10.
(I'm gonna live out my life untamed)

Josh jumped on the train to Sainte-Jeanne without a second thought and only on his journey wondered whether he'd done the right thing. Yet, he did feel that he needed some time just for himself - to reflect on all those matters calmly - and thus returning to the hospital seemed the best option. In such state of mind, going to Idealo wouldn't do... Maybe if he'd been a person who turned to his friends when troubled, he would have gone to Erwin in the first place - yet he wasn't. He dealt with such things alone, in his own head; any other way would feel completely unnatural.

Now that he was already travelling again over southern France, his eyes following the scenery behind the window and not really seeing it, he really felt pleased about not having cut himself off the Lavaud family... his family - even though it was mostly quite a narcissistic self-satisfaction in question. Just as he'd told Ghislain: he didn't need relatives (nor their money) - but if he rejected them completely, it would be a pure cruelty on his part, and he'd never wanted nor intended to treat other people cruelly.

The truth was that he'd panicked, had got scared of his life to change suddenly... of losing his freedom... and his self-determination. How he'd behaved was rather immature - contrary to all those words on growing up he'd said to himself - so he was glad that he'd managed to come to his sense in the last moment. He still didn't imagine himself moving into his... uncle's place - no, it was not an option, and he was grateful to himself that he'd made his viewpoint clear - but did it hurt him to stay in touch? No, it wouldn't harm him, nothing to lose... Of course, there was a possibility that Ghislain would be importunate... would insist on a close relationship... would demand something that didn't fit Josh - but in that case Josh could always end their acquaintance. He wasn't obliged to associate with others against his own will, even if it was the family in question - and knowing that calmed him; he had a back door.

Family... He'd found his family. Relatives. And it still seemed so abstract; until now, his only family had been his grandfather, after all... But now he could no longer ignore the fact he'd had parents, too. The thought of them evoked such a bitter-sweet sensation in his chest... Eliane and Tristan Vallee. Oh, should he change his name now? No, he would never get used to it! Besides... as far as he knew, his name 'Or' was perfectly official. Joel Or had adopted him, which meant Josh had every right to call himself that... It filled him with relief.

His parents... Their story seemed both very touching and very sad. The saddest was that they had died so yearly, at the threshold of adult life. How old could his mother have been? Twenty-two? Father couldn't have been much older. They had overcome difficulties to be together, and everything should have been fine - they'd had each other, and then Josh, too - yet it shouldn't... Josh thought of them with affection. He didn't know them... that was, he did, must have known them, he only didn't remember them - but their story made him feel that way: that he wished he could care for them. They deserved it - that someone cared for them, recognized their efforts, embraced them and supported them. His mother - so cheerful, so bright, so full of life. She must have been a wonderful person who'd deserved to be happy. And his father? Never bothered by adversities, never renouncing his aims; instead, he had appreciated all good that would come to him. Even if they hadn't had much - they'd had to manage on one income, and a nurse's salary couldn't be high - they'd lived a full life and had enjoyed what was really important: love and family. It could be that Josh had inherited it from them: knowledge of what mattered the most, namely presence of a beloved person and possibility to share every day with them, both good and bad times. The place was all the same to him - Idealo or Paris, America or the Moon; as long as Alain was by his side, everything was fine... He'd always thought so and didn't plan to change his mind.

He had used Alain as an excuse... Of course, he hadn't meant anything bad, but now he felt guilty about having done so. No, it wasn't that. He'd simply assumed that his relationship with Alain would be condemned right away and rejected flatly, and he'd used it as an argument. Sure, people who pretended to be his family should know such details about him, right? But it was another thing whether there had been a real need to throw those details into a person's face, demanding the immediate acceptation... and preparing for disapproval. Maybe Ghislain really needed time? He did want to stay in contact with Josh, which meant he didn't consider his orientation as an absolute barrier - which weighed in his favour. Maybe he really cared about the nephew he'd tried to find for almost twenty years...? That thought made Josh feel uncomfortable again, mostly due to his own behaviour during the conversation. Yes, he'd acted both egoistically and childishly, he decided.

