Page 408 of The Sinner: James

“I don’t know. Everybody's standards.”

He nods.

“No one can argue that, but you shouldn’t blame yourself because you feel that way.”

“You think?”

“Yeah... It’s natural.”

I look at him, surprised.

“It’s the first time I hear that.”

“Dissatisfaction is deep-seated in all of us. It’s the force that drives us through life. Sometimes to better things and sometimes to worse things. It depends. But it’s extremely effective. Very few things get done out of a place of comfort, and many of them get accomplished because of our continuous dissatisfaction with something.”

I have an epiphany.

“But see, that’s the thing... I’m afraid that questioning my life would get me to a bad place, and I don’t want something worse than I have. I like what I have.”

He muses, his eyes linked with mine.

“He’ll be all yours one day. The way you want him,” he says, his eyes softening.

“How do you know?”

He weighs his answer.

“He knows what you’re going through. He knows you better than you think.”

I sag in my seat.

“But right now, he needs to do what he needs to do,” he adds.

“I understand.”

“I know you do, but that doesn’t make it any easier. In this respect, we–– men–– are different than you–– women.”

A smile makes his eyes sparkle in the dimness.

“I had my own moment of revelation a while back when I was in England. Dahlia was longing for a type of freedom I didn’t quite understand. At one point, she wanted to know what a man like me could possibly miss in his life. At the time, there was nothing I could point to. I had pretty much everything I wanted in a world that looked exactly how I wanted it. It was much later when I finally understood. She taught me that living a perfect life is not chasing something all the time but rather staying still and living that perfect moment that’s been given to you. Whatever that moment is...” he says. “For us, Dahlia and I, it was living under the Spanish sun for a while, watching the flamenco dancers in the streets, sharing silence sometimes, or staring at the sea. But it could be anything. Like this dinner, for instance. Talking and drinking some wine, eating good food. It doesn’t stop here, though. And usually, women want more of that in their lives than men. That is real life, and that’s what creates beautiful memories. Everything else is impermanent. It goes to the side in the end. The money, the glory...”

He stops and grins again.

“But that’s not how men are built. We are hunters. We may not roam inside caves, but that instinct is still in us. We see value in chasing things. Even if it doesn’t always register with us, it's what's driving us. It’s what makes us feel alive. What gives us purpose. If someone tries to take that away, they take away our power. But we know... Or we learn eventually. I know I’ve learned it from Dahlia. And James knows it somehow too. Women want to build a nest of love and create a world within the world. Bring more life into their life while men can’t easily fold their wings and live inside that nest.”

“What are you telling me, Lex?”

“What you feel is normal. It’s not wrong. It’s natural. And he will settle for that kind of life, but first, you have to let him fly as high as he can get.”

9

RAIN

Boston

The cab takesme to the North End neighborhood of Boston, an area with beautiful buildings, broad streets, and colorful playgrounds.

It’s the third stop and the final one. I hope.

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