free
03-02-2013, 05:19 AM
I love to write. I love art. Am I an artist? No, if you think that artists are people admired by others, people who get paid for their artistic works. Art is one the things that attract me, apart from other things that I find to be attractive. I live in a small town. My home is surrounded by woods and I follow the change of seasons there. I hear birds and I walk through grass. I consider it to be art, too.
Recently, I have made a great discovery, but I am not going to talk about it now. There are discoveries we make and they arouse us strognly. Only, I have noticed that what arouses me does not arouse other people either in the same way or at all. Therefore, I wonder where do I come from, who am I, where do I go - being so different from my contemporaries.
Here I want to tell you something about me and Professor Stevens, a gentleman between 55 and 65 years of age, who sits in his cabinet and types on a laptop. He is completely seized by the work he is doing. The cabinet is furnished in an old fashioned style, its high ceiling is ornamented with plaster flower arabesques. High windows frame dark-green velvet curtains, and the sunny day light, through heavily leaved old plane trees in the garden, penetrates into the room falling in cascades over a thick Persian carpet. Book shelves on each wall are made of heavy dark brown oak wood. The Professor's table is of the same wood and with the same ornaments as several chairs around a small table in front of him. Few vases with green room plants are placed in each corner. A fresh cologne water smell, which Professor always uses, spreads in the air mingling with the smell of new and old books in the shelves and on the Professor's table, some of which are closed and some opened and the pages of which he, from time to time, pausing his typing, turns over and reads, when a very light knocking on the thick oak door carved on its edges by simple geometric lines and with a shiny polished latch in golden colour, is heard. The Professor, not lifting his eyes from the monitor and not stopping to type, replies:
- Come in.
The door opens soundlessly and I, an ellegantly dressed middle-aged woman appear at it. I am slim and tall, my hair is dyed blonde, my shapely teeth glisten when I smile sweetly at the Professor.
- Professor, would you like a cup of coffee?
Only then, the Professor lifts up his eyes, slightly misty as if he has come back to reality from some far away world, slightly surprised for finding himself in that particular place in that particular moment, he smiles back at me.
- Actually, Miss Stella, it is exactly what I have just wanted.
I smile back even more sweetly and swiftly exit to satisfy the Professor's wish.
Hardly noticably, he moves his head towards the door from which I, his secretary, have just disappeared and smiles to some thought which has just crossed his mind in connection with this short and usual everyday's habit, and returns to his work. After few minutes, I come back and put a silver trey with steaming porcelain cup of coffee on the Professor's table.
- Help yourself, Professor.
Professor Stevens, absorbed in his work, only after these words realises that someone has entered and his face lights with a smile of gratitude.
- Thank you, my dear! What would I do without you?
He says with a comic expression of his face, to what I only wave my hand and immediatelly withdraw silently from the study. Professor sips the coffee that, obviously, pleases him, and continues to work making brief pauses, or better to say, complementing it with casual sips of coffee.
The day is getting closer to the evening and the shaddows of planes prevail over the day light, already pretty pale when the sun has moved to the side of the building opposite from the side of the study. The phone rings and my calm voice announces that Mr. George is on the line.
- Oh, yes... connect me, please.
Says Professor as if he has just remembered something that had previously been arranged and has had to do with the mentioned gentleman on line.
- And, for god sake, Stella, go home! Weren't you supposed to do it three hours ago?
He adds surprised.
- I've had to finish something, but now I'll leave. Thank you, Professor and have a nice weekend.
- Thanks, you, too.
After hearing that the line is connected, Professor shouts joyfully.
- Hey, man! Where have you been?
This question is more rhetorical, than a real question and it usually does not require any answer. After he has heard the voice from the other side of the line, Stevens nods his head.
- Yes, yes, sure! I haven't forgotten. How could've I forgotten something like that? See you there tomorrow...
Then he pauses and listens to what George has to tell, and then says:
- Of course, of course, don't worry. See you, my friend!
He puts the receiver down and rubs one hand to another while his eyes shine with happiness, for, obviously, he has just arranged with his friend something very pleasant. He gets up from his chair, walks around the room and, after scratching the back side of his neck, he sits again by his laptop and continues to type with a smile on his lips which eventually melts away and disappears from his face being replaced by a thoughtful look.
I am silently prepairing to leave my everyday working place, monitoring the phone conversation from the next room. I know what is it about. Professor and his friend are arranging to go tomorrow for fishing at the lake. They have been doing it almost every weekend. The Professor has not had any family of his own, so he could hardly wait to meet someone for weekends and spend his non-working days with. There has been no hope that he would get married. And why should he? He is an attractive man, women have been after him all the time, and I, Miss Stella, have been in love with him heels over head. Of course, I could not compete with all the beauties with whom he has been dating from time to time, but I have hoped that one day my love and devotion are going to win.
