Madness In Literature

Two

“I like your dress,” the boy said suddenly. “Did you wear it specially for today?”

“What? No, of course not. It’s just a normal day, normal dress, don’t be ridiculous,” Mel answered defensively, even though he was right.

“Relax,” he replied with a knowing smirk. “I was talking about the MIL class. Did you wear it because we were supposed to discuss The Yellow Wallpaper today?”

Oh. Mel hadn’t thought about that.

“Not really,” she shrugged. “Probably just a coincidence.”

“Nothing is coincidental,” he replied.

Mel rolled her eyes. “You sound like a typical arts/sociology student when you talk like that.”

“What? What is typical? The exhibition of a certain set of qualities or traits of a category? Confirming to types that had been predetermined by society? If so, then you would need to clarify the certain traits portrayed by said literature students that are similar to mine, so that it can be measured against the trait I was accused of exhibiting.”

Mel stared at him.

“Shut up,” she said. “You’re just making simple things sound complicated by using too many boring words and not enough breaks between sentences.”

He laughed. “I am, aren’t I? Is that what typical arts/sociology students do?”

“Yeah, pretty much. They pick at small things and try to make them have large meanings.”

“Give me an example.”

“The concept of heaven and hell,” Mel said after a few seconds of thinking. “To most people, there either is a heaven and hell or there isn’t. The religious believe in gods and heavens and hells, the atheists don’t. That’s it.”

“But to an arts/sociology student...?” the boy questioned.

“They have to think of it abstractly, ask questions which no one knows how to answer and that never gets answered. For example, they would question that if heaven existed, and if humans are said to go there when they die, would that mean that heaven is host of non-physical bodies, such as the soul? If so, what do the souls do in heaven? Live happily? But happiness is an emotion, and emotions are considered part of the human body; they are receptive neurons controlled by the brain. Thus, can it be said that in heaven, a brain is required to feel the emotions it promised?”

“But the brain itself is a physical object,” the boy finished, nodding along thoughtfully. “And to host the brain that gives human emotions, heaven would need to be a physical place. I see where this is going.” He turned towards Mel. “You do realise that by making your case on heaven and hell as an example, you have subjected yourself this ‘typical arts/sociology student’ stereotype, right?”

“It was an example,” she shrugged. “I don’t think like that.”

“Oh yeah? Then what do you think? Does heaven and hell exists?”

“I don’t know. I don’t believe in any particular religion.”

“But you do believe in something.”

Mel looked at him in surprise. The way he said was a statement, not a question. As though he was sure he knew her thoughts.  

“I do believe in something, yes. It’s just that I don’t know what I believe in.”

He nodded. Above them, the skies turned darker, and a few droplets of rain began to fall. Mel watched a droplet landed on the back of her hand, splitting itself into a few tiny droplets before sliding off and disappearing into the grass under their feet.

“We should get back,” she said. “The rain is getting heavier.”

“Yeah, we should,” he said. But neither of them moved.

 He turned towards her and for a moment, she was caught off guard by how blue his eyes were really. A bright shade, the colour of the skies on a hot summer day, as clear as the ocean in those holiday islands featured in travel magazines, made even brighter in contrast against the grey skies.

“I’m in a band,” he told her. “We play at The Hodge every Friday night, and we’re terrible. And I mean an honest-to-god, throw shoes and eggs, nails on chalkboard, kind of terrible.”

“Okay?” Mel said, because she didn’t know what else to say.

“Do you want to come see us?”

Did she? “Yeah, okay,” she said. He grinned at her. A fat drop of rain landed on his nose, but he continued grinning.

“I would say ‘Okay’ back to you,” he said. “But I have been informed by a multiple number of people that ‘Okay, Okay’ is now synonymous with John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars.”

Mel shook her head in mock woe. “Wouldn’t want to be sued for plagiarism,” she told him.

“Yeah, so I’ll probably use ‘Affirmative’ to reply you from now on.”

“Okay,” Mel said, smiling stupidly.

“Affirmative,” he replied.

They both left the bench at the same time. 

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20th May A/N

From last year til now, the last portion of this chapter was initially written like this:

“Do you want to come see us?”

Did she? “Yeah, okay,” she said. He grinned at her. A fat drop of rain landed on his nose, but he continued grinning.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They both left the bench at the same time. 

 But I've since changed it because...well, Dean already told you why.