Title: Hotter Than July
Rating: PG-13, but R later on...
Disclaimer: The ER characters do not belong to me, neither do any products, song lyrics or literary quotations mentioned.
Summary: Warm weather, flirtation and a few lessons to be learned. Luby. Sort of AU, sort of not.
Reviews: Please R&R, I really hope this bit makes sense!!
Author's Note: Book referenced here is Fiesta (The Sun Also Rises) by Ernest Hemingway. OK, so I get a bit philosophical here, so please reassure me that it makes sense, it's quite simple really!! And yes, my strange fascination with Quincy ME shows through here. It's a sickness. I'm getting treatment LOL!
Trains are funny things, indifferent to their passengers, their driver and the chaos that can often surround them. They are not indifferent to the weather, especially in winter, but when the El grinds to a halt in summer, questions must be asked. It was mid-afternoon so there were no commuters, just parents and children taking advantage of the school holidays, who were becoming over-excited thanks to the delay. Like the train, Luka was indifferent, floating away on a cloud of literary enthralment as he leant against the doors, engrossed in Hemingway's Fiesta. His white shirt was being made ever more translucent by the iridescent lighting, the sun glinting violently off of his gold necklace. Sounds, movements, thoughts, feelings eluded him.
Abby, standing opposite, momentarily closed her eyes in a silent prayer. If there was one thing she could not bear, it was trains that did not move. When you were moving, you were getting somewhere, when you were still, and without change, you were stuck. Your destination was painfully elusive. You cannot go back nor forward, the frustration seemed never-ending. Sighing, she opened her eyes quickly, as if she had been shot through with an arrow of awakening. Just as her eyes opened, the train jolted forwards and they were moving again. God had obviously decided to stop toying with Chicago's transport system. She was not worried that her companion was so seemingly fixated on his literature. Abby concluded that it was not that Luka did not wish to talk to her, but that he was obviously enjoying his latest read. After all, time was precious for people in their profession, and who had the time to read these days?
Even so, something inside her needed to know that she was more able to capture his attention than mere fiction. As egotistical as it may have sounded, of late he possessed even more magnetism than ever before. A magnetism to which she was helplessly attracted. It was not magnetic sadness, but its antithesis: a burning vigour, a flame of exuberance. Perhaps this had been his manner before his world caved in. Who am I to make those assumptions? She thought sadly, feeling as if, once again, things had stopped still and she had been caught in that exasperating limbo between the present, the past and the future. As despite the fact that Luka's outward appearance seemed to be one of a positive nature, she was still left with no idea why. All that she knew was that his enigma was still immensely powerful and that she was determined, this time, to get a better insight into just for what reason. If only things were that simple.
Tired of her thoughts, she decided to reach out and communicate.
"Did you get that thing out of the kid's nose the other day?" As he immediately closed the book and gave her his full attention, Abby felt a rush of contentment which shifted her thoughts all over the place, displacing all of her wonderment for a few seconds. Who cares why?
"Yeah. It's a shame they didn't teach him anything about symmetry. Two would have been a bit of a challenge."
She smiled, then added, "Did it come out at exactly forty-five degrees?"
Luka smiled and shook his head. "Those things are inaccurate the world over. Useless in every sense of the word." This took him back to painful memories of maths classes. Learning how to add up was practical, but he had yet to find a use for trigonometry or equations in his everyday life.
Five minutes later and they had rattled into the nearest station to the university, public transport something of a necessity this time around in order to avoid any more costly parking mishaps. On such a balmy, almost tropical afternoon, Luka concluded that even before the futile lectures, he had perhaps already learnt his lesson as he would've liked to sit out in the sun reading the paper, rather than being here. So he would promptly invest in an alarm clock with digital display, world time, multi alarms etc. He was sure there was even one with a CD player that played your favourite CD to wake you up. That sounded like a good idea. Anything to get him out of bed. In spite of his recent apathy, he still loved his job very much and didn't want to lose it. That would be one step too far. The pre-evening sky was a rich blue, dotted with a few clouds, ultraviolet searing through the atmosphere as the heatwave continued. Once again the university building was a cold, grey slab of ugliness which seemed even more unsightly in the mirror of summer's perfection.
