Sailing the Shipping Seas

Tenzin had looked positively crushed as he returned to the central meditation hall after his “girlfriend” (how did a woman of that age stand the term, she couldn’t say) left early. She had been called out again.

Pema wasn’t the only acolyte who resented phone duty when that woman was on the Island. It was never hard to find her. She would only ever be in a few places anymore, and like as not, their shouting would make it a short search.

But nevertheless, she had carefully taken the message (without being too excited to be rid of her), promptly brought it to Tenzin’s study (where they were fighting again), and handed it over (just for it to be snatched away angrily). She had not stayed. That woman always rounded on whoever thought they’d be taking a message back or learning something interesting.

She had even heard that woman’s boots in the corridor as if to check to see that Pema had left.

Just because she had left directly didn’t mean that she hadn’t overheard anything as she approached.

“…not the right time, Tenzin. My promotion…”

“That’s what you said the last time! Dad has been dead almost a year, Lin! You said you’d give me an answer, but you keep putting it off. I’m worried sick what a pregnancy might do to you, and it won’t get any easier with age.”

Why he was worried over that woman escaped Pema entirely. That woman had no interest in the Air Nation, at any level. She attended at dinner only on rare occasion. She never attended formal functions, never wore robes befitting her station as the Master’s consort. Pema understood they had known each other for years, but this so-called “romance” bore little resemblance to any literature of the type that she had ever read.

They had already been arguing earlier in the day. That woman had been gone within minutes of receiving the phone message. Though Pema had learned a few of the police codes, ‘green fifty’ was not one of them. But that woman had startled before Pema could even turn away.

And Tenzin had returned, alone and forlorn.

Pema had not followed him, precisely. She had gone about her own duties, and merely marked where and when he had been expected, but did not show.

So when she walked by his study later that evening, she was astonished to hear his voice. No one other than that woman joined him in his study for more than a passing moment. If he wanted to have a conversation with someone, even a private one, he would use a different room.

To hear him talking - no, crying - stopped her in her tracks.

She quietly pushed one panel open to see him kneeling in front of his writing desk, his head in his hands.

Unthinkingly, she crossed the room and laid a hand on his shoulder.

He gasped, raised his shoulders, and turned in the direction of the touch.

“Lin? You’re…”

His face fell with such disappointment that it nearly knocked her backwards.

But he schooled his expression and rose to his full height.

“Sister Pema. Forgive me. Is there something I can do to help you?”

Her resolve locked into place, and she raised her chin to look up at him more comfortably.

She took a breath to steady herself, met his eyes and said, “You should marry me, not her.”

His jaw dropped open, but he made no sound, no other motion.

She scrambled to reassemble the coherent argument she had been rehearsing for weeks.

“She doesn’t do anything you like. You never smile when you’re around her. She hates being here. She shows no interest in being part of your life, unless she is staying the night. And even then, she is gone before breakfast.” She paused, but was still getting no reaction from him.

“She doesn’t want children. That’s plain to everyone but you. You spend more time with the children than any other duty here. You clearly want to be a father.” She paused again, but his face was still slack with shock.

“I came here to learn from you. I came here to support you. I have attended your meditations and lectures. I have learned all of the duties on the Island except for being a mechanic for the ferry. I’m familiar with the garden and the children’s school. I have worked in the infant nursery and helped your sister deliver babies.”

She took a half step back and adjusted her shoulders.

“I would be a better wife for you than she ever would be.”

At that, his face slammed shut, anger clouding his features.

She was so taken aback, she only knew he had spoken because she saw his lips move.

She lifted her eyes to his, but found a stormy fury there. Around them, the air swirled, lifting papers from his desk and swirling the robes they each wore.

His lips parted, but his jaw was clenched shut.

“Out.”

She took a shaky breath, not ready to concede. “If you think about it…”

He pointed at the door.

“Out.”

At that, she took a full step backwards, but not in the direction of the door.

“Master -” she stopped. “Tenzin, you deserve better.”

The wind dissipated instantly, leaving a dead stillness as if the air itself had vanished.

He turned away from her, leaving her nearly bereft.

“Just go.”