Faneuil Hall [Faneuil Hall]

by Aileen Ma

Today me and the guys are just going to do another set. Well, it’s different every day, so if you call that the usual, then fine. But don’t you love people watching? Look over there. That guy. With salt and pepper hair messy in an unintentional way, his beard is stubbly, and his eyes wear worry with a hint of martyrdom. His stance is determined, and somewhat hurried, but he isn’t holding a briefcase or wearing backpacking gear, so the security guards are somewhat frazzled. Not. They have bigger things to worry about. Like getting the kosher hot dogs deli guy to deliver on time.

His worries…seem different. You can tell just by looking. Amidst the flurry of action at Faneuil hall, and the ever so moving tide of tourists and vendors, he stands out, mainly for a… nondescript quality about him. You can really make up a life story about strangers just by staring. Staring into their eyes. To me, he looks like a) someone who might have been canonized as a saint in another life, or b) a man who has been stood up by a date who might be abusive, or maybe c) both of the above.
***
The man in black and grey moves in an absent way that belies the determination in his eyes. There is a loss of humanity that lies within those eyes and seems to cry out for attention. But nobody seems to notice. That’s right, nobody cares, thinks the man. He stoops down on a park bench for a moment, so he can get lost in his thoughts for a while. Retrace the plan, retrace the plan. Go buy the gun. A pigeon flies by and his eyes follow it mechanically. Go buy the bullets. But there are no traces of life within those dark brown orbs. Use the same one your old man used to kill himself. He gets up, briefly, oddly entertained by something so commonplace, and goes over to the pigeon. Whispers something to it. One shot, and then boom. I’ll be gone.

The pigeon flies away. Doesn’t even bother to say goodbye.

That’s right, nothing matters. It’s probably good that I didn’t get to know you. He backs away from the scene of the would have been meeting of friends. Gets pushed in the elbow by a harried passerby. Is turned the opposite direction. Goes with the flow, and faces that way anyways. Chooses to not decide his fate for himself. But wait, I have had this all planned out since last week. I have to take my chances. No more dillydallying.
He begins to turn around, but…then he sees it.

He sees the most beautiful thing in the whole world, right before his eyes.

Right there in front of the entrance to the old Quincy market, a girl is twirling, turning, reaching up, forward, and outward. It is as if she is dancing and calling out to the crowd, without seeming to notice that anyone except herself is there at all. A young girl, clad in tank top and flowing peasant skirt, dancing in flip flops to the beat of water bucket drums as two men are making sweet music right behind her. Twirling about and swaying around as carefree as can be, as if she is in another world. A cute little Chihuahua dog joins in, and soon the girl and the dog are both caught up in the music, both dancers part of something bigger. The girl is blond, but that is not what makes her pretty. Her smile, and the way she is dancing with unabandoned joy, that is what matters. That is what she is a part of.

Suddenly the beating of the drums penetrate somewhere deep. The man catches himself watching, with his chin hanging down. Eyes wide open. As if there is life in them. Suddenly, a grin, nothing like a grimace spreads out across his face. Unnatural but getting there, as he looks up to the sky.