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Susan’s book shuts with a thump that is far louder than she intended it to be. She keeps her eyes trained on the ceiling above her, aware of the fact that her family is staring at her from their various places across the room. Where she can feel the soft concern from the gazes of her siblings, there’s something different in the way that her mother is looking at her, worrying and careful, as if Susan might be set off at any moment with the wrong words.
Well, let them stare. She’s happy to lie on the couch, not reading as she intended, but just thinking.
The gazes of her siblings have turned to her mother, who sits up a little straighter, setting her own book aside.
“Su?” Her voice is light, casual. “Is something wrong? Is there something you would like to talk about?”
Susan turns her head so that she’s facing her mother head on, looking her in the eye when she blurts out, “How do you know if you’re in love?”
Her mother seems taken aback, but her siblings relax, if anything, comforted by the fact that her worry wasn’t something as big as they thought it might be.
Except it is big, to Susan at least. It’s something she’s been mulling over for weeks – or years, technically, while in Narnia – and it’s driving her up a wall.
“Well,” her mother begins. “I don’t think that you’re really old enough to know.”
Which is exactly what Susan thought she would say, which is why she hasn’t brought it up. Of course her mother doesn’t know – couldn’t possibly understand – that Susan has been old enough to understand, that she remembers being old enough to understand, and that she just . . . doesn’t. Love remains some kind of enigma to her. At least in Narnia there were more important things happening, things that distracted her from this worry, but here, in the modern world, there’s nothing so pressing that can occupy her mind.
Out of all the suitors that had come to Cair Paravel for her hand, she had never really felt anything for them. The only one she had ever thought she might have feelings for was Prince Rabadash, and even then she wasn’t sure if she liked him or was just convincing herself that she did. She had thought that it would all make some sense in the modern world, that when she grew up properly, the way she was intended to, that it would all fall into place. But all of her friends are falling head over heels for any boy that looks their way, and Susan can’t find anything in her heart to suggest that she might feel the same.
“But I am,” Susan says. “Everyone else is falling in love. Why am I not?”
Her mother only shakes her head. “No two people are the same. You might just fall in love later than everyone else, when you’re older.”
When you’re older. Susan hates when people say that.
And then her mother says something that makes it all worse. “When you’re grown up, you’ll understand.”
Something like anger is boiling in her heart. She pushes herself up off the couch and walks to her bedroom without another word. Her mother will write this off as her being a moody teenager, but really, Susan just feels disappointed in her for not trying harder to understand.
But just because her mother doesn’t understand doesn’t mean that no one else does.
Some time later there’s a soft knock on her door. Lucy slips into the room and shuffles over to Susan’s bed, extending a book. “You forgot this.”
“Thanks.”
Lucy nods, glancing between the bed and the door, the silent, unspoken question of staying or leaving.
“I think I’d just like some time to think for a bit, if that’s okay,” Susan says.
Lucy gives her a concerned look but doesn’t press, which Susan is grateful for. She’s about to leave without question when she stops suddenly, her hand hovering over the doorknob.
“You know,” she says, her voice soft so that no one in the other room can hear them. “I don’t think there’s a wrong way to grow up, or a wrong way to be.”
Susan sits up, leaning over the edge of her bed to hear her better. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Lucy says. “that we’ve already grown up once before. Things were different in Narnia, but we were grown-ups all the same. If you didn’t fall in love while we were there, that doesn’t mean that you did anything wrong, or that you’ll feel anything here, when we’re ‘growing up properly’, as you say.”
She steps away from the door, coming back toward Susan. “My point is, if you don’t feel love, then you don’t feel love. There’s nothing wrong with that, I think. We knew a lot of other grown-ups in Narnia who were never married, and look how happy they were. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you just because you don’t want something that other people are convinced you need. Maybe not everyone needs it.”
It’s moments like this that Susan remembers that Lucy also grew up while they were in Narnia. There are times when the three older Pevensies get hot-headed or feel un-rational in England, but Lucy keeps her cool, her thoughts well-organized and sensible. The way she comforts Susan makes her feel, just for a moment, like maybe Lucy is right, and there is nothing wrong.
“Thank you, Lu.”
Lucy slips back out the door, leaving Susan alone to think about all she just said.
There’s nothing wrong with that, I think.
Well, Susan thinks to herself with a small smile. Then I don’t think there’s anything wrong with not feeling love, either.