Page 19 of A Lesson In Beginning

“Yes, of course.” I waved him off with a gesture of my hand. “I didn’t expect to see anyone in here at this hour.”

“Neither did I.” He chuckled, offering me a seat as he returned to his desk. “Is everything alright? Do you need something?”

“No, well — I mean, yes. I could not seem to sleep, so I decided to look for a scrap of paper and a pen.” I explained awkwardly, fumbling slightly over my words as embarrassment flushed across my cheeks in a heated blush. I took the offered chair gratefully, feeling a little weak-kneed after my fright.

“Paper and a pen? That’s not a problem at all.” He rummaged through his desk for a moment before handing me a pen and a small pad of paper, only a few inches across and wide. I took them graciously, but turned the item in my hand as I tried to gather the courage to ask him for what I was truly in search of. It wasn’t easy to ask for things, especially from a man. I knew what it was to be denied, and more importantly, to be punished for such requests.

He looked at me for a moment with a scrutinizing stare. The man was intimidating on the best of days; being the eldest Temple son carried much weight, even this far away from Zion, at least to me. I struggled to not cower under such regard.

“Is that not what you had in mind?” He leaned back in his seat, his fingers intertwined and his index fingers forming a sort of steeple that he rested his chin against as he continued his analytical regard of me.

“I was hoping to write a little; to put a few thoughts on paper. I know it is silly, but —”

“You want to journal?” My eyes popped up, catching the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s nothing. Really, I —”

“No! No, it’s everything. We have several unused journals. Just a moment.” He turned towards a shelf of books behind his desk and crouched down to the lowest shelf, grabbing a leather-bound journal and handing it to me without ceremony. I took the journal from his grasp, my eyes widening at the sheer craftsmanship of such a book.

“I’ve never seen one like it! It’s beautiful. I couldn’t possibly take this. Just a simple piece of paper and a pen will suffice, I assure you.” I tried to hand the beautifully bound book back to him, but it was of no use.

“Please take it. We have an entire stack of them.” He chuckled lightly, moving his chair out of the way for me to see several of the books lined up in a row, filling the entire shelf and a small stack of them laying on their side, still in plastic wrapping.

“Why would you have so many of them?” I asked without a thought.

“Ruth journals. It’s something very important to her; something she needs to help her mental health.”

“Her mental health?” I sat the journal in my lap as my curiosity piqued.

“Yes. I don’t want to speak for her, but she’s explained it to me as her mind is constantly going, constantly firing question after question, making list after list. Journalling is a way for her to get her thoughts out on paper and quiet her mind for a short while.” I felt a kinship to my sister as Leviticus explained exactly what writing down my own thoughts felt like.

“I had no idea.” The words were barely a whisper as I clutched the journal to my chest, feeling a connection to the sisterly love we once had for one another — before marriage, before the trials, before it all fell apart.

“Please take the journal. I know Ruth would want you to have it. If there is a different style or type you’d prefer, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“This will be plenty enough for me. Thank you, Leviticus.” I started to rise from my seat, but his voice stopped me.

“Adah, I want to talk to you for a moment.” I could feel the nerves and fear prick just below the surface of my skin. It was never a good sign when the head of a household wanted to speak. Usually, it meant I had committed some transgression. It usually meant punishment.

“Have I done something wrong, Leviticus?” I willed my voice to not shake as I posed the question.

“Quite the contrary. I just wanted to reiterate, here between just the two of us, that you are welcome here.” His tone was kind, but his eyes continued their scrutiny, as though he were trying to figure out some secret locked within me he felt privy to. It was unnerving and unsettling at best.

“Leviticus, I assure you, I appreciate your gracious generosity in letting us stay here.”

“That’s just the thing. I hope to get to the point where you realize you are not a burden here.” His words halted my response, the retort dying on my lips before being spoken aloud. “You are not a burden. You are not some stray dog we are putting up with. You are family. And family is welcome. No matter what.”

“I doubt you’d give that same speech to your father, or to mine, for that matter.” The hateful words slipped out impulsively.

“Well, you’ve got me there. Let me rephrase. Family is the most important thing to me, but family is more than blood. It is the people who you choose to surround yourself with; the people who support you and love you as unconditionally as you love and support them. My father would not give me the time of day if I paid him to. Everything had a price to be paid. That isn’t love. That’s a transaction. And I’m not a product. I am not a commodity to be bought and sold at will. The thing that I want you to realize is that neither are you. You have worth and value as a part of our family, just by being you. So, with that being said, please hear me when I say you are welcome. You are safe here. And you are wanted here. Both you and Samuel.”

I couldn’t speak, but merely sat there as his words did more than hit home. They pierced through the walls and armor I had built up to guard myself against the violences of the world I was born into. “I don’t know what to say.” I stammered through the words, feeling more seen than I had ever imagined I would be, and at the same time, so incredibly discomfited.

“You don’t need to say anything at all. I just want you to know that our words are not empty platitudes. We truly mean them.” He smiled at me, and for a moment, I felt like I was seeing a completely new side of this man.

“I… Thank you. That is very kind of you to say. I will do my best to take it to heart, and to try not to feel like such a burden on you and Ruth.” I finally stood from my chair, clutching the journal with a newfound sense of gratitude and appreciation.

“Good night, Adah,” he said gently as I made my way to the office door. My steps faltered as I turned back to look at him.

---