The conversation, however, had made him realise that 'family' didn't automatically mean 'bonds', while he'd once thought it to be so. Even if he had lots of affection for his long deceased parents, those people in Toulouse were strangers, and he had no feelings for them. Well, not even 'people', just Ghislain Lavaud... although, it seemed, there were also some cousins... Yes, they were people he didn't know. On emotional level, they mattered as much as anyone he passed by on the street. If everything had been different, maybe Ghislain would have been his 'beloved uncle', someone special in Josh's life... Or not. Josh remembered the split that had happened in that, seemingly splendid, family. Knowledge about how his mother had been treated by her own father and brother, filled him with anger. He realised his view on the matter of parents-children relations was pretty much idealized; nevertheless, he didn't intend to accept behaviours that hurt other people. And he had been named after such a horrible man? Ugh, what a shame! He didn't want to bear a name of the man who had done such a cruel thing to his daughter!

Belatedly, he thought that those name plans apparently had failed; he was, beyond doubt Joshua, not Gilbert. Now he knew it was his mother's hand that had made the writing on the back of the photograph he'd had with him.

On the other hand, he couldn't ignore the fact that, if his mother had had a loving father, she would have never gone to Sainte-Jeanne Hospital... and met Tristan Vallee, and Josh would have never been born. He had to swallow down the difficult truth: that sometimes even bad things could bring about something good - in this case, looking solely from his point of view. It was disputable whether his having been born was a good thing, in a broader meaning than just existence - he'd experienced so much harm that sometimes he would feel that living was pointless, and once he'd even tried to put an end to himself, which still filled him with shame - but recently, if he wanted to be honest, he would rather agree it was. And now that he'd learned - or believed - that his parents had died very young, his own life seemed much more precious. What also helped was a realisation that he really had been loved... that, even though he didn't remember it, he'd been cared for with affection. His parents certainly would have wished that he were happy, not that he wasted his life.

He thought of the accident they had probably died in. What had they been doing in Esperanto? Well, maybe they had been just living. Ghislain had said they had left Bayonne when Josh had been some year and a half - and had sunk without trace. They must have moved... and there was no registration obligation in Esperanto, which could explain why their names couldn't be found in any database. Besides, there was a suspicion that Tristan, even if hadn't directly come from Esperanto, might have some roots there... maybe one parent or grandparent. At the age of two, Josh had known that language, which meant that he must have heard it at home - while Eliane had written in the letter that Tristan had talked 'in both languages'. More and more things fitted, although they didn't really give him anything. After nearly twenty years, it was impossible to find out where they had lived. Esperanto wasn't very big, yet searching for a place where so long ago for a short period of time - half a year - a young couple with a little child had been staying... It was doomed to failure - unless another miracle showed him the way... but he guessed he'd exhausted his limit of miracles already.

In fact, there was only one thing that wouldn't leave him be, and he wanted to clear it up: what his real name was... Or, rather, he wanted to confirm he was Joshua, for Ghislain had confused him with that Gilbert... He took out his mother's letter to find some clue, even though he'd already memorised it. However, when he started to read it now, he noticed he had indeed overlooked a very important fact, and right at the start. The letter was dated February 15, yet Eliane had clearly informed that there'd been still two months until the delivery. It meant that Josh should have been born in the mid-April. Since he'd been born March 11, he must have been a premature baby! There was no other option - except that Eliane, in absent-mindedness that Ghislain had suspected of her, might have made a mistake and written the due date wrong, but he just wouldn't believe it to be so.

In any case, he could rely on that new piece of information. To say nothing of an unpleasant effects it might have had on him - that was, yet another risk factor for depression! - it undoubtedly indicated a hospital birth...! Then, there was almost one hundred percent chance that he'd been baptised right after being born...! If he managed to pinpoint the hospital he'd been born in, he would be able to find his certificate of baptism... and he would have the answer to his doubts. Actually, it helped a lot. If he'd been baptised in a normal way, in a church, he would have had much more work to do, for the ratio of churches to hospitals was, like, ten to one. If he were to tour all of them and browse through parish registers without knowing his precise date of baptism - and he was a baby boomer, too - it might prove a difficult task.