"Are we going to the same place as before?" It was just over a week since their last visit, and Abby was hoping that this one would be just as short.
Her question injected a firm twist of determination into him, as he replied resolutely. "Abby, I'm not going to sit in there and listen to things that I already know. That won't teach me anything. This is, after all, an institution of learning. So let's go and learn something." Luka was not angry, he had been captured by tenacity. Abby, ever ready to be the realist and bring him back down to earth with a resounding thud, rolled her eyes and spoke just as persistently. "What about the notes?"
He gazed at her incredulously for a moment, perplexed that she was challenging his notions. It already made sense in his recent rebellious mentality. Rapidly switching tactics, Luka found the answer more quickly than he had expected.
"We'll make it up. Never underestimate the power of fiction. Besides, I've always wanted to write a thesis entitled: Medicine vs Maths: the awful truth."
Abby felt a smile creeping up on her as a ghost dancing through the shadows. She did not really want to give in, but she knew that deep inside, she agreed with him completely. Why waste your time going over things you already knew when you could take the opportunity to learn something new?
"Let's go inside before the sun really starts to affect your head." Accepting defeat had never felt so good.
Inside, there was little of the chaos they had observed last time. Corridors were as empty as the last train home, the air was unvibrated by any speech, it almost seemed as if learning had taken the form of silent contemplation. This was a palpable sign that lectures had already begun. Cautiously eyeing the schedule pinned to a pristine notice board, Luka felt the inane thrill of destruction as he gently tugged it from the Blu-Tak that adhered it to the wall.
"Take your pick." Abby scanned the list rapidly, aware that they should make haste as it was evident that the lessons had begun, else the place would be littered with students elated that their grilling was over for the day.
Film studies, Hispanic culture, Philosophy, Investigating the Self...... Investigating the self?? That sounds interesting, she thought, slightly aware of the sexual undertones. Finally, a course caught her eye: Tragedy in literature: and why we need it. OK, so the undertones of that were completely masochistic. Perfect, she thought. Room 12A, in five minutes.
Lecture theatre 12A was vigorous with noise, almost teeming with anticipation. It had no video screen but a real feel of humanity as one wall had a huge window which looked out over a lush garden at the heart of the buildings. Rays of light sliced their way across the seats, rich shadows formed on whitewashed walls. No stark electric lighting was needed to illuminate the students and their writing, nature had taken this into its own hands with continual beams being pumped into the expanse of the room. The lecturer arrived in perfect time, a woman who looked as if she had barely graduated herself. She was carrying a few papers while jostling with the jet of brown hair which shot out of her head like a fountain. Luka put his book on the long bench in front of him which acted as the writing desk for the students, then dug his elbow into it and rested his palm thoughtfully against his cheek. If he was going to be uncomfortable then at least he could do it while paying attention.
A buzz of sound continued to permeate through the air, the summer obviously acting as an even more powerful catalyst as the students' chatter was almost of epic proportions, a raking of decibels against the eardrums, a disharmonious rant. Sensing the chaos in front of her, the lecturer stood, arms folded protectively and assessed her students for the day. Her calm seemed to heighten their perceptiveness, so much so that once they had realised they were being scrutinised so carefully, silence eventually prevailed.
"Hi everyone. I'm Elena and I'm here to present the first of my three lectures on tragedy in literature and why it is so essential." Abby noted that the woman had a British accent very much unlike Dr Corday's, it was less harsh, less polished and the young woman seemed at ease speaking to this disorganised rabble.
"I'll be blunt and get straight to the point. I was a student not so long ago so I know that you won't have done all the reading, I also know that people in my position have a tendency to make things more complicated or talk for hours about irrelevant matters just to perpetuate themselves." This brought a trickle of laughter from Elena's audience, they knew she could relate to them.
