Beneath the Boardwalk (Alex Turner)

4 {same sex relations}

It was ten o two by the time everybody had left, that I decided to take a deep breath and talk to Turner. I adjusted my bag strap on my shoulder, and walked down the steps to his desk. The sky was dark outside, and I was worried. What was wrong with my paper? I swore it was better than before. 

My footsteps echoed until I finally knocked on the wood of his desk. Turner flicked his gaze up towards mine, through his dark lashes, put down his book and tilted his chin up. 

"Why did you need to talk to me?" I tuck a piece of hair behind my ears. 

"About your paper... Still, again, yours seems to lack depth. Yes, you chose a very controversial topic," he tilts his head slightly and clenches his jaw. "But after all, it's never about the topic, it's about what you choose to do with it that counts."  He takes the page out of my hand. "Your topic before was fine. A great writer," his accent drawling, "can use even the most irrelevant of topics. And still make it great."

That makes a bit of sense. "But there wouldn't be a point of writing about an irrelevant topic in the first place."

Alexander smirked at me. I swallowed. "Darling Greene, there's nothing irrelevant about the world but irrelevance itself."

There's something dry on my tongue. 

"However, your topic about same sex relations in accordance to science and religion does form a foundation for depth, and we can work on that." He opens his mouth, then closes it. "Does the subject particularily interest you?"

There's something in the undertone of his voice, subliminally, that makes me a bit uncomfortable. "I... same sex marriage?"

He raises an eyebrow. 

My heart starts to race a bit. I don't know what to say. Surely it's an innocent question, right? "Um... more the... questioning as to why it's condemned wrong in the Bible." 

"Is that all? Or is it... applicable to you?" He asks slowly, taking time to pronounce each word. 

Is he actually asking me this? I feel a bit of shiver along my spine. "I'm not obligated to tell you anything about my personal life," I make clear. "Off the record, I myself am not... interested personally in same sex relations." 

Alex chuckles darkly. "Don't be so nervous, darling. It's plastered all over your face. Take a seat." 

I grab a chair nearby and set my bag beside my feet. "So... what can I do to improve this 'lack of depth'?"

Turner leans on his desk with his elbows. His sleeves are rolled up and his hair is still unruly. "One option is, you could rewrite this entire thing... without facts. I don't want to hear percentages, or fractions, or this many people believe...whatever. Then rewrite it entirely with facts and compare. I'm not going to look them over. It's purely optional." He slides the paper back to me. "Another option is keep trying to rewrite until you find a common ground. Unless you can reread it a hundred times and still be captivated or thought-provoked, it's not good enough."

"That's pretty tough standards," I laugh under my breath. 

"Life's tough, darling," Turner says in his teeth. 

I nod. Then I inhae sharply, forgetting for a second that I'm still in the University. "Is that all, then?"

Turner doesn't respond for a moment, and I wonder what's going on through his head. My hand hovers over my bag to pick it back up. He takes a breath. "I suppose so," he drawls, staring a bit mindlessly at the cover of Cooper's book. Then he fixes his gaze on mine and I stand up. "Do have a good night. Be careful."

I nod slowly and then walk back out, each time my footstep seemingly louder. The doors creak loudly as they shut behind me, and I make my way out of the University into the cold night air. 

* * *

I reread my paper a few times, the sheet in front of me, sitting on the small apartment's kitchen counter. A pot of Ramen stirs on the stove to my right, and every once in a while I mix it while it boils. It's Oriental--I couldn't eat anything but since I'm vegetarian. It's a bad habit of mine, sitting on the countertop. The fluorescent lighting here makes it the brightest part of the place and the most concentrating. Plus, you know, it's close to food. 

The second option of Alexander's was appealing. Although I thought it would seem like less work, which it wasn't. I was rereading it and I begun to realize after so many times that it was crap. I was bored after the second time reading it. I didn't want to read more, it droned on and on about statistics, and I never delved into any real thought. Kind of just was able to read it. 

It made no impact. I tried to change a few things, but I was so tired anyways after the long day that I just decided to eat the Ramen in peace and go to sleep. 

When I got settled into my bed, I saw a text message: "The party's at eleven o clock on Thursday. The adress is... " followed by a 'swipe to unlock'. 

Must be Matt. I'd talk to him in the morning. I reread the paper one more time and sighing, turn off the light to allow myself alone to my thoughts in the dark.