Side roads

He switches on the big television.

The bulk of the object is more towards the back. Now that all his friends are gradually switching to sleek LCD screens, he sticks with this old box. He has tried to tuck the bulge away strategically under the steps of his loft bed, but he still cannot get around it. Literally. The contraption takes up at least 1/8^th of his one room apartment.

The programme on the television intrigues him. Gymnast Epke Zonderland: held back a year once in the fourth year of secondary school, now combines top level sport with top level study. And medicine at that, where after your master's you are no more than a junior doctor. Are you then ‘something’? Or are you not even allowed to put a needle into someone?

While others are trying their luck on the labour market, Epke keeps going for a few more years in the books. How many hours would he sleep? He surely has no partner.
Then it comes up that ‘Jerommeke’ has a girlfriend. And friends too. Even a family with parents, brothers and a sister...

Suppose: there are 168 hours in a week (not an assumption but a fact), 56 hours of sleep, 14 hours of eating, grooming and so on, 5 hours a week of being social, the gymnast trains 25 hours a week (he said); estimated time 60 hours for clinical placements. Then he has 1.14 hours a day left over for something else. TV or so; no, surely not. Something like reading books.

He sleeps 70 hours a week; alongside eating and grooming, after calculation 79 hours remain... since over the past months he has barely studied, he cannot subtract those from it.

Time. He has had enough of it but never enough of it. The 79 hours keep floating around in his head. They tumble and come hurtling at him with alarm signals. Was he even conscious all that time? He does not even know what he did in that lost time. 5 months x 79 hours = 395 hours. 49.3 days gone. Nowhere to be found.

The leaden bag of books and iPad sits closed at his feet. With his index finger he hooks into the metal loop of the zip and yanks it open. He sits up straight again. Which subjects does he have again tomorrow? With a kick of his right foot he tips the black PVC bag over. The books slide onto the floor like a fan of poker cards.

He stands up, grabs his coat and walks out the door.

Valérie Verswijveren

October 2013