took away a piece of me when you left my place last night, a piece of my soul, a piece of my heart, a piece of something vital. For the rest of my life, I'm not going to feel like a whole man except when I'm with you. So if you think I'm going to just let you walk away, you're in for a big surprise. I'll put up one hell of a fight to hold on to you, lady.'
She had stopped folding the blouse. She was just standing with it in her hands, staring down at it.
Nothing in his entire life had seemed half so important as knowing what she was thinking at that moment.
'I love you,' he said.
Still looking at the blouse, she responded to him in a tremulous voice. 'Are commitments ever kept? Are promises between two people ever kept? Promises like this? When someone says, 'I love you,' does he ever really mean it? If my parents could gush about love one minute, then beat me black and blue a minute later, who the hell can I trust? You? Why should I? Isn't it going to end in disappointment and pain? Doesn't it always end that way? I'm better off alone. I can take good care of myself. I'll be all right. I just don't want to be hurt any more. I'm sick of being hurt. Sick to death of it! I'm not going to make commitments and take risks. I can't. I just can't.'
Tony went to her, gripped her by the shoulders, forced her to look at him. Her lower lip quivered. Tears gathered in the corners of her beautiful eyes, but she held them back.
'You feel the same thing for me that I feel for you,' he said. 'I know it. I feel it. I'm sure of it. You're not turning your back on me because I had some doubts about your story. That doesn't really have anything to do with it. You're turning your back on me because you're falling in love, and you are absolutely terrified of that. Terrified because of your parents. Because of what they did to you. Because of all the beatings you took. Because of a lot of other things you haven't even told me about yet. You're running from your feelings for me because your rotten childhood left you emotionally crippled. But you love me. You do. And you know it.'
She couldn't speak. She shook her head: no, no, no.
'Don't tell me it isn't true,' he said. 'We need each other, Hilary. I need you because all my life I've been afraid to take risks with things--money, my career, my art. I've always been open to people, to changing relationships, but never to changing circumstances. With you, because of you, for the very first time, I'm willing to take a few tentative steps away from the security of being on the public payroll. And now, when I think seriously about painting for a living, I don't start feeling guilty and lazy, like I used to. I don't always hear Papa's lectures about money and responsibility and the cruelty of fate, like I used to. When I dream of a life as an artist, I no longer automatically start reliving all the financial crises our family endured, the times we were without enough food, the times we were almost without a roof over our heads. I'm finally able to put that behind me. I'm not yet strong enough to quit my job and take the plunge. God, no. Not yet. But because of you, I can now envision myself as a full-time painter, seriously anticipate it, which is something I couldn't do a week ago.'
Tears were streaming down her face now. 'You're so good,' she said. 'You're a wonderful, sensitive artist.'
'And you need me every bit as much as I need you,' he said. 'Without me, you're going to build that shell a little thicker, a little harder. You're going to wind up alone and bitter. You have always been able to take risks with things--money, your career. But you haven't been able to take chances with people. You see? We're opposites in that respect. We complement each other. We can teach each other so much. We can help each other grow. It's like we were each only half a person--and now we've found our missing halves. I'm yours. You're mine. We've been knocking around all our lives, groping in the dark, trying to find each other.'
Hilary dropped the yellow blouse that she had intended to pack in the suitcase, and she threw her arms around him.
Tony hugged her, kissed her salty lips.
For a minute or two they just held each other. Neither of them could speak.
At last he said, 'Look in my eyes.'
She raised her head.
'You've got such dark eyes.'
'Tell me,' he said.
'Tell you what?'
'What I want to hear.'
She kissed the corners of his mouth.
'Tell me,' he said.
'I ... love you.'
'Again.'
'I love you, Tony. I do. I really do.'
'Was that so difficult?'
'Yeah. For me it was.'
'It'll get easier the more often you say it.'
'I'll make sure to practice a lot,' she said.
She was smiling and weeping at the same time.
Tony was aware of a growing tightness, like a rapidly expanding bubble, in his chest, as if he quite literally were bursting with happiness. In spite of the sleepless night just passed, he was full of energy, wide awake, keenly aware of the special woman in his arms--her warmth, her sweet curves, her deceptive softness, the resiliency of her mind and flesh, the fading scent of her perfume, the pleasant animal odor of clean hair and skin.
He said, 'Now that we've found each other, everything will be all right.'
