2.
(kaupunki on täynnä muistoja)
Josh spent the next three days in bed. It seemed to him all his strength had left him, and besides... what should he get up for, actually? For whom? The flat was silent and empty, someone would ring the bell or knock on the door every now and then, but for him all people had ceased existing. None of them was Alain, and so they might as well disappear. He hoped he could disappear himself, yet it didn't happen.
In that big bed, in the bedroom he had used to share with Alain, he felt horribly lonely. There was no-one to comfort him, and that thought was miserable. No-one cared for him; other people lived happily, insensitive to those in sorrow. He was perfectly aware he could blame only himself for that, and it didn't improve his mood. He was like that, too: insensitive to others as long as he was happy. When it was that he'd talked with Erwin for the last time? He didn't even remember... probably many months ago. Now he didn't even feel like doing so. Erwin would say that he'd always known it would end this way. That Alain Corail would only make Josh sad. Erwin could hold grudge for a long time and remembered about his friends getting hurt... while Josh tried to forgive them... at least, in Alain's case. He'd always believed it to be the last time... that it would never happen again... that everything would be fine from now on. When it was about Alain, he always lacked objectivity, while Erwin excelled at it. Erwin would say that Josh should have never associated himself with Alain, never, from the very beginning... but Josh, even now, was of the opinion that he could bear with it... that even those partings, those difficult months and years, all that pain and suffering... that it wasn't too high price for that wonderful time when he had been together.
After three days he was no longer so sure.
Why it hurt so much? How could it be possible that psychical suffering made such terrible physical pain? Whenever he thought about it, he was under the impression his chest was being stabbed with a sharp tool - and that sensation was so strong, so debilitating...
Well, frankly speaking, he knew why... or, at least, he thought he knew. They'd been talking about it with Mr Ageais, and it related to the loss he'd suffered in his early childhood. The therapist had theorized that Josh must have lost his parents when he'd been no younger than six months and not older than two years; the upper limit of time because he had no memory of his parents, and the lower because his patterns of feeling and reacting, although somewhat disturbed (or defective, like Josh used to describe it himself), had developed, which wouldn't be possible without an intimate relation with his mother in the first months of his life. When Josh had lost his mother, which must have happened in more or less dramatic - and certainly unexpected - circumstances, he'd been too young to comprehend it rationally. Children started to 'understand' things only when several years old; until then, everything happened on the biological level, which meant that psychical experiences caused, first and foremost, physical sensations: good experiences gave pleasure, while bad experiences gave pain. When his mother disappeared - and it was the main point here - Josh must have felt it as an awfully strong pain. And that pain would be back at every parting... at every abandonment. It was as if Josh relived that loss - which he couldn't have prevented and guarded himself against - anew.
Mr Ageais had been of the opinion that matter required a long-term therapy, but Josh hadn't found it necessary. How he was reproaching himself for such blindness now... He'd been really hopeless, believing his happiness would last for ever and no problem would never arise again.
Believing that Alain would never leave him again. Just like he'd promised.
Maybe it was a lesson for him... Maybe he should at last do something with himself and his life... and try to really change? Really start thinking in a different way, instead of pulling the wool over his eyes and believe in an eternal idyll? Maybe, if he did, he would be able to finally mature... move forward... instead of feeling he was still sixteen and had never grown up...?
After three days of such reflection, he could even tell himself: Alain had left him? So what? Was it the first time? Well, the thought still burned like fire in his chest, but at least he managed to form it in his head. The next one, however, 'not the first time and not the last,' required more courage he currently had, and he wasn't sure whether it would comfort or hurt him even more. Apart from that, his mood kept swinging... but only between 'bad' and 'very bad'. For example, he could think that even if he somehow managed now, he wouldn't survive the next parting... and after just one hour he would reach the desperate conclusion that, if the parting was the price for the presence, he would accept even that. He was under the impression he'd fallen into the deepest regions of wretchedness.
When he managed to get up the next day, he congratulated himself on it, for it seemed he'd pulled off the most difficult thing in the world. To tell the truth, he'd still felt like lying down, but some persistent voice in his head would tell him he should stop that self-pity - and wouldn't leave him be, so Josh just had had to listen to it.
It took him half a day to make himself look like a human being again, for he did everything very slowly. He would slowly take a bath, slowly brush his hair, and slowly shave... His hands were weak, and he lacked energy. Not eating for the three days might have something to do with it, too, but he wasn't hungry. However, the same voice that had induced him to get up, persuaded him to eat something now. Thus, he made himself a sandwich from the rest of a stale bread he'd found in the kitchen and was now sitting by the table, chewing that extremely unappetizing meal and staring through the window. Well, even if it were some delicacies, he would be able to enjoy them in his present condition, so it was all the same... At least, there was tea.