"So. I'll get straight to the heart of my theories."
"Let's start with something we all know. Anyone care to tell me why Romeo & Juliet is such a classic? And if anyone mentions Leonardo di Caprio then I'm leaving straight away."
Laughter was followed by silence, then a young man in the front row decided to chance his luck.
"Because everybody can relate to it. Everyone knows what it's like to be young and in love." Yeah, but we didn't all try and kill ourselves when things with the parents got a little messy, Abby thought, with fond memories of Othello and Macbeth. Now that was tragedy, with sex, lies and deception thrown in for good measure. Romeo and Juliet was a mere starting point, the poor man's Shakespeare. But, she conceded, it was a good starting point, as the legion of students in front of them were now writing busily.
"Empathy comes in to it. It's just human nature. That, in essence, is the key to most stories. Being able to put ourselves in the place of the main protagonists. But this was going on long before Shakespeare, of course. And we have to ask ourselves why we do it, why we should want to imagine ourselves in such perilous situations."
Contemplative silence thickened the air. No-one spoke, no-one moved, not even the sun turned to cast a different shadow against the walls. Luka closed his eyes momentarily, knowing that there were thousands of answers to the question that had been posed. But he also knew that the woman was being paid to give her opinion and thus, it would probably be easier to speculate on her theory rather than attempting to make immediate sense of his own ones. As he opened them again, sunlight grazed against his pupils so he shifted slightly to deflect the rays away from his eyes.
"Here's the guy who had the answer." As if by magic, the young woman clicked a switch and onto the bare wall was projected a sharp black and white image. "Mr Nietzsche, German philosopher. Now, I see a lot of myself in this man. He took lectures, he went insane." Her audience were once again enjoying themselves. "Anyway, in his first book, The Birth Of Tragedy, he suggested that Greek tragedy was written so that the Ancient Greeks could come to terms with bad things in their own lives." She paused once more, then continued. "But just before you all start shouting "bullshit" at me, let me ask you a few questions. Anybody here who doesn't have a TV?"
A ripple of sarcastic, unbelieving, almost caustic chuckling burst forth from the students, as if to say, yeah, right.
"Right. Anybody who doesn't own CDs?" No hands were raised.
"I assume you're all avid fans of reading, if not, then you're on the wrong course, so get out while those suckers in the admissions office can still handle the paperwork." Now for the conclusion.
"And what are all the songs, TV shows and books for? To leave all the bullshit behind, to come to terms with all the unbearable in life, to give us somewhere to escape to. So Nietzsche may have gone insane, but his ideas weren't so crazy." "And just to prove that too, I'm finishing dead on time so you guys can all go home and catch tonight's episode of The Bold And The Beautiful."
Luka smiled, feeling a little of the empathy that she had described, wondering why those crazy soap opears were so popular. There was no applause and they all left swiftly, as if this moment in time had been a catalyst for something more pressing, more urgent, more exciting for all of them to await in the future. Yet all were left with the young woman's thoughts lingering like a rich sediment finally discovered in the dark depths of a bottle.
Journeys home always seemed to take much longer, even if the amount of time taken was precisely the same; even if the survival instinct of finding home was thriving in the veins. Abby was concerned at feeling so distinctly awake, light gleaming in her eyes, sounds stereo clear in her ears, arrows of thought darting in her mind. She did not crave the beauty of sleep, the lucidity of dreams, the precious escapism of the subconscious. Which made a pleasant change. The pavement appeared to pass beneath her feet like a rich silken carpet, wisps of cloud in the sky were like gentle threads connecting her thoughts. Now it was time to expand on them. Or perhaps to attempt to dispel the cynicism that always seemed to creep up on her. But then, with her life's experiences, she considered, it was perhaps better to be a cynic than a dreamer. Because every time she imagined something would go right, things had a habit of taking an unpredicted U-turn and she was left facing the other direction with all that was cynicism smiling wickedly in her eyes. Time to strive for a change.
