had been, and drier, so you could easily see the houses on Nassau Point across the bay. Yet the winds were calm. That wasn’t a typical combination, and I wondered what it meant.
“How come?” I asked.
“How come what?”
“You want to leave?”
“I’m not sure it’s what I want. I just don’t want to go through it again.”
“Through what?”
She’d been looking out at the bay the whole time, but now she rolled up on her shoulder so she could look at me.
“Now that there’s nothing forcing you into the world, you’ll head back into hibernation. That’s where you’d prefer to be. Alone with yourself. You did it before, you’ll do it again.”
“I had a reason.”
“What, because I damaged you? You thought no more damage was possible, and just like that, it happened anyway.”
I thought about that.
“It’s more than that.”
She didn’t say anything, waiting for me.
“You hate this, don’t you?” she said, finally.
“I hate the fact that there’s something I’m suppose to say that will cause you to change your mind, but I’m not sure what it is.”
“You would if you truly wanted me to change my mind,” she said, rolling back in the chair so she could refocus on the bay.
This was exactly the thing I was trying to noodle out that morning by running over to the rock stuck in the sandbank. It was what I first started to contemplate that day in the lumberyard during my discussion with Ike and Connie. It had something to do with the awful possibility that first choosing to live, and then choosing to live among people, exposed you to more than the danger you’d actually become attached to some of them.
If you weren’t careful, you might even start to love somebody. Worse than that, you could love somebody you’d never be able to trust. Not completely. Not ever. No amount of denial, repression or avoidance would ever change that.
Amanda started to get up from her chair.
“If I tell you I love you will you sit back down?” I asked.
She sat back down.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now try to stay put while I get some more coffee.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Eternal thanks to Literary Agent Mary Jack Wald, and Judy and Marty Shepard, without whom I’d be writing this in my imagination. Bob Willemin for investment management advice—if I got any of it wrong, trust me, it’s my fault. My brother Whit and sister-in-law Adele for Spanish translations. Treasured reader Randy Costello for advice in English and Espanol. Rich Orr on legal affairs. Editorial wisdom from Anne Collins at Random House, Canada. Meagan Longcore, who can make anybody look good, literally. Mary Farrell for everything.
VINTAGE CANADA EDITION, 2007
Copyright © 2006 Chris Knopf