His mood was still far from bearable, but deep inside he felt some satisfaction - probably owing to having got up, cleaned himself and eaten, even if it'd taken him several hours. However, the next problem arose: what now? One glance at the calendar told him it was Tuesday - the first Tuesday of his holidays... His heart clenched in a warning, but this time pain was somehow dulled. Why it was that his holidays always started so badly...? That time, in high school, it had been the same: the summer had started, and Alain had disappeared. Last year, too... He hadn't been feeling entirely good when coming to Idealo to attend Erwin's and Cecile's wedding, had he? Well, true, the situation had quickly changed and he'd spent most of his holidays in a way he hadn't even imagined... But thinking about it now only depressed him more, so he stopped.
He fixed his eyes on the calendar. Holidays... In two weeks he should start his practice, although now it seemed completely impossible. But what was his alternative? To stay at empty home and stare at the walls? No, no, never. He would go mad; it was much better to go to that practice...
Something made him return to the kitchen and look into the cupboard he'd opened when making himself tea. He gaped at the empty shelf; it had diverted his attention a moment ago already, but only now he understand it.
Alain had taken his medicine.
He blinked, trying to process that thought. Alain hadn't taken anything else - except for himself and the clothes on him - only that medicine. Why that, exactly? What could it mean? What-
He caught himself trying to find a reason again... understand why Alain had disappeared... figure out his actions. But what good would it do now? Would it make Alain return? Instead of trying to be smart and analyse with hindsight, which was completely meaningful, he should have realized Alain's intentions. Only that Alain... at any point... hadn't given him to understand that he'd intended to...
That he'd taken the medication mean nothing. Nothing. At least nothing good for Josh. It only proved that Alain had been completely sane when leaving here. That his decision to abandon Josh had been a conscious action of a lucid mind. A bitter realization it was.
His throat clenched, but no tears flew; apparently, he'd shed them all during the last three days. He returned to his chair, placed his elbows on the table and rested his forehead on his hands. He had... he had to think... about what to do now. Now. Not in one month or in one year. He had no strength to imagine his life without Alain. He had... he had to decide what he was going to do today, this month... But it was so hard to gather his thoughts, make any decisions... All he wanted was to keep sitting like this, for every effort seemed beyond his abilities.
Practice... He'd been thinking about the practice; he should focus on it. It started in June, two weeks from now... But what he was going to occupy himself with until then? Maybe he should try to advance it? Yes, it was a good idea. He would visit the university, the dean's office... On his way, he would see whether he'd passed the last exam, although nothing interested him less than that. He still had time; it was only first o'clock, and the dean's office was open until three...
He spent one more quarter on the chair before forcing himself to get up. The weather was wonderful, so he didn't need a jacket. Soon, he was sitting in the metro and blankly observing other passengers, also couples in the advent of summer. How would his summer with Alain look? Probably just like that... Even if they didn't leave Paris, they would spend time together and... His throat clenched again.
He twitched, realizing the train stopped at his station, and darted to the exit. It was all the same to him, yet he'd rather not return the whole distance. It was pretty crowded at the university; he must have happened upon a break between the lectures. Other people would run into him or hit him every now and then, but he didn't care. He had no energy to pay attention to others... Finally, he managed to get through the crowd and reach the result board of the second year... He looked for his name and saw he'd passed the exam - by just one point. He didn't feel any joy, only relief that there was no need to bother himself with that any more. And that the exam had been last Friday; if it had been this week, he wouldn't have been able to focus on it. No, he probably wouldn't have even taken it... But what kind of luck was that...? He lowered his head and wondered again why the fate was so harsh on him.
He broke out of a reverie after a longer while. Now he only needed to go to the office and inquire about the practice. It was the right place, wasn't it...? He could vaguely remember that, in the beginning of term, they had signed up for the particular facilities... and that list had gone to the dean's office...
However, upon getting there and explaining his problem, he quickly regretted having taken lightly his luck just a moment ago. Well, he didn't run across that unpleasant hag from the last month, only a young woman with a kind look, but all the greater contrast when, having browsed through the specific folder, she said, "Mr Or? I can't see your name here at all."
He blinked. "But... why? I signed up for this practice already in March... maybe even February," he replied with frustration. "When the list was announced."
"Have you confirmed your choice?"
Confirmed? No, he hadn't. Now was the first time he'd heard about it.
"At the end of April, all students were requested to confirm the place of the practice," the secretary explained. "Where did you plan to have yours?"
