Nobody Loves Art

~ Belle was too ethical to love Arthur. Grace was too busy trying to fit her emotions into equations, graphs and models to love him. Art was too busy loving other people to love himself…~

Belle was too ethical to love Arthur. She would have waited for him. In fact, she did. That night, she waited for him in an inconspicuous corner of the hall, but he didn’t come. It was none of his fault. It was that damned Justin who got all her hopes floating high. Well, it wasn’t entirely his fault either. Everyone - or at least everyone that she knew at that point in time – thought Arthur was madly in love with Belle and that should just be the way things were. Yet, she did not have him. She could not love him. It wasn’t Grace’s fault either; she looked too decent to be an evil mastermind. Moreover, Belle somehow knew, that she was utterly clueless about the grave mistake that NOBODY had committed. Yes, it was nobody’s fault. Isabelle Kim Brenner, might, or might not love him still, but she was well aware that it was against her ethical frame of reference to love Grace’s boyfriend...

Grace was too busy trying to fit her emotions into equations, graphs and models to love Arthur. They had been together but she did not know how to prove that it was love that exists between them, that it was love which she felt towards Art. No equation could help her arrive at a conclusive proof. Many other things could fit together, but not love – which had mysteriously become a perfect fit and a misfit at the same time. Needless to say, it was well beyond the scope of Bioengineering. Not all bioengineers do that. Only Grace does. If bioengineers could construct models for biological functions and processes, why can’t they construct a model for human emotions? Grace wasn’t weird or anything. She was a normal girl, sweet, smart, idealistic at times but practical when required and “hot professional material” – as Jessica, her former high school classmate attributed her. One thing about her: she constructed those models in secret, when she had too much free time or too much work to do, when she felt lonely and uncertain. When she was too happy or too sad. When Art wasn’t there at her side. Or when he was there…She was the girl who refused to be stopped. The girl who believed that love is complex yet simple, irrational but real...

Arthur was too busy loving other people to love himself. Well, he used to. He indulged himself in his plethora of ideas, in the art of everything and the omnipresence of art. Hence his nickname. But he had found himself trained – not only his skills, but also his emotions and his entire being – to be a doctor. It was an art too, of a different kind. And he had learnt the art of loving. The art of loving is that …you …can’t love yourself.

A Tempestuous Journey Home (Part 3 - sort of Final)

I walked along the narrow pavement, trying to stay close to the wall of the minimarket and the waffle shop, the only shelter I had. My umbrella was too flimsy that it had to flip every five seconds. I watched the makeshift hawker tents fluttering in the gale, thinking that it would be best for me to stay by the concrete buildings, and I stopped. I was thinking about Arthur, more than everything else.

He was obviously too preoccupied with his essay to even notice, let alone be bothered by the storm outside. If, if only the confirmation had been there in his pigeon hole…I could pick it up. Then, at least I would have one valid reason to go and see him… If, if only his apartment was conveniently along the way, I could drop by and ask if I could wait till the storm subsides…then, at least I would be able to see him, even for a second.

“Excuses! Excuses! Just tell me what it is!”

Heads turned. A woman in her thirties, dressed in T-shirt and Capri blasted at a tall, tanned man in a business suit, who appeared to put on an aloof front. I had no idea who they were but they had certainly seized the attention of the crowed under the shelter. What could they be quarrelling over? Excuses? What kind of excuses?

Excuses…Damn! Do I even need excuses just to see Arthur? I ran back to the bus stop, holding on to my umbrella, just in time for bus number seven to stop. I hopped in. What if Arthur was annoyed by my sudden appearance? What if I had no good reason to interrupt his work? What if…I didn’t know what to think. The thought of seeing him gives me a thrill and a fright at the same time. Unlike the usual, I felt that I came so unprepared… I wish I could hide somewhere…but I was determined to live without excuses.

Seventh floor, unit 135. I knocked on the door. Arthur opened the door.

“Hey, come in! What brings you here?” He blurted out in surprise. Further behind, Isabelle was sitting on the sofa, sipping coffee.

“Hi… Isabelle…what a surprise…what are you doing here?” I asked.
“I was on my way to your house when the rain started to pour, so he kindly let me take a shelter until it stops,” She replied calmly with a smile, “And you…why are you here so suddenly?”

“I…I don’t need excuses.”

There was a moment of silence, where I felt that everyone was looking at everyone else's eyes. No more excuses.