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Fate?

John Farquhar Young

    After the storm the river, brown and angry, is lashing the bank where Kenneth, a first year PhD student and a recent convert to Stoicism, stands attempting to separate those fragments of his life which he believes he can control from the parts of his reality which lie beyond the grasp of his will. “I cannot control the torrent,” he intones. “I can control my actions. I can stand on the bank, I can jump into the river, or I can walk away.”
    Stoicism - just an ancient philosophy! That was his opinion until an article in a magazine caught his eye. Stoicism, he discovered, was much more than a topic of academic interest - more a practical way of living which emphasises the control of attention, judgement and action and, apart from that, the tranquil acceptance of the rule of Fate.
    Fate! His romantic experiences have always been short lived. Still sore after been ditched by his latest girlfriend, he again recalls the remark of a sympathetic male friend. “To be frank,” his friend said bluntly, “Éyou sometimes come across as a bit geeky. You try too hard.” He returns to his exercises. “I cannot control whether people like me or not.” Geeky? It’s just the way I’m wired. Fate!
    A scream. A woman is running along the bank frantically pointing to the river. “My dog! My dog!”
    In the brown turbulence a white ball of fur is rushing toward him very close to the bank. On impulse he lunges for the animal but as his hand closes on the scruff of its small neck, he slips and dangerously unbalanced almost joins the dog in the river. Two strong hands grasp an upper arm and yank him onto solid ground. As he collapses half soaked onto the damp grass, he releases the dog which immediately begins to slobber on his face.
    “Sid, get away!” the woman commands.
    He feels a hand touch the back of his head. “Are you ok?”
    Pulling himself onto his feet he turns to see a young woman earnestly scrutinising him. She is, he notes, taller than his own five feet ten inches. A strand of blond hair is escaping from beneath her red woollen tammy.
    “Gosh,” she exclaims, sounding slightly breathless. “That was a close one! I don’t know what to say.” She pauses and laughs. “Well thanks, obviously.”
    Kenneth shakes his head and gestures in a vague attempt to downplay the significance of his actions.
    “You’re drenched,” the woman exclaims, frowning and pointing to his jacket and trousers.
    “It’s ok,” he ventures, now becoming aware of the cold dampness clinging to his body.
    “No it’s not ok,” she says firmly, her lips decisively compressed into a line. She draws a breath. “My cottage is nearby. You’ll need to come back with me and get dry. My name’s Leni by the way - short for Leonora.
    “I’m really...” Kenneth starts to say.
     “Look,” she says, her chin now slightly tilted upward, “... I’m a nurse and when necessary I can be very bossy. So, no argument, let’s go.”
    Am I in control or not? Reg, the dog now on a lead is happily scampering along beside them. Am I choosing to be led? I can choose not to be led, I suppose... he hesitates...In theory! The ‘in-theory’ bit begins to nag him as he trudges along. I am acting freely but ... not choosing. His thinking spirals into confusion: Choosing not to choose - choosing just to let things happen, surrendering to fate!
    He finds himself in the small, neatly organised front room of Leni’s cottage.
    She lights the gas fire, disappears and returns a moment later with a blanket.
    “You can hold onto your briefs but off with the rest. I’m going to give your stuff a quick wash and get your things dried.” She hands him the blanket.
    He hesitates.
    “Off! Quickly now!” Her voice is soft but commanding. “I’m a nurse, remember, I know what men look like.”
    He sits encased in the blanket holding a mug of coffee and being steadily questioned by Leni.
    Examination complete, she nods. “So, Kenneth. You’re a very bright chap trying to get computers to teach themselves things. You also have an interest in Stoicism which, you say, is about focusing tightly on what you can control in life. Focussing on what you can control is important – in my job anyway.” She pauses then inclines her head to one side. “Actually, you remind me of someone at work - a very bright doctor. We, the staff, like him but we think that he is ...” She pauses again.
    “...a bit geeky,” Kenneth volunteers.
    Leni laughs. “I was going to say, ‘socially awkward’.”
    For a moment a silence descends between them. She is rather nice, he thinks, studying her broad open face. Becoming self-conscious he abruptly averts his gaze.
    She seems to sense his shyness. “I don’t wish to pry...” she says tentatively. “...but are you involved ‘girl-wise’ at present?”
    “Until recently, I was – briefly,” he replies and shrugs. “Are you...?
    “Involved?” Leni laughs again. “Perhaps you’ve noticed, I am rather tall. Almost six feet three in my stocking soles. Not many men like to look up to women - romantically speaking - if you know what I mean. Perhaps I should be stoical about that.”
    Over an hour and a half later he is back in his room in the hall of residence. She’s very nice, he thinks then groans. “I should have asked her out.”
    His nose is tickling. He sneezes. Perhaps I’m taking a cold, he frets, thinking back to the river episode. Searching in his pockets for a tissue he finds a piece of paper with a mobile telephone number and a message: “Being bossy - as usual - but lunch, if you like, sometime? Leni.”
    “Hmmm,” Kenneth murmurs, then smiles broadly. “She likes geeky guys.” He lifts his phone. Fate? Who cares? he decides.

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