Page 67 of The Sinner: James

“What do you mean?” she asks, disconcerted.

“What people call love... It’s nothing, really. It’s the product of their imagination. A lie. I don’t believe in it.”

“How can you say that?”

She seems deeply disappointed.

“I don’t think there’s such a thing,” I say.

Her face darkens as I continue.

“It has no depth, no substance, and no meaning in the end. It doesn’t stand the test of time, and it’s only an illusion. It’s something that people want to believe in, but it’s not real. People say they are in love, and then they tell lies, grow fond of someone else, and leave the ones they love behind.”

The silence grows.

“What is love to you?” I ask.

Her mouth opens and closes, her eyes darting between the road and me.

“I don’t know. A lot. Everything. You’ve never been in love?”

“Nope. Have you?”

“No, but my parents have… And they still are.”

I shift my eyes back to the window and take a long drag off my cigarette.

“Where are your parents, darling?” I ask before blowing the smoke out.

“What do you mean?” she asks, taken aback by my direct question.

I look at her.

“Tonight. Where are they?”

“My mom is in California, and my dad is in Europe.”

I stay silent.

She ponders for a few moments.

“Oh... I see what you mean, but distance happens. People travel all the time.”

“When was the last time they went somewhere together?”

“Oh… They spent their vacation together on an island last year.” She searches my eyes. “What are you saying?”

I spend a few seconds observing her, the smoke billowing slowly out the window.

“All those men I talked to at the party…” I say. “The mayor, the judge, the councilmen, and the bank people. They all fuck someone other than their wives.”

The silence following my words fills the space like an uninvited guest.

Her eyes come to me, her eyebrows raised and knitted into a frown as she looks at me, confused.

Without finding the answer that she wants in my eyes, she moves her gaze to the path in front of her.

I continue.

---