Still, if he could choose, he would have rather been born full-term.

However, it appeared that being prematurely born hadn't really harmed him, he thought with a surprise. Well, that could be a reason why he was only of an average height, but it wasn't something to be bothered with. He'd known from the developmental psychology that children born prematurely, apart from risk of depression and other mental disorders, were inclined to various physical diseased as well as problems in everyday functioning. He might have, for example, suffered from low IQ and experienced learning troubles, yet, thank God, ha hadn't. (Although, to tell the truth, he was under the disquieting impression that his long-term depression had affected negatively his once famed intelligence, and that effect was significant).

In fact, now that he thought about it, he reached the unusual conclusion he'd been pretty lucky - not unlucky, like he'd used to think quite often. He'd been born prematurely, and it hadn't impaired him. He'd survived the car crash that had claimed his parents' lives, and he'd survived long wandering over the unfamiliar area when still only two years old. He'd been taken in by the man that had cared for him like his own son or grandson, while his childhood might have as well been much worse. And despite having so much risk factors for depression that it should be legally prohibited, he still managed somehow and could find reasons to be happy. 'It is high time that you finished with that self-pitying, once and for all, Josh,' he decided and spent the rest of his journey in a rather optimistic moon, although he wouldn't stop thinking of his childhood and his parents.

He arrived in Sainte-Jeanne past nine. He didn't want to take a taxi and instead went to the hospital on foot. Two hours of walking didn't scare him; quite the contrary, it was a very pleasant thing to walk on a country road under the sky, in the light of sunset, with his head full of thoughts and with time to analyse them all. Actually, some good man returning from the town offered him a lift halfway, so he was home not very late. He was sure he wouldn't be able to fall asleep quickly - emotionally-wise, it had been one of the most intense days in his life - but fatigue did its job, and when he went to bed after the shower, he dozed off right away and slept like a log until morning.

Out of habit, he waked up at seven, but he felt refreshed enough, and sleeping longer would be pointless. He knew he had a day off and didn't need to hurry, yet he didn't grasp the reason behind it yet. For now, he stayed in the bed, staring at the blue sky outside the window and wondering about the cause of his good mood... It took him a while to remember the events of the previous day, and the memory of his parents spread warmth in his chest again. Although his common sense seemed to have some objection to it, for a moment he felt like the happiest person in the world... Funny - but so pleasant...!

The hospital park didn't cease to delight him, even though it had been just two days since he'd seen it in its full morning beauty. Yet, so many things had happened during those two days...! His life had become so much richer...! Maybe that was why the trees appeared even greener, and everything smelled more intense...? He felt that today he finally was able to accept Gilles' death, that had just crashed him with such a great despair, although he knew he would never forget it... Still, Gilles had made his choice; Josh could make his. If anything, he regretted that Gilles would never see again how beautiful the world was on the summer morning.

Madame Montagne frowned when he stood in the door of her office.

"I know, I shouldn't be here," he said quickly. "But believe me, Madame, I was out of Sainte-Jeanne for the whole weekend. I left on Saturday morning and returned last night."

Madame clearly wondered how she should attack his line of defence - especially words 'the whole weekend' must have sounded like a cheap excuse to her ears - but in the end she merely said, "We had a deal that you wouldn't be here until Wednesday."

"We had a deal that I wouldn't be at work until Wednesday. And I'm not," Josh pointed out, which made here press her lips in a thin line and say nothing. "I feel better," he assured her, coming closer on the creaking floor, and then asked hesitantly, although it was the reason for him coming here, "May I... take you a moment, Madame?"

He realised that the head nurse always seemed to wait for him. Contrary to the director's office, her room was tidy, without any folders or papers. She would always sit behind her desk with her hands clasped, and he had never seen her busy with paperwork or unavailable. It was as if she performed her duty solely in her head, while she was in charge of the vast majority of the hospital personnel! Now that the facility struggled against problems, she must have had even more work... Josh grew anxious that she wouldn't be able to spare him any of her time, while today he needed to speak with her so much. What would he do if she refused him?

