Perfection

“Isn’t the waterfall breathtaking? Aren’t we just having the most perfect vacation?”

“I guess so.”

“You guess so? Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s all wonderful. It’s just that . . .”

The pause lingered like a chasm.

“Something’s got to be wrong.”

“Not with the vacation. No. It’s just that. I think something’s wrong with me.”

“Nonsense. You’re perfect. What could be wrong? It must be me.”

“No, it’s not you. I couldn’t really be happy with anyone.”

“That came out of nowhere.”

“It’s been lingering my whole life.”

A pause like the Atlantic Ocean.

“Strange, it’s the first I’ve heard.”

A pause like the Pacific.

“Is it that we never had children?”

“No. I never really wanted them. I’m not sure it’s a bad thing that we couldn’t. Maybe they would have made me delirious with joy, but more likely they’d have made me miserable.”

“What is it then? Something that happened in your childhood?”

“My childhood was fine. Normal. More happy than unhappy.”

A pause like the distance from the Earth to the Moon.

“Was it some great passion when you were younger? Some young woman that I can never compete with? Like in that story, ‘The Dead’?”

“I had my passions, but none were larger than you. No one would satisfy me any more than you.”

“But not any less.”

“Some would have. But now you’re getting all upset over something that never happened.”

“Well, we’ve got a problem with no solution, then.”

“Not everything’s a problem to be solved.”

“What should I do, then.”

“You don’t have to do anything. I’m just telling you about my inner state of mind. It’s like a confession. It might even be healthy.”

“It’s not healthy for me. It feels like I’m doing something wrong.”

“That’s just nonsense. Not everything’s about you. In fact, not much is about you. Or me for that matter.”

“So we don’t matter?”

“In the grand scheme of things, yes, we don’t matter.”

A pause the distance of the icy planet Neptune. Briefly, he thought of leaping the chasm of space to the jagged rocks and water dancing below. It would likely kill him, although it was a lesser chasm than the main Falls so crowded with the tourists they had escaped. But he couldn’t act, didn’t even want to. He just stood gazing. And he realized he was doing something he’d been taught a man should never do in public. Weeping, his tears tiny drops of nothing joining the violent waters below.