The Age Difference

“I wish you were going with me,” Michelle sighed, looking at Connie as she lay on the sofa with her injured leg elevated on a couple of cushions.

“Even if I weren’t laid up here with a bad leg, I wouldn’t go with you,” she told her.

Michelle’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Why not?”

“You’re running away.”

“Running away from what?”

“You mean, from whom.  You’re running away from Paul.  No matter where you go, you can’t run away from your feelings for him.”

Michelle got up in agitation and went over to the window, looking out at the quiet street outside.  “He’s so young—”

“Michelle, he’s ten years younger than you, not twenty!”

Michelle shook her head.  “I should never have gotten involved with him.  I should have followed my mind and kept our relationship platonic but…”

“…You love him and he loves you.  Don’t let your age difference prevent you from being happy.  Besides, you don’t look your age at all.  You look younger.”

“I’m thirty-five years old and in love with a guy who graduated from university just three years ago.”

“So what?  He’s very mature for his age.”

Connie was right.  Paul was very mature for his age.  Still, she wished he were older. “I wish he were older.”

“So, you are going to throw away your happiness because of his age?  Would you feel better if he were to date a girl his age?”

The thought of him with someone else filled her with jealousy.  “No, I won’t,” she admitted.  “I don’t want him to be with someone else.”

“You can’t have it both ways, Michelle.  Either you hold on to him or you let him go.”

“That’s why I think I need to go away for a while.”

“Have you told him that you’re going away?”

“Not yet.  I’m going to tell him tonight.”

“Well, I hope you know what you’re doing.  He’s a terrific guy and he loves you.”

Michelle went over to the sofa, “I’ve got to go now,” she said.  She reached down and kissed the top of her friend’s head.  “Thanks for everything.”

“Call me and let me know how things turned out.”

“I will,” Michelle promised before she left.

It was around eight that night when Paul went over to her place.  He smiled when she opened the door.  After she closed it, he was about to pull her into his arms and kiss her when she pulled away.  “I need to talk to you,” she said, turning away.  For a brief moment, she closed her eyes as her feelings for him enveloped her.  I must do this, she told herself.   Her back was stiff, her hands were clenched and her heart was pounding as she walked toward the living-room.  He followed her.  She sat down on the sofa and he sat beside her, his expression troubled when he saw her face.

“What’s wrong, Michelle?” he asked.  He reached for her hand and was startled when she moved it away.

“I’m going away,” she said, not looking at him.  She was afraid to.  She knew that if she did, her resolve would weaken.

“Where?” he asked.  “For how long?”

“New York and for two weeks.”

“Are your parents all right?” he asked.  “Did you get bad news?  Is that why you’re going?  Let me come with you, Michelle–”

“No, Paul” she cried, getting up hastily from the sofa then and hurrying over to the window, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible.  “I’m going alone. Paul, I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”  There, she had said the words that had been playing over and over in her mind but the pain they invoked was unbearable.

In a flash he was beside her and turning her round to face him.  Tears were running down her face.  She tried to pull away but he refused to let go.  “Why must we stop seeing each other?” he demanded.  His face was pale and his eyes were filled with anguish and confusion.  “I love you, Michelle and I know that you love me.  Why do you want to end our relationship?”

“I’m much older than you,” she muttered.  “You should be with someone your own age.”

A muscle throbbed along his jawline.  “I don’t want to be with someone my own age,” he retorted.  “I want to be with you.”

Michelle closed her eyes as she felt her resolve crumbling.  “Paul, please…” her voice trailed off when she felt his lips on hers and unable to help herself, she responded wildly and the hands that had been about to push him away were pulling him closer.

When at length, he raised his head to look down into her face, his own flushed, he asked, “Do you still want to end what we have?”

She shook her head at once.  “No, Paul,” she cried.  “I won’t let my age come between us anymore.”

An expression of relief came over Paul’s face.  “So, no trip to New York?”

She shook her head.  “I’ll cancel it first thing in the morning,” she promised.

“Good.”  He swept her up into his arms.  “We belong together, Michelle.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her out of the room.

Not Love

It was lust not love that make Amnon sick.

He lusted after his half-sister Tamar who

was very beautiful and a virgin.  It seemed

hopeless for him to do anything about his

lust for her.  After finding out what was troubling

him, Amnon’s friend came up with an idea.

idea.  He advised Amnon to:  “Lie down on your

bed and pretend to be ill.  And when your father

comes to see you, say to him, ‘Let my sister Tamar

come and give me bread to eat, and prepare the food

in my sight, that I may see it and eat it from her hand.’”

 

This sounded good to Amnon and the answer to his

problem.  He did as Jonadab told him.  He pretended

to be sick and when his father, the king came to see

him, he repeated what his friend told him to say.

Unsuspecting, Tamar came to him  and she prepared

the food before him.  She took the food for him to eat

but he refused.  He sent everyone else away.  He wanted

to make sure that the coast was clear for his plan to

work.

 

When they were alone, he bade Tamar to go into his

chamber so that he could eat the food out of her hand.

Still trusting and unsuspecting, Tamar went near to him

to give him the food and he took hold of her and said to her,

“Come, lie with me, my sister.”

 

Tamar, horrified, protested.  “No, my brother, do not violate

me, for such a thing is not done in Israel; do not do this 

outrageous thing.  As for me, where could I carry my shame?

And as for you, you would be as one of the outrageous fools

in Israel.  Now therefore, please speak to the king, for he will

not withhold me from you.”

 

But Amnon did not heed her cry.  It was lust not love that

filled him and being stronger than she, he forced himself

on her.  It was lust that drove him to rape the girl he claimed

he loved.  And after the deed was done, that love he professed

turned to hate.  And great was that hatred.  It was greater than

the lust and the love.  He wanted her out of his sight.  His face

was probably filled with disgust too as he looked at her,

ordering her to, “Get up! Go!”

 

Poor, violated and shaken Tamar.  She had been violated and

now she was being thrown out.  She pleaded with him.  “No,

my brother, for this wrong in sending me away is greater than

the other that you did to me.”  But he refused to listen to her.

He ordered his servant, “Put this woman out of my presence

and bolt the door after her.”

 

Tamar was put out of the room and the door bolted after her.

Weeping, and grief-stricken, she put ashes on her head and

tore her robe.  She lay her hand on her head and went away,

crying loudly.

 

It wasn’t love but lust that reared its ugly head that day.  Love

is patient and kind.  It does not insist on its own way.

 

amnon-ama-a-tamar

Sources:  2 Samuel 13; 1 Corinthians 13:4, 5