“Are you almost done?” I asked.
“Nope. Just started. That’d be why you took her to Paris, flew her out to San Francisco. ’Cause you don’t want her around none.”
“No,” I said, “that would have been because I was sleeping with her.”
“Do that a lot, do you? Take a girl with you wherever you go? Miss her when you’re gone? That a regular thing for you? That why you took the two of ’em to the science museum, too? Doin’ the nasty in the dinosaur exhibit?”
I tried to think of an answer for that, but I couldn’t.
“Man,” Eugene said, “what you think you been doing all this time? Doesn’t matter what you call it. Love ain’t some word you say. It’s something you do, and you’re doing it. Hurts like hell, too, don’t it? Pretty damn scary, knowing you care that much?”
I’d stopped pedaling. I was done. I picked up the towel again, wiped my face on it, and said, “Maybe.”
“Feels weak,” he suggested. “And you decided a long time ago you wasn’t havin’ none of that. You’d be strong, don’t need nobody, then ain’t nobody can hurt you. Yep,” he said when I looked up, “thought so. All the young punks, they all think like that. Don’t realize that putting your whole self out there on the line’s about the bravest thing a person can do. And that when that woman’s there beside you, letting you know she’s got your back, and she always will? That’s not a weak place. That’s a rock you can stand on. But you know what’s even better than that?”
“No,” I said when he didn’t go on. “But you’re going to tell me.”
“It’s knowing you’re that for her. Knowing that when she’s got trouble, you’re the one she’s turning to. You want to feel strong? Try being that rock for her. So my question for you is, why ain’t you doin’ that? You’re taking care of her, yeah. But you ain’t bein’ there for her. She’s carrying that heavy load all by herself, and it’s killing you. So don’t you think you better haul ass over there, put your arms around her, let her cry a little, and let her know you got her?”
“But we—” I was having trouble getting my breath, and Eugene was grabbing his jacket, shoving his arms into it, picking up his gym bag. And stopping halfway to the door, turning, and finishing it.
“Yep,” he said. “You broke up, ’cause you told her you didn’t care, I bet. Hurt her all the way down to her heart, made her pull all the way back, and now you’re afraid she can’t love you no more. But I got news for you. Woman like that, who’s stepped up for her sister that way? That’s a woman who knows how to hang on. She don’t know how to quit. You get on over there, man up and put it on the line. You won’t do it right, but that’s OK, because ain’t a man out there who does. That’s what women were put on earth for, to set us straight. And ain’t they just willing to do it. Besides, she knows you ain’t perfect. She ain’t expecting you to be. She just wants you to try. So you go on over there tomorrow night and do it. See if you got it in your heart to sit by her side, watch TV with her, hold that pretty hand of hers and let her know she ain’t alone, and she don’t ever have to be alone again. And see how that makes you feel. Might just make you feel good. Might just make you feel like a man.”