Madame, however, like many times before, pointed at the chair on the other side of the desk. Relieved, he sat down... and mustered his courage. A sudden thought occurred to him and he blurted it out, "Did you send me away so that I didn't bother you?"

She snorted and replied harshly, "Don't be stupid. Now, what is it you want to tell me?"

He looked at her before lowering his eyes again under her penetrating gaze. It wasn't easy... but, he remembered, he shouldn't take her time more than it was necessary. "Madame... I am Tristan Vallee's son," he said quietly, clenching his fists on his lap.

He was answered by a deep sigh, and his head snapped up. She had her brows knitted, but her expression was hard to read... yet it wasn't a rejection that he'd feared all the time. "But it's not that I lied to you...!" he called. "That time when you asked me... on my first day here. I... I just didn't know," he added in a softer voice.

"And now you've learned it?" she asked, and he couldn't tell whether he could hear some irony to her words or not. He nodded. "Who told you? Someone from the hospital? Maybe from the town?" she inquired, but then checked herself. "No, I'm talking nonsense... It will be best if you tell me everything," she suggested. "If you feel like," she added.

He thought of it and then nodded. He felt he really wanted to share that matter with her... share everything he knew. She was someone whom he trusted completely, despite having known her only two weeks. "I told you I'd used to live in an orphanage. I didn't know my parents, but..."

He launched into a tale about his past and about what had happened during two previous days: where he'd been, whom he'd met, and what he'd learned. He tried to be as concise as possible, for he - a mere student - had already taken enough of Madame's time during his stay here, yet it wasn't something he could contain in just a few sentences. Madame listened to him intently, with her hands clasped on the desk and her posture expressing concentration. She neither interrupted him, which didn't surprise him - he'd known her as a person who respected others' right to speak and enforced her own as well - nor rushed him, although he'd been talking at least fifteen minutes.

When he finished, the silence fell. "Madame... Did you know...?" he asked, glancing at her shyly, when he could no longer hold his curiosity.

She said nothing for a moment, observing him from under her knitted brows, and then sighed again. "At first, I didn't," she replied. "You declined it, after all. And the family name was different, too... Thus, I thought that your resemblance to Tristan was accidental."

"Then... I do resemble him?" Josh whispered.

She pressed her lips, somewhat annoyed, before answering. "Like two peas in a pod. Only your hair is much darker... undoubtedly after your mother's."

His chest clenched. "Madame... did you... hate my father?" he asked but realised his foolishness right away. Madame wasn't someone to 'hate' people.

A longer while passed again before he heard the reply, "I had a grudge against him for what he'd done. He was a great worker, and the patients liked him... Sometimes even too much," she added mockingly, giving him a penetrating look. "However, after what happened, there was no place for him here; dismissal was the only option... although I guess that all of us wished to keep him here, for it is quite rare to encounter someone... how you say it... filled with such positive energy, which is beneficial both for patients and co-workers. Yes, many of us regretted his leaving, but the rules were clear. It was nothing personal," she emphasised, and there was an obvious request that he believed her in her eyes. "Later, when I learned that Tristan had really married that girl... sorry, your mother,... Then I became convinced he was a decent man, after all."

Josh blinked. "You knew...?"

Madame nodded. In fact, why should it surprise him? Madame seemed to know everything concerning this hospital, its workers and patients. He felt dizzy of all those questions he wanted to ask. "Madame... Would you please... one say, maybe by lunch... would you tell me more about my father? I don't want to take more of your time now," he muttered with his eyes down, swallowing down the question that was already on his lip, 'Am I like him? Do we have anything in common?'

"I can tell you right away that you resemble him not only outwardly," she replied, apparently reading his mind. "The only difference is that Tristan wouldn't keep asking forgiveness for everything. But, well, he wasn't- His situation was different. However, when things shape well, believe me, you are as enthusiastic as he used to be, and you equally love the whole world. It could be that Tristan, too, was very sensitive, only covered it with his constant smile and vigour. Well, 'covered' isn't a right word. Those things were part of him, were his way of being; they were something everyone could notice in the first place, although there could be something else deep inside... something more."

