ENGN101
The Plot
"Look, guys, I’ll be walking Rachel down this lane," Andrew said. He shoved his short sturdy forefinger into the city map. "Here is a street lamp, and then there will be a dark path between the bushes. After you see us under the lamp, be ready."
"You’ve got it, buddy, just don’t kill us, please," Bob laughed in reply as his black bristly moustache flickered on his ruddy face.
"And good luck with your lass," his second fellow, Peter, bantered blinking with flaxen eyelashes which appeared white against his darkened eyelids, impregnated with coal dust. Peter broke off at once, "Hey, old boy, take it easy!"
In reply, Andrew just cut the air with his sinewy fist and forced a short anxious smile. "Ok, see you at nine, guys." He flashed an uneasy look at his friends and walked them to the door.
The door slammed, and thick silence filled his small grey studio. A faltering beam of western hot sun was seeping through the narrow window located under the low ceiling trying to delve into the contents of the old, carved stand where two college textbooks, in manufacturing process and technical drawing, rested lonely on the shabby shelf along with several threadbare mystery fiction books. Seemingly not interested in machinery, the sun ray stepped further to the table but found nothing except a pile of paper rolls, rulers, and pencils heaped there. Andrew threw his short solid torso down into the green-grey armchair at the table. His look wistfully slid along the walls of indefinite color with scattered Scorpions and Metallica posters on them, stopped with detestation on the paper pile on the desk, and, finally, turned to his watch. Cruelly, time crept. The thought of the next week’s assignment stung Andrew from time to time, but he could not think about anything, except the approaching evening.
Now, Rachel’s tapering fingers were flying over the keyboard. Now, they were quieting down, and her keen brown eyes were starting to peer curiously at the monitor. "Ok, let’s see what you have. Yes! Adrenal hypertension, exactly!" She was scanning one site after another tirelessly in her research on blood pressure regulation. The bulky Medical Surgical Nursing text, fat drug guides, and other nursing books and magazines towered in two piles on her desk. A deserted cup of cold coffee sat next to her opened notebook. Minutes and hours were streaming away in Rachel’s exciting journey. At last, "Yes!" she breathed cheerfully. The task for today had been finished. Rachel contentedly stretched her slender body on the chair crossing her chiselled white arms over her head. Long, dark, wavy hair scattered on the chair back revealing her neat delicate neck. Her unassuming pink cotton shirt, which accentuated nicely her velvet eyes and hair, stretched over her small firm breasts.
In a minute, her eyes sparkled with a new fervor. Elated, Rachel opened a secret folder containing her drafts. The last story, unfinished, was the daring one – that was the story about Adam and Eve. Rachel immersed herself in the reading. The pictures of the very first days were gliding in her mind. She was Eve. She was watching her first dawn. She was looking at Adam, the man, for the first time. She was a child with an adult’s mind, and the very Almighty walked with her under the trees of Eden and taught her everything. She learned to draw and sing, and the Lord made a flute for her. In the garden, the foals and tiger-cubs played leap-frog, and their mothers rested side by side on the river-bank. Every night Eve and Adam enjoyed watching the starry sky. Once they were sitting on a hill. A nightingale warbled to his mate, cicadas chirred, a myriad of stars looked at them, and the full moon highlighted every blade of the grass. Eve was in a daze; she had never viewed Adam like this before. Every feature of his face and figure in that warm moonlight, so different from her own, was creating in Eve a new, unknown feeling. She could not avert her look from him. Eve did not even notice that Adam, in his turn, was looking at her with wide-opened eyes. She stayed put in astonishment watching him take her hand and bring it to his anxious lips… Rachel closed her eyes, her breath quickened. A light smile was wandering on her blushing face. Suddenly, the cell phone pealed. Rachel headily cut the ringing off, with her face flinched as in pain. Reluctantly, she was leaving her dreams. At last, awakened, she discovered that it is time to leave. Andrew and she were going to the movie theatre tonight.
Laws of Attraction by Peter Howitt was being shown at the AMC. Rachel was carried away by the play between the two stars. The character of a bright lawyer who was able to love genuinely fascinated her. At one moment her big eyes were opened wide in curiosity; at another she strained them to follow the action. Now, her regularly delineated full lips parted in surprise; now, contracted in empathy. Red, blue, and yellow reflections from the screen were flashing onto the miniature pearl hair-slide in her taut silky hair over her high, smooth forehead. Fantastic light rays were playing with colors on her rounded cheeks and her neat nose with the lovely, slightly turned-up tip. Once, Andrew gently took Rachel’s tender hand in his. He sensed that her vivid fingers froze in his big, hot palm for a moment and then slowly slipped out of his hand.
After the movie, they stepped into the street. The hot blue night breathed on them with every possible sound, color, light, and smell of real life. Cars snarled like disturbed dogs. People laughed and shouted exhaling accumulated emotions and energy. The breeze carried spicy flavors from the Chinese Cuisine across the street while neon signs painted faces and clothes in rainbow colors. Andrew directed their way to the secluded narrow alley between two rows of tall arborvitae shrubs. They walked quietly. Rachel seemed occupied with some thought. At times, her sensual lips squeezed, and her eyes ran away from Andrew’s gaze. However, Andrew did not notice that. It appeared that sudden alertness seized him. They passed a yellow lit circle under the lantern and entered a gloomy spot down the alley. Unexpectedly, two male figures emerged in front of the couple. "What a chick!" a hoarse voice roused Rachel from her meditation. A tow-haired robust guy obstructed her way. The second, whose head of black hair Rachel could only see with her peripheral vision, stopped in front of Andrew. No sooner had Rachel realized what was happening than Andrew attacked the offenders with a violent onslaught. He swiftly wielded his fists right and left, so the men took to flight there and then. Amazed, Rachel looked at the two running away, and then at Andrew, who pursued them for a while. She noticed that she did not even have enough time to take fright. Now, Andrew’s short figure was approaching. He had the triumphant look of a knight after a victorious duel. "Andrew, are you okay?" Rachel asked. She hastened toward him observing him attentively to make sure that he was well. "Thank you so much, Andrew. You were just great!" Andrew’s face beamed with contentment as his tension vanished away. "I am glad, that you are all right," Rachel said, puzzled a little with his elation.
It was getting late, and they headed toward Rachel’s home. Before her block, Rachel slowed down. "Andrew?" she paused for a minute and then continued resolutely, "Andrew, we must not see each other any more." Balm-crickets fell silent.
"What? What are you saying?" Andrew’s desperate voice pierced the still night air. "Can’t you see that there is a man who loves you standing in front of you?!"
"I am very sorry, Andrew." Rachel’s face showed true suffering.
"You are sorry? You know, that I even entered that college to be with you?" He shouted bitterly.
"But, Andrew, you’ve never been interested in what I live for!" Rachel seemed to want to explain both to him and herself what was going on in her heart. "You never even asked me how I am getting on."
"Does business matter at all? I merely love you!" Andrew exclaimed at her words. His hands nervously sawed the air.
But Rachel replied firmly, "Sorry, Andrew… I cannot say I love you…"
Cicadas renewed their singing, blissfully ignorant of soul incompatibility.
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