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| Depends. On what? Whether we both want to or not. With his left hand he lifted her chin, with his right he opened the door. learned to face facts, that's all. I'm not pretty, I'm not anybody. I still don't know how. That last day we were together in Memphis, when we went to the Holiday Inn. | just be- fore it was time to leave. I wanted so badly to tell you, it hurt. It physically hurt. But I didn't know how you'd take it. She covered her face with her hands for a moment, and then folded her arms again and gazed out the window. I don't know what kind of love it is. It's not a romantic, Hollywood kind of love, it's not like married love, it's not motherly. Or maybe it's all of those. |
Maybe it's what philosophers refer to simply as love, the kind you can't define by any known standard, the kind you can't put in a box. Whenever I tried to control my feelings for you or rationalize them away or moralize about what we did over the years, I couldn't. I once went to one of my advisors, to try to describe what I felt, and later I went to a psychologist. But I couldn't even begin to explain it to them, or even to myself. We were both so innocent, Steven. Innocent, until we come face to face with the other morality that's out there.