Josh stared at her again, aware that he looked like fool with such an astonished expression on his face. He hadn't expected to hear something like that. But she was - like most people here - a psychiatric nurse, after all. He didn't know how to reply to such a compliment, so he remained silent.

"But I'll be glad to talk about him, too," she promised. "Lunch is fine with me." It seemed to him that the corner of her lips twitched, but her usual stern expression didn't change. "I suppose you have some business with me now...?"

He stirred. Right, in the meantime, he'd managed to forget what it was he'd come here for, in the first place... "Yes," he replied, licking his lips. He still hadn't recovered from the shock her words had caused... but he had to pull himself together, for getting into some vague moods didn't aid having things taken care of. "It's a bit complicated... but you might be able to help me, Madame. I would like to know what is the hospital I was born in." He explained the matter of his probable pre-term birth. "If I knew that, I would be able to find my baptism certificate. I'd like to know... what my real name is," he confessed quietly with a sudden fear that Madame would consider his request childish. "Is it... possible? I realise it's about using the official channels for private reasons, but... maybe you would like to help me?"

She gave him an intent look. "In compensation for having dismissed your father?" she suggested.

"I didn't think that way," he murmured. "But... can it be done?"

"Of course. It's not a problem for our secretary to call two or three hospitals in Bayonne and figure it, since we know your date of birth and your mother's name," she said. "She can also request that they send the copy of your baptism certificate, if they do have it," she offered. "It would be here in no time."

Josh was relieved; the most difficult part was past him. Again, he was struck by the realisation from before a few days: that recently he'd been encountering only kind people... "I don't know how to thank you, Madame," he whispered. "How come you are so good to me?" he said on impulse.

"You consider me good?" she asked in a tone as if she'd just heard an insult; however, Josh he didn't believe anyone in the world would be offended by calling them good.

"I do," he said. "After all, I'm just a student..."

She looked at him askance, raising her eyebrows. "Then, students don't deserve to be treated well?"

"Now you confessed it," he replied with a smile, feeling that throat-clenching emotion had receded. "I'm truly grateful for your help and support, Madame... It only proves your great heart that you treat a student that way, too. I think such things should be said loudly," he claimed, hoping he managed to return her earlier compliments. "Yes, I'll be happy if you could help me with that hospital matter," he said somewhat solemnly.

She spent another moment staring at him in silence, but this time it seemed to Josh she inwardly struggled with herself. Finally, she sighed and opened the drawer. "If it's only name that interests you... then we won't need to call anywhere," she announced, putting out an envelope and placing it on the desk in front of him.

He gaped at the yellowed rectangle - addressed to Mme Marianne Montagne, Sainte-Jeanne Hospital, Sainte-Jeanne - having no idea what it might be... but unconsciously he realised it was something of great importance, and his heart beat faster.

"After our first meeting, I searched for it at home," Madame added, "for your sight stirred an old memory... and I made sure. Please, look in."

His hands trembling, Josh took the envelope and withdrew what it contained: a single photograph of a smiling young man with very light eyes under the mop of golden blond hair, holding a small bundle in his arms. On the back side was written a few sentences that he managed to read in spite of stinging in his eyes.

Dear Madame,

I know that you certainly bear a grudge against me, but you must know that it is not mutual, and that is why I dare to write to you. 11th of March, Eliane and I became parents. The boy was born prematurely, but everything is all right now, and the doctors stopped worrying about him. Eliane feels well and sends her greetings. We gave our son the names 'Gilbert Joshua', after our fathers, but we call him 'Josh', for Eliane said that it fits the little man the best. Once he grows up, he may choose himself the name he prefers. Eliane insists that the boy resembles me, but in my opinion he resembles his mother more, with those dark hair and very blue eyes. Well, with such parents, he will undoubtedly grow up to be a handsome man, although I hope that he won't be such a lady-killer like his father, and he will find his love in more acceptable circumstances. For my part, I have no regrets about having worked in Sainte-Jeanne, for it brought me two most precious things. I hope that you will be able to forgive me one day.

