I’m startled by this assertion. “What?”
“Well, I was just thinking about what you were saying earlier—about wanting someone else’s more exciting life.”
I recoil from him, genuinely shocked. “I’m not trying to lay claim to yours, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Oh no, of course not,” he says. “My life is in no way exciting. But you said that you aren’t fulfilled. So maybe this is an opportunity to pursue what you want. You know, write that book. Be happy with yourself before you try to be happy with another person.”
“So, a person doesn’t deserve love if their life isn’t one hundred percent perfect?”
“Hope, you deserve so much love. I just hate to think of you being in a relationship with someone who doesn’t value you just to numb yourself against dissatisfaction.”
Now I’mreallypissed off. At him, and at myself for confiding in him.
I did that because I trusted him. Not so he could turn around and use my weaknesses against me.
I roll away from him. “Thanks for the feedback.”
“Hey,” he says, reaching for me. “Don’t go away. I’m not trying to insult you. I just want you to get everything you want.”
“Wow, I appreciate that.”
“You’re angry with me.”
“Well, here’s the thing. A few days ago you accused me of seducing you toget at your money. And now it sounds like you think I’m some lost little girl who wants you to amuse me out of my pitiful life.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You did, actually. And it’s insulting that you can’t give me credit for having genuine feelings for you, just because I’m not living out all my wildest dreams.”
“Hope,” he says softly, “I have genuine feelings for you too. I do.”
I don’t believe him.
I know there’s going to be a “but”—and that the but will reveal the true way he feels.
“But”—bingo—“we live in different countries. I’m not ready for a relationship. And I would hate to string you along thinking I might be the thing that could make you happy.”
“Got it,” I say.
He looks at me, aggrieved. “Please don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry,” I lie, very obviously. “We have to be up early to pick up our passports. We should go to sleep.”
If he’d simply said he wasn’t ready for a relationship I’d have been sad, but I would have understood. I’d still happily have stayed up all night with him, having sex and talking and relishing our last few hours together.
Now, all I want is to get into my own bed.
Alone.
So I do.
And he doesn’t come after me.
Felix
I don’t fall asleep for many hours, and I don’t think Hope does either.
I feel bloody awful.