"In the House of Blessed Gratia." Josh remembered the name only because it made him think of Grace.
"Yes... Well, now there's another person's name here..." the woman stated, troubled.
Josh froze. "Then, what am I going to do now?" he whispered.
"We can, of course, arrange a new place for you," she replied, putting the papers aside. "If the associate dean permits it," she muttered. "You have best talk with him," she encouraged him with a smile.
For a moment, Josh stood undecided before nodding when he realized he had no choice. The secretary picked up the receiver, and he listened to the conversation distractedly, 'A student is here to see you, Sir... Yes... It's about the practice... Yes. Thank you.'
"The associate dean will receive you right away," she said. "You'll find his office when you go-"
"Thank you, I know where it is," Josh replied. 'Although I wish I didn't,' he added in his head.
How would the dean react upon seeing him again, and in such a short time, on top of it? He would probably come to the conclusion that Josh was nothing but trouble... Alain had probably thought that, too; he'd found Josh annoying or something of that kind...
He shook his head. He couldn't enter the professor's office, looking as miserable as sin... even if it was like he felt. He took a deep breath, smoothed his hair and knocked on the door; having heard 'Enter', he pressed the handle.
This time, the associate dean was sitting by his desk, browsing through some documents, but at the sight of Josh he put the sheets of paper down and rose, reaching out a hand. "Mr Or, I didn't expect to see you so soon," he said his greetings; he didn't seem angry with Josh for being bothered by him again. Maybe he did like the students and didn't consider them necessary evil, like most professors did...?
Josh shook hands with him. "I'm surprised you remembered my name, Sir," he replied, somewhat confused.
"My... It's easy to remember," the man said, sitting down in his armchair again and showing Josh the place opposite him. "You come from Esperanto, don't you?" he guessed and, when Josh nodded, observed him for a moment as if he wanted to add something. In the end, he only asked, "What can I do for you this time? If I understand correctly, it concerns your practice period...?"
Josh squeezed his hands on his lap. "It appears I haven't confirmed my place... that time, at the end of April..." he said outright. "And now it's gone to another person. I was told in the office that a new place may be arranged... if you give your consent, Sir."
"Ah, it was when you were absent due to your relative's illness, isn't it? Well, it's understandable that you wouldn't think about that," the associate dean responded compassionately.
Josh preferred not to admit he hadn't known about the matter at all, in the first place, so he remained silent.
"By the way, did everything ended favourably?" the professor inquired, and his curiosity seemed genuine. The reason for it became clear when he went on, "I ask because, forgive me, you don't look well..."
Josh gulped. Apparently, his general indisposition stood out... but, to tell the truth, it was all the same to him. "Yes, it's all fine now... Alain recovered and was discharged from hospital," he said, although he felt as if someone else was speaking. "As for me... The end of term took its toll on me." He tried to smile, but failed miserably. "I was sick for three days... and left the bed only today," he confessed. "I feel better already," he added and really believed it, for a moment.
"How are your examinations?" the dean asked kindly.
"I passed," Josh replied in a soft voice.
"Then, let me congratulate you," he heard. It seemed the professor was truly contended... and it was a nice thing, too. Josh realized that, after spending three days with just his own negative thoughts, he yearned for some kindness, while the professor obviously was giving it to him. "Once you've completed that practice period, you'll be the third-year student. Speaking of what..." He paused. "Well, it can be somewhat problematic. I mean that matter of your practice," he qualified, as if it wasn't clear. "We always have to go to great lengths to arrange those training places for our students. Apparently, people in charge of the facilities don't trust your skills... We almost need to beg them... as if we were one level below," he muttered, more to himself than Josh.
Josh listened to that with growing dejection. All that business didn't look good to him... Always only difficulties. "Actually, I'd like to start that practice period as soon as possible," he said quietly, not looking at the professor. "That's why I came here today and..." he paused.
"As soon as possible is probably the biggest problem here," the dean replied. "It usually takes a great deal of time to negotiate a new place. As of today, it is certain you won't start the practice by the 1st of June, and probably it will happen even later."
Josh clenched his fists and lowered his head even more. What would he do for two weeks...? The very thought of staying in Paris without any occupation, all alone, made him sick. "But," he frantically tried to think something up, "even if someone else took my place... theirs should be free...?" He raised his eyes upon the man. He was almost proud of himself for having drawn such a conclusion in his state.
