I touched the Universe—
And back it slid—and I alone—
A Speck upon a Ball—
Went out upon Circumference—
Beyond the Dip of Bell—”
“Nice,” I told Taverner. “Dr. Seuss?”
“Emily Dickinson, you philistine,” he said, flicking open his lighter. He didn’t smoke, but I did, so he always carried a lighter. I’m sure somebody would find that romantic. He touched the flame to the tip of my cigarette and I pulled in a deep breath.
“Do you plan on sulking the whole trip or just until Venice?”
I blew the smoke out into rings that brushed his face. “I haven’t decided yet.”
He smiled in the darkness, but it was humorless, a baring of the teeth. “You can’t stand it, can you?”
“What?”
“That you, just occasionally, might need someone else.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I didn’t need him, but that seemed childish. So I said nothing at all, and that seemed even more juvenile.
“My god, you can’t bring yourself to even say it,” he said.
“Why should I? You seem to enjoy saying it enough for the both of us.” I took another drag on the cigarette, but it didn’t taste as good as it usually did.
“And what’s wrong with that?” he demanded. “Do you realize how seldom it happens? Relying on someone else doesn’t make you weak.”
“It’s not a sign of strength,” I countered.
“You are the strongest woman I have ever known,” he said solemnly. “I could live a thousand lifetimes and no one would ever compare to you. And if you just once in a decade or two let me do something for you, the world wouldn’t come screeching to a halt.”
I stayed silent again, and his shoulders drooped a little.
“We are in a relationship, Billie. At least I thought we were.”
“We are,” I admitted. “But it’s never going to be the kind of relationship you need it to be.”
“You don’t know what I need,” he shot back.
“You need a woman who is helpless enough to let you play the hero,” I replied. “And that’s not me.”
His eyes fairly bugged out of his head and he opened his mouth a few times before shutting it with a snap. I smoked half the cigarette while I waited for him to answer.
“I don’t need to play the hero,” he said finally, in a calm, resigned voice. “But I can’t be with someone who won’t ever let her guard down enough to trust me.”
“I trust you—” I began, but he reached into his pocket for the lighter.
“You don’t. But someday you’ll have to decide to start.”
He pushed the lighter into my hand and walked away.
As exits went, it was a pretty good one.
Chapter Seventeen