Verisimilitude

When she called one morning, as before, to announce her plans to come over, the spider was sunning itself on the dining room wall. When she arrived that evening to prepare the usual supper, her first words were not the murmurings one might expect after some time apart. Instead, her outreached hands grasped in his, she said, matter-of-factly, “I just realised something today: you love me the way God loves me. I appreciate that, Ronan.”

Ronan was stunned; he said nothing. He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her on the mouth. What does one say in response to such a revelation?

He knew at once that their relationship—or whatever it should be called—was forever changed. More accurately, he had already known it from the last time they had seen each other; but this was a confirmation from Phoebe’s own lips. It was surely true that he had tried—was still trying—to love her in the way that God would; but he had never thought of it in those terms.

It was no surprise that it had taken one of them—Phoebe, in this case—to point out something so self-evident. This was a peculiar habit they shared: they would each fail to notice some object or occurrence which, once verbalised, was perfectly obvious to them both.

To Ronan, her comment had seemed obviously true in the moment; but it came shrouded in his own doubts. At the time, he existed in a curious place of believing-but-not-believing; he was in the midst of a journey toward finding, or perhaps rediscovering, God. Regardless of his own opinions, he knew very well that Phoebe believed; and that her faith had been tested, nearly lost, then renewed—especially during her almost seven years abroad, not least of all because of the tragic and formative events which had led up to that time.

It might even be argued that it was, in part, owing to her fealty to God that he had begun to believe he might also owe something to Him. After all, was it not God who had brought them together in the first place?

After contemplating the matter, Ronan concluded that her incredible statement could only mean that she had caught him in the act of loving her in as unselfish a way as he found possible. When Phoebe noticed something of that sort, she was in the habit of pointing it out; it was nearly always true. And so it was in this case: he had never loved anyone quite so selflessly, although he had tried to practice doing it and had come close once or twice before.

Considering the idea further, he began to see that certain elements must have stuck out to her, so that she would make such an utterance so plainly.

One was certainly his patience: as beautiful a soul as she was, Phoebe, like anyone, had her foibles. (Gentle Reader, I will not elaborate here on her faults—other than to note that he had found some of them vexing, at times.)

Another was that he found himself unable to stay angry at her. Moreover, they shared in common a knack for detecting when the other might have felt slighted or unseen, even if almost imperceptibly so. Each of them seemed perennially in search of opportunities, however tiny, to make it possible for the other person to shine, to succeed, to be praised—to find favour with the other.

Finally, Ronan realised that he had never loved someone so unpossessively. Even so, it felt natural for him, though it had always seemed to work against his very essence for so many years, prior to their reconnection.

Ronan slept soundly. When he awoke the next day, Phoebe was gone. He buried his face in her pillow. It smelled like her. Unlike the last time, he did not shed any tears.

Perhaps she was onto something about God, he thought. She usually was.

Author’s Acknowledgements

What have come to be called the “Spider Stories,” and related poems—some not yet published—could not have been written without the help and encouragement of the real-life characters who inspired them, as well as that of friends and confidants. I owe particular gratitude to several Christian friends for their guidance regarding specific elements of these works.

Editor’s Notes

• The title of the story reflects its basis in actual events, albeit with significant deviations therefrom. It further hints, metaphorically, at our capacity to love others in ways which, ideally, resemble God’s love for us.
• The dek is taken from the 1943 translation by Katherine Woods of The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. The full quotation is “‘Goodbye,’ said the fox. ‘And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.’” It is well worth reading this book—or at least Chapter Twenty-one.

Further Reading

• Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
• Anthony de Mello, The Way to Love
• Other Spider Stories and related poems by Tom K:
  • “The Rainy-Morning Spider”
  • “Sonnet XX”
  • “There Will Come Soft Rains”
  • “The Pilgrimage”