Lamentation

Lamentation
By Matt Moore


Dawn with her rose-red fingers might have shone
upon their tears, if with her glinting eyes
Athena had not thought of one more thing.
She held back the night, and night lingered long
at the western edge of the earth, while in the east
she reined in Dawn of the golden throne at Ocean's banks,
commanding her not to yoke the windswift team that brings men light,
Blaze and Aurora, the young colts that race the morning on.
-Homer: The Odyssey, XXIII.273-280

I need to be protected. More so because I don't think I need to be protected. I'm sensitive. I'll admit it. I'm sensitive and I take care of my own problems. I need more help than most people and I'm the last one to ever ask for any help. I may not turn down help if its offered. I like to be helped. I just don't know how to ask for any help.
Perhaps this is why I find myself standing on the Great Wall. Perhaps this is why I find myself alone on a structure older than Christ and I'm alone. All alone. There are still sections of the wall that have never been put on film. Places that exist only in one place at one time. No photocopies of them anywhere in the world. Just approximations of what they must look like based on what has been shown of the rest of it. Perhaps I am like an un-photographed section of wall.
We were supposed to be here together. This was our honeymoon. Twenty years ago we were here and I laughed as she joked about the serious demeanor of our guide. The other tourists barely noticed, too busy pretending to be awestruck as we strode u pon the fifth mile so far. It all looked the same. History had happened here, we were sure. The English translator had long since given up relaying what that history was as the guide continued to tell it. She saw we were just here to go for an interesting hike. She saw that we were ready to be back in our hotel room.
I remember this kid. Maybe not so much a kid, twenty probably. We were barely twenty-five. He looked German. Maybe Swedish. He had fallen for my wife. He said hello to her when we were meeting at the entrance to the tour. He wanted to say more before I came up from a few feet away and said hello with my left hand outstretched with my right reaching over her, pulling her into the curve of my body. When it had an inward curve. I look down now and see the inverse, my belly stretched out beyond recognition. Twenty years can change you.
Maybe I should have let him talk to her. They would have flirted. She was always flirting. It used to bother me. Not so much as to say anything about it. It just bothered me. They would have flirted and he would have gained more confidence and he would have walked along the wall beside her and perhaps she would have gotten lost with him for a while and I would have left her there. Here. Maybe if I had left her here in China I would have had a much better life.
Now the sun is rising and I wonder just how many hours I have spent on this wall. How many days? Just since last night, I am almost sure of that. Just since last night. I think I remember it. I woke in the dark and wandered aimlessly trying to find my way back to anything resembling civilization. Soon the remains of the alcohol took their toll and I found myself just sitting and watching the sun come up. And I wonder why we never did this. Did we watch the sun come up from the longest wall in the history of the world? Would it have made a difference? The warmth of the sun can't even be felt yet. My face is frozen. Like a stone. Like the stone I'm sitting on.
When we were here before she wondered if we could be seen from space. I laughed at her. The first time I laughed at her but certainly not the last. Though at least this one was not meant with malice. She explained that since the wall could be seen from space, so could we, couldn't we? I told her it was just a myth the wall could be seen from space. It isn't even tall. She told me that she had seen pictures of China from space and that it was there. So maybe one day she would see a picture from space and there would be two little dots that loved each other dearly and they could be seen from space. I agreed that I supposed it was a small possibility. Then I pictured us as dots from space and I think that was the first time I realized how little our love really was, no matter how big it seemed.
That kid just walked away when I came up. He was alone. Not alone, with his mother and father. He was alone as they enjoyed themselves and he tried not to ruin their good time. I wanted to let him walk with us. Is that how I used to be? Looking out for other people? Trying to cheer everyone up? Was that me? Or was it her that wanted to let him walk along with us? I think that it was more likely that it was her personality coming through me. That is how we used to be. Her goodness shining through me. And I was transparent near her.
Someone is on the horizon. A camper, probably, maybe a couple of them. Or a couple. They are coming towards me. I don't think they have seen me yet and I want to hide but I can't stop watching because now I know it is a couple and they are holding hands and I recognize them. I've never seen them before in my life but I recognize them. Young. Happy. In love.
I hate them.
They are at least a mile away and they will see me before long as the sun continues to rise. I should move. Though my mind makes itself up to do so long years of sobriety have forgotten the torment of a hangover. So to stand could lead to my death. A relatively short fall to the ground from here. I doubt I would ever get back up. Sitting on the ledge was probably a bad idea. Hopefully they can at least stop their love-fest long enough to help a hapless drunk to a more sensible location. Like a hammock on a beach somewhere.
