Page 94 of Gifted & Talented

“So what happened?” she asked.

“You mean with my wedding?”

She nodded.

“Oh, I just couldn’t see the important things. I couldn’t figure out where I wanted to live but she had a very clear idea. I didn’t know if I wanted children, but she really did. It just started to feel unfair, my ambivalence.” He took a sip. “I was never ambivalent while I was with you.”

“Of course not,” Meredith said. “I would have decided all of that for you.”

“No.” Jamie laughed. “No, I fought with you. Constantly. Something about being with you made me feel surer of myself, of what I wanted. I think it was kind of a relief, actually, that you were selfish, because I didn’t have to wonder if you were doing things just to be nice. Making choices just to make me happy.”

“Selfish,” Meredith echoed.

“You’re not selfish all the time,” Jamie said. “It’s not who you are or anything. It’s just, you know, one of your things. Like how you justify everything you do by rationalizing that you’re a genius, and therefore the way you see things must be right.”

“I’m really logical,” Meredith said. “More logical than most people.”

“Yes, you do a really good job of turning off your emotions.”

“I don’t turn them off.” She looked away, up into the trees. “I just don’t let them rule me.”

“You’re obstinate,” Jamie corrected. “Doing the opposite of what you feel isn’t the same thing as having perfect logic. You’re still just a baby.”

“I’m thirty,” she said. “I’m practically a crone.”

“You’re ababy,” Jamie repeated. “What do you know? Thirty years isn’t enough time for anything. That tree is somewhere between eight hundred and two thousand years old,” he said, pointing to one of the mature redwoods. “And I bet if you asked it for the meaning of life or what happened to Amelia Earhart, it still wouldn’t know.”

“She’s somewhere in the ocean,” said Meredith with a frown.

“See? There’s that perfect logic again. How do you know she didn’t fly into a fairy portal, or that she’s not still alive today?”

“That’s absurd,” said Meredith.

“Sure, but it’s nice, right?” said Jamie.

“Some journalist you are.” Meredith looked away again. Jamie and his handsomeness were giving her a headache.

They walked a while longer, leaves crunching underfoot.

“When I took the call from theTimeseditor,” Jamie said, “it occurred to me that I might really destroy you. I mean, I still think you can figure it out, but it’s going to hurt.” He was quiet for a few moments. “I don’t really want to be the person who hurts you.”

“I already asked you not to publish it,” Meredith muttered.

“You told me not to, you mean.”

“No,” said Meredith, realizing the pain in her chest was genuine, that it felt like something fluid was spilling out of her lungs. Some elixir of soul or something, it was draining away from her. “I asked you. I actually begged you.”

Jamie sighed heavily.

They walked some more.

They crossed over the neighborhood streets, venturing up a steep trail. Things began to escalate on the climb, the effort of hiking more noticeable.

Little gusts of breath materialized between them.

“Did you ever think,” asked Meredith, “that maybe my whole life, all I was ever taught to do was this?”

“What, cheat?” asked Jamie.

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