by Mike Bayles

Created on: August 21, 2009

Eyes of the Beholder

Scott dropped his briefcase onto the couch. "That's enough happiness," he said. The questionnaires could wait. He grabbed his keys and slipped out of his apartment. He taped a note to his door. He hoped it would say enough for Judy, his research partner: I CAN'T DO THIS ANY MORE TODAY. WE CAN DO THE RESULTS TOMORROW.

He walked along the edge of campus, where a group of undergraduate boys chased a group of coeds, who shrieked. He envied them. An errant Frisbee hit the side of his head, and he brushed at it, as it swatting a fly. A coed ran up to him and smiled. Before he could say anything, she ran back to her friends.

Thoughts of his situation filled his mind: of the dead space in his life, the two-year string of temporary jobs, and failed romance, all leading him to go back to campus, and find his way, only to be assigned to work with a pesky undergraduate, whom his professor called brilliant. He knew she was book smart, but wondered what she knew about life. A sense of irritation burned his chest, as he remembered the time she called him an exile. An exile from what? he had wondered, when he thought about a paper he had written about people who had chosen to live alone. He wondered about the differences between aloneness and loneliness, and thought that the difference was a matter of perspective.

A stout girl sat on the bench near a lake. Water lapped at the shoreline. The other side hid beyond the horizon. The lake seemed restless, but she seemed at peace. She was reading an interpretation of "Romeo and Juliet." He recognized her as his research partner. Why are you reading that stuff?" he asked.

"It's so romantic." She pushed the black-framed eye glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Romantic? They died."

"Do you know the implications of romance?"

She looked at him, waiting for the answer.

"Expectations get built up, and if not met, the disappointment can be bitter." He looked at her, and a set of pride set in about how realistic he could be about life.

She shook her head, and gazed at him with an innocent expression. "Romance can be good, too," she said.

Pleasure boats passed in and out of the harbor, giving it a sense of life. Scott pointed at the water pump station, jutting out of the water, past the break waters. "An old man works out there alone, and he's happy." He referred to a feature in the newspaper.

"That's because he's got no one. His wife died

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>