more questions. “Whose email? Why did you hack into it?”
She winced, looked away. “I’m sorry. I can’t answer that.”
“What?” Her stark negation took me aback. “Why?”
“James, I’ve never told you a lie, and I’m not going to start now. But there are some things going on I can’t tell you about.”
I stared at her. “Why not?”
“I can’t tell you that either.”
After a long moment I said, “I don’t understand.”
She sat down heavily on the bed. “I’d like to tell you everything, believe me. I want that more than anything. But I just can’t.”
A thought occurred to me. “Do you think we’re being bugged?”
She shook her head.
“Then… ” I stared at her helplessly. I already knew she wouldn’t change her mind. “Do you think you’re protecting me or something? Like Peter Parker not telling Mary Jane he’s Spider-Man? Because if so, that is purest fucking bullshit.”
“I’m not exactly Spider-Woman,” she said, “but you know what, with great power comes great responsibility, that part is true.”
“What great power?” I demanded.
She didn’t answer.
“You know I wouldn’t tell anyone else if you told me not to,” I thought out loud. “So it’s something you think I’ll do if I find out. Right?”
“I can’t explain. It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not. You don’t trust me. It’s as simple as that.”
“No it isn’t.”
“Then what is it?”
“James,” Sophie said quietly, “I love you. I trust you. And I need you to trust me too. I need you to accept that right now there are some things I just can’t tell you. Please. You’ll understand why when I can.”
“Yeah? When will that be?”
She shrugged. “Maybe weeks. Maybe months. I don’t know.”
A poisonous silence filled the room.
“You know what kept me going, in the jungle?” I asked bitterly. “You did. Thinking about seeing you again. I nearly died there. And you know why, don’t you? Or at least you know part of it. I don’t care if you promised someone else you wouldn’t say anything. You need to tell me.”
“I can’t,” she said sharply. “Do you know what it’s been like for me? Wondering if you were dead? Wondering if I would ever even find out? I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, I kept looking up at people and thinking they might be you, like they might spring you on me by surprise. It was awful. You’re my rock. My anchor. I need you. Especially now. You don’t understand how much pressure there is on me right now. But I can’t tell you why. I’m sorry, I want to, but I can’t.”
“Sure. Right. Your rock. Your anchor,” I repeated savagely. “You know what I feel like right now? Like hired help. Like your fucking mascot.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry. You’re
She shrugged as if to say what more can I do? As far as she was concerned, I could tell, this conversation was over, this situation resolved.
I shook my head, torn between fury and sudden trepidation.
Then I bit out, “What if sorry isn’t good enough?”
She hesitated. Swallowed. “What does that mean?”
“You know exactly what it means.”
We stood as tense as coiled springs, breathing hard, staring at each other.
“James,” Sophie said, in a little-girl voice unlike any I had ever heard from her before, “are you breaking up with me?”
Those words seemed to echo through the room.
I struggled for breath. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.” A hollow sound almost like the beginnings of laughter emerged from her mouth. “Well. When you figure it out, maybe you could be so kind as to keep me informed.”
Seconds ticked past. I tried to hold on to my rage.
“I understand. For what it’s worth. It’s actually not a big surprise. I knew it might happen.” She took a deep breath. “And it wouldn’t actually be the end of the world, right? It just – it just feels like it.” Her mask cracked for a second, and she had to inhale deeply again before regaining her Spock-like cool. “If that’s what you want, I won’t make it hard on you. You know me. I won’t scream or weep or write you a nasty letter of reference or anything. I’m, you know, it’ll be reasonable. We’re adults, right? Maybe we can be friends.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. She didn’t look at me. After a moment she wiped tears from her cheeks with an impatient motion. I had only ever seen her cry twice before; on the night we had first met, and only a few hours ago, greeting me in Clark’s office. Witnessing her tears and knowing that I had caused them felt like being punched in the gut. I wanted to rush to her to comfort her, had to hold myself back.
“It’s easy for you.” Her voice was low and unsteady. “You can find someone else. I’m sure there are lots of girls, women, who’d love to… ” She left the sentence incomplete. “It’s different for me. You know what the chance is of finding another man who actually understands me? And likes me too?” She did laugh then, hollowly, cynically. “I think the technical term is ‘astronomical’.”
I stared at her.
“You look surprised,” she said.
“I guess I am. You never acted like I was so important to you.”
“Is that what you want? To be important?”
“You think it’s that simple?” I asked back, stung.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“It’s not just this, you know. If it was just you keeping a secret, maybe I could be OK with that. It’s not about being important. You’re smarter than me, you’re more important, fine, I can live with that. But I can’t even be trusted to open my mouth. Not during important conversations.”
“What are you talking about? I have never said anything even remotely like that.”
“Maybe not. But it’s in what you do. Just now, with Clark. All you wanted from me was to shut the hell up. “
“I never meant to -” Sophie shook her head, helpless to find the right words. “James, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel small. You know that, right? I’m so sorry.”
“Well. I’m sorry too.”
We stared at each other. We were both trembling.
“I can do better,” she said. “I can treat you better. I will. I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I can make that up to you. But I can’t tell you everything. I wish I could. But you don’t know what’s at stake.”
“Because you won’t tell me.”
“I want to. I so want to. I just can’t. Do you believe that much?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Because if you don’t, then there’s really no use even… ” She didn’t finish. Her whole body, and every muscle in her face, was tense.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “I believe you want to tell me.”
“Good.” She exhaled with relief. “Thank you. I’m sorry. But I have to do this. I probably shouldn’t even tell you this much, but, James, the world is changing. Maybe it’s already changed. And as far as I can tell I’m the only one who can stop things from falling apart. If I fuck up -” She looked like she didn’t even want to pursue that thought to its logical conclusion, but forced herself: “If things go wrong, I think a lot of people are going to die. Not just people. Governments. Whole societies.”
I stared at her, a little rocked by her words, and by the palpable strain in her voice. Sophie wasn’t prone to
