2. Life
“Helena, can you tell me what these two stanzas mean?”
I glanced down at the booklet in front of me. My notes were scrawled next to the text.
“The speaker is saying that they want to be together and there is no battle of wills.” Mrs Gillespie nodded; my cue to continue. “Their souls are coming out of their bodies while they lie there so they can join together. Donne is showing a deep spiritual union which is more than merely the physical connection. While they’re lying there the souls are communicating which suggests a profound love. No one else can see this union but them.”
“Very good Helena,” praised Mrs Gillespie. “Now, Noah, could you elaborate on that at all?”
Relief washed over me. I would have hoped that I got that right. Ever since the start of the year I had started to understand what I see. I had had an inkling before, as I sat in R.E classes, talking about faith and God but nothing as concrete as this.
The soul is considered to be the non-physical part of a person, the very essence of their being; the spirit which animates the body. People have debated, wrote papers, pondered, philosophised and been confused about the soul. If they came to me I could tell them all about it.
“Your homework is a short essay on the ideas in this poem with specific references to the poetic techniques used to convey them.” There was a collective groan. “No buts. I want something from on Monday from all of you. That includes you Noah.”
Noah grinned. “Of course Miss! Why wouldn’t I bring something in?”
Mrs Gillespie shook her head, smirking to herself. Shaking her dark fringe from her eyes she said, “I want to see how much you’ve taken in about this poem. It doesn’t have to be dissertation length but I am expecting two or three typed pages. Okay?”
We made affirmative noises as her gaze landed on each of us in turn around the table. There were only eight of us, having had fifteen at the start. The bell caught us off guard. Shrill beeps cutting through us; our cue to leave for break.
“Why does she have so little faith in me? I mean I have handed stuff in, it’s just not necessarily been on time or very frequent,” whined Noah as we dodged past some fourth years. The bitter smell of stale cigarette smoke assaulted my nose but not as badly as the cheap body spray they had used to cover it up.
“I think you just answered your own question. It’s not that difficult a poem, just long with lots of repetition of the same ideas . . .”
Although I had intended to give Noah a proper answer, I was distracted. Perhaps visually assaulted would be a better term. High school is not the best place for someone like me. Too many hormones in too small a space. I’ve seen it all. But this, this was one of the worst.
Two emotionally charged fifth years were leaning against a wall ‘talking’ and they were shining fit to burst. There were no glowing orbs. They only wanted sex. That simple. The looks on their faces confirmed it, not to mention the body language. I averted my eyes; it hurt too much to look at.
I braced myself for the common room but thankfully half of the year had descended onto the tuck-shop to get their daily chocolate/ crisp/ fizzy juice fix. Noah and I headed for some seats in the corner- and conveniently next to a radiator- and waited for our friends to arrive.
It was rare at school if I ever saw the light come out; signalling a long lasting and meaningful relationship. More often than not it was only blinding, super-nova lust. I saw one couple in my year that had that deep connection; they would sit next to one another, talking to other people, her hand resting on his and feathery tendrils floating out of their chests to join in one glowing orb above their heads. Their light would always give me hope when my own world was dark.
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“I’m sorry, but you have to make a choice. It is one or the other.”
“What? What are you talking about? Why?”
“I won’t stand by and watch her live a half-life.”
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“Hello? Is that you? Please don’t hang up! I need to speak to you.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t . . .”
“. . . Hello? Sweetheart, are you there? Fuck.”
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“Helena? Would you set the table for me sweetie?” I looked up from the pad of paper I was working on to see my mum’s head poking round the kitchen door. “Please?”
I nodded and got up. My mum was by the little cooker of the flat we lived in, stirring something that smelled spicy. It was a small flat with two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen. We didn’t need much; it was just the two of us now.
I set the little table that was crammed into the corner of the living room. It was far too big for the room but Mum got it cheap from a car boot sale when we first moved in. I liked it though, it had character. The grooves were deep and the surface was horribly uneven but Mum and I had varnished it over and over again. Every few months we’d give it another coat so it was incredibly shiny and nearly always had the faint smell of wood varnish.
Mum appeared next to me with two plates of curry as I set the last knife into place. She smiled brightly at me but it was incongruous to the lack of light from her chest.
“Hope you’re hungry.”
“Famished.” Mum smiled and placed the plate in front of me. It looked amazing.
“Oh, I meant to say, you got a letter today. It didn’t have a Uni stamp on it so I have no idea what it is.” She handed me a white envelope.
I sat at my carefully set place and took it from her. There was no indication at all to where it came from; it just had my details and a business class post mark on it. At least it wasn’t another newsletter from Aberdeen trying to entice me to study there. I’d already had three since applying. I took a bite of my food, very aware my mum was watching me, before opening it. Pulling out the one folded sheet of paper I looked at the very official looking script.
Dear Miss Irving,
It has come to our attention that you will be leaving your educational establishment in the coming months. We would like to invite you to be part of a sample group to evaluate your time within the Scottish Education System.
We are aware that with impending exams you will be focussed on your studies. However, we only ask for an afternoon of your time on the 3rd December to complete the evaluation.
Please confirm your attendance in writing to the above address by the 30th of November. When we receive your reply you will be contacted with more information.
If you are unable to attend then the evaluation will be carried out in your school at another time.
Yours Sincerely,
Amanda Hogg
Scottish Minister for Education.
“So, what is it?”
“An invitation to be a part of an educational survey or something,” I said, passing the letter and properly tucking in to my neglected curry.
