Then they were both silent once again.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Rotten.”
He nodded. “What are you going to do now?”
“What can I do?”
“I don’t know.”
“There’s nothing to do,” she said dully. “Can’t you see that? I’ve lost him and that’s all there is to it. I can’t get him back. I’m stuck. I’m up the creek in a lead canoe without a paddle.”
He smiled gently. “Can you swim?”
“No,” she said. “Not even that.”
He put two cigarettes in his mouth, lit them, and passed one to her. She accepted it gratefully and drew smoke into her lungs.
“Look,” he said, “what precisely do you want? That’s the first thing you have to decide.”
“I want him.”
“On what terms?”
“On the same terms we had. It was good, Charles. It was wonderful, honestly it was. We were as good as married without any strings and without financial problems. It was the perfect arrangement.”
“Can you get him to return to that sort of arrangement?”
“Never.”
“Can’t talk him into it?”
She shook her head. “He’s stubborn, Charles. He’s strong and stubborn and proud. There’s not a chance in the world that he’d take me back the same way.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Then that’s out. What’s your second choice?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your second choice,” he repeated. “You can’t get him back on those terms, so you have to decide on some other solution.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “That’s up to you, Carla. You have to figure it out for yourself. Do you want him enough to marry him?”
No, she started to say, but she stopped before saying it. Instead she said, “I’m not sure.”
“Do you know what it would mean to marry him?”
“It would mean I’d be poor again.”
“It would mean other things, too. It would mean you’d be Carla Rand instead of Carla Macon. It would mean no more life of leisure. It would mean a good many things you wouldn’t like at all.”
“I know that,” she said. “Don’t you think I’ve figured it out a few hundred times?”
“I’m sure you have. And do you know what it would mean to lose him?”
“I—”
“It would mean hating yourself, Carla. It would mean wondering what might have been if you had married him, and that kind of wondering can go on forever.”
After a moment, she asked, “Then what should I do? I lose either way.”
He smiled sadly. “You have to make a choice, and you’re taking a fall either way, as you say. But it’s a choice that has to be made. I can’t tell you what to do.”
“Which do you think is better for me, Charles?”
“What does that matter?”
“It matters. You know me very well, and you have a pretty deep understanding of people. I think you might be able to straighten me out.”
He shook his head. “Not me, Carla. I don’t know just how deep my understanding of people may be, but you seem to give it more credit than I do. I probably appear to be a good deal deeper than I am. However, that’s neither here not there. Perhaps some people like to play God; I’m not one of them. You’ll have to straighten yourself out.
“Look at the thing this way: whichever course of action I might advise you to take would be the wrong one — simply by virtue of my advising it. The best advice is to take none. Do you see what I mean?”
“Of course. I guess I was looking for an easy way out.”
He smiled again and stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. He didn’t reply, and she was left alone with her own thoughts. Talking had helped, and talking with Charles had been particularly helpful. The few words he said managed to clear up a lot of things. She was still torn by conflicting desires, but now she recognized those desires and saw what two courses lay open to her. The choice was hers and had to be hers, but now she would be able to think clearly enough to make a choice.
“Charles,” she said suddenly, “didn’t you tell me how foolish marriage was? Doesn’t that show which choice you think I should make?”
“No,” he said, “not at all. I told you what marriage would be for me, not for you. The fact that you’ve already chosen Danny forever, that you want a permanent alliance in one form or another; tends to negate that way of thinking for you. The choice is completely open for you, Carla.”
They fell silent once again. Yes, she decided, he was right. She was the type of woman to be married, but at the same time she was the type of woman to be supported by a rich man. Those were the two points of conflicts, and anything else would only obscure the real issue.
“I have to stay here tonight,” she said after a few more minutes.
“Why?”
“I can’t go home. Oh, I suppose I could, but I don’t want to. Ronald’s a good man. You know what he’s like. But I just couldn’t see him tonight. I don’t think I could take it.”
“Would you like to take a hotel room? If you’re short I can float you a loan.”
“I have money,” she answered quickly. “But I don’t want that if I can help it. I couldn’t take being alone tonight, not after all this. Unless you’re expecting company or—”
“Nothing like that. I just thought you might prefer privacy.” He stood up. “You know you’re always welcome here.”
She stood up too and looked long and hard into his eyes. She realized all at once how strong he was — not strong with the rugged virile strength that Danny possessed, but strong in a different sort of a way entirely. He was a man she could always depend on, a man who would always be there when she needed him. He was a man who had complete possession of himself.
And he was a good man.
“Charles?”
“What is it, dear?”
“I was wondering. Would it bother you if I slept here?”
“Of course not.”
“I mean— Would it make you... nervous?”
His brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”
“Don’t you know.”
“Oh,” he said. “I see. No, I’ll be all right, Carla.”
She took a step toward him and her breasts were just inches from his chest. “If you want,” she said, “I’ll sleep with you. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
He sighed and took her in his arms, holding her firmly to him and breathing very slowly. Then, suddenly, he pushed her away.
“Not like this,” he said. “Not when you don’t want to, Carla. Perhaps there will be a time for us, a time for the two of us to be together, but now isn’t the time.
“I wouldn’t want to wake up and hear you whispering another man’s name into the pillow.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“You might,” he cut in. “It’s happened before. But the important thing is that this is not what you want, Carla. Is it?”
“No,” she said softly. “No, I guess it isn’t.”
“Definitely not. And I’m not quite rotten enough to make a girl give herself to me in exchange for room and board. You take the bedroom, dear, and I’ll make do on the couch.”
“Don’t be silly,” she protested. “I can take the couch.”
He chuckled. “You wouldn’t say that if you ever slept on the couch. Go on — go to bed.” He gave her a gentle shove toward the bedroom and she went in, closing the door after her.
The bed felt good — soft and warm. She didn’t think sleep would be possible for her but found to her surprise that she was almost wholly exhausted. The emotional upheaval followed by the therapeutic conversation with Charles had drawn all the tension out of her and left her as limp as a dishrag. Her head sank into the pillow and her brain whirled around in little circles.