“Yes, that’s one way to put it.” He took a step backward. “Read about it in Secrecy’s blog, did you?”
“No, I just kind of picked it up, that’s all. And Grayson said…” Oh no! I was telling tales. “Grayson indicated…,” I finished lamely.
“Did he indeed?” Henry folded his arms, leaning back against the gravestone of someone called Alfonse G. Oppenheimer.
“He only wanted to help. To make me understand,” I said quickly.
“So did it help? Are you feeling sorry for me?” Beneath the light tone of Henry’s voice, there was something else, something that I found difficult to interpret. Injured feelings? Rage?
“Yes, I am,” I said, although I guessed that was exactly what he didn’t want to hear.
Sure enough, he uttered a small, joyless laugh and vaulted over the gravestone of Alfonse G. Oppenheimer to come down one grave farther on, a large marble slab. “I ought to be grateful to Grayson. Pity is a wonderful basis for a relationship.”
I hesitated for a moment, but then I followed him. I didn’t walk over the graves themselves, although there was no need to avoid them. After all, this was a dream, so it made no difference at all what happened to the pansies on Alfonse G. Oppenheimer’s grave.
Henry didn’t look up when I reached him. Okay, so he was angry, obviously because I felt sorry for him. Although there probably wasn’t anyone in the world who wouldn’t have felt the same under the circumstances. How could he blame me for it?
“You’ve never told me anything so personal before,” I said slowly. “Do you realize that? This is the first time.”
No answer. Okay, so he didn’t want me feeling sorry for him. I changed tack. “I really didn’t mean to sound ungrateful—but you’ll have to explain the connection between your story and the woman in the whirlpool a little more closely.”
Henry’s mouth twisted in a sarcastic smile. “Well, yes. I did say you wouldn’t understand.” He had folded his arms again, and this time so did I.
“I keep thinking and thinking, but I just don’t see why family circumstances mean you have to … er … flirt with a naked woman. And of course I wonder what else you’d have done if I hadn’t splashed into the water between the two of you.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Anything necessary,” he said quietly but very firmly. “I’m sorry if that hurts you. But I’m very good at telling the difference between dreams and reality, and you don’t seem to be.”
I stared at him, baffled. “What? Henry, seriously, what would you do if you saw me carrying on with someone else in a dream?”
Henry shrugged his shoulders. Whereas a little while ago his expression had reflected all kinds of emotions, it was absolutely impenetrable now. As if he’d put on a mask. “Well, first, I wouldn’t know about it, because I don’t go spying on you like a jealous dragon, and second, I think it’s perfectly okay to have a few secrets from each other in a relationship. Anything else is so … boring.”
I bit my lip. “Yes, I see.” What I saw most of all was that he was being like this on purpose. I just didn’t see why. A few minutes ago I’d felt that he wanted very much to make up our quarrel. Now he seemed to be doing his level best to antagonize me. It wasn’t like Henry—there was something very wrong here. “Then I suppose we have different ideas of what a good relationship is like,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “That’s what I’m afraid of too.” For a while, we looked at each other in silence, and then he said, “I really am so very fond of you, Liv, but there are things in my life that are simply nothing to do with you.”
“B in the whirlpool, for instance.”
“For instance.”
I was perfectly calm now. Pity, anxiety, rage—I didn’t feel any of that. It was as if someone had blown out all the candles inside me.
“Well, it’s a good thing we talked about it,” I said. I almost quoted one of Mr. Wu’s sayings: “When there is no agreement on basic principles, it is pointless to make plans together.” That one would fit the situation perfectly. However, I didn’t say it out loud.
“Is that it?” asked Henry.
I nodded. “Yes, I suppose it is. If that’s what you want.”
Even now, nothing in Henry’s face moved. He just looked at me, and I turned away to locate the door in the corridor. It was right there in front of us, next to an ornamental cherry tree in blossom. Nice of Henry to have created such a springlike atmosphere for dumping me. Or rather, getting me to the point where I dumped him. All we needed was the right musical accompaniment. As I made for the door, I almost expected my knees to give way under me halfway there, leaving me to collapse on the ground in floods of tears, but nothing of the kind happened. My tears had gone away as well. Everything inside me felt like a big black hole.
In the doorway, I couldn’t resist the temptation of turning back once more. Henry hadn’t moved from the spot. He was sitting on the slab of marble, as motionless as if he were made of marble himself.