Mentor - Tape 4

(Beep. Music fades in.)

I’ve been trying to rebuild the bridges I thought were burnt down. Turns out they weren’t, but now they are a bit dilapidated from being ignored for so long, so yeah, there’s that I have to deal with. But it’s nothing I can’t work around. Correction: It’s nothing I won’t overcome.

I will admit that it is partially my fault that this has taken so long. Okay, more than partially. I could recite all the times I’ve been beaten down or broken, but regardless of all that, at the end of day, I am still the keeper of my choices. We all are. Each and every one of us. We make our choices. Even if what looks like a single choice on the surface turns out to be a collection of many, maybe even thousands to some. 

How we make those choices is a process that can always be changed. Mine has been changed. It was happening even then. 

You never took that from me.

(Music fades out. Beep. New music fades in)

The problem with your idea, as I tried to explain to you at the time, was that I did not have anyway of controlling this. At all. You wanted me to find a target. You had even one picked out. But that’s the easy part. Of course you only do the easy part. Everything else was up to me in a process that never really made sense.

As if to comfort me in some way, you started to toss out buzzwords that maybe sort of made sense only because they really could have been anything or meant anything. Energy, aura, etc etc. There was probably some appropriation on many fronts, but you just could not let this go. There was a twinkle of possibility in your eyes. This was a golden opportunity. It was worth too much to you. You could not let go off. You were almost salivating at the possibilities. 

I could see it even then. And even then, I knew you were too eager. I knew something was wrong. A senior in college isn’t a fool. And I had learned, quite recently, that not all authorities have to be trusted without hesitation. But I couldn’t bring myself to follow through on my suspicions. I couldn’t bear to let this go. I was too hopeful. I was too desperate. You were too convincing of a liar.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

At the time, I told you I didn’t know who she was. Which turns out to be a half lie. I couldn’t recall who she was, but I had met her. We had briefly talked at a department event. Just for a few moments. I think I had made some sort of snide comment about the meaningless platitudes that get tossed around to boost morale, and she thought I was funny. For a moment. And then we parted while

That was a little while before the conversation you and I had. A few months maybe. But at the time, if I had thought about it for a bit, I might have recognized her. The picture of her you showed me even at the time looked halfway familiar. Then again, I did not actually know her. Accidental crosses of our path don’t really count for much.

You assumed that if we were around long enough I could do. I needed to just pick up some of her energy, and I guess we can just keep pretending that makes sense as a sentence. And that might have seemed like a difficult task, but it really wasn’t because you were involved. And you knew way too much about her and her schedule considering she was a graduate student. A first year, yes, but even still, they are supposed to have a sense of independence, but you never gave her that. She was technically your advisee, and how could she ever make it without your brilliant advice in every facet of her life.

She didn’t ask for that. You gave it to her. You forced it on her. You knew every last detail of her schedule. Both her formal one and where she liked to hang out. And that part was a little creepy. I don’t care that there are a limited number of good study spots on campus. First of all, that’s not even true. And second of all, even if it is, it’s still creepy. You shouldn’t have known where she would be unless that spot was in your office chair about half-way through a scheduled meeting. But even then you had those way too often.

I take some solace in the fact that I didn’t need all that help from you, on her schedule. That I managed to connect to her without that much of a reliance on you.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

She’s a pretty great and interesting person, and you would know that if you ever descended your pillar of salt long enough to get to know someone. And it turns out we have the same taste in books, even the obscure ones. 

While she was seated in one of the cafes on campus, I walked past her and saw one of the books she had on the table. I assumed she had just made a library run, considering the check out slip was still in one of the books and looked absolutely pristine. 

The top books was a novel from an author who had great prose but too dark of an outlook to find any commercial successes. In honor of that prose, this work has endured, in the corners of certain libraries and used bookstores. I had always relied on the latter. I could not believe that the former turned out to be so close. 

In time, I was able to ask her about it. My voice cracked when I did, and she chuckled. You know, when we reconnected years after the fact, she did not recognize me. And I didn’t correct her at first I was a stronger person than I had been when she first met me. Maybe strong enough to be considered completely different. Who knows anymore. But it wasn’t until a few dates in that I corrected her. That we had met before. We just met at a time when I wasn’t ready to be in her life just yet.

(Music fades out. Beep.)

Okay, you do not get credit for this. If you had your way, would she even be here at all?

(Beep. New music fades in)

You wanted to talk about energies so much well fine, here’s some more talk. Hers was off back then. It was heavy, downtrodden almost. It hurt me to be around her. Not because she was bad but because she carried a lot, and it seemed to almost poison the air around her. 

She was in a fog, I would call it. A thick, dense fog that could constrict the chest as well as it could anything else. 

It stung a bit, but I wanted to be around her. I was desperate to, in many regards. And despite the discomfort, it brought me a sense of hope and--dare I say--joy to be hear. Or she brought those things, I don’t. It helped, of course, that she was so easy to talk to. We just understood each other. We connected in a way that I hadn’t been able to with anyone else. 

Then she told me. After a while, she finally felt comfortable telling me the truth about… Well, about you.  It was stress she told me. It was stress that made her feel this way. Stress that you had caused. And then the fangs came out. Or the little ones I could muster.

But you didn’t control me anymore.

(Music fades out. Beep.)

The Oracle of Dusk is a Miscellany Media Studios Production. It is written, produced, performed, and edited by MJ Bailey with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful Music Supply. If you like the show, please consider leaving a review or telling your friends about it. And check out Aishi Online, the story of the voice you know all too well.