"Do you have a favourite TV show?" She asked this question with an alarming amount of caution, which surprised her.
"Yeah," "I think so." "I always enjoy Quincy." Luka replied in all seriousness.
"Quincy?" Abby was amused and astounded, her face a picture of utter disbelief. "Why the hell do you watch that?" Am I actually having this conversation? She wondered, half believing she would wake up in a tangle of sheets with a smile on her face.
"I see a lot of myself in Quincy. He lived on a boat, had a string of beautiful girlfriends...but he does have one big advantage..." His tone indicated he wasn't taking this so seriously now.
"Which is?" She couldn't wait to hear this one.
"All of his patients are already dead."
Abby laughed, pushing her hair out of her eyes, feeling a little frustrated. So much for having some sort of serious conversation. She berated herself for becoming peppered with agitation as she surveyed her surroundings, the tempestuous dry heat mixing with a rush of people. A little over three months ago it had been snowing. From Siberia to the Seychelles in three easy months. The world is going crazy, she affirmed.
"So, let me get this straight. Watching some old guy pretending to do autopsies makes you feel better at the end of a long day." The utter confusion seeped through her arteries like fine rain, making her feel as if she was searching in the dark. If she even knew what she was looking for in the first place. Luka frowned slightly, wondering where all the questions were being fired from, not wanting to be caught without a reasonable answer. Then again, he didn't want to be the guy who had all the answers.
"It's something else to think about. Rather than what you did, what you didn't do and what you could've done." He hadn't expected to put it so plainly. Evidently, this also troubled Abby as she said blankly, "But it isn't that simple."
"Why not? The woman was right. We all watch TV or read a book, or listen to music."
Now the turmoil was warming her blood, the weather intensifying the sensation, prickling her skin, she was roasting inside and out. "Because, Luka, life is shitty and it hurts. You know it, I know it, every damn body knows it. How can something so complicated be resolved by something so simple?" She had not meant to speak her final sentence but it trickled out of her mouth like a gushing waterfall, purging the angst from deep inside her body. Avoiding Luka's assessing gaze, she eyeballed the sky furiously, questioning whatever or whoever was up there. She did not care where the answer came from anymore.
"I'm not going to argue with you." After all, Luka concluded, if life was a poker game then they had both been dealt some pretty awful hands and were still in search of the elusive royal flush. "But if we all sat down thinking about it all the time then we'd all go crazy. Not everything has to be so...complex. But then again, a little complexity can be interesting. Simplicity would bore us all to tears."
Shit, these Europeans like their philosophy, Abby thought to herself, still wracked with puzzlement. "Well, bore me with a little simplicity by explaining exactly what you mean." She paused, considering that she was now beginning to sound more aggrieved, maybe even desperate. "Please."
"You're right, life isn't easy. Yet if it was a fairy tale, it'd get boring. Like if there was only...one flavour of ice cream." OK, he conceded, it wasn't the best example but he had finally discovered why Ben and Jerry make so much money.
Their conversation seemed to make everything else trivial, their journey seemed programmed, effortless and timeless. Home seemed close yet faraway and neither knew when or where this spiral of thought would end.
"Just where is your new philosophy on life coming from?"
"Like I told you, it's the weather." "Amongst other things..." His trailing voice threw up a mist of possibilities.
A clue, she thought, feeling a little more triumphant now.
"Such as?" She asked, with a tempting grin. Sometimes teasing it out of him was the only way to go. Although part of her did not expect a definite answer. After all, this was Luka, man of mystery. She smiled at the cartoon character image in her head.
"Some good memories. And endless reruns of Quincy."
This time, Abby's smile was wry as she realised that he had placated her troubles without even trying. How the hell did you do that? It was as if he had taken her grievances, torn them into insignificant shreds of paper and let them flutter away in a gust of wind. That was more than enough to ask of him. For now.
