that reading for too long sometimes causes “Of course, what is it?”

“I really love you, and I want to stay with you after we graduate. But I - every day, I worry that I won’t be able to work here while you’re in school. I haven’t found anything yet and - I would do anything for you but…” he paused, trailing off in the way of someone who doesn’t want to betray his intentions. “I want to make sure we are secure, and we start off well. Is there any way, you’d be willing to work this year instead of going starting grad school?”

Lena saw through him, and responded indignantly, “John, I’ve worked for years to get my master’s… my whole life. Do you understand what that means? It means I have to continue. Or else I’m giving up.”

“You don’t have to give up. You can continue some other time. Anyway, what does it matter if you get a master’s degree or not? You’ll be able to work with your bachelor’s. We could build a happy life as soon as we graduate.”

“It’s my dream, John!” she responded angrily, which she rarely did, “You know that! Don’t pretend you don’t know how important this is to me.”

“What good are dreams if we can’t make a living? I just want you to have a good life, I don’t want to be poor and I don’t want you to be poor again.” The ‘again’ landed with a thud and silence inflated the room. Lena rose to her feet, made sure she looked directly in his eyes, and said, “You don’t want anything for me. All I’ve ever had are dreams. And if you don’t support me in school, you don’t support me at all. You must just want me to be your little wife, do the cleaning for you, never want anything!”

John felt a pain he rarely felt. The pain of knowing she was partly right, and realizing what he really wanted, but couldn’t tell her without betraying her trust. He wanted her to stop. To live a calm life, with him. He could make the space for her to live, she would fill it, just like she had in the past. Some part of him wanted her to give up her dream so that he could be the thing she wanted most. He was disgusted by his selfishness but felt the same, nonetheless.

“I love you, Lena. I love you so much that I want to give you everything, all my time and energy. I want you to know and feel how much I love you.”

“If you loved me,” she was tense and teary, but quieter now, “you would accept who I am. You would accept me for what I am, and what I want. And what I’ve worked for all these years.”

She was close to him now. He looked at her eyes, took her cheeks in his hands, kissed her lips tenderly, then the tip of her nose, then her forehead. She looked at him, bright and wet-eyed; she whispered “I love you, too.”