The professor, however, shook his head. "Confirmation was required so that the university could settle up with the facilities on time and that the facilities could plan their schedule for June in advance. Now the goose is cooked. It will be delayed for a whole month... at least one month. You probably realize that it's not only psychology students that have such practice periods, but also those of medicine and social science. Most of them have do it in July and August, making the facilities nearly overcrowded. The number of places is limited, and we're talking about thousands of students. No, we will have to start everything from the beginning," he stated but didn't seem to be particularly depressed about it.
Contrary to Josh, who suddenly was pretty sure that he shouldn't even dream of going to the third year. Although... did it really matter now...?
"Unless..." The associate dean started to tap his fingers on the desk and then reached for a blue folder lying on his right, under other documents. He opened it and browsed its content before looking at Josh again. "Mr Or, how much do you want to have that practice completed?" he asked a catchy question, and it was obvious he had an idea.
However, Josh only shook his head; he was too tired for any games. "It's best if you just say what you are thinking about, Sir," he replied in a resigned voice.
The dean gave him a penetrating look, and Josh hoped that his lack of enthusiasm would be mistaken for fatigue after the illness.
"In that case, I'm going to speak openly with you and make an offer. I'd like you to hear me out," the professor said and his gaze returned to the papers he'd taken out of the folder. "At the beginning of the month, our department was contacted by a facility... precisely, a psychiatric hospital from the south. It's not so big place, situated near the border with Esperanto. The director has been my friend since our younger days... This spring, their only psychologist fell gravely ill and had to resign from his post forthwith. They've been struggling against the lack of personnel for a longer time; there's only two psychiatrists working on several wards. But, since they are the only hospital in the big area, closure is not an option; they only shut down one ward, temporarily. Eugene... that is, the director is currently looking for a psychologist, but it's very hard to find a new worker, especially in the advent of summer. He also sent the letters to every department of psychology, asking for a fifth-year or fourth-year student, to relieve the personnel. Eugene realizes it's only a momentary solution, but he needs one more worker to talk with patients, and immediately. The nursing staff is overburdened with their duties, and there's only two doctors, like I said."
Josh listened to that first indifferently, then curiously, and then anxiously, while the associate dean continued, "This week I was contacted again. Eugene alarms that the situation hasn't improved, which meant there are still no candidates... It's nothing strange: the exams are round the corner, so it's really impossible to send there anyone. You, however..."
Josh stared at him in disbelief. "But... Professor, Sir, I'm a student of the second year," he uttered. "What can I do? So far, we didn't even have to do with patients... The clinical psychology comes only next year-"
"Mr Or, why do you study psychology?" the associate dean interrupted him.
Josh looked at him, surprised. "I'm interested... in human mind," he replied.
The man nodded; apparently, he liked that answer. "Do you like talking with people?" he asked another question, "or, rather, you're the type of a scholar, enjoying to stay with the books the most?"
Josh slowly shook his head. "No, the latter certainly not," he replied. "I think I like talking with people," he added hesitantly.
"Then, do you like helping people?"
Josh shrunk. He remembered the last time he'd been helping... when he would do anything for Alain... and Alain had just disappeared... "I like... when it's important to me," he uttered, staring at his own hands on his lap.
The associate dean sighed. "I apologize, I was being importunate," he said. "I can tell you still don't feel well. It was impolite on my part... And you are right: you've only completed the second year. I should have approached the problem more professionally, not-"
"Please," Josh spoke involuntarily. "Please, give me a moment to think about it," he said and was surprised himself.
The associate dean, who already started to put the documents back into the folder, froze. Josh tried to straighten up in the chair, but he still didn't dare to raise his eyes. There were so many thoughts in his head; he needed time to arrange them... understand them. After the initial shock, he no longer rejected the idea... His practice period. There was no chance for having it in Paris, not in the next two weeks... but he was being given an opportunity to leave Paris, and soon, maybe even tomorrow... He wouldn't need to stay here, all alone, with nothing to do - but all too many things to think of. He was being offered some occupation, far from here, probably tiring and exhausting... Well, he actually didn't feel strong enough for that, but, on the other hand, it would help him get away from his own problems, from his own sorrow and despair... He could focus on something else, turn his attention to other things... The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.
Only... a psychiatric hospital? Not that he hadn't had no experience with psychiatric hospitals... and he had even met three psychiatrists so far. Yet... Go to some unfamiliar place? Meet some people he knew nothing about? Well, the ward in Saint-Maurice Hospital had made a very good impression on him, but a hospital in the centre... um, in the outskirts of Paris was one thing, and a facility somewhere in the province, where no-one even wanted to work, was quite another. In his mind's eye, Josh saw a cursed place where the patients - lunatics! - mooned around like ghosts in a deserted castle, and the nights were filled with screams and groans.
