“So how's it going”, Isaac had been sitting next to Serena for about five minutes before he interrupted her chain of thought...
“How is it going”
“Come on now, there's no need to get all grammatical on me.”
“I'm sorry – but it would be so simple just to get it right.”, she looked up at him conveying, facially, a level of helplessness and, at the same time, disappointment,
“No need to apologise – we have a lot to sort out and no time for that level of politeness. They're both right – incidentally... ”
“Not necessarily in written form. OK – I agree about the politeness”, her body contracted down into the chair slightly.
“Are you shaking?”
“Something like that – I think it's just too much coffee”
“You've not had that much have you?”
“I don't know – I've lost track”
“Well, here have some water”
“If you think it will help.”
“Possibly...”
“What do you want?”
“Just to see how you are.”
“Well, how am I?”
“That's what I'm asking you.”
There was a pause. The conversation was brisk.
“I don't quite see what it is you want to tell me; or what you want me to tell you.”
“Good – you're jumping ahead, but remember, although I want you to be honest, I need you to keep things sequential. There's no good in jumping ahead of me – although you can read what I'm about to ask there are things I know that you don't.”
“Then what's the point in being able to read you?”
“It gives you an opportunity to frame your answer. Choose a good 'response frame' into which you can fit your answer”
“And if the answer doesn't fit your question?”
“Well then you choose a better frame”
“Then what was the point in framing before I knew the answer?”
“It makes your response seem more immediate, more believable to … me.”
She laughed, “This is pointless”
“Why?”
“Everything seems pointless”
“Well let's give you something to do then”
“OK”, she stared at him, “I'm starting not to trust you”
“But you wouldn't lie to me, would you?”
“I'm not allowed to”
“Well if you're not allowed to then why would you start to not trust me?”
“It's an expression – I... 'like' you.”, she moved the lighter to a 45 degree angle and turned it over to hide the starfish; a green and black cartoon crab stared back;
“Well, I'm glad to hear it, I like you too – remember, we did know it each other very well for a time.”
“I'm starting to doubt that.”
“Oh – so you think that might be a false memory? Been reading up on your Freud have you.”
“Something like that”
“Well if you haven't then look into it – Freud had a take on that sort...”
“I CAN'T LIE TO YOU...!”, it was shouted, she crossed her arms. Isaac was taken aback:
“OK, ok, it's just conversation... It seemed like a non-committal answer, if you ask me – now Freud, a take... er on that – ah here we are – sort ...of thing and it might prove useful when you're trying to express yourself.”
She visibly shook as if in anger or hatred; as if she found her self stuck somewhere, tied down; Iasaac lent forward and touched her arm – for the first time with any sort of empathy, “OK?”
“Thank you”, she visibly relaxed and took a sip of the water in front of her.
A long pause... Serena watched him as if observing a long lost memory, watching him survey the surroundings as though they were of some consequence and then she moved her attention to the cartoon 'emerald crab'. One half-leg of a star fish from the table-side of the lighter wrapped around it's edge into her view and she began to feel as though she missed them dearly.
“Still smoking then?”, he leaned back on his chair
“Yes – for the moment... it doesn't seem to matter any more.”
“Well – yes, I can see that point of view, but I'd be inclined to give up for the sake of it; if it doesn't matter there's no point doing it is there?”
“If you say so.”, annoyance returned.
“Why would you be annoyed about that?”
“You're always telling me what to do...”
“You used to like that!”
“That was different – I enjoyed what we were doing then”
“Hmmm – I remember... Maybe we should try some role reversal and you tell me what to do next time”
“You sound like a bad book”
“Like a bad dog? A book that has done a bad thing? ...or a badly written book. I mean, really, you were bad in bed – but I never complained. It was good.”
“You've made your point.”, she stopped and seemed truly confused. “It'll never happen – let's stick to work... Please – if this is important, as you suggest, I don't think it's a good idea to get confused as to what's real and what's not.”
“It's all real – don't you remember?”
“I mean – if you're going to pretend to love me then I'd rather not do it...”
“OK – I won't pretend to love you”
“Do I tell you what to do now?”
“If you want. I'm all ears.”
Silence... “Why?”
“Not quite there yet then. 'Why?' is not an instruction by the way. I'll let you read some more.”
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