End Of Season Resolutions

Contributed by Nicolas Papaconstantinou on 07/06/10

“What you watching?” She says, and slumps on the sofa next to him.
“Just catching up on a few shows.” He says, not breaking eye contact with the screen.
“Yeah? Anything good?”
“Mm. Finishing off a couple of seasons, so I can go back on the internet. People are spoilering the shit out of these two.”
“Hm.” She says, and starts watching.

A few minutes later, he clicks pause, and offers to make a cup of tea, on his way to and from the loo. She wanders out to the kitchen with him.

“So how’s work?” He says, as the kettle roils between them on the counter. He’s beaten it – either the kettle is taking longer than usual, or his bladder is working more efficiently, but what with one thing and another, they’re standing there, waiting. “End of the year at your place as well, innit?”
“Oh, yeah.” She says, and scratched distractedly at her arm. “You know, lots of work done, end of year appraisal all finished. Personal development targets met, as well as workload.”
“Did you get a party?”
“A bit of a blow-out, yeah.” She looks sheepish, and he grins.

“What about your place?” She says, as they settle back down, sorting out comfy seats and hot mug placements before getting on with things. “I guess it isn’t a party kind of atmosphere?”
“Nah, but we did just break a huge case. Big deal. BIG deal. Been working on it off and on all year. Shouldn’t really talk about it, though, you know?”
He tuts as she settles along the length of the sofa, feet resting against his thigh, her nervous energy rattling his mug where he’d seated it in his lap.
“Ah, I never know what you’re on about when you do. All that talk about conspiracies and schemes and weird shadowy bosses. Muggers and that make sense, but all this specialist unit stuff makes no sense. Rampaging monsters and what, that weird bloke you work with, who does all the science stuff? I can’t keep track.”
“It’s not that complicated. It’s just a job, you know? People do bad things, and we catch them. It’s like the Bill.” He sighs, fidgetting distractedly with the remote. He doesn’t rush her, but she can tell he’s impatient to get back to his programmes. “Not like your place, with all the comings and goings and the ‘who’s shagging who this week’ shenanigans – Or your love-life, for that matter! It’s easier to keep track of which side Jack Bauer’s on this particular hour than it is to work out what’s going on with you!”

“Oh, harsh!” She says, but grins into her collar a little. “But fair. It’s just… well… it’s like, there’s never any end to your stuff. I think I’m getting to the bottom of it when you answer one of my questions about something that’s made it to the news, but then it turns out I’ve just got more questions. Like last year, when your team caught that child murderer thing, and I thought that was that, but then it was, like, he was just working for someone else, and on and on…”
“Yeah, but that’s the nature of life, isn’t it? The nature of questions. If an answer doesn’t satisfy you, you’re always going to think there’s some deeper answer, cos nobody likes to feel stupid, and we like things to make some sort of sense. But they don’t, really. They just are.” He pokes her thigh playfully. “Like you… every year, it looks absolutely certain that you’ve learnt something important, some fundamental lesson about, I don’t know, the nature of love, or of independence, or whatever. But then, after a few weeks without incident, it’s like a reset button got pressed, and you’re back to being the same high-flying, idiosyncracy-wracked high-flying girl-about-town you were before.”

He sips at his tea – as it turns out, the only universal talisman against being thumped by a girl he’s ever found – as, wide-eyed she tries to find a response. Finally, she does.

“I am not an idiot.”
“I didn’t say ‘idiot’, I said ‘idiosyncratic’.”
“Well, anyway – it’s stupid pouring all that energy into something that doesn’t have any resolution or closure.” She says, sulking.
“Isn’t it, though?” He says, looking at her fondly. Then: “But, see, I don’t look for the big finishes. They’re always going to disappoint, after the act, aren’t they? Like a New Year’s Party or some shit. I try to just judge each day on it’s merits.”
“And that works, does it?” She responds.
“Well, I don’t know. Means I don’t have any trouble sitting here watching TV, after a day at work, whereas you seem to think it’d drive you barmy. S’just life. No need for drama.”
“Hm. Okay, I suppose you might have something.” She says, and settles back into the sofa cushions. “Right, then, shall we carry on watching?”
“Thank god for that.” He sighs. “I thought you’d never shut up!”
“Oi!” She says, kicking him in the leg, laughing. She turns to watch the restarted show. “So, how do you think it’s going to end?” She asks.
“I’m not really bothered.” He says. “I just enjoy watching it, see where it takes me.”