The One In My Heart

Love is not for the weak of heart.

“I believed then—as I did about my reconciliation with my parents—that time together was all we needed. That the rest would take care of itself. But as you remind me time and again, progress doesn’t happen on its own—someone has to speak the truth first. Well, the same applies to us.

“We’ve also been going around in circles. You are as crazy about me as I am about you, but being in love has done nothing to loosen you up. At this point you’re no more likely to open up to me than Gollum would be to the idea of a vacation somewhere nice and sunny.

“So I’m taking your advice. I’m putting all my cards faceup on the table. You can see them for what they are.”

I didn’t want to. I was happy to have guessed enough of the truth. I was ecstatic with the way things were. But he had to upend my beautiful castle in the sky. “Now what?”

His response was slow to come. “Now I admit that I’d hoped you wouldn’t be staring at me with the kind of alarm that borders on horror.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, glancing down at my hands. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Is it really that frightening to have someone love you?”

No, when I realized that he loved me, it had been one of the best moments of my life. What was frightening was that he wanted to peel back my layers and expose what I’d tried to keep hidden all these years.

I said nothing.

“I don’t require that you make the same kind of exhaustive confession, you know,” he murmured. “At least not tonight.”

“But you will, at some point.”

He picked up his wineglass. I had the feeling he wanted to drain the whole thing, but he set it down again without taking a sip. “Do we, as a couple, matter to you?”

I grabbed my wineglass and downed what remained of its contents. “What are you really asking?”

“I’d like to know if you’ll make an effort. Will you try to be open, and not change the subject whenever it comes too close to something that hurts or that you’re afraid of?”

I felt suspended, above an absolute void. “You want too much. You should have left things alone.”

“Believe me, I’ve thought long and hard about leaving things alone. But then there will always be this wall between us.”

“It’s all ugly things behind the wall,” I said, not looking at him.

“I’m not afraid of what’s behind the wall, only the wall itself.”

But the wall was my exoskeleton. It was what held me up. Sometimes it was the only thing that held me up.

He lowered his gaze, his lashes shadowing his eyes. “Is not answering your way of letting me know you won’t even consider it?”

What was there to consider? Without the wall, would I even exist?

Rain hurtled into the windows, the noise that of a distant barrage of bullets. The silence between us seemed to turn solid, a hard, unmovable entity.

He picked up his wineglass again—and drained it this time. “So between the wall and me, you’ve made your choice.”

I stared down at the table. Love is not for the weak of heart. “You knew how this was going to go,” I said. “You knew this discussion was never going to end well.”

“I knew it would be difficult, yes. I didn’t know it would be impossible. I didn’t know that your fear is strong enough to crush my hopes.”

I reeled, thunder rolling and crashing in my head. “I still have some work to do on my paper. I should go home.”

He rose. “Thanks for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.”

I didn’t know how I stood up—I’d become as heavy as a monolith from Stonehenge. Back in the living room, as I reached for my purse, I remembered. “Are we still a fake couple? Do you still need me for anything with your parents?”

He leaned against the mantel, looking as worn as I’d ever seen him. “If I tell my dad the truth, I might as well tell him the whole truth.”

“So my services are no longer required.”

“That’s not how I’d put it….” He shrugged. “I’ll still honor the financial part of our agreement.”

“Don’t worry about that. I didn’t do it for the money.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, as if to himself. “A contract is a contract.”

“And ours specified that if I quit before the end of the six months, you won’t be out a dime,” I reminded him.

“I guess there’s that.”

I fiddled with the handle of my purse. “So this is good-bye?”

He traced a finger along the chrome candelabra on the mantel. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other here and there.”

I wished I felt even heavier. I wished I were so massive I’d collapse under my own weight and become part of the floor. “Guess this had to happen, when I finally got used to the idea of a nice fake relationship.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize.”

“I was only stating how I feel. I’ll miss you.”