The Professor was in the gardens, sitting in the darkness on a wide bench, not far from the doorway that led out to the gardens. He’d been stargazing and had relaxed to the point he was beginning to nod off to sleep. Beatrice had also gone out walking in the gardens earlier and stopped at the bench as she passed on her way back in.
“Hi, Professor.” No response. So she raised her volume, “Ahemm…”
Professor abruptly returned to Earth. “Huh?”
Beatrice put on an act as if she had only noticed him that instant. She said with artificial cuteness, “Why, hello there, kind Sir. Lovely evening, is it not? Is this seat taken or might I join you?”
It was not the first time she’d played games with him and he quickly tried to pick up his end of the banter. “Didn’t your mother warn you? Little girls should beware of keeping company with strangers, especially questionable-looking old men.”
“Oh, but you have an honest air about you, Sir. I’m sure my mother would approve.”
“Suit yourself and seat yourself, only keep your hands to yourself. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”
She settled down next to him, folding her legs beneath her, Indian-style. He thought it would be wonderful to still be so flexible. “Thank you, Sir. And be not afraid. I will not bite... unless I’m asked to.”
Professor chuckled at this old joke and considered the formalities to have been satisfactorily completed. After a moment of quietly looking upward, he said, “People always refer to stars as unchanging and constant and yet they do move and change, just so slowly we don’t notice. Life is like that, isn’t it? Always changing, but day to day we don’t notice much until the accumulated changes become impossible to ignore.”
“You’re thinking about yourself, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am.”
“Sometimes things won’t change even though you want them to, no matter how long you wait.”
“Hm? You mean yourself?”
“I want to grow older. I’d even be okay to become old like you. I’d get some respect then.”
“Mmmm…age is no guarantee of respect. Get old enough and you automatically lose a lot of it.”
“Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”
“Oh, my. I’m afraid I stopped keeping track of that a long time ago. I could give you a number but it always seems wrong to me. I don’t feel that old. Except during the depression that sent me here, mostly I’ve always wondered who it was in my mirror. He didn’t look like he could be me. He was worn down and tired-looking. Only when he smiled did he begin to resemble who I thought I was. But even then he was still just too old. Too tired. Ohhh… let’s see, I’m…”
“Don’t,” she interrupted. “I see. You don’t like to think of yourself that way. Put into a box by a number you can’t change. I understand.”
“Do you?”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Um…”
“Don’t answer, it’s a rhetorical question. How can I even say? I was human for some years and then they made me into this and it feels like that was forever ago. My mirror says I’m still… May I also not say?”
“…Mmm, of course.”
“I’m lots older than you are by the calendar, but look at me. No. Don’t. Just listen so I’ll seem more grownup. I’m too young on the outside for the person on the inside. You say you’re too young on the inside for the person on the outside. We’re opposite sides of a coin, sort of.”
“We each envy the other’s problem.”
“I like sitting in the dark like this, talking. You can’t see me well. Just hear me. I can be more like you for a while. There aren’t so many differences when we’re just voices.”
“I like it, too. Perhaps I don’t seem so old like this, either. So…. you’ll know, then, that it’s not just words when I say it pains me greatly to have to leave this conversation. I have a standing appointment with Mistress to go over our work. I’m already going to be late. Will you excuse me?”
She sighed and said, “It’s fine. I think I’m going to go grab a bite.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Don’t be silly. I only have eye-teeth for you.”
As he was walking briskly to his appointment, it dawned on him, “She knows that old song well enough to make a joke about it.” He stopped and closed his eyes, thinking about what that meant. “My whole lifetime, all my years overlap with hers. She probably remembers almost all the things I do. Events. Names. Oh, for God’s… how often do I judge her by her looks? We have a lot in com… no... no, we don’t. She may remember all about my times but how can I know anything important about hers?” He resumed hurrying on to his appointment as in his head the old song played out:
“Are there stars out tonight?
“I can’t tell if it’s cloudy or bright.
“I only have eyes… for you.”
Beatrice stood in the huge kitchen looking into a refrigerator but her thoughts weren’t really on its contents, “He seems so serene sometimes… but he’s as unhappy with himself as I am about me. We both want something we can’t have and we believed the other one had it and was content with it.” Stepping back and closing the fridge door, she said, “Ooof… I’m not hungry anymore.”
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