Oh, he probably started to feel better since he was able to use his imaginary like that.
"Please, Sir, tell me more... What would they expect from m- What would they expect from a student?" he asked in a trembling voice; his heart was racing, and his breath was also too quick.
The associate dean placed his arms on the desk and clasped the hands; it was all Josh could see, for he still had no courage to look the man in the face. "They want someone to talk with the patients and observe their condition," the professor explained. "Of course, they wouldn't require nursing or medical duties. Or a work of psychologist, for that matter. The main idea is that the patients wouldn't be left alone, while now it's unfortunately the case, and a deplorable one."
Josh nodded. He remembered care that the patients had been given on the ward that Alain had been admitted to.
"You probably realize," the associate dean continued, "that the psychiatric patients need medication, but also contact and support. While staying on a psychiatric ward they feel twice as lonely. Treatment is faster if a patient, in addition to pharmacotherapy, is given also psychological aid, which, in this case, means simply a possibility to talk to or just be with another person. If the personnel is busy, this proves impossible."
Josh nodded again. He wondered whether Alain would have recovered so quickly if he hadn't visited him every day... But such thinking was unneeded now, especially that Alain hadn't cared about that treatment at all. He hadn't cared about Josh at all. No, he shouldn't dwell on it.
"I see... Then it's mostly about talking?" he made sure, focusing on the present. Talking... It didn't seem so bad, and he thought he would be able to do it. On the other hand, he was just a student... He became doubtful again. "Do you think I will manage, Sir?" he asked.
"I think you will manage," the professor replied calmly, and there was a hint of smile to his words. "You're interested in psychopathology, aren't you?"
Josh shook his head rather vaguely. "I only know a bit about psychosis," he confessed.
"Please, tell me what you know about psychosis," the associate dean asked in a friendly manner.
Josh's fingers clutched on the fabric of his trousers, as he started to rehearse what he'd learned from the book and Dr Sellier: about the mechanisms, typical symptoms, and treatment of psychosis. Of course, it was pretty abridged and put forward simply as he understood it... He didn't know why he was being asked that, and what was the point in giving an answer, but since it happened, he could as well do it...
And he did for a longer while. When he finished, a sigh came from the dean. "In regard to that topic... you know much more than the average third-year student on my exam," the man stated with some sadness.
Now Josh's head snapped up as looked at the professor in astonishment - the first sharp feeling this day that was no negative.
"Do you know as much about other topics of psychopathology, too?" the man asked, giving him a kind look.
Josh shook his head. "Just a bit about depression..."
"You've just said you knew 'just a bit' about psychosis," the professor pointed out. "In any case, I think that, knowing 'just a bit' about psychosis and depression, you're a perfect candidate for this task, if it can encourage you. You probably know that mood disorders is the most common psychiatric ailment, while psychosis is the most serious cause of psychiatric hospitalization. Besides... Please, remember that you are not going there to perform treatment..." he reminded. "At least not as a doctor, for I suppose your presence there and your work will help many people."
"I..." Josh started and stopped. What actually did he want to say?
The professor observed him calmly. "Mr Or, will you accept this offer?" he asked after a moment.
"Can I resign if... if I don't manage?" Josh uttered.
"I don't think it to be the case... but of course you can."
Josh breathed a sigh of relief. No mater what the professor might say, he didn't trust his abilities, especially today... But he had no choice. Besides... it was only a practice. He had to do it; the place didn't matter. He nodded, although his heart was still beating fast - in apprehension, or maybe with excitement...?
The associate dean straightened up in his chair. "In that case, I'm going to call Eugene right away and inform him that he's got his man," he announced. "Of course, the hospital covers all travel and lodging expenses; I forgot to mention it," he added. "When could you depart?"
Josh mused. "The day after tomorrow, at the very latest. Maybe even tomorrow afternoon..." he replied.
"Do you have a phone? Any contact number?"
Josh shook his head.
"Then, could you come here in the morning?" the dean suggested. "How about leaving tomorrow in the early afternoon?"
"It's fine," Josh affirmed. It wasn't even three; he still had time to take care of some business... two, exactly. And if he didn't manage today, he would still have tomorrow morning to spare. It was better to leave as soon as possible; that was what he'd wanted.
The professor regarded him with his dark grey eyes and seemed to hesitate about something. "I hope I didn't put to much pressure on you?" he asked in the end.
Josh knitted his brows and shook his head. "No. I think it will do me some good," he replied and realized it was true.
Now it was the associate dean who frowned. "You think that stay in a psychiatric hospital will do you some good?" he asked with a mixture of uncertainty and irony.