Rating: PG-13, but R later on...
Disclaimer: The ER characters do not belong to me, neither do any products, song lyrics or literary quotations mentioned.
Summary: Warm weather, flirtation and a few lessons to be learned. Luby. Sort of AU, sort of not.
Reviews: Please R&R, I really hope this bit makes sense!!
Author's Note: Book referenced here is Fiesta (The Sun Also Rises) by Ernest Hemingway. OK, so I get a bit philosophical here, so please reassure me that it makes sense, it's quite simple really!! And yes, my strange fascination with Quincy ME shows through here. It's a sickness. I'm getting treatment LOL!
Trains are funny things, indifferent to their passengers, their driver and the chaos that can often surround them. They are not indifferent to the weather, especially in winter, but when the El grinds to a halt in summer, questions must be asked. It was mid-afternoon so there were no commuters, just parents and children taking advantage of the school holidays, who were becoming over-excited thanks to the delay. Like the train, Luka was indifferent, floating away on a cloud of literary enthralment as he leant against the doors, engrossed in Hemingway's Fiesta. His white shirt was being made ever more translucent by the iridescent lighting, the sun glinting violently off of his gold necklace. Sounds, movements, thoughts, feelings eluded him.
Abby, standing opposite, momentarily closed her eyes in a silent prayer. If there was one thing she could not bear, it was trains that did not move. When you were moving, you were getting somewhere, when you were still, and without change, you were stuck. Your destination was painfully elusive. You cannot go back nor forward, the frustration seemed never-ending. Sighing, she opened her eyes quickly, as if she had been shot through with an arrow of awakening. Just as her eyes opened, the train jolted forwards and they were moving again. God had obviously decided to stop toying with Chicago's transport system. She was not worried that her companion was so seemingly fixated on his literature. Abby concluded that it was not that Luka did not wish to talk to her, but that he was obviously enjoying his latest read. After all, time was precious for people in their profession, and who had the time to read these days?
Even so, something inside her needed to know that she was more able to capture his attention than mere fiction. As egotistical as it may have sounded, of late he possessed even more magnetism than ever before. A magnetism to which she was helplessly attracted. It was not magnetic sadness, but its antithesis: a burning vigour, a flame of exuberance. Perhaps this had been his manner before his world caved in. Who am I to make those assumptions? She thought sadly, feeling as if, once again, things had stopped still and she had been caught in that exasperating limbo between the present, the past and the future. As despite the fact that Luka's outward appearance seemed to be one of a positive nature, she was still left with no idea why. All that she knew was that his enigma was still immensely powerful and that she was determined, this time, to get a better insight into just for what reason. If only things were that simple.
Tired of her thoughts, she decided to reach out and communicate.
"Did you get that thing out of the kid's nose the other day?" As he immediately closed the book and gave her his full attention, Abby felt a rush of contentment which shifted her thoughts all over the place, displacing all of her wonderment for a few seconds. Who cares why?
"Yeah. It's a shame they didn't teach him anything about symmetry. Two would have been a bit of a challenge."
She smiled, then added, "Did it come out at exactly forty-five degrees?"
Luka smiled and shook his head. "Those things are inaccurate the world over. Useless in every sense of the word." This took him back to painful memories of maths classes. Learning how to add up was practical, but he had yet to find a use for trigonometry or equations in his everyday life.
Five minutes later and they had rattled into the nearest station to the university, public transport something of a necessity this time around in order to avoid any more costly parking mishaps. On such a balmy, almost tropical afternoon, Luka concluded that even before the futile lectures, he had perhaps already learnt his lesson as he would've liked to sit out in the sun reading the paper, rather than being here. So he would promptly invest in an alarm clock with digital display, world time, multi alarms etc. He was sure there was even one with a CD player that played your favourite CD to wake you up. That sounded like a good idea. Anything to get him out of bed. In spite of his recent apathy, he still loved his job very much and didn't want to lose it. That would be one step too far. The pre-evening sky was a rich blue, dotted with a few clouds, ultraviolet searing through the atmosphere as the heatwave continued. Once again the university building was a cold, grey slab of ugliness which seemed even more unsightly in the mirror of summer's perfection.
