Impuls
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Now Lorraine seems almost cozy to her.
– You annoy me .
…But only seemingly.
Emily snorts.
– I rarely get noticed, so I guess I'm even glad to be evoking any emotion at all.
Lorraine clears her throat.
– What gave you that idea?
– Well," Emily shrugs, "they don't even say hello to me.
– A hello is not a symbol of significance. Neither is a robe. Don't you like red?
Emily looks at her glass.
– I'm at work, I told you.
– Not anymore," smiles Lorraine. – I kidnapped you for the rest of the day.
Emily turns a perplexed look on her.
– How?
– Well, your main job is to help me. – Lorraine eats so fast that Emily doesn't even understand how she has time to talk in between bites of food. – So today you're helping to pass my time.
– Yeah," Emily nods. – Like in the circus?
– Like the theater," nods Lorraine. – 'Try it. – She touches her fingertips to her glass. – It is homemade.
The wine is indeed delicious – berry and fruity, a little tart but not sour; and Emily dares to take another sip.
She doesn't know how to drink – while Lorraine rests her lips on the cold glass, Emily drinks more than half of it in a gulp.
There is an awkward pause.
– Do you like theater? – Remembering that she has heard the comparison twice before, Emily tries to escape the silence that envelops them.
– Crazy," Clark replies immediately. – Charlie and I go to musicals or comedies all the time. Not dramas! I hate dramas, they're so boring and predictable. It's either death or happiness at the end; it's like there's no third option.
– What could there be a third?
– Tranquility, what else. – Lorraine picks up her glass by the neck. – Well, what about you, Emily? Do you like the theater?
Suddenly the atmosphere of the establishment seems to set Emily up for conversation – and the conversation folds in on itself, as if someone invisible had removed the boundaries or pushed the limits.
Or maybe it's because Clark is sitting beside her-not across from her, but beside her, laughing, covering his purple lips with his lipstick that's barely worn off, smiling, twirling; his hair sparkles, his knitted sweater falls off his shoulders, revealing his collarbones and moles; Lorraine fixes it, but when she waves her hand, it slips down again, and she laughs, scolding the naughty thing.
Emily feels her own body relax; what served as the starting point-the alcohol, the atmosphere, Clark's proximity, or all together-she doesn't know, but she feels the metal plates being removed from her spine and the twigs of resentment dissolving, finally dying down.
Clark jumps from "you" to "you," staying true to his traditions; orders another glass of wine and a vase of ice cream; takes a grape ball with a spoon and laughs as it melts:
– I wasted my entire first paycheck on food. I remember bringing home a dozen bags filled with all kinds of crap. Well, you know how it is, I guess. It was my first unnecessary purchase-and I wanted to burrow into those bags and cover myself with food and sleep in them. Charlie was terrified!
– Do you live with your brother? – Emily didn't let her glass out of her hands.
– Until… twenty, I think," Lorraine frowned, remembering. – Then things got better, and we were separated right away. Now it's almost an hour by car between us. – Sigh. – So we only see each other at work. Life doesn't stand still, Emily. Things change.
– How did you manage to change things like that?
– I just wanted to. – Clark shrugs. – First your life, then Charlie's. It's not that hard. You just have to…
– Walk straight," Emily finishes, raising her hand with her glass.
The neurosurgeon smiles:
– Glad you remembered.
– Charlie tells me you used to say that phrase to him a lot.
– Charlie talks too much. – Lorraine shakes her head. – Sometimes I think he lacks sociality. There are a colossal number of people around him, but he's still alone.
Emily puts the empty glass on the table – the second at lunch today – and realizes, with a hazy, refusing-to-work mind, that Lorraine is looking at her like she's a child:
– Emily, has anyone ever told you that you can't drink?
Johnson nods – or rather, she thinks she is nodding, but instead her body jerks along with her head, and Lorraine rolls her eyes laughingly.
– I'm sorry," Emily mutters, trying to straighten up.
– It's okay," Lorraine nods understandingly, "the last few days have been too stressful not to get drunk.
– That's not true," the nurse disagrees, grabbing the napkin and crumpling it in her hands. – It's just that I'm so weak. And I can't drink, yeah.
Clark pulls a mirror and lipstick out of his backpack, flips the lid off, and with one swipe, paints his lips with clear lines.
– I don't think you're weak," she says seriously, fixing her hair. – Silly, yes. But not weak.
– I am not stupid! – I am not stupid!" she protests, a little too loudly, and then, ashamed, repeats more quietly: "I am not stupid. I got straight A's in college, by the way! Though I bet you were, too," she sighed.