When I put all the things in the office to their usual places,I go out and at the building exit door I meet Theresa, the office cleaner. Smiling at her, I wish her a pleasant weekend, to what the other woman says her thanks and wishes the same back. But, I, as if just have remembered something very important, stop and keep Theresa holding her by her shoulder before she could enter the hall.
- Theresa, Professor is still inside, I thought that it would be better not to bother him before he went out. Would you like that the two of us go to the caffee at the opposite side of the street and have coffee until he gets out of the building? Then you can go and clean.
I smile and look at her wishing that Theresa accepts my invitation, because, apart from the reason just said, I am reluctant to go home to my solitude and am trying to find any reason, however stupid, to postopone as long as possible the facing of my lonely weekend days filled with rambles and absurdities.
- Of course, Miss, I'd love it. I am more in a mood for caffee than for cleaning.
She laughs and turns away from the door following me towards the mentioned caffe.
After we have ordered coffee and, drinking it, spoken about usual things of how we spent our day, Theresa leans a bit closer to me, as if prepairing to talk about something very confidential and secret.
- Miss Stella, may I ask you something? But, please, don't feel offended, yes?
I look at her with surprise, and a puzzled smile appeares on my face.
- Of course you may, Theresa. Please ask anything and I will answer if I can.
I sit comfortably and start to listen attentively.
- You are such a beautiful woman, says Theresa, so clever and nice.... There is no day that I don't ask myself with wonderment why haven't you got married so far.
To this question, I straight up my back a bit shocked with surprise, but seeing the simple look on Theresa's good and honest face, I pull myself together. I have known that this woman is simple minded and with no trace of malice and that her question has sprouted from pure feelings, just as some mother would ask her own daughter, although the age difference between us two was not so big. I, then, sigh deeply thinking for awhile, then, looking down to the table, I say.
- I don't know, dear Theresa. It is not that I didn't want to, but it was, simply, not given to me. As if somebody or something has forbidden it. A few times I was just about to do it, but always some higher force stood between me and this aim and made it a failure. All my friends have got married. Those nice, those not very nice, those younger ones, those older ones. The fat ones, the slim ones.... but me – no. I, too, often think about it, but I have no answer.
Theresa has been listening and nodding her head with understanding. After I have finished, she kept silent having no words to add to this. She only lifts her eyebrows with a look of confusion on her face, she shruggs her shoulders and we both sink into silence. After some time has passed, we see Professor leaving the building at the opposite side of the street from where we have been, we get up and go each to our own side, touching each others' hands with a warm touch of some unspoken understanding.
Recently, I have made a great discovery, but I am not going to talk about it now. There are discoveries we make and they arouse us strognly. Only, I have noticed that what arouses me does not arouse other people either in the same way or at all. Therefore, I wonder where do I come from, who am I, where do I go - being so different from my contemporaries.
Here I want to tell you something about me and Professor Stevens, a gentleman between 55 and 65 years of age, who sits in his cabinet and types on a laptop. He is completely seized by the work he is doing. The cabinet is furnished in an old fashioned style, its high ceiling is ornamented with plaster flower arabesques. High windows frame dark-green velvet curtains, and the sunny day light, through heavily leaved old plane trees in the garden, penetrates into the room falling in cascades over a thick Persian carpet. Book shelves on each wall are made of heavy dark brown oak wood. The Professor's table is of the same wood and with the same ornaments as several chairs around a small table in front of him. Few vases with green room plants are placed in each corner. A fresh cologne water smell, which Professor always uses, spreads in the air mingling with the smell of new and old books in the shelves and on the Professor's table, some of which are closed and some opened and the pages of which he, from time to time, pausing his typing, turns over and reads, when a very light knocking on the thick oak door carved on its edges by simple geometric lines and with a shiny polished latch in golden colour, is heard. The Professor, not lifting his eyes from the monitor and not stopping to type, replies:
- Come in.
The door opens soundlessly and I, an ellegantly dressed middle-aged woman appear at it. I am slim and tall, my hair is dyed blonde, my shapely teeth glisten when I smile sweetly at the Professor.
- Professor, would you like a cup of coffee?
Only then, the Professor lifts up his eyes, slightly misty as if he has come back to reality from some far away world, slightly surprised for finding himself in that particular place in that particular moment, he smiles back at me.
- Actually, Miss Stella, it is exactly what I have just wanted.
I smile back even more sweetly and swiftly exit to satisfy the Professor's wish.
Hardly noticably, he moves his head towards the door from which I, his secretary, have just disappeared and smiles to some thought which has just crossed his mind in connection with this short and usual everyday's habit, and returns to his work. After few minutes, I come back and put a silver trey with steaming porcelain cup of coffee on the Professor's table.
- Help yourself, Professor.
