Dept Q

ML and I have been watching Dept. Q on Netflix…it’s pretty damn engaging. I’ve always found British films more complex than Hollywood’s. The characters are more layered in their good and bad and as a result have relationships that aren’t as predictable and moronic. Dept. Q is grim, though. And brutal. Still, I highly recommend it.

In between episodes, ML and I grab a snack or drink, or both, and have a chat. I have now lived with her for well over a year, and she still startles me with how contrary her inside world is to her outward appearance. Outwardly, she is gruff. Her smile is more like a scowl. Her hair is white. I think. But she has it so closely cropped it’s hard to be certain. She has a husky voice and smokes a lot. (She claims it’s tobacco, but I have never wanted to deeply inhale someone else’s cigarette smoke before.) 

Inside, however, she is tender and contemplative. She cries when things are sweet, not just when they are obviously sad. She chuckles in a low rumble when things are amusing and heartily laughs when things are funny. Her whole body is vulnerable to the experience as she holds nothing back. But there is nothing aggressive about her interactions with the show. It’s just uncensored feeling. And when we talk about a particular scene or a character's reaction, ML has the mind of a novelist and the skill of a shrink. But she attributes her insight to forty years of teaching kindergarten.

Still, next to her, I feel like a church lady in a corset. When the TV rages with a moment of unexpected violence, I clench my fists and become even more still while ML jumps to her feet, wraps her arms around herself, and mutters, “No, no, not that.”

I hope she wears off on me rather than the other way around.