“I have always held an interest in Georges Cuvier [i].” Yvonne hesitated, peering across at her neighbour. She did not wish to pursue the topic if it was undesirous to Bonnie, but there was an assurance in the lady’s gaze that emboldened Yvonne, prompting her to continue. “Whilst I was in Paris, I discovered that Monsieur Cuvier was currently employed at the university. I sent him a letter expressing my interest in his work and, as I was refused admission to his lectures, he came to my apartment for private instruction. I was grateful for his kindness; I would not have gained the experience otherwise. You see, I have always found the human body and brain to be fascinating, do you not think so, Miss Donoghue?”
“Yes, I do,” Bonnie concurred. “My parents encouraged my want to learn, even when it came to human anatomy, but there was little to read on the subject whilst I was at home. When I arrived at Dublin, such literature was discouraged and my friends agreed that it was better left to someone who had the chance of pursuing a career in natural science, an option that was not gifted to me. I used to visit the library and note the books that I found to be of interest. From there, I would pass the notes to a friend of mine who would take them for me; he did me a great favour. My parents were thrilled with my knowledge, but Miss Ainsley thought the ordeal to be rather vulgar. Now that my parents are gone, I find that I have nobody who shares my interests.”
Her avidity was unexpected, especially to the degree that Yvonne, herself, regarded the subject. “I am pleased to hear of your devotion, Miss Donoghue, in educating yourself, particularly in such fields as anatomy and physiology. I would not have imagined it to be the case.”
“I am equally pleased, Miss Davers. I have struggled to meet anybody who felt similarly.”
“As have I. The sole time that I felt my passion was, in any way, encouraged was whilst I studied in Europe. I took to anatomy there; they have less inhibitions than we do. They held many lectures on the subject. Men and women, there were examinations for both, although, I must confess, I preferred the study of female anatomy.”
It did not occur to Bonnie to censure the discussion, too delighted by its initiation to prohibit the subject further. “If you are well versed on the subject of female anatomy, why, you could show me what you learnt.”
Yvonne did not reply, staring fixedly ahead; nonetheless, the reddening in her cheeks revealed her humility. There was an impishness to Miss Donoghue that disconcerted her, and, try as she might, she was unable to respond to her in a way that was suitable and so, she said nothing at all.
Bonnie realised her discomfort, continuing with: “The brain is the most vital organ of the body, the most significant, and yet, it is often underappreciated. By those outside of scientific practice, at least. It is the centre and chieftain of all human existence. Does that not demand a little attention?”
“Have you ever seen one?” Yvonne questioned, appeased by the turn in conversation. The topic of natural science disturbed her less than the subject of sentiment.
“Unfortunately, no,” sighed Bonnie. “All that was afforded to me were diagrams.”
Conceited to have the chance of impressing her neighbour, Yvonne drew back her shoulders, her chin rising in the air with a motion of pompousness. “I had the opportunity to examine a brain first-hand. I attended a lobotomy- for the pursuit of knowledge, naturally- and I was startled to see its truest form. It was nothing more than some offal, some meat-like substance, similar to the rest of the human body. I was not under the impression that it was much different, but to see it for myself, it was astounding. It was nothing above the ordinary and yet, it is responsible for every experience we have. It accounts for all of our senses, our thoughts, and feelings…” She paused in her breathlessness, discerning that she must allow her companion to speak too. “Tell me, Miss Donoghue, what do you feel right now?”
“Happy,” she stated. “To be here with you.”
“Yes…” Yvonne blinked, hemming to rid herself of the uncertainty that arose within her. “Well, that is your brain and in its sophistication, it can encapsulate your feelings and transform it into a thought, which is then relayed into speech. We make music of it, languages, a poetry prose in which these feelings are expressed. We create meaning in the nature around us because of it. We understand it through the analysis endured by the brain itself, and subsequently, we think and feel. We live.”
“And love.”
Bonnie stared up at her, marvelling at her speech.
Yvonne smiled in return. “Indeed.”
Inspired, Bonnie added- “How lucky that in this moment, in this brief second of our complicated lives, we are here and we are together, talking as if we were old friends.”
She halted, causing Yvonne to do the same. Despite hoping to involve Bonnie in the discussion, Yvonne was conscious that she had dominated the conversation, too enthused by the subject to finish. The notion that her companion was as passionate as her had fuelled her ramblings, yet Bonnie was unperturbed by her conduct. It seemed that they understood each other. She was staring at Yvonne with reciprocal contentment, a partiality that surprised her. Bashful, Yvonne uttered:
“I would not trade this second for any other.”
[i] Jean Léopold Nicolas Frédéric, Baron Cuvier (1769-1832), known as Georges Cuvier, was a naturalist and zoologist. He is also referred to as the founding father of palaeontology.
T.M. Hanson 
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