At the beginning of time, the whole earth was of one language and of one speech. With a shared understanding of reaching the heavens, the people built themselves a tower to surpass the highest hopes of God himself.
The girl was a myth, surely. Alina Starkov. Campus darling, straight As, rich daddy, and untouchable. Alexander has heard of other people’s numerous attempts to ask her out, but none were successful. Yet here she was on a Friday, sitting unaffectedly in his passenger’s seat after casually and inviting him unprompted to a Chinese place she knew.
“I want to get to know you.”
And just like that, they let their walls crumble. And slowly, they picked up brick after lonely brick and thought to themselves, we were rebuilding Babel.
She was a polyglot, he learned. A useful skill she developed during their family trips abroad. He was a swimmer in secondary school but had to stop because of a spine injury. She’d never been in love. He has had his heart broken by his first love.
They both love midnight convenient store runs sharing cheap spirits and drunken stories. They’ve met before, in a house party. Alina was stumbling drunk asking him where the bathroom was. I helped you to the bathroom and waited for you by the door. I guess I got distracted because I looked back and the bathroom was empty and you were nowhere, he recalled. Alina knew where she was after that. In a room upstairs with an old fling who she’s very much still in her life. But she wouldn’t tell him that, she decided. Probably back with Genya and the girls.
Late night conversation bled out into days in each other arms. He said his favorite artist is John Mayer. You'll be a bitch, because you can you try to hit me, just to hurt me, he sang one sweaty afternoon in her bed. At this she expressed disgust. He is an asshole and a manchild, she complains. I guess we are both the same, he teased with a grin. She rolled her eyes and kissed him.
Don’t do that, she exclaimed when he wiped the ketchup from her lips, I hate being babied. Tell me next time when I have something on my face. Alexander drew back despondently and unsure what to do. She had been distant since the car ride not letting him touch her or help her. Are you cold? he later asked on the drive home. No, she responded, arms crossed staring out into the street, I have to get home my mom will be worried sick.
I guess I just woke up one day and felt nothing for her, he said as he recounted his last relationship. I stayed for three more months trying to make it work but I just couldn't. I felt disgusted every time I see her. Alina felt sorry for the girl, Zoya, and horrified that Alexander could be like that. I just left after that deciding I don’t want to see her again. I left her with a feeling worse than hate. But I am sorry for my actions now, Alexander said as he noticed Alina’s expression slowly shift into detestation. But does she know that you’re sorry, she rebutted quite angrily. I will not do that to you. I don’t think I can and it will hurt me, he assured reading her mind.
She was seated in front of him eyes averted to the table. I have so many complications in my life right now I shouldn’t be adding more to it, she was exasperated and tired, I need to figure things out. He once thought her invincible in her ivory tower, so she showed him the broken consequence of her life. I understand that my presence in your life is another added responsibility but whether you like it or not it is normal, he could tell she was being irrational and shortsighted at the moment. He’s been here before, he thought. Luda was also unsure and confused and they both suffered for it. I can’t tell you what to do so you do you, he sighed. I just need a week. I swear I can figure it out by then, she promised.
She called the next day. He did not answer instead he apologized, and all seemed well. She called again the following day. He did not answer. She called four more times and by then she realized he would not be answering… not ever.
Day after day, she found herself reeling with every make-believe sign on the streets and hallways. An alcoholic could scent a fine brandy a mile away just as she could tell where he was by the sick in her stomach. He went out of his way to censure her and when he could no longer hate, he had to censor her whole existence. Placed in restricted—out of sight, out of mind.
At the end, they weren’t rebuilding Babel. They were still two people who spoke different languages. They could learn to speak a common tongue. In truth, they did their best to translate their longings and pain into something the other could hold. But they would always carry the curse of Babel in knowing or trying to know one another. Maybe some heights were better left unreached and some people better left unknown.
