You want people lined up. You want the good guys on one side, the bad on the other. It doesn't work that way, does it? It is never that simple.
I managed to alienate the woman I wanted to love.
One drunken remark shortly after we met doomed our budding relationship. I made the mistake of joking coarsely with Jessica—treating her like every other woman, when clearly she was not.
I’ve played and replayed that moment—her terse questions, her flashing eyes and simmering anger.
I was a total fool and my apology the next day didn’t mend matters and may have made them worse.
Now, there was this awkward gulf between us and there was nothing I could do.
Did I mention we work together as Archeologists?
At present, we’re in a prehistoric rock art site in the Côa Valley, Portugal, observing and documenting continuous human occupation from the end of the Paleolithic Age.
Our tents are pitched near the Côa River and to all appearances we’re functioning as a team, but the reality is quite different.
In day-to-day work, we’re like toddlers engaged in parallel play—each completely ignoring the other.
She has honey-colored hair and huge brown eyes. When she looks at me, I turn to stone.
We try not to step on the other’s toes and yet, at the same time, are excessively polite—for the same reason.
I’m in torment and hate my fate.
I ended the night in misery but later awoke—something disturbed me.
I looked over to Jessica’s tent and saw the lantern lit—but inside, I saw two figures. I rubbed my eyes, and looked back, but the second person had disappeared.
My breathing stopped.
At that moment, Jessica emerged from the tent and wandered down to stare at the river.
The Moon had risen and now turned the flowing water into a glitter of diamonds.
I saw Jessica’s body shudder and her shoulders heave in unmistakable sobs.
I wanted to console her. My arms trembled, torn between the desire to comfort and fear of offending.
After a while, she stopped heaving, and sat down staring into the depths of the river.
I lay on my pillow watching her until I fell asleep.
In the morning, she was aloof as usual.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask, or even engage in polite conversation.
The gulf between us widened again.
That night, we sat again in a sea of uncertainty and polite distance. Everything between us was formal and functional.
Finally, I could take it no longer—I’d risk making a fool of myself, but had to ask.
“I saw you sitting by the river—it must have been past three.”
She bristled but didn’t deny it.
“You’re right,” she whispered, “I did spend some time by the river.”
“I do that some times,” I reassured her.
“I doubt you do—at least, for the same reason.”
“I don’t mean to pry, Jessica—you seemed so sad.”
“Did I?” she answered defiantly.
I wanted to back down, but didn’t. “You were crying,” I said.
She clasped her hands together around her ankles as in a fetal position and began rocking.
My heart melted for her.
“I know we’re not close,” I told her, “but sometimes, it helps to talk.
”
She looked at me as if she’d burst out laughing—but then, the mood passed and her eyes softened.
“Do you know what a moledro is?”
“Yes,” I said, “a pile of stones—a cairn.”
She laughed harshly. “Not just a pile of stones—a sacred sculpture meant to represent a human figure.”
“Okay,” I conceded.
“Do you know the legend?”
I shook my head.
“The stones are said to be enchanted soldiers. If one is taken from the pile and placed beneath a pillow, a soldier will appear just before dawn. He’s only there for a moment—then, he turns to stone and magically returns to the pile.”
A silence like a shadow fell between us. I was afraid to speak.
“I saw him, Mark—I saw a soldier.”
“You mean, you took a rock from the cairn and put it under your pillow?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly in a huge sigh.
“I doubt you’d understand.”
“No? Try me.”
“I came here several years ago. It was so lovely here—romantic and mysterious. I heard the legend and tried it—and that’s exactly what happened.”
“And the soldier who appeared to you looked the same as the man of your dreams?”
“I finally met him.”
“Well, go on—what happened?”
“He turned out to be a disappointment—a fool.”
I began to see why she had a harsh attitude toward men.
“You have no idea what suffering I went through—having my hopes up only to se them crushed.”
“I’m so sorry, Jessica—men are such fools.”
“You are,” she said simply.
“What happened to this man you met—is there any chance you can get together?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you ever see him?”
“I do. Almost every day.”
I sighed—at her futility—at my loss. It was a mess.
“Well, at least you got a break from him here,” I said impulsively—then, remembered the figure in the tent.
“No, actually, he’s here too.”
I nodded. “I saw him as well—I saw two shadows in your tent the other night.”
Curiosity about the man impelled me. “What did he do or say to turn you off?”
“He didn’t treat me as special—he didn’t treasure me.”
I wanted to kill him—but felt guilty for the way I treated her as well.
“He’s the loser,” I blurted out. “You are special—he must have been a fool.”
“You were,” she whispered and looked deeply into my eyes.
It was then I knew I was the soldier, the lover who could have been but was now her enemy.
