“You know my parents, Charles. You know you can’t talk to them like that.”
But that was the thing—Charles didn’t know Bronwyn’s parents, not really, not intimately. Just as she wasn’t supposed to know his parents. “I’m supposed to believe this?” he sputtered. “He wasn’t … touchy-feely. He wasn’t a talker. I’m supposed to believe that you two just had nice little conversations and that there wasn’t anything more to it?”
“Charles, I’m sorry. This is why I didn’t want to get into it with you. I knew you’d jump to conclusions. Who wouldn’t? That’s why I ended it. That’s why I got out of the picture. I thought you knew already and we would never get past it.”
Charles rubbed his eyes. When he took his hands away, Bronwyn was still there, huddled and small. “I still don’t understand why you picked him.”
“He listened. I think … well, we both felt out of place, maybe. We both felt a funny kind of angst that sort of … matched up.”
“Don’t act like you know him. Don’t talk about his angst.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “People saw us at the banquet, though, including my mother. She was horrified. Of course she told my father, and my family practically disowned me. They got me out of this area as best they could. Sent me away to Europe every summer. Made sure I was never around your family ever again. Not that it was difficult. You made no effort to contact me.”
“I never knew any of this,” Charles murmured. “Lots of people saw, but I never had any idea.”
“Well, I think my father did a pretty good job keeping it a secret.”
“Jesus.”
She wrung her hands. After a while she said, “I should have told you a long time ago. But I didn’t want to hurt you. In a way, I knew this would feel like more of a betrayal than if it had been … sexual. But he told me things about you, Charles. Good things. Do you want me to tell you what he said?”
“No,” he shouted. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay, okay.”
“So did you talk to him again? After the banquet?”
“I saw him only once, kind of recently. It was right when I came back home, a few days before Leon and I moved out to the woods. I ran into him at the mall. When he saw me, his face went white, like he’d seen a ghost. We talked for just a moment before he made an excuse to get away.”
“What were you doing at a mall? I thought you were supposed to renounce your possessions.”
She sank heavily into one hip. “It wasn’t a prearranged thing, Charles. We really met by accident.”
He struggled for a breath. “So what did he get you?”
“Sorry?”
“You said he got you a Christmas present our senior year. Did you open it? Do you know what it was?”
She lowered her eyes. “It was a bracelet.”
“Jesus.”
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was … sweet.” She cupped her hands around her big belly. “Do you know that my parents never got us Christmas gifts? They sent us on experiences. They arranged meetings for us with dignitaries and film directors. Yes, I realize I’m being an ungrateful bitch by saying that sometimes that wasn’t enough, but sometimes, it wasn’t. It wasn’t what I asked for. Often, it didn’t even suit my interests. My parents were so determined that they knew what was right for me, Charles, but you know what? That bracelet was what was right for me. It was picked out for me.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”
“No, Charles. I know how this sounds. I just …”
“Why did I never know this?” he interrupted. “We were together for three years. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
She pressed her lips together, holding in a sob. “It’s wasn’t something I could really explain. I’m sorry.”
He bent over at the waist. Horrible images sifted into his mind. He imagined Bronwyn and his father leaning close in the hallway of his childhood home, having heart-to-hearts. He pictured his father picking out a bracelet for her, asking the salesclerk to wrap it, presenting it to her in a stolen moment. He saw Bronwyn telling him that this had to end, that people wouldn’t understand. He tried to envision a look of turmoil on his father’s face, but that was just the thing—he couldn’t. He couldn’t fathom his father having such deep, powerful, fatherly feelings for anyone, not even Scott. Bronwyn was right—it would have been easier to swallow this if it had been an advance from a dirty old man, a sick little grope in a hallway, a forced kiss in the laundry room. But this, something rich, complex, and mature, was unbearable.
The sun suddenly felt bright and sharp, revealing way too much. He rubbed his hands together. They were still freezing, even though he was wearing gloves.
Something struck him. He wheeled around at Bronwyn. “How did you know I was married?”
She blinked, caught off guard. “I …”