“How much you love your son. Yet, you struggle to communicate with him, or engage with him.”
That was true, and he didn’t like how transparent he was. Perhaps not generally, but he was to her. That was a little confronting. He just didn’t know how to be with his son. On one hand, he wanted the boy to grow up strong and to forego some of the weakness he’d seen in young men around him in his formative years.
It wasn’t as if he ignored his son. Their engagements were just very structured.
“I was raised with very Roman notions,” he said, not knowing why he was explaining this to her. Probably because she saw him in detail, which no one else seemed to do. “Competition, honor, strength, ambition. Most of all, protect your empire.”
“And that is what you did,” she said.
It was nice that it was acknowledged. “Yes.”
“But you also took your wife hostage.”
Now that was not something nice to say. “It suited her perfectly at the time. She was very happy with the bargain when it was made.”
“Perhaps she thought you would change.”
“No one changes. Why would someone think people do?”
“Love changes you.”
“Poppycock. It might distract people for a time, but people are what they are.”
“And you were raised in the spirit of Romulus and Remus.”
It seemed her education had been somewhat broad. “Yes.”
“But the basic of you lies underneath that. If your father had chosen to raise you differently, you would be different.”
“I think one’s personality is set as one grows.”
“See, I think we’re all very similar underneath. Even people who are bad. Underneath, we want the same things. Love, acknowledgement, meaning, safety. How aware of it we are, and how we express it, changes. Some are utterly unaware. Even the person who wants money and seemingly nothing else, there is something they want that money for.”
“Power,” Julius said.
“They want that power, and by default, acknowledgement. If money and status brought us none of these things, then we wouldn’t place that much importance on it. I could go out and gather a million potatoes, and I would have food to eat for a long time, but it’s not something that is acknowledged, so no one would care if I had a million potatoes.”
“If you had a million potatoes, you could sell them, and then you would have power and status.”
“You’re missing the point.”
Obviously, he understood her statement, but he didn’t want to.
“Anyway, romance is something to do with expressing those core needs we have,” she said.
“It doesn’t sound very romantic.”
“The deepest level of honesty. Spoken from the soul.”
“Like what?”
“Like saying you want someone and meaning it from every fiber of your being.”
Is that what she sought? Obviously, there was a part of him that resonated with the words. That faint hope that refused to die. A fantasy, obviously. “Yet your relationships have never lasted. How long do these deep, meaningful relationships last?”
“Are they meant to?”
“Yes. What is the point of deeply wanting someone if it’s just for a week? How can that even be love?”
She was silent for a moment, paying attention to the canvas. “I think that,” she started, “is something beyond. The one you choose to build a life with. And you are right, there is an element of transaction involved, even with someone you love deeply. Compromises have to be made. You have to be what that person needs if you agree to take that on. No matter how liberal the relationship, you cannot be entirely free in a relationship—or a marriage.”
“And you have chosen to forego one for sake of your freedom.”
She nodded.
“Even with an artist?” he asked.
A smile spread across her lips. “Artists are vain creatures. They dedicate themselves to their art. The worst kind of person to build a life with.”
“I think your sales tactics for yourself need a bit of work. So what you say is you prefer the hedonistic and sweet euphoria of a budding love affair, but not the work it takes to maintain a marriage.”
“Like I said, we are selfish creatures. Did you have hedonistic and sweet euphoria with your wife?”
And like that, she turned the conversation around on him. The answer was no, but he didn’t want to give it. Obviously, the honeymoon had been very nice, but it didn’t have that deep, raw honesty she spoke about, because neither of them had felt it. Their marriage had very much been higher up on the transactional scale.
“Because you are very angry,” she continued when he didn’t speak.
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re a very angry person.”
“That’s ridiculous. If you’re getting this from my sister, I would be very careful in understanding what her agenda is.”
“Just from what I see,” she said. What was that supposed to mean? Well, now he was angry. Annoyed, actually. If that was what she took for anger, then yes, he was prone to it. Most people brought it out of him, in fact. Including her.
“Your body is tense,” she said.
“I’ve been sitting here for days on end,” he bit back, knowing he sounded petulant.
“It will be worth it.”
“Only the painful things usually are,” he conceded and wished he could cross his arms.
Chapter 16
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON was clear and sunny. It was the first such day. It wasn’t warm by any means, but it was bright, and it felt like spring. A bit of loveliness after a long winter.
Julius sat in his study, going over the accounts and the investment reports that had arrived in the mail. This, he knew. This was him and he was comfortable. His sessions with Jane were not. Increasingly, they were talking, and it wasn’t pleasantries. In fact, Jane didn’t seem to do pleasantries. With her, it was straight to the mysteries
