Muriel & Ashley

Muriel is six or seven years older than I am. One day I met her while looking at apartments. She has beautiful long golden blonde hair with streaks of silver. She is in her forties. Muriel is about my height and same build, and has a stature of wisdom about her. I immediately felt connected to her when I met her, as if she were some sort of kindred spirit. As the days passed I grew to love her, though I dared not utter the words, because I also am a woman. My name is Ashley.

I never thought of myself as a homosexual. I didn’t even know what that meant. I lived in a time when people mostly stayed on their farms, and the biggest news was about the KKK scaring off some Negroes. Some considered this a simple time. Others thought the world was a ticking time bomb about ready to explode in some revolutionary way.

I am in my thirties. I never married, because I never met the right person. I recently moved to a new city for a career opportunity. My mother and sisters came to visit to see my new place. I also wanted them to meet my dear friend, Muriel. I have a sense that Muriel holds the same affection for me, but we never acknowledge it. Instead, we have always enjoyed the evenings together, fixing up my new place, or going to the theater. We’d hug one another goodnight afterwards, and leave to our respective homes. We have often held hands, but that’s as far as it ever goes. Though secretly inside, I wonder whether she has wanted more than that. I did.

One day, though, all these questions and secret thoughts washed away with the flood. Literally, a flood came crashing into our residential area. We hadn’t been having any stormy weather; in fact, it had been a beautiful sunny week with lots of fluffy white clouds. I was in my apartment on the second story when the screaming started. Muriel ran to my door and said the apartments were flooding and we needed to get out. I walked to the window and my car had disappeared. The water had swallowed it and whatever else remained of the first floor. I had no time to really gather anything. What had happened? There must have been some kind of dam that broke. But where was the nearest dam?

Muriel had a transport waiting outside. She was always so resourceful. We had to swim to the fishing boat. Some hung onto their kitchen tables as they floated by us. Muriel helped me into the boat and we sped toward safer ground. Was the whole town like this? Or were ours the first blocks to be destroyed?

Everything turned into a daze as I thought about how I could have died if it weren’t for Muriel. I would have taken my love for her to the grave. Why did it have to be like that? I stared at Muriel who was driving the boat. She turned to me from time to time to smile with that sometimes-knowing smile that gave me a glimpse that she returned my affection. Then she put her arm around my waist, I laid my head on her shoulder, and the words just came out.

“I love you.” It felt so wonderful to speak those words, and yet at the same time I felt her tense up.

The entire town was damaged in some fashion. Most of the people had to travel toward the farms to escape the onslaught. The farmers were nice enough people. They gave all of us a place to stay until everything could be sorted out. In fact, they even tried to lift our spirits by putting on a bonfire and a music shindig. None of us really felt like singing, but we were grateful for the idea. Night was setting in and strangers walked around hugging their blankets to themselves, counting again that all their children were huddled next to them. It was maddening. One could smell the anxiety and panic in the air.

I asked Muriel if I could speak to her. We headed outside toward the dark trees of the woods. I wasn’t going to hide my affection anymore. I knew she heard me back in the boat.

“Muriel, I need to tell you something.”

“I wish you wouldn’t, Ashley.” She stopped, while I kept walking.

I turned around, “Why? You know that I love you, and I know you love me back. Why won’t you acknowledge it?”

“Because these are not the times we live in. No one would understand.”

“So who cares? Two people who truly love each other should be together.”

“We are together, why can’t that be enough?”

“We aren’t together. I thought what we had could be enough, should be enough. But when that flood hit us, I realized that I couldn’t die without sharing my love with you. Do you not feel the same?” I waited for her to answer.

We walked further into the dark, under the rustling of trees.

“Ashley,” Muriel took my hand, “I do love you, but it can’t work. We must never talk about these things again.”

“Why? Because we’re of the same sex?” I let go of her hand. “Muriel, believe me, I didn’t ask to fall in love with you. This is all new to me, too. But we can’t just turn off these feelings! And I don’t want too! I don’t care what other people think. All I care about is you.”

