Chapter 3: Old Things Crumble Away

Alexandria shut the door behind her and took off down the street. She prepared her running route in her head. Down Lindon St. until she hit the Grove Cemetery, and then go through an incredibly circuitous route through the graveyard. Come out on Library Drive and head up that until she hit Theresa's apartment. It was a good four miles, and she could make it longer by just running loops around the graveyard perimeter if she needed to.

As she got back into her usual running rhythm, she thought about her brother. She briefly worried that she had been a bit harsh to him before she left, but dismissed the thought soon enough. The fact was that Alexander was simply inactive, and while sitting around pondering the mysteries and meaning of life and literature was all very fine and good, it made him moody and reclusive.

Any insight he might manage to get down into writing he kept to himself, so he wasn't making anyone else happy, and the process certainly wasn't making him happy. Alexander had talked enough times about the martyr complex of the artist and the suffering involved in bringing truth to an actual medium, but she didn't believe a word of it. Alexander's occasional misery had nothing to do with the work that he did or didn't do, it had to do with the fact that he was lazy. And all that needed was a gentle nudge from a loving younger sister from time to time.

She turned left into the graveyard, and increased her speed slightly as she went up the first rise. Black and gray stones ran through her vision, countless names going by at a speed too fast for reading. It also didn't help that the stones were old, and getting older. The newest gravestone was three years old, and given the renewal of the laws about cremation and land conservation, it was unlikely this graveyard would be getting any new dead for a long time.

As she ran, she imagined the old wooden caskets buried to her left and right slowly decaying as unrelenting time ate down the sides. She imagined the roots of the trees expanding cautiously through the ground, breaking into the marble and stone boxes in a silent, cramped, and desperate eternal assault. She imagined the expensive and neat suits of the Modern Man eaten by worms and bugs with utter indifference to its style, cut, or cloth. She imagined the oldest worn rocks bearing the fragments of a forgotten name, telling of the person buried beneath, when, in reality, the body below had long been transformed into dust and dirt alone through the unending struggle, and soon even the rock above would crumble away. And as she imagined these things, she ran ever faster.

A certain time later, she stood outside the door to Theresa's apartment complex, buzzing her number and breathing heavily. She had ended up running the graveyard loop three times, expanding her run to almost six miles. She was a little late for their study session, in part because of the running, but in part because it took her a bit of time to find the place. It was in a much nicer part of town than Theresa's apartment last year. She doubted Theresa would mind her lateness that much. Alexandria had been late for these sort of these things before, and she would be late again.

Theresa let her in a few moments later.

“Hi, Lex. Come on in, dear, and you're more than welcome to use my shower,” she said.

“I was going to anyway.”

“I had guessed, and I figured it would be kinder to offer it freely before you demanded it rudely. While you're showering, if you like, I can put your running clothes through the 'fresher.” They walked up the stairs and down the second floor hall to Theresa's apartment. “Are you planning on running back as well?”

“No, I am not, and if you could put them through that would be fantastic.”

“I'm glad. It will be fairly dark by then, and it never hurts to be too careful. I can have Cal give you a ride home.”

“Who is Cal?” Alexandria asked.

“My new roommate. The old one said that the place was too expensive and then moved in with her boyfriend on Green Drive. I think she was just looking for an excuse, if you understand me.”

Alexandria knew. “You're all too kind,” she said. “Would you wash my hair and do my homework for me as well? How about painting my nails?”

“I'm open to the nails, but it might revive unpleasant memories of middle school. Goodness, how you squirmed.”

“You know, I've never painted my nails since,” Alexandria said.

“That doesn't surprise me at all, my dear.”

They entered Theresa's apartment. The inside of the building was even nicer than the outside. The rooms were hardwood floor compared to the grimy carpets of last year. Colorful paintings and ceramic knick knacks decorated the walls and shelves. All new-- well, possibly used, Alexandria considered, but recently purchased at the very least. “Theresa,” she said, “you're moving up in the world.”

“Well my father had a very good year, dear, and he loves doting on his only daughter. And I had a profitable summer as well. I would give you the grand tour, but I expect you want to get cleaned up. The shower unit is over there.”

“You're right, I feel totally disgusting.”

Theresa lead her to the SU, and Alexandria traded her sticky running clothes for a fresh towel. She turned on the water and stepped in. She let the sterile dust of Murwin's funeral home run off her skin and combine with earthy grime and dirt coming off her feet. She watched it flow down the drain as the steam rose around her, and imagined the muddy mixture traveling down the pipes and join the residue from the lives of countless others. The dirty concoction would flow all the way to the ocean, teeming with life, and return to the airy plains of Wyoming as cold and clean rain alone.

Alexandria turned off the water and dried herself off. She wrapped the towel around her, and stepped out of the SU, calling Theresa's name.

