XLVI | Beyond

❦

She props up the reference book up,
hides her face behind it.

I pluck it
from her hands
to see

the expression on her face.

There isn't one.

Her hair is in the way.

She picks another book
to put between us.

With this shield, she says,
'You're wrong.
'I didn't turn my back on it.

'Your expectations of me are too much.'

The book in my hand
(that was a Bible just now)
is now clearly an ordinary

psychology
reference book.

The language used in it
is so pretentious.

We should stop

pretending
to research.

None of this
is relevant
to our project anyway.

I put the book back
on the pile.

'I know that,' I say.

She looks up,
coal-black eyes
peeking

out of black hair.

'Then why do you always expect
'so much from me?'

I don't?

You're the one expecting me
to meet your ideals.

I'm the one telling you
not to have such expectations of me.

'You're pretending,'
is what I say instead.

She crumples
the paper
she's been writing notes on.

'I'm just doing my best.'

Her eyes meet mine—
dead serious.

'I'm walking through a world
'I can't navigate on my own
'because it's too big.'

She stands up,
stuffs her notes

back into her National Day tote bag.

'I'm finding my way alone now.
'You get that at least

'—right?'

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