Josh looked him in the eye. "Yes," he said and took a deep breath. "Exactly like that. I'm dealing with some... personal problems. Changing the place will be a good thing," he added honestly. "And hospital will help me to divert my thought from those difficulties. But don't worry, Sir," he rushed to supply when the idea occurred to him. "It won't affect my... duties."
The professor nodded slowly, still looking at him intently. "If that's what you say... You could visit your homeland, too; I'm sure it would comfort you."
"Right, Sir, you've mentioned that the facility was not far from the border of Esperanto...?" Josh suggested, set on not saying more about his problems.
"Yes. It's a truly lovely area. If I remember correctly, the inhabitants of several towns and villages demanded that the hospital weren't built in their neighbourhood, only the next one... until the plans had reached the border. There was no place left, and they were forced to build there. But it may be just a legend," the dean shrugged slightly. "That hospital has been functioning for a very long time... since 19th century..."
Josh tried to imagine that place... amongst the meadows and fields, like those of his homeland. His chest filled with longing, and it was already second feeling today that was not negative. "Is it really possible to travel to Esperanto from there?" Maybe he could visit Idealo...? Not that there was anything for him there, but he could see Erwin and Cecile... return like a prodigal sun... No, this thought made him feel uncomfortable. It would be exactly the same as last year...
"But of course. The hospital itself is situated some distance from the railway, but it's not a problem to get to the station. And you're going to have your weekends free."
Josh nodded somewhat distractedly as another thing struck him. "What if... What if they've already found someone for that place, Sir?" he asked.
"I don't think you should worry about it," the dean shook his head. "They've been looking for weeks. Why should someone turn up right now?"
"Because things like that happen all the time," Josh replied in a soft voice. He realized he'd already got used to the thought about spending the nearest weeks outside Paris, somewhere in the province, far from noise of the city... And even though he'd been very sceptic about it only half an hour ago, now he felt he would be disappointed if the plan was spoiled.
"You want to go there so much?" the associate dean asked, clearly holding back his smile. "Just a moment ago you were pretty reluctant about it," he pointed out.
"I want," Josh replied and knew he was speaking the truth.
The professor observed him for a while, thoughtful, but now Josh could withhold his gaze. Finally, he stopped feeling like a crumpled piece of fabric that someone had trampled upon and then kicked into the corner. His problems hadn't gone anywhere, yet he was under the impression that the load on his shoulders and chest eased a little. There was no need to hesitate. Once, he had been able to instantly make the decisions; maybe there was something of that old Josh still left in him.
"If suddenly they got two helpers, I'm pretty sure they would consider it a godsend," the dean stated. "I see no objection to your going there. You have to do that practice somewhere, don't you?" he added in a matter-of-factly.
Josh nodded.
"And, if you're interested in clinical psychology," the professor went on, "you'll have a great opportunity to see yourself what kind of work it is... whether it is your cup of tea or you would rather engage yourself in another activity. Please, use that possibility to the fullest."
"Thank you," Josh replied, finally trusting his voice. "In that case, I'm going to be here tomorrow at eight o'clock," he added and rose. "Thank you very much for your help, Sir," he said, stretching his arm.
"It is I who should thank," the professor shook his hand. "As Eugene's friend I'm very grateful. And he is going to be even more."
Josh nodded sharply and left.
As he walked to the metro station, he realized it was not the associate dean's positive attitude towards his problem that he'd thanked for. Well, of course, that too, but the most Josh was grateful for having his sense of purpose restored. He needed to always have some goal in life; no matter where he was and what he did, he needed to aim at something... especially in difficult times. Feeling that he didn't know where to turn, what direction to head in... was destructive to him. When he had his aim he could focus on, then everything was easier. Maybe he considered self-pity a completely unproductive thing? Or maybe, when he did nothing, he felt he was even worse person than usual? Or maybe it was just about having his life in his own hands and shaping it himself - instead of sitting on his bum and staring blankly ahead? He had only one life. Even if sometimes, like now, it seemed utterly pointless... he couldn't resist the impression that sitting down and doing nothing was even less sensible. Now he'd been given something to concentrate on - and move the problems aside. Just as he'd told the dean.
So, he would go south... and maybe manage to even visit his homeland... He mused. Homeland...? What did it mean, exactly? Idealo? Yes, probably. A train arrived, so he focused on getting on; however, as he was going through the dark tunnel, he had that vision again - of open fields and meadows that he could hardly see in Idealo...