"Are we going to the same place as before?" It was just over a week since their last visit, and Abby was hoping that this one would be just as short.
Her question injected a firm twist of determination into him, as he replied resolutely. "Abby, I'm not going to sit in there and listen to things that I already know. That won't teach me anything. This is, after all, an institution of learning. So let's go and learn something." Luka was not angry, he had been captured by tenacity. Abby, ever ready to be the realist and bring him back down to earth with a resounding thud, rolled her eyes and spoke just as persistently. "What about the notes?"
He gazed at her incredulously for a moment, perplexed that she was challenging his notions. It already made sense in his recent rebellious mentality. Rapidly switching tactics, Luka found the answer more quickly than he had expected.
"We'll make it up. Never underestimate the power of fiction. Besides, I've always wanted to write a thesis entitled: Medicine vs Maths: the awful truth."
Abby felt a smile creeping up on her as a ghost dancing through the shadows. She did not really want to give in, but she knew that deep inside, she agreed with him completely. Why waste your time going over things you already knew when you could take the opportunity to learn something new?
"Let's go inside before the sun really starts to affect your head." Accepting defeat had never felt so good.
Inside, there was little of the chaos they had observed last time. Corridors were as empty as the last train home, the air was unvibrated by any speech, it almost seemed as if learning had taken the form of silent contemplation. This was a palpable sign that lectures had already begun. Cautiously eyeing the schedule pinned to a pristine notice board, Luka felt the inane thrill of destruction as he gently tugged it from the Blu-Tak that adhered it to the wall.
"Take your pick." Abby scanned the list rapidly, aware that they should make haste as it was evident that the lessons had begun, else the place would be littered with students elated that their grilling was over for the day.
Film studies, Hispanic culture, Philosophy, Investigating the Self...... Investigating the self?? That sounds interesting, she thought, slightly aware of the sexual undertones. Finally, a course caught her eye: Tragedy in literature: and why we need it. OK, so the undertones of that were completely masochistic. Perfect, she thought. Room 12A, in five minutes.
Lecture theatre 12A was vigorous with noise, almost teeming with anticipation. It had no video screen but a real feel of humanity as one wall had a huge window which looked out over a lush garden at the heart of the buildings. Rays of light sliced their way across the seats, rich shadows formed on whitewashed walls. No stark electric lighting was needed to illuminate the students and their writing, nature had taken this into its own hands with continual beams being pumped into the expanse of the room. The lecturer arrived in perfect time, a woman who looked as if she had barely graduated herself. She was carrying a few papers while jostling with the jet of brown hair which shot out of her head like a fountain. Luka put his book on the long bench in front of him which acted as the writing desk for the students, then dug his elbow into it and rested his palm thoughtfully against his cheek. If he was going to be uncomfortable then at least he could do it while paying attention.
A buzz of sound continued to permeate through the air, the summer obviously acting as an even more powerful catalyst as the students' chatter was almost of epic proportions, a raking of decibels against the eardrums, a disharmonious rant. Sensing the chaos in front of her, the lecturer stood, arms folded protectively and assessed her students for the day. Her calm seemed to heighten their perceptiveness, so much so that once they had realised they were being scrutinised so carefully, silence eventually prevailed.
"Hi everyone. I'm Elena and I'm here to present the first of my three lectures on tragedy in literature and why it is so essential." Abby noted that the woman had a British accent very much unlike Dr Corday's, it was less harsh, less polished and the young woman seemed at ease speaking to this disorganised rabble.
"I'll be blunt and get straight to the point. I was a student not so long ago so I know that you won't have done all the reading, I also know that people in my position have a tendency to make things more complicated or talk for hours about irrelevant matters just to perpetuate themselves." This brought a trickle of laughter from Elena's audience, they knew she could relate to them.
