Chapter 6
When he arrived at his apartment, he found yet another white envelope with yet another "Dr. House" written across the front. He opened it with a sigh and found more poetry…
Which are You?
There are two kinds of people on earth to-day;
Just two kinds of people, no more, I say.
Not the sinner and saint, for it's well understood,
The good are half bad, and the bad are half good.
Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a man's wealth,
You must first know the state of his conscience and health.
Not the humble and proud, for in life's little span,
Who puts on vain airs, is not counted a man.
Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years
Bring each man his laughter and each man his tears.
No; the two kinds of people on earth I mean,
Are the people who lift, and the people who lean.
Wherever you go, you will find the earth's masses,
Are always divided in just these two classes.
And oddly enough, you will find too, I wean,
There's only one lifter to twenty who lean.
In which class are you? Are you easing the load,
Of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road?
Or are you a leaner, who lets others share
Your portion of labor, and worry and care?
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Which of these are you,
Oh my miserable, petulant neighbor?
Are you the easing lifter
And work another's hefty labor?
Or are you a leaner,
One who takes the advantage
Of his burdened best friend,
Who is at the disadvantage?
Please just stop and think
Of these simple, written words,
Do they prick your heart
Like the beak of a bird?
Or will you easily dismiss
With lash of your tongue,
These vital words and feelings
Of a librarian so young?
Will you dismiss me quickly,
Just because of my job?
Or will you dismiss me
Just to see me sob?
Don't you dare tell me
How you know me true;
How can you possibly know
What I have been through?
Romoly
Now House was mad: it was unfair how she was doing this, throwing all these rhyming words at him without a chance to defend himself. Growling he made the long trip from his door to hers and, for the second time in two days, banged loudly with his cane. And, once again, she opened on the third knock, only this time wearing a sky-blue terry cloth robe; hair pulled up in a bun; and face red and cosmetic-less. She looked terrible…but House didn't notice: he caught the majestic view of the valley between her perky breasts as they rose to a crescendo at the top of the robe. Either he was hearing things or going senile but he could've sworn her chest was enticingly singing his name. 'Oh sweet valley,' he thought, thoroughly distracted.
"Well, well, well," House said once he pulled his head out of her valley, still letting his eyes roam her personage. "I see you got all dressed up just for me. I love clothes that come off with the flick of a wrist," he pointed his cane to her cinched robe belt.
Suddenly alarm bells went off in his head: SHE'S A LIBRARIAN! SHE'S A LIBRARIAN!!! She's the enemy; she stands for everything that would spoil your fun; she's the devil with a killer body. Don't fall for anything she gives you…stay strong! You're right; librarianism is an epidemic that you, as a healer, must eradicate! And here's your first patient…
Gotta keep focused man, he told himself, still taking in her ensemble. You will not let her change your mind. Still… he concentrated on the sight in front of him. …that doesn't mean she can't do whatever she wants to try and prove me wrong. But it won't happen; I'm just too good.
Romoly rolled her eyes and, as if to protect herself from his "flick of a wrist" she wrapped her arms around the belt. He huffed and snapped out of his trance, suddenly remembering the paper in his hand. Waving it at her, he said, "Would you stop leaving these? And why are you leaving them in the first place? Do I look like someone who might appreciate them?"
She leaned against the end of the open door, her eyes portraying no emotion as she took in his fiery blue ones. If she hadn't actually had a purpose to sending him the poetry, she still would've done it just to see the way his face animated; his eyes flashed; his long, lean body tense. Basically, she loved to see him squirm. "Let me guess: you needed a female to interpret the last poem for you?" He squirmed some more and she knew she'd nailed it. "Why are you really upset? Huh? Or do you even know?"
"I don't get you, lady; you sit when you're supposed to stand; you dance when you're supposed to skip. I can't pin you down."
"Ah…" she nodded. "I'm an enigma."
"No…more like an anomaly. Enigmas are complete mysteries: you aren't. You're an anomaly because you don't fit into the mold you've placed yourself in."
"Or…" everything was starting to become even clearer; she was beginning to truly understand him. "I don't fit into the mold YOU'VE placed me in?" Romoly narrowed her eyes. "Does this go back to that librarianism thing?"
House began pacing, wearing out his "Welcome"; well, more like wearing out the "Welcome" mat. "Of course it does. You're supposed to be what I first thought you were."
"Ah…" Romoly nodded again, understanding even more. She realized she was wrong about House in some ways. She first thought he was an incredibly sexy, narcissistic, egomaniacal jerk upset because the world wasn't the way he wanted it; now she realized he was just a DISILLUSIONED incredibly sexy, narcissistic, egomaniacal jerk upset because the world wasn't the way he wanted it. For some odd reason, Romoly Scott felt sympathy for the guy; he thought (and wanted) the world to be a certain way and he's finding its not. 'He's just an overgrown 5-year-old upset because the world really isn't what he thought it was.'
"Would it help if I were to wear a cross-stitched sweatshirt and got some cats?" she asked, not quite believing that she was starting to not only LIKE Dr. House, but that her simple, unexplainable desire for the undesirable just jumped ten-fold. Maybe she should see a psychiatrist or something.
House started at this. "It might…you really don't have cats?"
Romoly shook her head. "I'm not much of a pet person. I get too wrapped up in other things and the poor thing gets neglected. I've tried having a dog but gave it back a week later. Don't get me wrong; I love furry, domesticated creatures." She smiled and looked him straight in the eye. "That's why I'm a heterosexual."
House had to smile at this. "Ha. Aren't you a riot?" He held up the paper again. "So what am I supposed to do about this?"
Romoly shrugged. "That's for you to decide; this is the method I've chosen for communicating with you. If you want to talk back, fine. No matter what you might think, I don't want anything from you; I just want us to live as peaceful neighbors." (Romoly, you are such a liar: LIAR, LIAR, LIAR!) Pushing that aside, she smiled…she was going to throw a rhyme in at him, to see if he was actually listening. "You don't have to use poetry and you don't have to use prose; but whatever you say, I'm sure it'll be as sweet as a rose."
House rolled his eyes. "You tried to sneak that one in, didn't you? You thought I wouldn't catch on. Well, sorry, little girl, I'm wise to your games."
"I'm not THAT little."
House looked her up and down; no matter how much he attempted to deny how he could feel about a librarian, she certainly wasn't a little girl. She was very much a woman…a woman he was having trouble leaving alone; a woman he was having trouble forgetting about. He turned around and, limping away he muttered under his breath, just low enough she couldn't hear him, "No…you certainly aren't."
*****
