21 Tai-Chi

After their battle of wills, Frances felt even more defeated. She delivered the next line with such broken hope that his heart broke for her.

— “I had this fantasy where people connected with each other because of inner beauty. Those guys, I don’t think they know me, really, they do not see who I am.”

— “Yes, young men tend to do that. They only see what they want to see.”

She didn’t question how he knew, intimately, for running after the wrong girl as a youngster. All of it leading to that fateful street fight. Leading him here.

— “If I am to be loved, I want to be loved for who am I, not what I look like. And if that person finds me beautiful, then all the better.”

Such wisdom … if only all young women were like her, the world would be a better place. Yet, speaking of a future with another made him uneasy once more. So it was with faked detachment that he asked:

— “Do you long to be loved once more? To marry the right person?”

— “Not now. I mean. It is great to be loved, but I’d rather be alone and happy first. I’m not afraid of solitude, I find beauty in the world on my own.”

And there she was, once again surprising him when he should have known, deep down, how she felt. Their little trip to the cliff had been a display enough of her likes and dislikes.

— “A rather rare feat in this world,” he whispered wistfully.

Frances’ eyes landed on her shoes, her cheeks blushing.

— “Yeah. I am weird, I know.”

She looked so adorable right now, and Tristan couldn’t help but give her the true meaning of his statement. There would be no room for misinterpretation.

— “Exceptional, not weird.”

Her cheeks reddened.

— “Thank you. That means a lot … to me”

Her wide chocolate eyes considered him, prodding, hoping, perhaps, that his features would give away his most intimate thoughts. But he wasn’t ready to explore the depths of his heart … so it was his turn to prod instead.

— “So what will you do?”

— “My heart is scorched right now, I need time with myself. Perhaps later … much later, I will find someone else. Then that day, you can marry us in your church, right?”

Her tirade reached him in the most unexpected way; both relief and dread seized him. Never before had he been so happy to hear a woman swear celibacy … for a while, at least. But to marry her to a good man… The thought made him shudder. No one would ever be good enough for her.

— “Good,” he said.

Her eyebrows rose to the sky.

— “Good?”

Tristan nodded, unable to formulate anything more elaborate lest he betrayed the emotions lurking in the recesses of his heart.

— “You know. I’m perplexed,” she eventually said.

Was she going to call him on his bluff? Tristan tensed, realising how close she was. He could even smell her, for God’s sake! Summoning his best poker face, the priest responded evenly.

— “How so?”

Frances walked to the full-length mirror fixed upon his entrance wardrobe, eyes wide as she took in her appearance. Her fingers prodded her cheekbones, then her eyebrow curiously as she told him:

— “I’ve seen myself every day for ages, hated my nose as a child.”

She poked the little button nose that gave her this mischievous look.

— “Hated the colour of my eyes all the same because of the stupid song of elementary school. I know I’m not bad looking; I’ve got an efficient body and face without major flaws. But beautiful … never. So I don’t understand why people … fixate on me”

Tristan couldn’t resist coming to her side, his tall frame dwarfing hers as his chest nearly touched her back. She was so close … mesmerising, and unattainable. Not by fault of hers, either. His vows were too important, allowing him to toe upon the line, but not cross it. Yet, his hand longed to land upon her shoulder. His body froze to prevent it from happening. Frances turned to him, lifting her face to look into his eyes. His breath caught; they were but a breath away. From up close, he could see how her warm chocolate eyes caught the light, sending tiny stars of golden strings radiating from the centre. Flustered, Frances chose to face the mirror instead, watching them both in his cramped entrance.

— “Someday, you will see,” Tristan breathed.

Her little frame shuddered, a blush creeping over her cheeks as Tristan took a step back to rein his beating heart. Disappointment caught him before he could back away; he had never given thought to what he missed until then. The touch of a woman, her warm breath caressing his cheek, soft skin under his fingers. Those sensations were said to be sent by the devil. The demon, using womanly wiles to sway him from the righteous path.

— “Thank you,” she whispered.

And he felt like crushing her to his chest, just to hear her heart beating against his own, to feel her warmth engulfing him. And he hated that he was so weak … too weak to follow the path of God without stumbling along the way.

— “It means a lot to me coming from…”

Anger replaced disappointment and he walked away swiftly.

— “A man that can’t have a woman? A priest?”

— “No, I didn’t mean…”

But he was unexpectedly too far gone to hear her.

— “We’re still men, you know!”

Frances’ face fell then, her eyes regretful. Tristan caught his breath, realising how riled up he was. What was she doing to him? He needed to throw her out, needed to… But her voice came, gentle, pleading and his anger just died like a fire under a benevolent wave of warm water.

— “No! No. A man whose spirituality is higher than most. I trust you, Tristan. Your opinion means the world to me, you always show things so clearly.”

The priest nearly crashed upon the table, his shaking hand seeking the wood to ground him into reality. She wasn’t responsible for his feelings, had not played him, nor pressured him. It was unfair to throw his anger to her face when she was barely recovered from her recent breakup. Exhaling slowly, Tristan straightened once more.

— “Sorry. I get that a lot, I should have known this isn’t what you meant.”

What an idiot he was being! His anger fuelled by the earlier revelation of sexual harassment, his feelings all over the place.

— “I get it. We’re both a little strained.” She paused before adding: “Perhaps I should go now.”

Frances, being the sensitive woman she was, understood that her presence hurt him and she wanted to flee. It would have been reasonable to put more distance, yet so selfish. She needed him, needed that unwavering rock in her life right now. So instead, he stood to his full height and took a deep breath.

— “How about I show you how to sublimate it? It will help me as well, this colleague of yours put me in an awful mood.”

All tension left the room at once as she considered his offer. Then she nodded – accepting his peace offering – and Tristan pushed the table aside to make a little space.

— “I’ll show you the routine, then you can follow me.”

And, standing in front of her, Tristan chose an easy Tai-Chi kata that would benefit them both. At first, she eyed him, watching the way he moved, fluid, like water running to the sea. Then she spread her legs apart just like his, and stared following, her face set in concentration. She adapted easily, mimicking his every movement, following his breathing and he was once more surprised on how fast she could learn. Yet, she was still a bit stiff; perhaps a secondary effect of learning Aikido for Japanese martial arts tended to be more rigid. Still, she had not forgotten the principles of the “chi” coming from her centre. Little by little, he saw how she grounded herself, how her hands and legs, graceful, followed his lead. How she naturally adapted, correcting herself, her presence gaining intensity as she worked. Lost in the art, her body and soul thrown in the routine.

He allowed his own mind to get soothed, to detach his attention from her, knowing she would follow. Retreating into himself, finding this light that burnt bright in his centre. His energy, his liferoce, his faith altogether mingled. Hope bloomed in his chest once more, reassuring him that he was a good man, that his choices were not in the least despicable. That every single step he took was followed by God’s benevolent gaze, blessed. That the presence of the woman beside him wasn’t a temptation from the Devil, but a present from the almighty in his life.