"So. I'll get straight to the heart of my theories."
"Let's start with something we all know. Anyone care to tell me why Romeo & Juliet is such a classic? And if anyone mentions Leonardo di Caprio then I'm leaving straight away."
Laughter was followed by silence, then a young man in the front row decided to chance his luck.
"Because everybody can relate to it. Everyone knows what it's like to be young and in love." Yeah, but we didn't all try and kill ourselves when things with the parents got a little messy, Abby thought, with fond memories of Othello and Macbeth. Now that was tragedy, with sex, lies and deception thrown in for good measure. Romeo and Juliet was a mere starting point, the poor man's Shakespeare. But, she conceded, it was a good starting point, as the legion of students in front of them were now writing busily.
"Empathy comes in to it. It's just human nature. That, in essence, is the key to most stories. Being able to put ourselves in the place of the main protagonists. But this was going on long before Shakespeare, of course. And we have to ask ourselves why we do it, why we should want to imagine ourselves in such perilous situations."
Contemplative silence thickened the air. No-one spoke, no-one moved, not even the sun turned to cast a different shadow against the walls. Luka closed his eyes momentarily, knowing that there were thousands of answers to the question that had been posed. But he also knew that the woman was being paid to give her opinion and thus, it would probably be easier to speculate on her theory rather than attempting to make immediate sense of his own ones. As he opened them again, sunlight grazed against his pupils so he shifted slightly to deflect the rays away from his eyes.
"Here's the guy who had the answer." As if by magic, the young woman clicked a switch and onto the bare wall was projected a sharp black and white image. "Mr Nietzsche, German philosopher. Now, I see a lot of myself in this man. He took lectures, he went insane." Her audience were once again enjoying themselves. "Anyway, in his first book, The Birth Of Tragedy, he suggested that Greek tragedy was written so that the Ancient Greeks could come to terms with bad things in their own lives." She paused once more, then continued. "But just before you all start shouting "bullshit" at me, let me ask you a few questions. Anybody here who doesn't have a TV?"
A ripple of sarcastic, unbelieving, almost caustic chuckling burst forth from the students, as if to say, yeah, right.
"Right. Anybody who doesn't own CDs?" No hands were raised.
"I assume you're all avid fans of reading, if not, then you're on the wrong course, so get out while those suckers in the admissions office can still handle the paperwork." Now for the conclusion.
"And what are all the songs, TV shows and books for? To leave all the bullshit behind, to come to terms with all the unbearable in life, to give us somewhere to escape to. So Nietzsche may have gone insane, but his ideas weren't so crazy." "And just to prove that too, I'm finishing dead on time so you guys can all go home and catch tonight's episode of The Bold And The Beautiful."
Luka smiled, feeling a little of the empathy that she had described, wondering why those crazy soap opears were so popular. There was no applause and they all left swiftly, as if this moment in time had been a catalyst for something more pressing, more urgent, more exciting for all of them to await in the future. Yet all were left with the young woman's thoughts lingering like a rich sediment finally discovered in the dark depths of a bottle.
Journeys home always seemed to take much longer, even if the amount of time taken was precisely the same; even if the survival instinct of finding home was thriving in the veins. Abby was concerned at feeling so distinctly awake, light gleaming in her eyes, sounds stereo clear in her ears, arrows of thought darting in her mind. She did not crave the beauty of sleep, the lucidity of dreams, the precious escapism of the subconscious. Which made a pleasant change. The pavement appeared to pass beneath her feet like a rich silken carpet, wisps of cloud in the sky were like gentle threads connecting her thoughts. Now it was time to expand on them. Or perhaps to attempt to dispel the cynicism that always seemed to creep up on her. But then, with her life's experiences, she considered, it was perhaps better to be a cynic than a dreamer. Because every time she imagined something would go right, things had a habit of taking an unpredicted U-turn and she was left facing the other direction with all that was cynicism smiling wickedly in her eyes. Time to strive for a change.