Respectfully yours,

Tristan Vallee

"Then, you knew," Josh whispered when he was finally able to speak. "And despite that, you were so nice to me..."

"I don't see any connections between those two things," Madame replied curtly, but then her voice betrayed her, "Do you resent me for not having mentioned that?" she asked in a softer voice.

Josh shook his head, his eyes fixed on a tiny and somewhat angular writing that had defined his reality anew. "You mentioned it now," he replied quietly. "Thank you."

She only muttered something in reply. He turned the picture and stared at his father, with emotion as great as one day earlier when he had seen his mother's portray. Tristan Vallee... They were really alike. The same face shape, the same eyes, brows, and nose. Lips stretched in a smile.

"Madame... Was my father... always so merry?" he asked after a moment.

"Always," came the firm reply. "For that short period that he stayed here, I got to know him as a very cheerful person living a full life, as if he didn't want to have any regrets."

Josh nodded. "Just like my mother," he said, never taking his eyes off the photograph. "You must remember her as a patient in a very bad condition... but yesterday I saw her picture from before her illness... and I read her letter from behind my birth... She was full of life, happy... They really did find each other," he added and tried to smile but failed at it, and instead he whispered again, "Madame... Do you think they would... accept that I am this way? That I'm not... normal...?"

"That was the most stupid thing I've heard from you during our short acquaintance," Madame replied outright. "Explain me what you mean," she added, irritated.

Josh raised his gaze on her. "You know... That I don't like women," he replied.

Madame stared at him with a frown. "Do you consider it something not normal? Do you really consider yourself not normal?" she asked, putting her fingertips together. "What does it mean, 'normal', to begin with?" she threw testily.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't like that word."

She nodded. "Good. In psychiatry, we don't like it either, for it's a colloquialism that does harm to people we take care of here," she pointed out warningly and implying that he'd rather not use it. "As for your question... Tristan was one of the most open-minded people I know, that's one thing. The second is that working in psychiatry requires higher lever of tolerance than presented in general populace. And the third..." She waved at him. "Just look at that picture and ask the same again. For me, he looks like a father that would do anything for his child, don't you think?"

"There are many kinds of fathers..." Josh tried to protest, but he didn't really know why he did it, so it turned out rather weak.

"In that case, believe what you want," Madame replied coldly, obviously annoyed with his doubts. "I told you my opinion. But I'm going to ask you this: Would you rather be, like you said, 'normal'?"

Josh looked at her and then shook his head. "No. I am who I am." 'And I'm proud of it,' he wanted to add, but bit his tongue. It really wasn't any reason to be proud... not more than hair or eye colour... "But I would like others to accept me the way I am... At least people who are important to me. But no, I wouldn't like to be different. I can't imagine it." 'And I have Alain,' he added in his mind, albeit without relation to anything. In a way.

"Then you see," Madame said in a voice cutting short.

Unexpectedly, Josh felt like smiling. He felt lighter at heart, although he suspected that a longer while would past until he was able not to become all sentimental at every thought or remark on his parents. Still, he was all right now; talking to Madame seemed to always improve his mood, more or less. Actually, it was something else: Madame used to put him in his place whenever he managed to get too emotional; such was her way of being, yet he never, not for a moment, doubted her good heart.

He cast the last look at his father's beaming face and grabbed the envelope to put the photograph back.

"You may keep it," Madame said, just like Ghislain one day earlier.

"But it was sent to you," he noticed.

"Let's say that I kept it for you. And," she added, looking him the eye, "I'm really glad I could meet you. That I could meet that boy from the picture, Tristan's son."

"Did you forgive him?" Josh asked on impulse, smiling shyly.

Madame shrugged. "There was nothing to forgive," she said firmly. "It was his life, and no-one had to say anything about it. I often say myself that, before anything else, we are humans. But I have to admit that I felt relieved only upon learning that he really had married that girl... that it wasn't... a flirt. Otherwise, he would have been a truly despicable man."