“Hello,” said the young man standing on the other end of the room, in the middle of opening a bottle of wine.

Alexandria stared. Dressed in tan corduroy slacks and a close-fitting black sweatshirt, the man's appearance just screamed intellectual sophistication. Her mind instantly went to her long brown hair, tied sloppily above her head, and the towel which didn't cover as much as her legs as she would have wanted.

Whatever. She went with it.

“I can see that Cal is not short for 'Callie',” Alexandria said as she strode forward.

“It's short for Calvin, actually,” said the man, brushing his sandy hair out of his eyes. He was calm, and had not yet glanced downward. He kept his eyes steadily on Alexandria's face.

“It's good to meet you, Calvin,” she said firmly. She held out her hand.

Calvin took it, a small look of surprise on his face. They shook, and Calvin picked up a small hand town on the table, and dried his now wet hand. “It's good to meet you too,” he said.

Theresa entered the room, holding Alexandria's dry and warm clothing.

“Your roommate is a boy,” Alexandria said, letting a small hint of accusation creep into her voice. “You might have warned me.” Calvin said nothing.

“I'm sorry, my dear, I didn't think you cared about that sort of thing,” Theresa said, and handed Alexandria her clothes.

Alexandria didn't care. “It's totally fine, I guess,” she said, and turned back to the SC to change. Theresa touched her on the shoulder, and Alexandria turned around. Theresa lowered her voice and said, “He's quite safe.”

Alexandria stifled a laugh, and entered the SC. As she closed the door, she heard the bottle of wine being opened behind her, and the sound of a glass being filled.

When Alexandria had finished changing and returned to the living room, Calvin had moved to a recliner in the corner, which was much nicer than Alexander's at home. The twins had found theirs on the curb the end of their freshmen year; Alexandria suspected that this chair, like the decorations, was nearly brand new. In one hand Calvin held a glass of dark red wine, and in the other he held a thick black book. On the front was a picture of a series of curious objects suspended above the ground. The objects were illuminated, and each wall had a different shadow projected onto it. The shadows all formed different letters, but each letter was either 'E', 'B', or 'G'. She couldn't see the title. She turned to the table, where Theresa was currently uploading their notes and the lecture slides on its surface.

Alexandria and Theresa talked at length about behavioral neurological triggers for their exam tomorrow. They made a good team: Theresa wanted to be a surgeon, not, Alexandria suspected, in order to help people, but rather to continue to support herself in the station to which she had become accustomed. As a result, Theresa was very driven and precise. Alexandria added a curiosity and love of the larger picture that brought warmth to Theresa's rigid studying method.

“I just find it interesting that so many of the cues for social interaction are, from an evolutionary standpoint, useless,” Alexandria said. They had finished the bulk of their studying, and had also finished Calvin's bottle of wine that he had offered. He had said one glass was enough for him. He was still reading his book and has about a fifth of a glass left. As he read he rocked back and forth slowly. It created a creaking sound that undercut the noise in the room.

“While it may be archaic, it is still occasionally necessary, and it still helps for somethings.” Theresa pointed out. “So why change it? It's like government. Sure as a species we've grown more compassionate and reasonable since our savage Roman days, but that doesn't stop us from having police and prisons-- even though all violent crimes have been trending downward for years. We've gone a great way to eliminate the problems, but there are still occasions where it's good to have those safeguards.”

“I'm not disagreeing with you,” Alexandria said, “but at the same time, I'm not sure I can think of an example where those neurological cues are still useful, given that their evolutionary purpose stopped applying to us thousands of years ago.”

“Well, let us think about male mating patterns, for a moment. Cal!” Theresa rotated in her chair to face her roommate. Calvin looked up from his book, but continued to rock. “What do boys do when they first meet or talk to a girl to whom they are attracted?”

“I suspect you're asking me to speak for all males, not merely myself?” Calvin said.

“That would be great,” Alexandria said.

“I suppose their palms get sweaty, their heart starts beating rapidly, and they start to shake imperceptibly.”

“Precisely,” said Theresa, turning away from Calvin. “That's what the literature tells us, at any rate. And why is that? Where do we see similar biological responses? Don't think about their emotional or intellectual state, dear, just concentrate on the biological responses alone.”

Alexandria bit her lip. “Haunted houses?”

“Correct. It's the fight or flight response, my dear, because when we were beasts, a successful mating could occasionally require a bit of a... chase.” The rocking stopped.

Alexandria frowned. “That doesn't sound quite right to me. After all, girls feel the exact same way when they see a guy that they really like.”

“Because theirs is the fight response, and ours is the flight. You see?”

