“You and I were never very good at talking. I know
you don’t think that I show much emotion, but you don’t
either. It’s not just the scientist in you. It’s how you were
raised, and if that’s my fault, I’m sorry for it. I don’t want it to
keep you from being happy.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I think that you two need to talk. Tell her that you
understand. Give her time if she needs it. Relationships can be
hard. You know that your mother and I fought the devil
himself to be together. Just because we’re still here, still in
love after all these years, doesn’t mean it was easy. It’s hardly
ever easy.”
“I know that.” Do I really know it? What experience do
I have? What have I ever fought for? What have I ever wanted
badly enough?
Adley said that she was more experienced. I had
scoffed at her. I thought she was trying to wound me. Maybe
she was just being brutally honest. This is new to me. Caring
about someone. I have cared about people in the past, men that
I’ve dated, but mostly I just got mad when they found out I
was rich and tried to use me, even though it’s what I expected.
Adley’s right. I don’t have any experience with being
in love with someone. Or even trying to. Wanting to. My heart
is this blank space that was filled up with a bunch of emotional
confusion, anger, and other garbage, but now it’s cleared out
and it’s ready. Ready for her.
“What if I do all that and she still doesn’t want to be
with me? That’s…going to hurt. A lot.”
“Yes.”
Dad brings his pipe up and relights it. We both sit in