Sinner and Saint

Chapter Four

"There's really a lady on the moon."

I held up my empty glass, its bottom superimposed over the moon to see if it could somehow magnify it. Don't know why I thought the thick bottom of a glass would do that but that's what I did. And no, it didn't work. The glass just looked brightly warped. Or that could be the alcohol-induced haze.

"According to Chinese mythology, her name is Chang'e," Stellan said, stretching an arm over his head. He was on a lounger next to mine, a little bit more drunk than when we started two hours ago but no less intelligent. "She was an immortal banished to earth with her husband. She didn't like living here and drank an elixir to become immortal again. She ascended once again, rested on the moon, immortal as she'd always wanted to be but forever apart from the man she loved. It is said that on a clear night, Chang'e can be seen sitting alone on the moon with a small white rabbit as her only companion."

I couldn't help myself. "I didn't think you'd know that kind of stuff. It's not very science-y."

"I'm interested in everything. Folklore and mythology provide so much social and cultural context which in turn explains a lot about the innovations of the time."

"Ooookay, then," I said as I processed the story, foggy as my brain felt.

"It's a bittersweet tale, isn't it?" Stellan asked, turning his head to look at me. His glasses were long discarded somewhere in our little area just outside of the greenhouse where we'd pushed the two lounge chairs together so we could sit back, drink, and watch the sky. I adored him with glasses on but I couldn't complain about seeing his warm brown eyes this up close, even in the poor light.

"Sure, but my question is," I started as I felt for the bottle of whiskey in the small gap between our chairs. "How the hell did a small white rabbit get on the moon?"

Stellan laughed and looked up at the sky. "I don't know. Not in specific story, anyway. I never thought about it. Which is unusual of me. I think about everything. Ask every possible question there could be."

"I'm sure it's great to be smart and all that but don't you agree it's super exhausting?" I said with as sigh, pouring myself some more alcohol. There wasn't much left in the bottle.

"What? Thinking?" Stellan asked. "If you think all the time, you won't think about it anymore."

"Haha. Thinking about thinking. Very funny." I snorted and tipped back my drink. "That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?" Stellan pulled himself up to a full sitting position and turned to face me, his legs in the gap between our chairs.

"Being smart, you usually know what the right thing is," I said slowly, momentarily distracted by the moonlight glinting off his now disheveled hair. He'd run his hand through it a few times tonight, leaving it looking as rumpled as I'd never seen it before. It was doing bad things to my stomach.

"True in most cases," he agreed.

"And when you know what's right and you're not that much of an asshole, it's really hard not do it," I continued. "And the more you know, the greater the responsibility. And that's just too much for some of us."

Stellan gazed at me for a while, not saying anything.

In the last two hours we've been drinking, I learned that Stellan is a master at wordless stares that ask or say more than any words could. It unsettled me but at the same time, I couldn't turn away. For someone who absolutely disliked being stripped raw, here I was, helpless to it.

"Thank God, I'm not very smart. Nothing like you, anyway," I said with a laugh, hoping to distract him away from his unnerving study of me. "I don't think I can handle the pressure of having to solve big world problems like hunger or illiteracy. Or find a cure for cancer or AIDs. Or take down terrorists. Or find life in Mars."