Alexandria shuddered. But she rallied her thoughts. “I still don't think that makes sense. I'm not intending on running from someone I like. The whole point is to stay there and talk to them. And if anything, the nervousness gets worse the closer you get to the other person. Under your logic, I suppose that makes sense for the girls, but not for the guys. But it's worse for them too. Right, Calvin?”

“I presume.” The rocking resumed.

“Ok?” Alexandria said. “It doesn't make sense.”

“And that's my point, dear,” Theresa said. “It's somewhat outdated, yes. But I think people are still glad to have the feeling around.”

“Well, gosh,” said Alexandria. “Sometimes I'm not. Wouldn't it be so refreshing for high schoolers to know that they could walk up to someone they liked and get through that first conversation without making a complete fool out of themselves? And they only do that, by the way, because they have all these jitters and nervousness and all that emotional crap which makes them utterly unable to form a regular sentence.”

“It's useful for signaling. Consider this. How much effort does it take to go up to a guy who is attractive and charming?”

“On what scale?” Alexandria asked. “It would take less effort than cutting my hands off at the wrist, despite what some girls complain.”

“Will you at least agree that it a barrier to conversation? And that some conversations never happen precisely because of this impulse?” Theresa pressed the point.

“Oh, sure, I'll agree.”

“In that case, someone coming up and talking to you, especially if they show signs of nervousness, is a good signal that they are very attracted to you. If they were only moderately attracted, their desire for contact would not be strong enough to overcome that fight or flight response.”

Alexandria thought about it for a moment. “No, I still think there are problems with that,” she said. “For a couple reasons. First, you don't take into account false positives. If someone comes up and talks to you, sure, it could be because they have a larger desire for you than they have fear of awkward conversation. But it also could be because they're not attracted to you at all, and so wouldn't have that response in the first place.”

Theresa interrupted. “That's why, dear, I said that this is especially true if they show signs of nervousness.”

“But here's my point,” Alexandria said. “I'm saying that both the desire and the nervousness increase as the attraction does. They're both directly related. The battle is similar at every level. If you're not really attracted to someone, it doesn't take as much effort to talk to them, sure, but you're also not really inclined to in the first place. If you are, your nervousness is much greater, but so is your desire to overcome it. In fact, I would say that the most important variable in all this, is not the attraction, but the will behind it, which you totally forgot about.”

“Would you therefore agree that such an act is a good signal for the strength of that person's will?” Theresa asked.

“Eh... I don't know. Maybe.” Alexandria yawned.

Theresa glanced at the analog clock on the wall. “Goodness, it's already a quarter to one. I think it's time to get you back home. Cal, would you mind driving Lex back to her apartment? It's not far, is it Lex?”

“No, not far at all. Only about three miles back to Lindon Street. And I don't mind jogging back, honest.”

“Nonsense,” said Theresa, “I insist. Cal?”

Cal rose from his recliner, and walked out of the room. Theresa turned to Alexandria, and grasped her hand. “It was a productive study session and a lovely chat, my dear. I'll see you for the exam bright and early tomorrow morning.” Cal re-entered wearing a jacket. Theresa continued. “You should come back again soon, before our next exam. Perhaps I'll throw a dinner party. You will attend?”

Alexandria smiled. “I will. Thanks for having me over, Theresa, I had a blast as well.” She turned to Calvin, and for a brief moment wondered whether she should just run home after all. But she wiped her palms on her shorts and followed him out the door.

They descended down two flights of stairs to the complex's garage, and entered the car, in silence. Calvin thumbed the ignition pad, and exited onto Library Drive.

“Do you always do what she says?” Alexandria asked.

“In this instance, I had no particular inclination to act against her request. Don't mistake an intersection of desires for unwilling acquiescence.”

“Well, you certainly talk like Theresa,” Alexandria said. “How did you get to be living with her, anyway?”

“I gather that she sent out a mail to all students enrolled in upper-level science classes asking whether any of them would be comfortable with this living situation. There were a lot of male replies, apparently.”

“But she decided she wanted you.”

“Theresa is very cautious.” Calvin turned to Alexandria, and the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly. “And I'm harmless.” They pulled onto Lindon Street.

“It's just another block, on the right,” Alexandria said. “Thanks for driving. I hope Theresa's and my conversation wasn't too obnoxious.”

“Not at all,” said Calvin. He stopped the car outside of Alexandria's building. “You have given me a lot to think about. Goodnight.”

Alexandria exited the car, and strode quickly into her building. She thumbed the key pad to her apartment, and walked straight to her brother's door. She knocked on it, but no response came from within. She carefully opened the door, and said quietly, “Al, you awake? Do you have time to talk about stuff for a second?”

To her surprise, the room was empty. She glanced at the digital clock on Al's bedside table. The time was a few minutes after one. She withdrew to the living room, and read for twenty or so minutes before going to bed. Al still hadn't returned.

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