by Nathan Porter
“I think that’s the best thought out excuse for being anal retentive I’ve ever heard,” she says, chuckling. Her bright, ice-blue eyes smile at me. Ice-blue is a great color for eyes.
“At least you appreciate the work I put into it.” Personally, I am rather proud of my explanation for a high standard of timeliness, but apparently it doesn’t translate well. I am not sure exactly where to go from here. Her eyes could be ice-blue, but what defines the different shades of blue anyways? My attempt to pull up a mental image of a glacier is not working. But, more importantly, is this comparison further evidence that I am as anal retentive as she says? Regardless, I enjoy the intentionality of looking directly into someone else’s eyes in conversation, especially if they are ice-blue.
“I like the way your eyes match your shirt,” she notes. I’ve heard this compliment often, and perhaps it is the reason I have a narrow range of shirts in the various shades of blue and green. An interesting comment for her to make at this point in the conversation though, but, then again, I don’t know how long we’ve been studying each other’s eyes. I guess that comment was warranted.
“Thanks, you have nice eyes yourself.” It takes me a moment to continue. “So anything exceptionally exciting recently?” A potentially terrible question, but the ultimate invitation to endless, mindless small talk and all the living nightmares that may abound.
To be honest, I am not sure where this conversation is meant to go anyway. I figured since Eleanor is just transferring, I might as well make sure she has at least one friend. Does that make me a hero? Perhaps, but I’m honestly not sure if I even want to be that one friend. Maybe I am just a jerk assuming she doesn’t have any other friends right now. Either way, there’s not much to lose.
“What do you define as exceptional?” Again, those smiling eyes.
“Good point. Well, is there anything that has actually made an impact to you? Something that stood out as worth remembering?”
“That’s your definition for exceptional?” Eyes slightly more challenging now. “And are you wanting a conversation worth remembering?” Her soft voice now emanates the sweet scent of sarcasm.
My eyes meet her challenge with curiosity. “That’s a rather forward question to ask. Does that mean you object?”
The ambient volume of Coffee Bean rises. Perhaps, I was too quick to judge the friend of a friend’s ex-girlfriend. For someone I had only met in passing, she seemed far too willing to meet up. Considering her current confidence and amiability, it doesn’t seem like she would have trouble making friends. Those eyes certainly help. When we stood in line to buy coffee, I noticed she was only four or so inches shorter than me. Well, I say “buying coffee” but it has probably been years since I’ve settled for anything other than black tea. She has a nice form, though, complimented by her modest clothing which, considering the heat today, is a little much.
“You alright? Your eyes look a little glazed.” I hear this in the recesses of my thoughts. Right, reality.
“Really? That’s weird.” She knows I stopped paying attention, but, for my sake, she’s playing dumb.
“So whatcha think about Jesus?” she asks, suddenly.
“Well, that was random.”
“How do you figure? I thought you were looking for meaningful conversation?” She had me. This time her smile and charming eyes are more perturbing.
“I hoped for something other than religion to get there, though.” Anything besides religion would’ve been preferred. I glance down at my tea and feign disappointment at the steam still steadily rising. That’s the problem with hot drinks: you spend most of the time just waiting for them to cool off enough to drink. Then again, they do last longer this way.
“Well, the whole religion thing is pretty important to me, so I figured I’d have to ask what you thought about it eventually.” From her tone, it seems like she actually wants to have a more personal conversation about it. What did she mean by “eventually”? Are we meeting up again?
“Fair enough. Okay, do you mean him as a person or Christianity in general?”
“Your pick.” Her candidness continues.
“I guess there was a person named Jesus who said some things that altered a lot of people’s understanding of life and what it means to live peaceably as the human race. So, I guess he is pretty cool in that respect.” I’ll let her fight for the conversation a bit.
“Are you a fan of him calling himself ‘the Son of God’?”
“Yeah, not so much on that bit.” Or not at all. I wonder if she is reading my body language and doesn’t mind all my anxious chuckles.
“Fair enough. So how about religion in general?”
Here it goes. “Well, I think some people can make it work. Honestly, though, nowadays it seems to create just as many problems as it tries to fix. Look at America. It’s not like Christians, or any other religion, are leading toward a better future for anyone. Out in the world, it seems like more people are being killed in the name of religion than anything else. I mean, when I look at religion and the common belief in a higher power and all of that, it seems that what drives people to religion is more of an emotional need for fulfillment or to have a higher purpose, than something tangible or really necessary.”
“An emotional need?” She tilts her head slightly to the side, a few strands of dark brown hair falling across her face.
“What I mean is that I find satisfaction in a logical and pragmatic look at the world and I don’t find any need for religion in my own life. I can see how other people might find satisfaction in the pursuit of a higher power, or that God loves them, or that there’s an afterlife, but I don’t find it necessary.”
“Fair enough. I don’t blame you. So, in a way, you believe that people’s pursuit of religion is driven by an emotional need and a dissatisfaction with life?”