Muriel knew she wasn’t going to convince me, and I didn’t understand why it was so hard on her. She started crying, and turned to walk back toward the bonfire. I grabbed her arm, “Muriel, wait. Why won’t you give us a chance?”

“Because people will never accept us, Ashley. Maybe if it was another time we could be, but if we come out with our feelings we’re going to get hurt. Can’t you understand? This is our only choice.”

I stopped, while she kept walking back toward the house. Dare I realize she was right? “What about our love, Muriel? What about our happiness?” I yelled.

She only walked faster toward the house.

I kicked the ground, dust and leaves went flying. Someone was close by and asked me if I was okay. That’s when the problems escalated. Others had overheard our conversation, and there was nothing like a diversion to get people’s minds off their own stressful situation.

When I walked into the house, several had already grabbed Muriel by the arms. They demanded she confess her sins for loving another woman. She tried to struggle free. I tried to rush to her aid, but more people joined the throng and forced us apart. With so many curious as to the commotion no one kept an eye on the bonfire. Sparks flew through the windows and landed on the roof. Pandemonium ensued. People were set on fire. I had to put the flames out on my own shirt. People were rolling on the ground, while others took their blankets to extinguish someone else. All the time the smoke grew heavier and heavier. The people holding on to Muriel dragged her outside toward the back of the house. I was restrained in the front yard.

The scene fades.

Two years later, I live in a new city. I have built a new life for myself. I still am not married. I can’t stop having nightmares about that last night I saw Muriel. I never found out what happened to her. For all I know, I am responsible for her death.

I was traveling back into town from a business trip when I stopped outside a Bed and Breakfast, about thirty miles from the city to get something to eat. Maybe I’ll stop for the night, I thought. Some sort of fair was going on, so I walked out to the fields to watch. The smell of the big cookout reminded me of easier times. Prizes were being awarded for the best vegetables and pies, livestock and cattle. A group of priests from a local monastery were the judges.

And there she stood.

Muriel had joined a convent, cut her beautiful hair, and now stood between four men of the faith. Two priests arranged on either side of her. She didn’t see me, and for about an hour I wandered about the grounds wondering whether I should go up to her. I finally decided that I should, because for all she knew, I died that crazy night too.

The fair was over and it was getting to be quite dark. The priests were shaking hands with the last of the guests who were heading to their cars. I stepped in line. When I reached the first priest, she saw me. Maybe the other priests didn’t notice, but I felt her gasp and tense up.

I moved to shake her hand, “Hello, Muriel. It’s been a while. It’s good to see you doing so well.”

Muriel tried to retain her composure as she shook my hand. “Ashley.”

The priests took notice, “You know this young lady, Muriel?”

“Yes, Reverend Michael. We lost contact about two years ago, right before I entered the Faith.”

“Ashley, is it?” The priest to Muriel’s left shook my hand. “What brings you out this way? I didn’t notice any entrants you had?”

“No Father. I stopped by to grab some dinner before heading back into the city.”

“Blessed for you, Ashley, you were able to enjoy much more than a sumptuous meal. Did you enjoy yourself this evening?" The last priest in line shook my hand.

“I couldn’t be more renewed.” I looked back at Muriel, and then smiled at the Priest.

“Well, why don’t you two catch up on old times while we load the truck?” The men walked away.

Muriel stood there. I spoke first. “I didn’t know what happened to you. I am glad to see you are doing well. “ I didn’t ask why she joined the convent. I understood.

“I had heard you made it safely through the fire.” She answered my surprise look. “We often do business with many of the farmers, even from out of state.”

“You cut your hair.”

“Yeah.” She played with her short locks.

“You’re still as beautiful as ever. Does the ministry agree with you?”

Muriel tensed. “It was the only way to keep us safe. Neither one of us is about to break the chords of Faith.”

We walked toward the truck. “I suppose you’re right, but I could still argue that one.”

“I have no doubt, Ashley.” She chuckled. Then with some hesitance, “I have missed you.” But Muriel regrouped with, “We both have moved on, though, and everything is as it should be.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I know.” She paused.

