She sighed. “I’ve already told you and you already know. You can love.”
“You think that’s the answer?”
“I don’t know any other. It’s been important to me.”
He sat down beside her, sat close to her. “I don’t know if I could love someone,” he said. “I don’t know if I could love you the way you’d want.”
“You can,” said Carla. “You can do whatever you want.”
His hand touched hers. She sat very straight then, her eyes on the window, on the white lights. He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her and she closed her eyes upon the lights outside.
For a long time they were like that on the couch. Then they separated and stood up, self-conscious and shy, newly discovered. He motioned with his hand toward the bedroom. She nodded and they went into the bedroom together and met finally in the middle of the bridge.
Robert Holton held Carla from him at arm’s length and looked at her. She was pretty, at this moment quite beautiful, her face white and her greenish eyes glittering.
“I’ve been waiting, Bob,” she said. “I’ve waited such a long time.” He pulled her to him then, her body against his. A part of him was given up entirely to making love but another part was still detached, still watching.