Josh nodded. The more he thought of his parents, the stronger he felt there was some beauty to their story. He knew he would store it inside him like something both precious and unusual. Because he hadn't taken any conscious part in it, it seemed to him more like a wonderful tale... but it was good this way, too.

"I'm sorry to hear that they probably have been long dead," Madame continued. "I think that I believed, all those years, that I would meet Tristan again. That one day he would be around and stop by... go through that door with that smile of his and tell how he'd been doing."

"And instead I came," Josh said, unable to hold back his smile. "In any case, I'm no longer surprised that you welcomed me the way you did. Tristan... my father must have made a great impression on you."

"That was rude, Mr Or," she replied at once, straightening up in her chair. "He might be handsome, but it doesn't mean that all women sank to their knees before him. Not every one," she emphasised, but he could swear she blushed.

He burst out laughing, and the corner of her lips twitched as well.

"Then, do you still wish to see that baptism certificate of yours?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, I no longer need it. But I'm really grateful that you were ready to help me."

"Then tell me, what are you going to do now?" she changed the subject. "You were supposed to be off," she reminded him.

He put his elbows on the desk and gave her, hopefully, a convincing look. "Madame... I think I can already resume my work," he said slowly. "I really feel much better, and besides... I'd like to complete that practice period on time. I like this place, but I think I found something that fits me better..." He told her of his visit in the orphanage and his wish to somehow help the children living there. "I have no idea if I can do it, but I want to try, at least."

Madame observed him with her earnest eyes. "I think you should listen to your heart," she said. "If you feel it is what you want to do... and that you will manage well, then you should by no means try. Even if, in the end, you make another decision, it is the most important that you have tried and seen for yourself. Only you can tell what it is that you are the best in." She took a calendar. "In that case, if you're going to return on the ward tomorrow, you will finish the next Tuesday. It will be your last day of work. Do we have a deal?"

Josh thought of it for a moment before nodding. The plan sounded good, but one think disturbed him. "Thank you, Madame. But... won't Director be upset...?"

"He will have to survive it," Madame replied wryly. "Ah, but you don't know about the message we received last Friday. Fourth-year student is coming here at the end of month to stay the whole summer. From Toulouse," she added in a meaningful way. "He is going to specialise in clinical psychology."

"Oh," Josh said. "I suppose he will be of great help to the hospital. He must know much more than I... And if he is interested in clinical psychology, then he would certainly know what to do."

With a stern look, Madame waved her hand on him. "I don't like it that you depreciate your skills and your work," she said. "Knowledge is one thing, but attitude towards the patients is as important. Yours cannot be faulted. I haven't heard that anyone complained; contrary, everyone has been speaking of you very well so far: the doctors and the nurses, as well as the patients and their families. You should understand that the crucial thing in psychiatry is how you treat people. It may be what matters the most in the treatment process. When a patient feels that someone cares about him, it gives them strength to fight the disease. And you do care; that's obvious."

"You shouldn't praise me so much," Josh muttered, though, of course, he was pleased to be told such thing.

"Why? You fear that it goes to your head, and you become self-conceited?" she threw with merciless irony. "I'd like to see that. Joshua, you must not belittle yourself like that."

Josh lowered his head and murmured something vague in reply. He knew she was right... but it wasn't something he could easily change only because he realised it.

"Back on the topic," Madame went on, apparently deciding to leave him me, "maybe in that time we will find a new psychologist, for a permanent office. If not, maybe we will manage to persuade that student to come here from time to time after his holidays, too, if only for short periods. As far as I know, the final year of master's degree isn't overloaded with classes, so maybe he would take the offer... But these are things that don't concern you," she noticed.

"Right," Josh agreed. "But it's going to make me feel relieved upon my leaving here, so I'm glad you've told me." He looked at his watch and saw it was awfully late already. He jumped to his feet. "I'm sorry I took so much of your time, Madame... I'm grateful you've talked with me."

"Don't forget about lunch," Madame reminded him in a stern voice, as if all his kindness was like water off duck's back, but then she nodded, accepting his words.

