The Bringer

Oh Lord, what am I to do? I’m impounded by confusion. I wish I could ask for your unbiased help, for your guidance through this confounding time.



Maybe I should speak to Arlo about this; he is so wise and knowledgeable. He may know the answers I so desperately seek.



But, then again, if it is feeling that is happening to me, Arlo would have to tell the Elders of my problem, and then what would happen? Surely the Elders wouldn’t let me near a human ever again, thus meaning I would never again take a human to Heaven. I would no longer be a Bringer. I’d never be allowed to Earth. I would spend my eternity in Pure Land. What would I do? What would become of me?



I can’t let that happen. I’ll just have to figure this out alone.



Well, as it appears to be James that causes this problem I’m having, then I will just stay away from him, problem solved, but oh no . . . my promise to Max. This, without a doubt, means that I will have to see James again.



It’s not within me to break a promise, no matter how much I may wish it. ‘Catch twenty-two’, as they say.



Okay, so I shall fulfil my duty to Max and check upon James once, and once only, thus keeping my promise, though only in part, as going to see James once and never again is most definitely not ‘checking in from time to time’.



What to do? What to do?



It suddenly becomes abundantly clear to me that the time for thinking has now passed. I have to take decisive action as my solitary thoughts are obviously getting me nowhere.



Rising easily to my feet, I turn from the water and walk across the sand, closing my eyes as I prepare to travel. The glorious beach slowly disintegrates in the wake of my departure as I now think of going to the only one who may be able to provide the much needed answers to my impatient, burning questions.



James.



And as quickly as I think his name, then no sooner are my eyes meeting with his.



He’s sat on a sofa, feet up on a coffee table, a bottle of drink in his hand - alcohol I believe it to be.



I glance around, taking in my surroundings, and find myself in a house, what I assume to be James’s house.



The television is on and I see that even though he is staring at it, his eyes look to be somewhere else, somewhere very far from here. He looks tired. His face is pale. His eyes are red and puffy.



I sit down on the coffee table next to where his bare feet are resting, fix my eyes to him, and brace myself for the inevitable light to hit me.



But nothing happens.



I wait a moment more. Still nothing.



I’m perplexed. Did the veil of shimmering light not happen? No, surely it did. It made itself abundantly known, not once, but thrice.



This is, yet again, incredibly confusing for me.



Maybe I was correct in my earlier thoughts after all and it was James’ overwhelming grief that thrust itself upon me in that hospital room and not my own feelings transpiring in his presence.



James shifts his position and brings his knees up to his chest. He wraps his arms around them and rests his chin on his knees. He sighs heavily and, as he does so, a stray tear glides down his cheek, which he quickly wipes away.



I’m drawn to the notable affliction shown in his movement, wondering just exactly what it is he feels at this precise second.



Is it sadness, grief, anguish? I assume it to be all these things. He will undoubtedly be suffering emotionally after the death of Max. And as my mind swims with thoughts of James, distracting my attention, I’m unexpectedly hit by the veil of shimmering light again.



This time it forcibly and ineptly presents itself. But unlike the other times, it appears not to be going away any time soon as it wraps itself all around me, enveloping me, and then disappears into my very being, becoming a part of me.



And even though it’s incredibly strong, I do not allow it to knock me off balance. I remain there, eyes resolutely fixed on James, absorbing every fibre of his being whilst the light surges through me, taking me over, now knowing that even if I wanted to there’s no way I’m able to escape its clutches.



And through this wondrous turmoil, the only thought dominating me is to wish that I could take James’ pain away, ease his burden somehow, soothe him, be able to touch him.



I mentally shake myself. What am I thinking? I could never help him in that way.



That’s what humans do for one another. Not Bringers. And to want to touch him is madness. I don’t have the capability to do so, let alone ever wish to.



Why now? Why a human? And more to the point - why him?



I’m very quickly coming to the rationalisation that the shimmering light bestowing itself on me is without question feelings, feelings, which appear to be undoubtedly connected to James. Yet I still chose to return to him, knowing this to be a strong possibility.



Was I just hiding behind the promise I made to Max as to the reason why I came here, convincing myself I needed to discover what the source of this shimmering light is, when truly I did not?



Have I unwittingly come here and seen James for another reason, a reason unbeknown to me?



Then, without warning, the truth hits me almost as hard as James’ light and certainty dawns upon me.



I feel for James.



My feelings are for him.



Oh no.



My new reality fast becomes apparent, stretching itself formidably and staggeringly out in front of me.



Words escape me as a hundred different scenarios quickly flash before my eyes.



This is happening too quickly. What I am supposed to do with these - feelings? I believe they are filled with complexities that far outreach my knowledge or capability.



Suddenly everything about me seems wrong somehow.



Feelings.