He noticed that, if he changed on the next station, he could visit Mrs Bonnet in hospital. If he were to leave, he should do it today. And maybe Mrs Bonnet... could tell him more about last Friday - although, in fact, he stopped believing that. Still, he had to see her... unless the worst hadn't come to pass. He gasped, realizing how serious her condition had been the last time he'd seen her. What if...? He spent the rest of his journey with his throat clenched from anxiety and another spell of remorse. He hadn't spared her a single thought - a person who'd been kind to him more than anyone. He'd clung to his own misery and hadn't moved an inch from his sorrow... Yes, it was high time to leave that cocoon of self-pity. If Mrs Bonnet... If he couldn't meet her again, he would never forgive himself for that.
To his great relief, Mrs Bonnet was alive, and it seemed her condition was improving. This time there was no-one by her side, so he didn't hesitate only entered and quietly sat down on a chair. She was sleeping peacefully, without that painful expression he'd seen the previous time. He noticed her face had some colour; she was no longer being given any drip, although there was still a monitor checking on her vital functions. He sat like that by her bed, wondering whether he should wake her up - but then she opened her eyes, as if she'd sensed his presence... and, upon seeing him, smiled.
"Good afternoon, Mrs Bonnet," he said warmly.
"Good afternoon, dear," she replied with a slur, stretching her hand that he quickly took. "I'm glad to see you," she added.
"I'm glad to see you, too, Mrs Bonnet," he uttered, his throat clenching with emotion.
Although she seemed better, she still looked very weak and fragile. Looking at her, he realized he couldn't question her about matters that probably no longer were of any importance anyway... especially that he still blamed himself for her illness.
"How are you?" she asked in a perfectly normal way, as if she hadn't been bedridden with a serious disease... as if they'd just met on a staircase like good neighbours...
He thought he wished he were as strong, too... so tough and buoyant, to be able to go through every difficulty. "I had my final exams of second year recently, and I passed," he replied calmly. "Tomorrow, I'm leaving Paris to have a practice in a hospital."
"My, hospitals everywhere... I already have enough of them," she said. "Then you're leaving... With Mr Alain?" she asked, giving him another smile; it seemed a bit crooked.
Josh froze.
"How is he doing?" the older woman inquired.
He gulped, frantically wondering what he should say. "He was unwell, but now it's all right..." he choked in the end.
"Ah, right, he had pneumonia... Or was it anything new?" she asked anxiously. "You see, dear, the doctors told me I suffered memory loss because of that stroke," she explained quite placidly. "The last thing I remember was Easter... and now it's mid-May already."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs Bonnet," Josh whispered, comprehending what she meant. "But... actually... nothing special happened during that time," he added, although many emotions welled up in him, among them relief and disappointment. He didn't want to think about it and instead asked, "When are you going to be discharged?"
"Ah, dear, I have no idea," she shook her head lightly. "I'd love to go home as soon as possible, but the doctor say it's going to last a longer while this time. You see, I can't really use my left hand or leg. I'll need some rehabilitation..."
"In that case, you shouldn't rush things. You're in a good care here. They're going to tend to your needs... and get you back on your feet," he stressed, squeezing her hand.
"But my flowers in boxes... They'll wither in this heat."
"You shouldn't worry about the flowers," he said with emphasis. "Your family can tend to them, can't they? It's enough that someone go to your place once per day... You have a wonderful family, Mrs Bonnet," he added involuntarily. "We've just met, though," he qualified.
He thought her eyes flashed. "Have you met Anne? And Fleur?" she asked enthusiastically... if an older lady lying on a hospital bed after a stroke could be enthusiastic, in the first place. "Then, what do you think about them?"
"Mrs Bonnet, I don't think I'm a right person to be asked such things," he noticed, although he really felt like smiling.
"Now don't say that. Fleur is splendid, isn't she?"
Josh recalled the girl's face, shining with its own light despite sadness. Feeling of resentment he'd experienced last Friday, had disappeared, leaving impression of having met something unusual, almost perfect. Yes, in her own way, Fleur was splendid. Just like Georges Saphir.
"They are very fond of you," he said, although it was really no answer.
Mrs Bonnet smiled and stared at the ceiling. "My lovely girls," she uttered, clearly moved.
They sat in silence. Josh realized he didn't feel like leaving here - there was something calming in this situation, despite its tragedy... some warmth that made him feel better - but time was merciless. He put the woman's arm back on the bed. "I must go, Mrs Bonnet," he said reluctantly. "I have to pack my things... Please, recover. Once I'm back in Paris, I'd like to see you healthy," he stressed.
"Have a pleasant journey," she replied warmly, looking at him again, but her eyes were already tired. "Give my regards to Mr Alain."
