My Immortal Chapter 2-Variations on a life
Note: Hi, thanks to my reviewer, I appreciate the support Miriellar, I warn you that my inspiration is fleeting. Also I'm happy to take any suggestions at any time about direction of the story, let me know if it's going in the way you like or not. Legolas will appear, I promise, be patient. Besides, I have to get you to love my character before you accept the concept that our beloved Legolas could love her, or not. Anyway, I'd love a little feedback to get me through finals week. By the way any plot twists or devices you want to see, let me know
Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy afternoon- Susan Ertz
Saying that I am bored would be an understatement beyond the reaches of imagining. I am C-span bored, watching grass grow bored, counting the hairs of my right arm bored (3,642 by the way). I am mildly curious to find out if the ratio of arm hair on my right is equal to that of the left, and if I can conclude by those results whether there is, in fact, consequential order to the world, when the professor releases us from our lecture- to my great satisfaction. I guess I should have skipped the med school part and gone straight on to interning. After all, I had gone through med school 52 years ago. While much has changed in the medical world, according to human perception anyway, little has changed in basic human pathophysiology and anatomy. I find myself wondering what drew me in this direction. It is perhaps amusing that there are no people on earth that find themselves as immortal as typical physician does. And who can fault them really, who would see a self-conscious doctor who is frequently unsure of himself and second guessing his decisions when your own life is in there split second decisions
I gather my things up quickly as the man beside me lets out a groan and tries to catch my eyes, yet again. "This is going to be a killer, huh?" he says to me. I give him a grunt of agreement though I'm fairly sure our reasons don't coincide. He smiles at me, grins really. The 'lets be friends I'm looking for sympathy and self-assurance' grin. He holds his had out to me
"Jesse Thomas". I must have given him a strange look for his grin starts to lose its authenticity.
"Jenny Kelly", I reply. It is at that moment I come to the conclusion that this particular personality should never go by Jenny. Names should never really rhyme, it's too novel-like.
"Hi Jenny", he replies. Oh well, too late to change my mind now. Perhaps this personality is the bubbly cheerful contrite type, who belongs to a rhyming name. I've never tried that before, it could be fun, or, at the very least different. If I want to change my mind later I will. Jesse Thomas won't remember my name in five minutes anyway. I tend to have that effect on people.
I've got my bag on my shoulder and am halfway down the hall until I really acknowledge he's still beside me. He feels different somehow, I don't feel him deep down the way I should, as I normally would register a living being in my personal space. It generally is something I sense on all levels, from the surface of my skin to the subconscious of my soul, and at times can be overwhelming. I suppose I have been from the city too long.
"How do you do that", he asks. I shrug, unsure to what he is referring. "You're not making any sound."
"Oh" I smile.
"No, I mean really, you're absolutely silent. Actually I didn't really notice, but right now I can't really hear anything. I mean the city and all, or the background, or whatever. Its incredible, like being in a sound booth or a bubble, or something."
"Oh" I say again and smile a bit, hoping it is sufficient for him to go away. All I really want right now is a bath and a stimulating novel.
"We should go out." He looks away hoping I haven't noticed the subtle reddening in his lips and the way they slowly engorge, or the pink tips of his ears. More on his left side then his right, he must be left side dominant. His secret is safe with me though, no ordinary soul would ever have noticed, or not consciously anyway. "I mean we should get to know each other, being as we're classmates now and all. How about coffee, are you busy right now." I smile a bit at his eagerness.
"No thank you," I reply, as politely as I could. He looks mesmerized and colors even more. I turn and move away before he even moves or looks from the place I had, a moment before, been standing.
"Oh, so you're the rebuffed pessimistic love is shit type" He seems a bit surprised by the courage and the words that have come out of his mouth unbidden. Rebuffed, he is still desperate enough to try and bait me.
"You've found me out, you cleaver boy," I reply a bit sarcastically. There is a moments awkward pause.
"Why," he returns a bit sad and sympathetically. I admit it catches me a bit and I turn to take a second look at him. Tall and lean with pure blond hair, he has the type of blue eyes that one could easily drown in. Arousing, in general, but I don't have the time or patience.
"They say that time mends a broken heart and true love never ends, but if true love never ended then time wouldn't have to mend." He looks back toward me, as if the entire world has darkened just a bit, or as if the end of a good fairy tale has just ended without a happy ending.
Time is the only true healer I have ever known. And, as is typical of any treatment, time has it's side effects and drawbacks. The encounter is mearly a foot note, and rarely do such meetings phase me.
True to form, Jesse Thomas does not notice me in Tuesday's classes. I try once, out of mild curiosity and habit to catch his glance and search for some form of recognition. Unerringly his glance slides by mine without pause. Not even a flicker of recognition. Oh well.