Blood-drenched Beard

But it doesn’t matter. I know you loved me, Viv, but I also know that sometimes you thought I was a thick athlete, uncultured. Which is what I am. A nice guy, a good person, but not an intellectual. Big dick, small mind. When we met, you were only twenty-one, and that was all you wanted. But it got stale. Maybe if I’d been a bit more open-minded. If I’d read the books you’d given me and liked them. If I’d changed over time. If I’d taken an interest in your world. If I’d been a little more like someone I wasn’t. Imagine if I was a writer.

Don’t say that. You’re making light of what I felt for you. What I still feel.

No, I’m not. I know what you felt for me. I felt what you felt for me. I know that in a way you’ve never stopped loving me. But am I wrong? Wasn’t that what was going on when you asked me if I minded?

You’re exaggerating.

Maybe. But I’m exaggerating something real.

She looks at him with an expression not of anger but of animal ferocity, of self-defense, and a single tear escapes her left eye, plops onto her cheek, and falls to the ground as she asks the next question.

So why’d you say you didn’t mind if I went? If you already knew it was going to happen?

Don’t cry, Viv.

I’m not going to cry. Tell me why

.

Because I was going to lose you anyway. The only question was how. If I’d held on to you, today I’d be the guy who held you back. And I would have.

Oh, thanks a lot. You’re so nice. What a sacrifice. You thought it best to keep quiet and let me go so you could be the victim. The victim with his ridiculous piece of paper saying I knew it.

I’m not the victim. There’s no such thing.

Maybe I wouldn’t have gone if you’d insisted that I stay.

Don’t fool yourself.

She shakes her head and blows air through her nostrils.

So you knew everything. Well, I didn’t. I didn’t predict that any of it was going to happen. I just fell in love with him. I had no way of knowing that my life was going to become a poor remake of Jules et Jim. You could have told me if you already knew. I’d have prepared myself better. Can I have a glass of water?

He goes into the kitchen and comes back with her water. She drinks it all and holds the glass in both hands so tightly that her knuckles turn yellow, and he is afraid the glass might break.

I should have told you this as soon as I came. Now it’s going to be harder. But I’ll say it. I came to ask if you’d be the godfather.

He takes his eyes off the glass and looks at her. She gives him a little smile.

I don’t think you saw that one coming, did you?

Does he want it too?

It was his idea.

And do you think it’s a good one?

I do.

It sounds completely absurd to me.

Whatever. It’s time we put this all behind us. All this resentment. Your father died, and you guys weren’t even able to give each other a hug at his funeral. Your mother pretends it doesn’t matter, but she’s afraid to broach the subject with you. Dante’s afraid too, but he’s suffered a lot as a result of all this, and he misses you. Everyone’s hurting like hell, and it isn’t necessary. It isn’t worth it

. But I’m not afraid to ask you. Because think about it. It’s perfect. Precisely because it sounds absurd. It’s our child. Your nephew. Let’s take the opportunity to move on. We’re young, but we’re grown up. We can still do the right thing and live everything that we still have in front of us without any bitterness. It’s a question of family. We’re a family. I know how much that means to you. Have you thought about it like that?

Stop.

You know I’m right. It’s your resentment that’s stopping you from accepting.

I understand what you’re saying. But I can’t.

You can’t?

I can’t accept.

You’re turning down our invitation to be your nephew’s godfather. Really?

Look. I understand what you’re saying. Imagining it, it really is perfect. But it’s impossible. I can’t pretend it’s possible. I can’t forgive him just like that. You’re out of your minds.

Why can’t you forgive him?

Isn’t it obvious?

Are you really that petty? I forgive you for letting me go and writing a little note to yourself instead of talking to me. Are you incapable of forgiving?

I don’t want your forgiveness.

I forgive you anyway.

Well, I don’t accept it. I refuse to be forgiven.

Ha! Incredible. This is too good to be true.

I can live with whatever I’ve done wrong. Nothing disappears just because we decide it should, or because we want it to. No one can take back any harm I’ve done to others. It helps us become better people. Forgiving is like pretending it doesn’t exist. But life is the result of what we’ve done. It doesn’t make sense to act as if nothing has happened.

That’s not forgiveness! You’re mad! To forgive someone is to free them of blame. And in doing so, you free yourself too. It’s not pretending it never happened. It’s an act of charity, a white flag. It’s a choice you make. It takes courage, but it’s worth it.

It’s not a choice. There’s no such thing as choice.

No?

No, not really.