Beautiful World, Where Are You(85)

In a thick voice she answered: You don’t love me. She doesn’t love me. I have no one in my life. No one. I can’t believe I have to live like this. I don’t understand. He laid a broad square hand on her head. What are you talking about? he said. Of course I love you. Come here. For a moment she scrubbed at her face crossly with her hands, not speaking, and then, with the same tense irritated manner, she moved over and rested her

head in his lap, her cheek against his knee. That’s better, he said. She was frowning, rubbing at her eyes with her fingers. I ruin everything good in my life, she said.

Everything. He went on moving his hand over her hair, smoothing the stray damp strands back off her face. With Alice I’ve ruined everything, she went on. And with you. At that she let out another sob, covering her eyes. He moved his hand slowly back over her forehead, over her hair. You haven’t ruined anything, he said. Ignoring this remark, she paused for breath, and went on: When we were having drinks last night in town— She broke off again to take another heaving breath, and with some effort continued: I actually felt happy for once in my life. I even thought that to myself at the time, for once in my life I feel happy. Sometimes I think I’m being punished, like God is punishing me. Or I’m doing it to myself, I don’t know. Because any time I feel good for even five minutes something bad has to happen. Like in your apartment the other week when we were watching TV together. I should have known it would all get ruined after that, because I was sitting there on your couch thinking to myself, I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy. Any time something really good happens, my life has to fall apart. Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m the one doing it. I don’t know. Aidan couldn’t put up with me. And now Alice can’t either, and neither can you. In a low voice Simon murmured peaceably: Yes I can. Impatiently Eileen wiped away the tears that were still streaming from her eyes. I don’t know, maybe I’m not that great of a person, she said. Maybe I don’t really think about other people, the way I think about myself. Like with you. For all I know you’re more miserable than I am, but you just never say it. And you’re always nice to me. Always. Even right now I’m crying on your lap. When have you ever cried on my lap? Never, you never have. Tenderly he looked down at her, the freckles along her cheekbone, her hot pink ear. No, he agreed. But

we’re different people. And I’m not miserable, don’t worry. Sometimes I’m sad, but that’s okay. She gave her head a little shake without lifting it from his lap. But I don’t take care of you the way you take care of me, she said. He was smoothing his thumb slowly over her cheekbone. Well, maybe I’m not very good at being taken care of, he answered. Her tears had subsided, and she lay there on his lap for a moment without speaking. Then she asked: Why not? He gave an awkward smile. I don’t know, he said.

Anyway, we were talking about you, I think. She turned her head to look up at him. I wish we could talk about you for once, she said. Looking back down at her, he was quiet a moment. I’m sorry that you feel like God is punishing you, he said. It’s not something I believe he would do. She looked at him a few seconds longer, and then said: When we were on the train the other day I wrote Alice a message saying, I wish Simon had asked me to marry him ten years ago. For a moment he said nothing, apparently in thought. When you were nineteen, he remarked. Would you have accepted such a proposal? She gave a feeble laugh and shrugged her shoulders. Her eyes were hot and swollen. If I had any sense I would have, she answered. But I can’t remember now if I had any sense at that age or not. I think I would have found it extremely romantic, so maybe yes. It would have been a better life, you know. Than whatever I’ve had instead.

He was nodding his head, smiling wryly, a little sadly. For me too, he said. I’m sorry.

She took hold of his hand then, and they were quiet for a time. I know Alice upset you, he said. She was tracing her thumb over his knuckles. In the kitchen this morning, Felix asked me why I didn’t come to see her sooner, she said. And I started saying, well, what was stopping Alice from coming to see me? Where has she been? It’s not like she has a lot on. Any time she felt like it, she could have hopped on a train and come to visit me.

If she loves me so much, why did she move here in the first place? No one made her do

it. It’s like she went out of her way to make it difficult for us to see each other, and now she’s nursing her hurt feelings, telling herself I don’t care about her. When actually, she was the one who left. I didn’t want her to go. With this last remark, Eileen started crying again, her face in her hands. I didn’t want her to go, she repeated. Simon was touching her hair, saying nothing. Without looking up she said in a painful voice: Please don’t leave me. Smoothing a lock of her hair back behind her ear, he murmured: No, never. Of course not. For a minute longer, two minutes, she went on crying, and he sat quietly cradling her head in his lap. Finally she sat upright beside him on the mattress, drying her face with her sleeve. I never have been very good at it, he remarked. Being looked after. With a frail little laugh she said: Watch and learn. I’m an expert. Absently he smiled, looking down at his lap. I suppose I’m afraid of imposing myself, he went on. I mean, I don’t like to feel someone is doing something just because they think I want them to, or they feel obliged. Maybe I’m not explaining that properly. It’s not that I never want anything for myself. There are obviously some things I do want, very much. He broke off, shaking his head. Ah, I’m not expressing myself well, he said. Her eyes moved over his face. But Simon, she said, you don’t really let me get near you. Do you know what I mean? And whenever I do get near, you just push me away. He cleared his throat, looking down at his hands. We can talk about it another time, he said.