Professor Stevens, absorbed in his work, only after these words realises that someone has entered and his face lights with a smile of gratitude.
- Thank you, my dear! What would I do without you?
He says with a comic expression of his face, to what I only wave my hand and immediatelly withdraw silently from the study. Professor sips the coffee that, obviously, pleases him, and continues to work making brief pauses, or better to say, complementing it with casual sips of coffee.
The day is getting closer to the evening and the shaddows of planes prevail over the day light, already pretty pale when the sun has moved to the side of the building opposite from the side of the study. The phone rings and my calm voice announces that Mr. George is on the line.
- Oh, yes... connect me, please.
Says Professor as if he has just remembered something that had previously been arranged and has had to do with the mentioned gentleman on line.
- And, for god sake, Stella, go home! Weren't you supposed to do it three hours ago?
He adds surprised.
- I've had to finish something, but now I'll leave. Thank you, Professor and have a nice weekend.
- Thanks, you, too.
After hearing that the line is connected, Professor shouts joyfully.
- Hey, man! Where have you been?
This question is more rhetorical, than a real question and it usually does not require any answer. After he has heard the voice from the other side of the line, Stevens nods his head.
- Yes, yes, sure! I haven't forgotten. How could've I forgotten something like that? See you there tomorrow...
Then he pauses and listens to what George has to tell, and then says:
- Of course, of course, don't worry. See you, my friend!
He puts the receiver down and rubs one hand to another while his eyes shine with happiness, for, obviously, he has just arranged with his friend something very pleasant. He gets up from his chair, walks around the room and, after scratching the back side of his neck, he sits again by his laptop and continues to type with a smile on his lips which eventually melts away and disappears from his face being replaced by a thoughtful look.
I am silently prepairing to leave my everyday working place, monitoring the phone conversation from the next room. I know what is it about. Professor and his friend are arranging to go tomorrow for fishing at the lake. They have been doing it almost every weekend. The Professor has not had any family of his own, so he could hardly wait to meet someone for weekends and spend his non-working days with. There has been no hope that he would get married. And why should he? He is an attractive man, women have been after him all the time, and I, Miss Stella, have been in love with him heels over head. Of course, I could not compete with all the beauties with whom he has been dating from time to time, but I have hoped that one day my love and devotion are going to win.
When I put all the things in the office to their usual places,I go out and at the building exit door I meet Theresa, the office cleaner. Smiling at her, I wish her a pleasant weekend, to what the other woman says her thanks and wishes the same back. But, I, as if just have remembered something very important, stop and keep Theresa holding her by her shoulder before she could enter the hall.
- Theresa, Professor is still inside, I thought that it would be better not to bother him before he went out. Would you like that the two of us go to the caffee at the opposite side of the street and have coffee until he gets out of the building? Then you can go and clean.
I smile and look at her wishing that Theresa accepts my invitation, because, apart from the reason just said, I am reluctant to go home to my solitude and am trying to find any reason, however stupid, to postopone as long as possible the facing of my lonely weekend days filled with rambles and absurdities.
- Of course, Miss, I'd love it. I am more in a mood for caffee than for cleaning.
She laughs and turns away from the door following me towards the mentioned caffe.
After we have ordered coffee and, drinking it, spoken about usual things of how we spent our day, Theresa leans a bit closer to me, as if prepairing to talk about something very confidential and secret.
- Miss Stella, may I ask you something? But, please, don't feel offended, yes?
I look at her with surprise, and a puzzled smile appeares on my face.
- Of course you may, Theresa. Please ask anything and I will answer if I can.
I sit comfortably and start to listen attentively.
- You are such a beautiful woman, says Theresa, so clever and nice.... There is no day that I don't ask myself with wonderment why haven't you got married so far.
To this question, I straight up my back a bit shocked with surprise, but seeing the simple look on Theresa's good and honest face, I pull myself together. I have known that this woman is simple minded and with no trace of malice and that her question has sprouted from pure feelings, just as some mother would ask her own daughter, although the age difference between us two was not so big. I, then, sigh deeply thinking for awhile, then, looking down to the table, I say.
- I don't know, dear Theresa. It is not that I didn't want to, but it was, simply, not given to me. As if somebody or something has forbidden it. A few times I was just about to do it, but always some higher force stood between me and this aim and made it a failure. All my friends have got married. Those nice, those not very nice, those younger ones, those older ones. The fat ones, the slim ones.... but me – no. I, too, often think about it, but I have no answer.
Theresa has been listening and nodding her head with understanding. After I have finished, she kept silent having no words to add to this. She only lifts her eyebrows with a look of confusion on her face, she shruggs her shoulders and we both sink into silence. After some time has passed, we see Professor leaving the building at the opposite side of the street from where we have been, we get up and go each to our own side, touching each others' hands with a warm touch of some unspoken understanding.