The word sounds out of place. It’s rattling around my mind like an unwanted guest, an enemy invading on unwelcome territory.



Why is this happening to me?



It has to be of my own doing after all my time spent with Arlo having endless discussions regarding humans and their feelings. My internal questioning. The wondering. The ‘what ifs’. And now, because of this, I’m been struck down, caused to feel what I was so curious to know.



Maybe this is an inflictive teaching from God who wants to show me what feelings are so that I stop defying what I know to be right.



Perhaps Arlo is also encountering these feelings. I could ask him. But wait, no, I cannot. I know this to be a doubled-edged sword. Because if he is feeling too, then he won’t want to tell me for the very reason that I don’t want to tell him. But, then again, knowing Arlo as well as I do - yes, he may sit with me discussing the complexities of humans, but never once would he consider how it would actually be to be one of them, how it would be to feel.



Unlike me.



Me, with my endless scrutinising thoughts, my inexplicable fascination for humans. I have, without realisation, stepped beyond the realms of mere fascination and into absolute curiosity. I have unknowingly crossed the line, something I know Arlo would never, ever, do.



I’m being changed irreversibly, and it’s of my own doing.



And even with all of this new unwelcome knowledge, I still have no wish to leave James’ side. I know I should, but I can’t seem to. I’m willingly staying here as these feelings settle themselves erroneously into me.



James lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a long drink, draining it in the process. Then, unexpectedly, he leans forward and places it on the table, passing right through me as he does so. It happens so quickly, I have no time to react and the sensation it causes sends me reeling backwards. It’s only in the briefest of moments but stuns me beyond belief. Words momentarily escape me. There are none to describe what just occurred within me, or none I have ever said before, or ever imagined I would.



I believe the correct thing for me to say is that there are no words to describe what I have just felt.



Felt. Feelings. Whatever they are, they should be beyond me.



It takes me a moment to steady myself before I can sit back down. But now it seems that all this strange occurrence has done to me is to peak my curiosity even further about James. I move closer to him.



He is very beautiful and he becomes more so with every moment I spend looking at him.



He’s as beautiful as the Aurora Borealis, as beautiful as the reddened sky when the sun is journeying into the west.



No, truly, I’d say he is beyond even those things. James is singularly the most perfect thing I have ever seen in my entirety. Never before have I seen a human in this way. It’s incredibly troublesome that I do so now.



What do I feel for James? Is it concern? Do I worry for him? I can see this being so with my link to Max. Or is it something else entirely?



What am I doing? Thinking? These thoughts are escaping me before I even realise they exist. It’s like I’m set to accept my fate. This cannot be.



Yes, over time I have wondered these things but never once did I envisage them being within me. And, yes, parts of it do seem very wonderful - miraculous in fact - but there is no way I can feel for James. Everything I am goes against it.



The inner turmoil is almost destroying me. It’s like I’m fighting against myself and I’m sinking under the weight of it all. But walking away doesn’t appear to be an option either because, as I sit here with James, it’s like there is an invisible thread that has tied me to him.



What am I to do?



I think the only thing I can do is try and figure out why am I inexplicably tied to this particular human, why feelings chose to thrust themselves upon me in his presence. Because if I’m ever going to have a chance of freeing myself from this furore, I have to understand why.



James abruptly stands and I find myself following him into his kitchen. He yanks open the refrigerator door and grabs another bottle of drink.



All of a sudden I hear a shrill sound. I very quickly realise it’s his telephone ringing. He sighs loudly, slams the refrigerator door shut, and trundles over to the telephone.



He reaches over and grabs it. “Hello?” he mutters, as he walks back into the living room, slumping himself down on the sofa. I, of course, have followed him back there and have regained my position on the table across from him.



“No, I’m fine,” he says. His voice sounds dull, listless.



Without thinking, I begin to listen in on the conversation.



“You really shouldn’t be on your own,” says a female voice.



“Sara, really, I’m fine.”



“You’re obviously not. And I wouldn’t expect you would be. Have you eaten anything?”



He sighs and takes a swig of drink.



“I’ll take that as a no, then. I’m coming over and bringing food with me . . . and I’m not taking no for an answer.” Her voice sounds very authoritative. I wonder who she is.



“Okay. Fine. See you soon.” James clicks off the phone and throws it to the floor. Then he picks up the remote control and begins flicking through the channels. All the while I can’t seem to move my eyes away from him.



It doesn’t seem like much time has passed when I sense the approach of a human and hear a loud knock at the front door.



I follow James out of the living room and down the hallway. He opens the door to reveal a human woman. I’m assuming the woman he spoke to on the telephone - Sara.



She has golden hair, like honey, and her eyes are the colour of seaweed.



I watch them greet one another. Sara looks at James for a moment, and then pulls him into a tight embrace. I notice his reluctance at first, but then he hugs her back and his tears flow.