Smiling, Josh nodded back and left.

On his way back - bursting with feeling that the world around was truly beautiful - he realised beyond doubt that the last few days had very much strengthened him mentally, while they could have broken him instead. Now he felt clearly he had gained something very valuable: a strong will to live that, he knew, would stay with him longer than just until the first adversity. It was up to him how he would take care of it, but he felt motivated to nurture it and never let it fade, motivated to change his attitude and learn to appreciate life as it was, and never again regret being alive; never think it would be better to disappear for good. In difficult times, he should remember what he had learned about his parents and his first years of life, and derive comfort from that, as well as hope and belief it was worth to go on.

It didn't meant that he suddenly had stopped needing Alain, although such a conclusion could have been easily drawn - after all, until now Josh had very strongly based his own existence on Alain's presence, nearly seeing all sense in it alone. No, by no means he intended to give up on Alain when every thought of him made his head spin and his body burn. After the last events, he desired Alain twice as much, and in every possible way. Now it was clear to him that he hadn't been born to suffer, only to obtain happiness with his own hands, and Alain was his greatest happiness. Actually, he'd always thought so, but sometimes he would give in to the feeling of hopelessness and believe he was doomed to failure in everything he did.

Now he was going to put an end to it, he decided. He would no longer run, he would no longer fear that happiness would end any moment if he did some mistake, but he would no longer strive for perfection, either. Living didn't consisted only of right choices; people used to make mistakes as well. The same applied to a relationship: if he believed in a preternatural bond of souls or perfect love allowing no errors, then he was already fighting a losing battle. It couldn't be always joy; sometimes there was a shadow instead of light. No-one demanded that he were happy in hardships, but it was crucial that he didn't give up, didn't become discouraged, only sought for solution. There wasn't a situation that couldn't be dealt with. If they encountered troubles in their relationship, they needed to find the cause... or simply wait it out, not fall into depression, ask 'Why me?' or complain that his happiness had been so short, in which he truly excelled.

He was important for Alain. They had been together four years - not exactly together, but in one another's life nonetheless. Even when apart, they couldn't have forgotten each other. And later... Alain would often give him proof of his feelings, Josh had to remember that. To tell the truth, the more he thought about it, the more he realised how much love Alain had given him in the daily life they had shared for the last year: with his gestures, words, actions... everything. He wouldn't notice it, not then, maybe had taken it for granted, maybe he'd considered it a natural thing... and now he nearly felt overwhelmed when he thought of it. No, such love like Alain's couldn't end just like that; his behaviour must have had another reason. Alain still loved him, and Josh was completely certain of that, as he was of that Alain would be back.

He should think of how he would welcome him. With calm, with joy, with smile. They would talk in a friendly manner - about everything they would like to and would find significant. He would ask where Alain had been and what had been doing over that time; how he'd been feeling. Josh would tell about himself, about what he'd been thinking and was still thinking. Without accusing, without reproaching, without lecturing or threatening, though it would be good to straighten all things out and think together about their future: what they wanted from their relationship, what they hoped for, and what they would rather not have. Then they would go for a walk or sit on the couch. They would prepare a meal and eat it together. Everything would be like before, like every day, for that daily life they shared was the most precious for Josh. They would enjoy one another's company and later, if they felt like, they would end in each other's embrace, once more together... once more one.

Three days later, on Thursday morning, when he left to work and ran into Alain just outside the house, then hurled himself in his arms and began to kiss him with passion that probably surprised them both, he thought distractedly that long lasting depression obviously had made his brain shrink so much that his ability of imagination was nothing more than a sad memory. However, somewhere in his mind was a thought that he just couldn't plan everything - and this time realising it didn't displease him.

"I've finally found you," Alain whispered in his hair once the moment of their private eternity was over.

"Welcome back," Josh replied with a smile, enjoying the feeling of being closed in those strong arms, and then added, "Better late than never."

And both of them burst out laughing, which more than anything else proved that another difficult time was past them.

Abingdon Boys School, "JAP"