Musings of a Statue
“I don’t know why,” she finally said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because.”
She was about to say more when she stopped, confused. A dull throb echoed in her head. She wanted him to interrupt her, to say what she wanted to say, but he was quiet. She looked up desperately at his chiseled face.
“I can’t explain.”
“Try.”
She bit her lip and rubbed her head, letting her fingers melt down her face. Finally she sighed. “I don’t think it’s possible to exactly know why,” she started again, her voice shaking. “There are times that I just think that you don’t understand me at all. And I know it’s a bad thought, but sometimes I can scarcely believe that you’re even… real.”
“I’m not real. You know that.”
“Yes, but…” She looked at him more carefully.
He did look real, even on second glance. He looked very real, in fact. His hands were carved out so precisely and, if she looked closer, she could see a fold of skin. But no, it was only a fingerprint that she put on him when her fingers accidentally strayed to his strong shoulders, many years ago. She leaned closer to him, close enough to smell the heavy cologne of marble. For a second, she thought he jumped to her, but a moment later, she realized that it was only a tear that made him dance so. She wiped it away and paced around him.
“If you’re not real, then why can I talk to you?” she finally asked, her voice faint. “If you’re not real, then how can I talk to you?”
He didn’t respond.
She bit her lip and bent over closer to him, her red-brown hair tickling his face. “Please tell me something.”
“What would you like me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how can I help you?”
“I don’t know,” she began, when suddenly she stopped and tried to smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it, how that simple that phrase is? Three words, but think of it! Those three words say everything that there is to say. It’s humbling, really. You’re admitting that you don’t know. It’s a release, an admittance that you are only human and thus you are capable of mistakes. Or being indecisive. It’s uniquely human, don’t you think?”
“Humans are stupid.”
She smiled and turned the statue closer, letting her fingers run over his bulging arms. “Why do you say that?”
“Because they are.” When she cocked her head quizzically, he explained, “Humans are animals. As animals, they are expected to react as animals, to make instant decisions. And if they don’t make these decisions, then they are forced to die. What makes humans so special, so set apart from animals, that they can spend their time trivializing about such issues? And, more importantly, why?”
She smiled. “So we can talk to statues?”
His hard eyes stared out at nowhere, but for a second, she thought she could see a smile flicker on his face.