A Changing Of The Seasons (2)
‘What do you mean?’ justified Stefan. ‘I am an educator and it is my duty to teach the plebs a few hard lessons every now and then.’ ‘But who says that they want to be taught? Remember the maxim, "When the student is ready the teacher should appear," argued Christine. ‘What utter nonsense! It is not an indictment to point out flaws in others, it is a virtue and those corrected should be grateful to have their mistakes revealed to them. The true crime would be to idly leave them to their own demise and not assist in the remedy of bad habits such that they may be reinforced over and over again. My students need not blindly consider what I say to be the truth and should listen, consider and then propose or dispose of my recommendations accordingly. It is a great source of amusement when people become belligerent, for instance take the present situation as a case in point, whereby the waiter could have averted his own aggravation by simply doing the right thing, the smart thing. Is that too much to ask? Of course the down side of my singular service is that I invariably become a little stressed in the education process also but then again what teacher doesn’t? Forgive my petty quibbling; it really is a small price to pay for the sake of learning.’ ‘You’re right Stefan; you’re always right,’ expostulated Christine despondently as the mood shifted back to the evenings beginning. ‘I’m sick of always being wrong; you have a real gift for being correct.’ ‘Now Christine there’s no right and wrong in a relationship; we’re both on the same side. I can’t be exactly like you nor you like me because we’re completely different people and therefore cannot always reach the same conclusions,’ argued Stefan desperately trying to justify himself and find rational ground in the quagmire of emotion he traversed. ‘I do however admire your ability to recognise self fault because it is only the stupid who fear admitting to mistakes,’ he obstinately continued. ‘They believe that in doing so they will be perceived as smarter whereas they actually reveal an insecurity that prevents learning. They deny themselves a lesson, a valuable lesson, because the best learning tool we have is our ability to recognise mistakes and the best lessons learned are those that hurt the most.’ ‘For someone who claims to be clever, you certainly are very stupid,’ sniped Christine losing grip of her patience. Stefan started in disbelief and retreated, ‘I don’t claim to know everything. I just know a lot about others because I know a lot about myself!’ ‘Well then maybe you know how much saliva the waiter will serve with our meals?’ shrieked Christine now visibly agitated. Little was said during preliminary drinks and the entree as the waiter tended on them hand and foot, a fixed smirk now firmly planted on his round face as he sourced newfound delight from the couples newfound misery. Stefan scoured the reaches of his brain for a means to restore merriment to the meal, if only to reduce the waiter to his correct station. ‘Do you like the music that is playing?’ he asked breaking the uncomfortable silence and opting for the security of small talk to lighten the mood. ‘Yes,’ was the laconic response. ‘I don’t really approve of this modern over-processed music, but I never block my mind out to anything new because that amounts to censorship, and censorship is nothing less than profanity. Modern artists may suffer for their music but why should we all suffer for it also?’ ‘Don’t you try to block out pain?’ quipped Christine looking more and more interested by the second. ‘I especially don’t block out pain because it serves an important function that should never be denied. So long as there is pain and struggle we know that we are alive. It is contentment and piece of mind that amounts to death.’ ‘Your resolve is good in theory but may be in want of practice,’ said Christine auspiciously. ‘I think it’s time you were presented with your surprise,’ said Stefan finishing the last mouthful of his main dish and recognising Christine’s change in attitude as an opportune moment. He proceeded to remove an oblong shaped box just larger than the size of his palm from his jacket pocket and place it upon Christine’s welcoming hand. Christine ripped opened the attached card first as etiquette dictated and gave it faint consideration before producing her plastic camera smile and exclaiming in a sickly sweet voice, ‘Oh thankyou Stefan.’ All attention immediately turned to the finely wrapped box as she gasped in anticipation whilst surmising to herself what it may contain. ‘Perhaps it is perfume, or maybe a bracelet, or no maybe a ring,‘ she thought with increasing fervour as each new suggestion carried a larger price-tag than the previous. ‘What on earth could it be?’ she announced shaking the box gently with delight, ‘I simply cannot imagine.’ ‘There’s only one way to find out my dear,’ he added triumphantly, ‘Open it up and see!’ ‘You really are a darling and far too good for me sometimes Stef.’ The frantic tearing of paper could be heard across the restaurant that was now filled to capacity. Christine’s eyes glistened as she carefully inspected the velvet case inside and widened as she proceeded to open it. ‘Oh darling; it’s, it’s, it’s ...,’ Christine choked, ‘it’s a pen?’ ‘Yes, isn’t it wonderful,’ he replied. Christine hastily removed the pen from it’s box for closer inspection. It was aerodynamically contoured and well weighted and styled although the thick tubular stalk suggested it to be a males writing implement. The lower half of the pen was a majestic royal blue colour and the nib could be produced as required by simply twisting the golden top backward and forth. A stark look of disappointment curled Christine’s lips with disdain to the horror of Stefan as the prospect of reward diminished slowly from his sight. ‘Is their something the matter my dear?’ accosted Stefan becoming upset. ‘No really Stefan it’s lovely thankyou,’ returned Christine unconvincingly. ‘Come on,’ he persisted, ‘it’s obvious that there’s something concerning you.’ Christine bit her lip momentarily pondering her next move. Thoughts of earlier dissension between them pressured her resolve and the disappointment in her lowly heart loosened her tongue. ‘The pen is very nice; but don’t you think it’s a more fitting present for a male?’ she confessed. ‘Why what piffle!’ he defended. ‘It is certainly not a gender based present by any stretch of the imagination. A pen is a wonderfully practical gift, albeit slightly factitious I admit, but none the less well suited for anyone, male or female.’ ‘Yes of course you’re right, you’ll have to excuse me,’ she replied in a feeble attempt to ingratiate herself to him. ‘I’m afraid that my ability to feel often impedes my capacity to think although I would rather be irrational and have feeling than logical and have none.’ ‘What makes you think that the two are mutually exclusive?’ Stefan inquired detecting the slight insult directed toward him. The waiter boldly approached the table and interrupted, ‘Would you care for desserts or coffee sir?’ Stefan could hardly believe the waiters apparent idiocy and sternly replied, ‘Coffee is a mind altering drug; No we’ll just take the bill thankyou!’ ‘With all due respect sir so is oxygen, so perhaps sir would care to stop breathing,’ sallied the waiter as he hurriedly ducked for cover behind the service counter. Christine shakily stared at Stefan with tears beginning to well in her eyes, and stammered, ‘I wonder if we are well suited at all because you never like the things that I like.’ Stefan was apathetic to her assertion, maimed by rejection and weary of reproaches. ‘Well then perhaps it’s time you brought your tastes in line with mine,’ he sniped with little emotion. ‘It is always important to state exactly what you want otherwise you run the risk of receiving something else.’ ‘I want to break up,’ was the reply from the other end of the table. ‘Is that stating things clear enough for you?’ Stefan apathetically replied, ‘Are you absolutely certain?’ ‘Yes, I am.’ ‘Well then so be it,’ he affirmed quavering involuntarily as the magnitude of the decision began to sink in. ‘I never want to hold anybody back from their true desires.’ The bill was paid and the severed couple retreated from the crowded restaurant to the solemn anonymity of the street. ‘Thankyou very much for joining us, do call again,’ called the waiter after them cheerfully as they passed through the door, unable and unwilling to contain his delight at the apparent hostility between them. The pouring June rain envelops the city in a mindless haze and makes ones soul yearn for the shelter of slumbers bliss. Ensuing snow shrouds dormant sidewalk’s lying shielded from cutting winds that feast relentlessly upon the lonely denizens heart. The empty streets echo sadness of a lost child wandering blindly through the bleak wilderness, desperately trying to find his way home where Springs beckoning arms reach out to comfort him once more. Christine lay on the lounge-room floor in her comfortable downtown apartment, curled up in a ball before the element heater that served as a lifeline for the cold winter months. She lay in a daze and pondered her apparent unhappiness. It had been a good three months since she had parted from Stefan and still the gloom of depression gnawed at her being, making her question whether she had done the right thing by casting herself free from his subliminal hold. A frantic banging on the front door served to disturb her sloth and she slowly scrambled to her feet and wandered aimlessly toward it, like a moth drifts into the glaring light that will be its ultimate bane. She opened the door and was taken aback by the sight that met her sore red eyes. Stefan stood there before her, dripping wet and shaking uncontrollably from a combination of cold and nervousness. The sparkle had gone from his eyes and the characteristically haughty air he exuded to all that beheld him had been forsaken and replaced by a broken and pathetic manner. ‘Stefan; what on earth are you doing here?’ Christine inquired. ‘I was in the neighbourhood so I thought that I’d call by and see how you were going. ‘I’m really not very well, perhaps it is best that you leave me in peace.’ Stefan’s eyes shuddered with the erratic palpitations of his broken heart as he tasted the bitter tang of rejection from the one he loved once more. ‘Please let me come in and talk with you Christine. I will not stay long but there is something that I have to say.’ Her eyes darted to the ground as she nodded with approval before waving her arm in gesture for him to enter. They made their way through the long narrow corridor and into the lounge at the rear of the apartment. Each took a chair on either side of the couch they once shared and sat in unfamiliar silence, unaccustomed to being in each others company with nothing to say. An urge to take her in his arms and make everything return to the way it was momentarily overwhelmed Stefan as tears began to stain his cheeks, but the realisation that he had no right to take what was no longer his quashed this capricious desire. ‘Do you think that we have made a mistake in separating?’ he inquired piteously. Christine looked upon him empathically as she too felt his pain. Her compassionate nature was flexing under the emotion of the moment but thoughts of the tedium endured in the final months spent together saw her resolve endure the tide of sentiment. ‘No, no I do not,’ she replied quavering. ‘Tell me where we went wrong Christine?’ She paused and stared momentarily into his eyes with brave resolution before returning her glance to the window. ‘I can’t answer that; it is a difficult question,’ she replied. ‘There’s no such thing as difficult questions only difficult answers,’ Stefan pursued. ‘Why don’t you just tell me the truth which is always the simplest of all answers to give?’ ‘I’m afraid that it’s not that easily explained,’ she feebly defended. A look of despondency wore a trail of frustration across Stefan’s brow as the impossibility of reconciliation became more and more apparent. ‘Your ideals may be complex,’ he announced, ‘but that is only natural for someone who avoids the simplicity that truth affords. The reason you cannot or will not answer is because you have made a decision and are determined to stick to it for no other reason than pride. Thinking will only instil more doubt in your mind and possibly lead to a change of heart and we can’t have that now can we?’ ‘I don’t want to talk about it so please don’t ask any more questions,’ Christine asserted becoming irritated as she now clearly remembered exactly why she had decided to break off the relationship. ‘And I don’t understand how anybody cannot want to discuss a topic. All topics warrant consideration; particularly one of this magnitude,’ Stefan snapped returning her growing annoyance. ‘Okay fine I’ll tell you because you asked so nicely. You are clinically cold and unfeeling, completely devoid of even the most base form of innate compassion and love. Your cynicism is murder and your logic - well it kills.’ ‘Cynicism is the stigma of brilliance after all,’ offered Stefan unable to contain himself. ‘Sometimes I wonder just how it is that anybody so intelligent can be so stupid?’ she returned to his inappropriate response. There was a pause as Stefan recalled his troops from battle and formulated his next plan of attack. ‘You evidently misunderstand me and perhaps only a woman of genius can truly appreciate me for my true beauty - brilliant and flawed. I once despised the thought of love and thought it to be little more than an irrational marketing tool used to sell consumer products like the sentiment attached to births, deaths and marriages. Now I realise what a fool I have been and can see that I only have one heart to give and now it is yours. It is battered and bruised so that no other would care to have it and still beats faithfully for you in my sunken chest. Perhaps I often contain my emotions and hide my true feelings away behind a shield of bravado in order to preserve myself from injury. I am very conservative by nature and often find it difficult to freely express myself,’ he said revealing his true colours for the first time. ‘Be sure not to confuse conservative with narrow minded as in my experience this happens far to often,’ she said. ‘We all compromise our standards to some extent in relationships the only question is by how much? I’m afraid that you are just too much sometimes Stefan, in fact most of the time, and therefore we can be nothing more than just good friends.’ ‘I do not need your friendship I need your love,’ he pleaded desperately. ‘I’m afraid that I cannot give it to you no matter how hard I may try. I cannot change you and cannot accept you as you are so it is only natural that we remain apart. I think that we were brought together out of loneliness and kept together through convenience and this is not enough to sustain a long term relationship. The whole time we were together you only thought of yourself so I must say that I am surprised that we do not agree on this point.’ ‘How could I not give you a second thought when you’re my every thought? The colours have dried and dulled on life’s palette without your moisture. I would do anything for you Christine, all you have to do is ask.’ ‘That’s the problem - I do not want to ask. Why didn’t you show some initiative and prove that you loved me when you had the opportunity instead of showering me now with belated amour in a feeble attempt to retrieve a heart that is lost?’ The vitriolic shower of quivers from his beloved’s bow saw one lodge firmly in his heart. Stefan rose to his feet and staggered to the window in a state of shock. He stood in silence by the window and dropped his head to the floor in sadness. Stefan then noticed the pen he had given Christine as a birthday present laying next to a pad of paper by the telephone. He picked it up and raised it to his eye admiring the resplendent gleam reflected in the daylight. ‘I see that you keep my pen here and have not discarded it like you discard me. Surely it must mean something to you; surely I must still mean something to you.’ ‘Take your damned pen and leave my house - I have no need of it nor of you,’ she said coldly. Stefan faltered with emotion as he felt his heart rend asunder and conceded, ‘Perhaps you are right; it is clear that we will never be able to reconcile our differences. I never thwart anybody from reaching their full potential and so I leave you in peace as is your desire,’ said Stefan in strengthening voice as he fiddled with the pen in an agitated manner. ‘It is! Please leave me alone and do not bother me again.’ ‘So I shall,’ he returned gripping the pen hard with conviction. In a flash Stefan thrust the pen deep into his soul to remove the pain that had been compounding there for three long months. The agony of unrequited love growing in his heart like a cancer had become more painful with every breath he took. Extinguishing a life not worth living had become the only option left to escape his unbearable heartbreak that could not be remedied. He had been murdered by Christine’s words and his subsequent actions were a mere formality, a voluntary euthanasia to expedite his inevitable demise thereby removing the unnecessary suffering and humility that would ensue for his remaining years. Christine gasped in horror as Stefan slumped to the floor and the crimson life poured from him across the new carpet. Her previous lack of affection was substituted for overwhelming affectation as she cradled him comfortingly in her arms. The tears streamed down her cheeks and fell onto Stefan’s contented face below. ‘Oh Stefan why did you do it?’ ‘I thought that I’d exercise some initiative for a change,’ he stammered between gasps as his eyes stared to heaven through the window above him. A slight smile momentarily lit his countenance as the pain drained from his body, and he felt the security of oblivion release his soul from the hollow embrace of a cold uncaring world.
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