This Isn't Real (Short Story)

This Isn't Real

Down the platform from me, I see a couple. Nothing stands out about them at first glance. I mean, it's clearly a new thing as all they are doing is laughing, holding hands, sticking their tongues down each other's throat. That seems hygienic... Kinda sickening if you stare long enough. I wonder where they think this is going, and no I don't mean the train, I mean their relationship? Where do they see themselves in five years? Actually, I doubt they know where they'll be in five hours. If today taught me anything, its that you don't know. Anyway, he has this huge smile on his face. He is staring into her eyes, and she in his. They are in the moment. The wind blows gently through her hair and he is captivated. Or at least he should be. Why isn't he? This just got interesting. He is sweating, but tonight is rather cool out. He keeps glancing down at his pocket. What are you hiding in there? I mean clearly, it is more important to you than this girl. What are you thinking? And actually, how is she not seeing that you are distracted? A beautiful girl is sitting on your lap, looking at absolutely nothing but you, focusing her all on you, and you have better things to think of? Okay, I know I am emotionally stunted and retarded, but that can't be right. Oh, here we go. He's looking down at his pocket as he sticks his hand in and takes something out. I can't see, she's leaning in. I can't see what he is doing or what he took out. Common girl, sit back! 'THIS IS NOT REAL!' I hear her shout. What? What did he do? She jumps up and looks at her hand. Everyone on the platform is clapping and cheering at them. Oh no. Seriously? What are they, sixteen? They are so young, why are they engaged? Goodness! Well, at least they made my point. She said 'this is not real'. Once again, she's trying to cope with the sudden change in their situation. Only in their case, it is an inexplicable sense of euphoria and not gut-wrenching grief. So, you see; same phrase, very different scenarios.

When did life become so dull, so repetitive, so real? Maybe it would be more exciting if I had some 'not real' moments. Heaven knows I live in my head enough to create one. But I suppose it's defeating the object if your 'not real' moment really isn't real. I wonder where all my med school friends are now. I wonder if they've had any of these kinds of moments. Most are probably married or excited to perform groundbreaking surgeries while I'm stuck living the same day over and over. Don't get me wrong, I have no desire to experience the grief I see on so many families' faces. 'All passengers, next stop is Paddington station. Paddington station next.' That's me.

Ah, home sweet dull. What a feeling. Walking into this white flat with its white curtains, carpets, and kitchen. Yeah, I know white is a clean colour, and I like clean, but maybe if I change it up a little; I might have a 'not real' moment. Ugh, too much trouble. Besides, I'm only here eight hours a day. Better get dinner started. Warmed up pepper steak pie, as usual. Everything is so ordinary. It's not even bad, so I can't complain about it. It's just so vanilla. Right, shower and bed.

***

You know I can stand here for hours as I watch the people come into the ER. One after the other. And they all have something in common; they weren't planning on being here. I mean look at that guy over there. Dressed in drag. What was he doing before he came in? Actually, I doubt I want to know. He's probably been up since yesterday. And that woman there. Clearly, she is upset with someone, and by the guilty look of the man next to her, I don't have to wonder too hard. What did he do? She has a blue eye, but by the look on her face and the inferiority he has about him, I doubt it was domestic violence. Oh heavens, I'd better see my first patient. Wonder who it will be today.

"Morning Liz."

"Good morning Dr Redgrave. How was your evening?"