"Do you have a favourite TV show?" She asked this question with an alarming amount of caution, which surprised her.
"Yeah," "I think so." "I always enjoy Quincy." Luka replied in all seriousness.
"Quincy?" Abby was amused and astounded, her face a picture of utter disbelief. "Why the hell do you watch that?" Am I actually having this conversation? She wondered, half believing she would wake up in a tangle of sheets with a smile on her face.
"I see a lot of myself in Quincy. He lived on a boat, had a string of beautiful girlfriends...but he does have one big advantage..." His tone indicated he wasn't taking this so seriously now.
"Which is?" She couldn't wait to hear this one.
"All of his patients are already dead."
Abby laughed, pushing her hair out of her eyes, feeling a little frustrated. So much for having some sort of serious conversation. She berated herself for becoming peppered with agitation as she surveyed her surroundings, the tempestuous dry heat mixing with a rush of people. A little over three months ago it had been snowing. From Siberia to the Seychelles in three easy months. The world is going crazy, she affirmed.
"So, let me get this straight. Watching some old guy pretending to do autopsies makes you feel better at the end of a long day." The utter confusion seeped through her arteries like fine rain, making her feel as if she was searching in the dark. If she even knew what she was looking for in the first place. Luka frowned slightly, wondering where all the questions were being fired from, not wanting to be caught without a reasonable answer. Then again, he didn't want to be the guy who had all the answers.
"It's something else to think about. Rather than what you did, what you didn't do and what you could've done." He hadn't expected to put it so plainly. Evidently, this also troubled Abby as she said blankly, "But it isn't that simple."
"Why not? The woman was right. We all watch TV or read a book, or listen to music."
Now the turmoil was warming her blood, the weather intensifying the sensation, prickling her skin, she was roasting inside and out. "Because, Luka, life is shitty and it hurts. You know it, I know it, every damn body knows it. How can something so complicated be resolved by something so simple?" She had not meant to speak her final sentence but it trickled out of her mouth like a gushing waterfall, purging the angst from deep inside her body. Avoiding Luka's assessing gaze, she eyeballed the sky furiously, questioning whatever or whoever was up there. She did not care where the answer came from anymore.
"I'm not going to argue with you." After all, Luka concluded, if life was a poker game then they had both been dealt some pretty awful hands and were still in search of the elusive royal flush. "But if we all sat down thinking about it all the time then we'd all go crazy. Not everything has to be so...complex. But then again, a little complexity can be interesting. Simplicity would bore us all to tears."
Shit, these Europeans like their philosophy, Abby thought to herself, still wracked with puzzlement. "Well, bore me with a little simplicity by explaining exactly what you mean." She paused, considering that she was now beginning to sound more aggrieved, maybe even desperate. "Please."
"You're right, life isn't easy. Yet if it was a fairy tale, it'd get boring. Like if there was only...one flavour of ice cream." OK, he conceded, it wasn't the best example but he had finally discovered why Ben and Jerry make so much money.
Their conversation seemed to make everything else trivial, their journey seemed programmed, effortless and timeless. Home seemed close yet faraway and neither knew when or where this spiral of thought would end.
"Just where is your new philosophy on life coming from?"
"Like I told you, it's the weather." "Amongst other things..." His trailing voice threw up a mist of possibilities.
A clue, she thought, feeling a little more triumphant now.
"Such as?" She asked, with a tempting grin. Sometimes teasing it out of him was the only way to go. Although part of her did not expect a definite answer. After all, this was Luka, man of mystery. She smiled at the cartoon character image in her head.
"Some good memories. And endless reruns of Quincy."
This time, Abby's smile was wry as she realised that he had placated her troubles without even trying. How the hell did you do that? It was as if he had taken her grievances, torn them into insignificant shreds of paper and let them flutter away in a gust of wind. That was more than enough to ask of him. For now.