“In all your teachings, Muriel, you have not once come across any text that says two people in love, no matter the sex, can be and is a holy union?”

“Ashley.” Muriel’s voice warned and pleaded.

“There has to be something! I can’t believe God would put two souls together, then expect them to not join, simply because our bodies are of the same sex! In all those ancient texts you found nothing?”

“Well, I have not learned yet the language of the old texts. Father Ulysses keeps them well protected.”

“Then let’s go to him!”

“Ashley, we can’t. It’s too late. Even if we found something, I am already committed to my service. We still wouldn’t be together. Besides, Father Ulysses is back at the monastery and visitors do not come this late.”

“Then, have them make an exception, Muriel.” I insisted.

Muriel tried to protest.

“No!” I raised my hand. “I won’t take any other explanation as an answer. You and I both deserve to know the truth.”

“And if it says that we shouldn’t be together?”

“It won’t say that. Even if it did, then maybe some answer will help us to move on. I can’t believe that becoming a priest has changed your feelings for me. Love cannot be hidden under a disguise.”

So back to the monastery we went. The other priests were curious, but asked nothing. Down the rock hewn steps of the monastery we went, until we reached a small room at the bottom lit by several torches. An old man bent over several books was inside reading with a magnifying glass. A cat was purring next to him on a wooden table.

Muriel and I stated our case before him and he began to strum through several texts. Some languages I recognized, yet the further digging he did the more I just watched with ignorance. At first, Father Ulysses showed the passage of scriptures that highly disfavored sexual immorality, including homosexuality. But I then pointed out that it nowhere said homosexuality. Could he specifically show me anyplace that gave that example? Father Ulysses agreed and searched again. When he couldn’t find such an example, I asked him if the translation he was reading was accurate? That’s when the treasure hunt began.

Opening one dusty book after another, cross-referencing several languages, the Father came upon a scroll. Referring to the same passage of scripture he had read earlier, this translation stated that a union should be consummated between each lover. It did NOT read between a man and a woman. It clearly stated “A union should be consummated between each lover. This is honored within the sight of God.” All these centuries it had been a mistranslation, an assumption, a gross error.

Finally, Muriel and I had our answer! I wasn’t sure, though, it would change our current situation. Father Ulysses impressed with the discovery, congratulated us on a search well committed. The Father agreed we could be together, but that decision had to be left up to us.

“Even though it is honorable in the sight of God, it isn’t necessarily in the sight of man. While persecution can be a test of great courage and faith, so is walking away from it.” Father Ulysses advised.

Muriel and I walked back up to the entrance of the monastery knowing what our answer would be. We didn’t speak a word. We kissed each other on both sides of our cheek, gave each other one final hug, and one last farewell.

As I walked from the entrance to my car, I stopped and turned to face Muriel, who was watching me from the gate. “Muriel, you once said that this time wouldn’t allow for our love. But maybe another one would. My love will never change for you. Perhaps in the next century our love will be accepted. If it is, let’s reincarnate and share what we couldn’t have now. I promise you, I’ll look for you and won’t stop until I find you.”

Muriel smiled, and said what I had been longing to hear for years, “Ashley, I love you. It’s a promise.”

With that I drove away never to see Muriel again in this lifetime. I kept in touch with the other priests to hear about how she faired. I never married, and I never strayed too far from her home. Several years later, I was informed that Muriel died from an illness. I knew I was not meant to be without her, so I walked into a lake and drowned myself. Muriel was there to see me cross over and we gave each other a tight embrace to finally be set free.

Centuries later, I am ten years old and am looking for my love. Her name is Muriel. Or at least it had been. She could be a man now? She could be older or maybe even younger than I am? I knew she would keep her promise; she’d remember me.

My story ends as I am searching for her. I ask several children my age if they recognized the name Muriel? I walk down the muddy streets of a small village earnestly looking for my playmate. Many thought I was a nuisance, but my heart beat fast for the love of my life. One day, maybe the next one, I would meet her. I’ll know her by that same knowing smile she had always given me. We’ll laugh, grasp hands and run off together.