“Weren’t you about to get married?’ he asked me.
I sat straighter, my arms on my knees. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I should have been. I set a goal to be married, and I chose a person who I thought best fit what I needed. I never asked myself if I loved her. I thought: this is great, she is what I was looking for. I hurt her and she hurt me in return.” I had cared about Hannah. I couldn’t lie about that, nor should I have had to, but that was different; I felt different with Guinevere.
“I believe when you start thinking like that, you’ve already fallen,” he muttered.
“How did you know with her mother? Gwen said you ran off together to get married when you were only eighteen.” And after all those years, they still held hands while they went on walks.
He snickered, sitting tall and looking at her mother where she was staring into a telescope. “It first hit me when I realized I didn’t want her to go home. I wanted my home to be her home. Then I started to think about my life in ten or twenty years, and no matter what, she was there. Once I asked myself those questions, it was clear to me.”
I thought back to Guinevere’s first night with me. I’d said I didn’t want her to be just some one-time screw and asked her to stay with me. That wasn’t the reason…I may not have thought her home was mine, but I never once stopped her when she brought her toothbrush, hair dryer, and flat iron into my bathroom. I thought about how I couldn’t sleep on her side of my bed, even if she wasn’t there…because now it was her side.
“Do you want to know where I see myself in ten years?” I whispered to him when she moved to her mother, staring up at the sky.
“No, but I’m sure you're going to tell me anyway.”
I turned to look at him. “I see myself still trying to get you to like me.”
“It’s going to take more than ten years.” He frowned, drinking again. “Eli.”
He finally said my name. However, he didn’t look pleased.
“She’s my baby girl. I would go to hell and back for her, and I can’t bear for her to be hurt again.”
“I won’t hurt her.”
“That’s the thing. We don’t try to hurt the people we care about, we just do. Do you know she didn’t tell us how her engagement ended? She just called to say the wedding was off. We had to press Stevie to learn the truth. And again, I felt like I had failed my child. I told her not to go to New York, I begged her not to go, told her the city would chew her up and spit her out. I told her she could be an artist here, and teach at the high school. We had a huge fight about it. The next morning, she and Stevie were in her car, and she didn’t talk to me again until after she felt like she could tell me she’d made it. She wrote letters, made sure to call us while we were at work, or when she thought we were busy. If we answered, our phone calls lasted five minutes, if that. All because she didn’t want me to think I was right, that she couldn’t cut it. So I have no idea what she went through her first year. She wouldn’t take money or anything. But the day she was mentioned in the paper as an upcoming artist, she called me and talked for hours.”
“She wanted to prove she could do it,” I said.
He nodded.
“And you blamed yourself for the void between you both, because it reminded you of your son?”
His head shot toward me, shocked, as if to ask how I knew.
I just nodded, drinking again.
“I can’t believe she talked to you about that. She never talks to anyone about it.”
“She told me that, too. I was having trouble dealing with my brother's wish to go his own way.”
“Damn it.” He sighed, standing up. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to you. Make sure to bring her back as often as you can. I still won’t like you, but I will adjust.”
“Why the sudden change?” I asked, rising as well.
“Because she’s in love with you. I thought you were another passing phase, like the other one. But if she was willing to dig up something painful like that just to help you, then there is nothing left to do or say,” he replied, preparing to walk back to the fire.
“Can I ask you one more question?”
“Boy, are you a neurosurgeon or a shrink?”
Ignoring him, I asked seriously, “How is your heart? I won’t tell her, if it makes you uncomfortable. But honestly, how is your health?”
“Keeping my cholesterol and blood pressure low. You aren’t helping the latter with your questions, though. Any more?”
I raised my hands in surrender.
He walked over to his wife.
Guinevere said something to her before running over to me and grabbing on to my arm.
“Hello.” I smiled at her.
“Come on.” She dragged me off back toward the house, and neither her mother nor father looked back; they just held each other, looking up at the stars. It almost looked like they were dancing.
Taking the lantern from her and taking hold of her hand, I was led farther and farther down the path.
“Where are we going?”