Peter Liu - Watering Heaven

“It is very important.”

“Are you married?” he asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“Are you happy in your marriage?”

“Wha — I think so,” I replied.

“You think so or you are?”

“I am.”

“Have you ever cheated on your wife?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer the question.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I might have, once or twice.”

“Why did you do that if you were happy?”

“I… look, I find this question very awkward.”

“Why?” he wanted to know.

“Why what?”

“Why do you find it awkward?”

“I don’t see how it bears on my position,” I responded.

“Okay, I’ll ask you another question then. Why do people have to die?”

I shook my head. “Umm… I don’t know…”

“How many people that you know have died?”

“Several of my friends passed away, my grandparents.”

“Have you ever wanted to kill anyone before?” he asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Never?”

“I don’t remember if I did.”

“What did you want to be as a kid?”

“I… I wanted to be an archaeologist,” I answered.

“Why didn’t you become one?”

“It didn’t pay very well.”

“So you dictated the course of your life based on pay?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then why didn’t you become what you wanted?”

“It was more complicated than that.”

“Was it?”

“Look, where are you taking this?” I asked.

“Is this an interview? Are you the one asking questions or me?”

“You are. But I don’t get the point of the questions.”

“But you would get the point if I asked you questions like, What was your previous job like, how is your day, what’d you do last weekend? ”

“Yeah.”

“But not if I ask you anything that’s important or worthwhile?”

“That’s not what I mean,” I replied.

“Then what do you mean?”

“Well how about you? If you’re so intent on finding things out about me, I want to know something important about you.”

“Okay. I didn’t love my wife. I married her only because I was afraid of being alone. But when she was gone, I realized that I actually liked her a lot. I probably loved her more than any other person I could have loved.” I was surprised by the tone of his voice — candid, sincere, hurt. He noticed my reaction, smiled, and asked, “Do you have any regrets?”

“About me and my wife?”

“Or anything.”

“Who doesn’t have regrets?”

“What are some of yours?”

“I–I…” I thought about it. “I like to live my life in a way so that I don’t have regrets. But of course I have a ton. I wish I’d left my old company earlier. I was there for 12 years and I don’t even know why. I think getting fired was the best thing that could have happened. Otherwise, I would have just sat there, waiting for my 401k to accumulate.”

“Do you want more in life?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you want more in life than what you already have? Why not less?”

“What would be the benefit of less?” I asked.

“What would be the benefit of more?”

“Happiness?”

“What is happiness?”

“It’s a state of being content,” I said.

“So if you had more, you’d be content?”

“Probably.”

“Do you think you’re a good person?”

“I–I think so… I try to be nice to people. I give to charity every once in a while.”

“I didn’t ask if you were nice or charitable. I asked if you really think you’re a good person.”

“How do you define good ?”

He grinned. “Good question.”

I laughed. “What about you? Do you think you’re a good person?”

“No. I haven’t done a single thing for anyone in the world. What difference have I made? I’ve just wanted more money for myself and patted myself on the back by giving money here and there to various charities. When you were young, did you want to be great?”

“Of course I did.”

“Do you think you’re going to be great?”

“Unless something changes in the next thirty years, probably not,” I jested. Then realized how terribly depressing my admission was.

“Do you think you’ve made a difference for the good in the lives of the people around you?”

“I’d hope so.”

“Do you think the people around you have felt their lives were enriched by your existence?”

“I can’t think of anything, but you saw It’s a Wonderful Life . Maybe if I died, people would notice.”

“If you found out you were going to die tomorrow, would you change the way you live your life?” he inquired.

“Absolutely. There’s a million things I’d go do.”

“Do any of them involve your wife and kids?”

“…No.”

“What’s the most cowardly thing you’ve done?”

“…I’m going to opt not to answer.”

“What’s the most hateful thing you’ve done?”

“…I don’t want to answer that.”

“What is the most important thing in the world to you?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Is truth important to you?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it since… since college. There was a time when all I cared about was truth. I didn’t even go to my classes, because I’d be reading books all day.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“…I’m married, aren’t I?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“…Yes.”

“Does love always have to be painful?”

“…I think so.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you think is the worst feeling in the world?”

“When… when you know something good is going to end.”

“Have you ever lied to someone because you were jealous of them?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever pretended to be drunk so you could fit in with a group?”

“…Yes.”

“Have you ever betrayed a friend to protect yourself?”

“…Yes.”

“Did you ever try to commit suicide?”

“…No.”

“Why not?”

“Because… because I was too afraid to try.”

“Did you ever want to die?”

“…Yeah.”

“When?”

“There wasn’t a specific time. I think it was just a general state. Sometimes, I just get tired of life.”

“When was the proudest moment of your life?”

“…I don’t know if I have one.”

“What’s you’re most prized possession?”

“…My car.” I felt empty as the words came out.

“Do you believe in God?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think there’s a Heaven or Hell?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Would you still believe in God if you knew for a fact there was no Heaven or Hell?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Why do you believe in God?”

“Because… I don’t know why,” I said.

“Why do you work every day?”

“So I can make money.”

“For your happiness?”

“No, to pay the bills.”

“Does paying the bills make you happy?”

“No,” I answered.

“If you could escape from this life, would you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Would that make you happy?”

“Yep.”

“Then why don’t you leave right now?”

“Because… because I can’t. I have family. I have obligations.”

“Then you’re being denied your happiness by your family?”

“It’s not just my family. It’s… it’s me… I don’t get it.”

“Do you really believe in anything?”

“…Probably not.”

He jumped up and started screaming and pounding the table. Then he climbed on top of it. “You’re just like me: it doesn’t matter whether we live or die; we just drift without any purpose except to make someone somewhere more money. You really want my job? You really want to be the arbiter of nothing?”