I give his question the proper consideration it deserves. Eventually, I admit, “Dunno. I reckon it’s probably a measure of how bad the bad thing is compared to how good the good thing is.”
“So you think there are times when it’s okay to hurt someone if, in the long run, things will be better for them?”
I cut him a skeptical glance. “Are we talking about how you treated Maggie May ten years ago, or how you aim to treat her going forward?”
“You know me. The past isn’t something I like to take out and examine too closely. I prefer to keep it packed up in an imaginary roller bag and drag it along behind me.”
“So we’re talking about how you aim to treat her going forward.” An uneasy feeling unfurls in my chest.
“She asked me what I want from her,” he mumbles, turning his flask over in his hand, running his thumb along the initials stamped into the metal.
“And?” I prompt. “What’d you say?”
“Told her I don’t want anything.”
“So I’m not the only one who’s been lying to her.”
He shakes his head. “Ishouldn’twant anything from her.”
“Doncha think you should let her decide that for herself? She’s a grown-ass woman, capable of making up her own mind once she’s got all the facts.”
He scowls at me. “You’re not going to let that go, are you? You still think I should tell her what happened to make me leave.”
“I do.” I nod. “I absolutely do.”
“No.” He jerks his chin side to side. “Her memory of what we had is so shiny and clean. Telling her what was really going on back then would be like throwing dirt into a freshly washed glass.”
“You’ve never given her enough credit. Besides, I think you want to maintain the illusion more for yourself than for her. I think, when you get right down to it, it’s your pride that’s holding you back.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. And eventually, the silence stretches between us until the distance is too far to overcome.