We were going to go to Hawaii. That was the plan but as the wedding approached she told me that she wanted to do something less cliche. Go somewhere fun and exciting but not somewhere where American's go on honeymoons. I suggested China. She had the tickets changed before I could explain I was mostly joking. I didn't care though. The thought of twenty-hours on a plan with her there and back seemed quite pleasing to me at the time. Now I wonder if I'll be able to endure the flight back. Maybe I can just stay here. On this wall. It does get pretty cold out here at night. And all I have to eat is a bag half full of beef jerky. I should have changed the tickets back to where we should have gone in the first place. I shouldn't have come back here. My friends told me not to come back here. The tickets were purchased. The plane was leaving in two weeks and I'll be damned if I'm not going to be on it. My friends are really just my coworkers. I haven't talked to any real friends in fourteen years. I don't really know what happened. They just sort of faded out of my life. I thought of them later as actors. Minor characters that are just there when they have something to add to the plot. My plot had already played out. Oh god, how my plot had already played out.
The dating process was fast. The engagement was faster. The marriage dragged on longer than this wall. We didn't so much as meet as find each other. I sat in a cafe. Trying to appear to be refined. She walked in and sat down at my table and asked me if I were Chris. Chris Sale. I remember his name though I never actually met him. I told her that I wasn't. She said sorry and started to stand up and I told her she should wait for him right there. She told me it wasn't a blind date or anything. Just a business call. She sold metals. To everyone from contractors to jewelers to soda can manufacturers. I told her I was fascinated with her work. And I was. At the time. Later I came to find it quite dull. Almost as dull as she found me.
When I saw that boy walking a few paces behind his parents, kicking rocks and dirt out of his way, head down, the quintessential restless teenager, just a little bit older and a little bit calmer, I told her that we should have kids. Normally the thought of a little baby in the house is what makes people want to have babies. Or at least that's what I thought. But seeing this kid who was really almost the same age as us I realized that one day we would come back here and she and I would walk around, eagerly paying attention to everything we missed this time, there could be one or two restless kids walking behind us. And for some reason this appealed to me.
We did have kids. And they are in college now, both of them. And I am proud of them. They don't know how to talk to me anymore. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I wouldn't know how to talk to me anymore either. They were supposed to be here. Walking aimlessly behind me and the wife. They were supposed to talk pictures of us smiling in the bright afternoon sun and I was supposed to talk them to Beijing and make them try food they've never seen before. They didn't know I was coming. I told them I gotten a refund on the trip. Next year, I told them, next year.
It never really worked. Once we left this wall it never really worked. Up to that point it was magic. Then we fought, then we made love, then we fought. I thought that it was just a release of stress. I didn't realize it was the tone for the next twenty years.
That couple has made their way to a stairwell in the wall and they are on their way up. My fat and tired legs are slowly working their way back over the ledge. I should be standing by the time they get here. I think about jumping off. I think about but I don't want them to have to try to get me to a hospital. I may hate them but I'm not spiteful.
They see me when I get turned around and I am facing away from the sunrise. They smile. They stop for a second and asses me. They decide I'm not a threat. They walk up to me and he pulls her in close to him and reaches out his hand. They are Chinese, they are young, they are in love. And I don't want to deal with them right now. But they will walk right on by before too long so I take his hand and he nods slightly.
"You are American?" He asks and she smiles in that way that only Asian women seem to be able to do. Or at least non-American's seem to be able to do. A smile that reflects actual happiness. I don't recall the last time I saw an American face with such a smile on it.
"Yes." I say and I nod slightly to him.
"We are," he pauses searching for a word, "pleased to meet you." She doesn't change the expression on her face and I want to hug her so badly suddenly. A face that brings hope to the world. Only a face that belongs to someone in love can do that. Only a face like that can make an old man like me feel like their is still something left to hope for in this world.
"Pleased to meet you."
I refrain from hugging her. Instead I pull out the bag of beef jerky and offer it to them.
"Oh, we," he pauses for longer this time. A breeze comes off the fields around us and chills me to the bone. "We don't want your beef." I smile and laugh and he laughs with me and she joins in for a moment when we don't stop laughing. Then they stop laughing and I wipe a tear from my eye. I wasn't crying because I was laughing, I realize.
I hate them again.
Those stupid grins and that take on the world attitude. I wish that he wouldn't make the same mistake I made and leave the girl with me while he leaves her here for good. Maybe they haven't even married yet. Maybe their is still a chance for him. A chance for her. It would be better for everyone if they never gave into the fallacy of love. I stand and begin to walk away from them. I can feel them watching me so I turn around and they have suddenly forgotten to smile and I think that perhaps I can reach them.
"Don't believe in love. It will never last." They seem to be confused. Better confused then hopelessly happy.
Checking her face between every word he says slowly "You believe in love?"
"No. Don't believe in love."
"What is... love?" He says it like he's never heard the word before.
I turn and walk away, not even sure which way I came onto the wall the night before. Not sure where the village I was in is. Not sure what it was called. Not sure what the hell I am doing next. I should ask them for directions. I should find out what it is that makes them happy. But I know what it was for me. What it is for them. They could help me. They could protect me until I can get back home. But they can't. Because I won't ask them. Instead I choose to hate them.
And I hate them.
"Close enough" I yell into the morning sun as it finally begins to warm my face.