“Essentially, yes.” That may have come off a little too candid.
“Do you believe that it is true for me?” Her bright expression and leveling gaze is captivating.
“I don’t know. Though, you have to admit, you being raised in the church doesn’t exactly help your case. I feel like, with your family, it would be hard for you to not be Christian.” It helps to know a bit of family history to avoid direct criticism for beliefs.
“I actually don’t disagree with you there. I am curious, though, how far do you carry this whole perspective?”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe it’s a little extreme but do you think people will evolve beyond their need for other people too? It almost sounds like you want to write off emotional need in general.”
“Well, I enjoy hanging out with you if that’s what you’re asking.” I try to give an encouraging smile but the intense thoughtful expression in her face gives me little hope that my comment is going to alter our conversation’s course. “It’s not that I think emotions aren’t good, but I also don’t think they are exactly what should drive us to make decisions, especially if they make our lives revolve around something that can’t actually be proven.”
“Still, isn’t the conflict with emotions one of the things that actually defines us being human? Better question, do you think it’s worth having emotions at all?”
“Worth it to have emotions? I didn’t expect to hear that question, especially from you.”
“What, does an intellectual girl break your stereotypes?” Did I have this stereotype or is she just assuming that I stereotyped her? Interesting point, nonetheless.
“I guess I never thought I would be having this kind of conversation with you to be honest.”
“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. But enough avoiding the question.” Her tenacity is truly something inspiring.
“Fine. Although I find my emotions disagreeable at times, I also think that, without emotions, it would be pretty difficult to enjoy life.”
“There you go, and I hope you can join me in finding at least some purpose in enjoying life. Maybe seeing the purpose of life is to enjoy it, to some degree.” Her alacrity as she moves through this conversation is confusing. Where is she going with this?
My counter. “But then you have your whole ‘God is Love’ thing. What about all the people who don’t enjoy their lives? Where is your God then? If their purpose is in enjoying life, and God created us for that purpose, as you say, then what about them?”
“Fun question then: do you believe the world works?” With this question she sits back, seeming to have relaxed for a moment.
“You’re ridiculous! What kind of question is that?” My expression falls between surprise and curiosity.
“Fine, easier question: do you believe your life works? Do you find benefit in being you and being alive? Is it worth it to be you? Are you satisfied with your life?”
“Okay, okay.” She’s pelting me with all these questions. “You seriously need to work on your transitions, but whatever. Yes, I think my life works for what it’s worth. I believe that I am a perfectly functional human being with every opportunity to enjoy my life and that, in the end, I may be able to say I lived a satisfactory life.”
But, are you satisfied now?” By now she is leaning forward again and she has that passionate look in her eyes–a cross between lovely and unnerving.
“You’re asking the wrong question. I could say that I am satisfied to some capacity, but am I still looking for something more? Yes. There’s a number of things I really wish I could figure out in my life right now but I have been satisfied before and I trust I will be again soon.” Our eyes are locked now; it feels like a break in eye contact would mean conceding defeat.
“So, don’t you think there could be more to life? Forget about religion, fine, but does the world really work? There is pain and there is suffering, but, all things considered, I think myself blessed. Yet, I still struggle with finding satisfaction with my life–and that doesn’t even compare to how much more the people who are dying of starvation face. Maybe I am someone who is dissatisfied with their life, or the world, or whatever, but is the answer to this world really just a simple evolutionary process and the reality of being human is the chance of hopefully enjoying life more than a rat does?”
“Hey, I think some rats are pretty happy.” Wow. It’s not that often that I’ve had someone open up this much to me, especially with someone opposingly religious. Eleanor is so beautiful when she is passionate.
Her chuckle reignites reality. “I apologize for the outburst. It’s just… I am not going to pretend that I have my crap together or that I perfectly understand Christianity. I question this crap everyday. But think about it: we feel, we empathize, we think, we imagine and I find it hard to believe that our only purpose is a random chance of chemical reactions meant to keep us reproducing.” Her shining eyes are almost pleading with me. “Does any of that make sense?”
“It does. Thank you.” I don’t know where to go from here. As I look at her I can’t help but feel different about her–like a warm, newfound idea. In my mind a landscape is unfolding full of rivers, green mountains reaching up into a clear ice-blue sky.
She checks the time. “Well, I think I should be getting back.” Her voice sounds a little confused herself, with a hint of disappointment–as if the questions she had asked me backfired into confusion for her.
We both stand, chairs loudly scrapping the cement. One of us makes a remark about it being a good time to grab coffee. We both move in for a hug goodbye. She is actually not too much shorter than me. I begin to move my head awkwardly to one side as hers moves past mine but then, I am kissing her.
Everything stops.
Just as my mind registers the warmth flooding through my body, she pulls away. I am not even sure who initiated. For once my thoughts escape me and the scene replays in my mind. But all I can recall is the soft warmth of her lips.
Again, I meet reality, but this time with the inside of her hand sharp across my face. I guess it was just me.
