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Muriel frowned in concentration as they dialed the phone number from Aziraphale’s notes. After reaching the last digit, they held up the receiver to their ear, like humans did. A noise from the receiver startled them. Was that good? Had their “phone call” gone through?
The line clicked. “What do you want?” growled Crowley’s voice.
Muriel flinched. “Sorry,” they said reflexively.
“What?” Crowley asked, the sharp edge leaving his voice. “Oh, it’s…it’s just you. What do you want, then?”
“Um, I wanted to ask you some questions, if that’s alright. About love?”
The line was silent for a long moment. “About what?”
“You said I could ask you if I had any questions about love,” Muriel reminded him. “I’ve been reading some of Aziraphale’s books, and— ”
“Did I say that?” Crowley interrupted. “Ngk. I lied, obviously. What would I know about—that? I’m the last person you should ask.” The phone fell silent.
Muriel hung up, disappointed and confused.
Muriel knew about love, in general terms—human romantic love, that was. They understood that it was something humans felt that made them want to kiss and get married and have babies, and that was Good because they needed to have babies for humanity to keep existing, and it helped if they got married so they could raise the babies together, and kissing gave married couples something nice to do with each other. That all made sense in general terms, and it wasn’t as though Muriel planned on falling in love, so they’d never questioned it further.
Except then they were reassigned to Earth long-term, and they started reading. If Aziraphale’s book collection was representative — and how could it not be, with its sheer volume—humans wrote about love a lot . And not all of that writing involved getting married or having babies. Sometimes humans fell in love, and didn’t do either, or they did both without being in love at all, or they couldn’t have babies with each other in the first place, but they still fell in love and kissed and had intercourse and wrote pages and pages about it that only confused Muriel even more.
Clearly, Muriel was missing something big. And, since humans seemed to center their entire lives around love, Muriel probably needed to understand it if they wanted to blend into human society. Which was now the bulk of their job. So if Crowley couldn’t answer their questions, they’d have to find someone else who would.
“I’m glad to hear you’re getting along well,” said Aziraphale’s smiling head, floating in the light of the summoning circle. “And well done keeping my books safe.”
Muriel nodded, as if they’d protected Aziraphale’s books with their life, instead of simply forgetting that shops normally sold things.
“I still have a few minutes before my next meeting,” said Aziraphale. “Anything else I ought to know about?”
“I, um.” Muriel swallowed. “I wondered if I might be allowed to ask some questions?”
“Of course,” Aziraphale said at once. “In fact, I strongly encourage it. Ask away.”
“I wondered if you could tell me about love?”
Aziraphale’s smile froze on his face. “About…?”
“The human type of love,” Muriel clarified. “I’ve been reading your books, and I don’t really understand how it works. But you must. You kissed Crowley, which means you love him that way, right?”
Aziraphale’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I would rather not discuss my personal life, Muriel.”
Muriel got the sense that they had done something wrong. “No, of course. Sorry.”
“No apology is necessary, I just…” Aziraphale sighed, looking suddenly tired. “Your questions are about human love, yes? So why not ask humans?”
Muriel had thought about that. If humans talked about love the same way they wrote about it, like the person listening already understood, Muriel doubted that would be helpful. But Aziraphale clearly wasn’t going to help either. “Okay,” they said, trying to sound cheerful.
Of the two humans who already knew Muriel wasn’t human themself, and therefore wouldn’t be surprised if Muriel asked about things that ought to be common knowledge, Maggie was by far the friendlier option. “I’d be happy to help!” she said, when Muriel asked. “I know just the thing. Sometimes music can help make sense of things that words can’t. I have plenty of records here, so just sit and have a listen.”
Muriel tried. They really did. But poems about love didn’t make any more sense when set to music than they did on a page. Some of the songs were entirely about looks, while others insisted that looks had nothing to do with it. There were as many songs about everlasting love as there were breakup songs. Some songs made love sound absolutely miserable, but Maggie hummed along with a smile as if it was somehow sweet. There was even a song about how many love songs there were. At least humans had noticed the pattern, but that didn’t clarify anything.
Maggie glanced over as she swapped out the disks in the player. “Everything okay?”
Muriel’s frustration must have been obvious. “It’s just…Why haven’t people had enough of silly love songs? And I know now what it’s like when a man loves a woman, but what about when a woman loves a man, or another woman, or—”
“Muriel, love,” said Maggie, chuckling. “You’re taking the songs too literally.”
Of course. Silly Muriel, interpreting the words according to their actual meanings.
Maggie patted them sympathetically on the shoulder. “Perhaps this is all just…too human for you to understand.”
Except Aziraphale and Crowley had figured it out, and they weren’t human either. So the problem must be Muriel.
The door opened, and Nina stepped into the shop. She glanced at Muriel, blinked, then decided to ignore them and turned to Maggie. “I just closed up. Are we still on for dinner?”
“Is it that late?” Maggie checked the time on her phone. “Sorry, I was caught up in helping Muriel. They’re trying to understand love.”
Nina shot Muriel an odd look. “Shouldn’t angels know all about that?”
“The human kind of love,” Muriel said dully. “Romantic love.”
Nina snorted. “Good luck.”
“Nina,” Maggie chided.
“Well, there isn’t one ‘human’ type of love, is there? Even romance doesn’t have a set definition.”
“It…doesn’t?” Muriel had assumed it was so obvious to humans that nobody talked about it. But if they didn’t actually agree on what romance meant…
Nina flipped through the stack of records Maggie had picked out. “Most of these songs are just about attraction, anyway. Fleetwood Mac, really?” she added, looking up at Maggie. “You know what this album’s about, right? That’s what you want Muriel to think love is?”
“But…isn’t attraction part of love?” Muriel asked.
Nina sighed heavily. “Only sometimes. They’re not the same thing. And that doesn’t even begin to get into all the different types of attraction. Most people assume sexual and romantic and aesthetic attraction are all the same, since they usually come bundled together, but—What?”
Muriel was staring at her, fascinated. Every word Nina said made more sense to Muriel than anything about love that they’d read in a book or heard in a song. “You’re so smart. How do you know so much about this?”
Nina grimaced self-consciously. “It…works a bit differently for me than for most people.” She glanced at Maggie, then over at the records on the walls. “So I’ve had to think about it more to make sense of it.”
It worked differently for Muriel, too. Maybe talking to someone like Nina was the only way they could understand. “Can you help answer my questions?”
“Oh, I’m not the person for that,” Nina said hurriedly. “I barely get it myself.”
“I think you’d be perfect,” Maggie put in, with a gentle smile. “Lord knows I haven’t been any help. And, while we’re on the subject, I…I’d quite like to know more about how it works for you. If you wouldn’t mind talking about it.”
Nina drew a deep breath and smiled back at Maggie. “Great. Yeah, okay. We could, er…talk about it over dinner?” She looked at Muriel. “If you’d like to join us.”
Muriel had never been invited to anything as human as dinner before. They sat up straight. “The pleasure would be mine!”
“Okay,” said Nina, and Maggie chuckled. “Do you like Thai food?”
Muriel had no idea. “Um.”
“We’ll find out, then,” said Maggie, putting on another record. “Give me a few minutes to close up.”
As she stepped away from the record player, a voice rang through the shop: “What is love? Baby don’t hurt me…”
Nina laughed sharply. “See?” she said, pointing at the record player. “Sometimes we humans don’t get it, either.”
Muriel found themself smiling and tapping their foot to the music. It felt nice, knowing they weren’t alone in their confusion. That they didn’t need to understand love perfectly in order to live among humans. Maybe they could manage this new job, after all.