He nodded and got up, unable to say any parting words. In the doorway, he turned to look at her once more. She was lying with her eyes closed; she probably was still very weak. He felt guilty for having bothered her... but, at the same time, he didn't regret having come here, not at all. He left, thinking there was at least one person who cared for him, in her own way, and he needed it more than ever.
When he took to packing his bag, he realized he hadn't asked the associate dean how long he was going to stay in... Damn it, he hadn't even inquired about the name of the place. On the other hand, it was even more interesting this way: he went into the unknown, having no idea how long he would spend there; one might say it was romantic, ha ha... Well, at least one month, the length of his practice... He thought, however, that if he liked it there... and if they liked him... he might as well stay there the whole summer. What was for him in Paris, anyway? And now he could at least help someone... do something useful.
He froze when the thought about how this summer should have been like, struck him. He pressed his lips and resumed rolling up his shirt to tuck it into the bag with other things. Fortunately, he didn't have much clothes, and he could surely wash them during his stay.
The bag was packed in one hour, so he got to the other business he had to tend to before his departure. He looked through the papers and found the address of their landlady. It wasn't even six yet; not too late for a visit. She lived in the neighbouring district... Sure, he could call her, but the very thought filled him with reluctance... He didn't want to talk on the public phone. He hoped he'd find her home...
Fortunately, Mrs Dufour was present. She was a short, middle-aged woman, although Josh rather thought, 'ageing'.' He red hair was more or less pinned up, and she had quite sloppy make-up. She seemed to enjoy her life... had probably just returned from the balcony where she must have been relishing blessing of spring: she wore a thin peignoir that didn't hide her curves, was flushed and somewhat slothful. She stared at him quite confused.
"I'm Joshua Or," he said. "I live with... with Alain Corail in your flat by rue Keller. It is Alain who completed all formalities with you... but you and me did meet, once," he added, looking at her round face and heavily done-up eyes. "When we came to see the flat."
The woman nodded, although she still appeared to not remember him. Well, she wasn't only one, for Josh had only a vague memory of her, too.
"Has anything happened in the flat?" she asked in a high-pitched voice.
"No, no, nothing of that kind," Josh reassured her. "It's just... Madame, can I come inside?" He didn't feel like talking on a staircase.
The woman stood undecided for a moment, but then she nodded again and let him into quite gaudily decorated hall. Apparently, she didn't plan on invite him more than that, for she didn't even show him any place to sit down nor sat herself. "What is it about, Mister?" she asked.
Now that he was here, Josh didn't know how to say it. Nevertheless, he didn't plan on spending his evening here, so he had to gather his thoughts, even though Mrs Dufour didn't seem very friendly towards him and was clearly considering him a nuisance.
"Alain... pays you the rent, right?" he uttered in the end.
"That's correct," the woman replied, giving him that distrustful look of her.
Josh suppressed a sigh. "Well, there's some problem... You see, Madame, Alain had to suddenly leave and I have no idea whether he paid the rent for May and... And I don't know whether he'll pay in June, either," he added in a lower voice, preparing for her anger. "And I have to leave Paris tomorrow, too, at least for one month, so... Could you... Madame, can we keep the flat... even if we pay the rent later?" he whispered and came to the conclusion he sounded idiotic.
Especially that the woman was staring at him confused with her slightly bulging eyes. She didn't get angry; rather, she seemed to not understand at all what he was talking about. Well, to tell the truth, his explanation was quite murky...
"Mr Corail always pays on time," she replied somewhat loftily. "This month as well. Don't forget the period of notice," she added out of the blue, "which is-"
"Odille...?" an impatient male voice came from inside the flat. "Are you coming with that beer...?"
The woman blinked and smiled lumpishly, her eyes involuntarily shooting backwards... and then, regardless of his faint objection, pushed Josh towards the front door, apparently considering their conversation finished.
"Please, forgive me, I'm busy," she said, and Josh noticed her tone had changed; now she sounded almost apologetic, "so I can't talk with you longer, Mister. As for the rent... Don't worry about it. You give me no trouble. You may live there as long as you want. You can pay later. Good bye!"
The door was slammed behind astonished Josh, who turned around and stared at the dark wood in disbelief. It took him a while to regain his calm; he shook his head and started to descend the stairs. Really, what had he come here for...? He realized, however, he'd managed to have the matter done, and even better he'd expected.
'You may live there as long as you want.'
He pressed his lips into a thin line, deciding not to think about it. Instead, he focused on knowledge he could leave Paris with a lighter load on his shoulders. He still was himself, since that sense of responsibility of his hadn't gone anywhere - and he was glad about it.
The city is full of memories - Tehosekoitin, "Pakko päästä pois"