Текст книги "This is What Happy Looks Like"
Автор книги: Jennifer E. Smith
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
From: [email protected]
Sent: Monday, June 10, 2013 10:43 PM
Subject: Re: if you get lost…
I’m glad you didn’t get lost.
Ellie woke to the smell of pancakes: a peace offering. Ever since she was little, this was all it took to signal the end of a fight. She and Mom had never argued very often, but when they did, it was a strictly nocturnal affair. The unspoken rule was that the next morning was a clean slate, and all of it—the dirty looks and the sharp words—would be left behind, leaving only heart-shaped pancakes in its place. The best kind of truce.
This morning, however, was different. Mom stood at the stove in her flannel pajama pants as usual, a cup of coffee in one hand and a spatula in the other. But when Ellie slid into her seat at the table, Mom only tossed her a thin smile before turning back around again.
It was Ellie’s fault for cutting short their argument last night. By the time Graham left, she’d been vibrating like a tuning fork, shaking with anger over her mother’s behavior.
“You can’t just be rude,” she’d whispered, once she was certain he was out of earshot. “It’s not his fault. I was the one who invited him over.”
“Without telling me,” Mom said, glaring at her. “I have no idea what you’re doing hanging around with some teen heartthrob in the first place—”
“Mom,” Ellie said, flushing.
“You know what’s at stake here, and yet you deliberately go behind my back—”
“We were just eating dinner,” she said, raising her hands in exasperation. “And the reason I made him come here is so we wouldn’t get caught by any photographers in town. So it’s not like I’m—”
“If you don’t think they’ll find out anyway, if you don’t think everyone will know in about two seconds, then you’re even more out of your league than I thought.” Mom put two fingers to her temple like she had a terrible headache, and then let out a slow breath. “I mean, do you even know this guy, Ellie?”
“Yes,” Ellie said, her voice low and fierce. “I know him. I do.”
Mom shook her head as if she hadn’t heard. “He’s a movie star, for god’s sake. He lives in California. He’s going to be out of here in just a few weeks. How can you possibly think this is worth it?”
Ellie just stood there, letting the words wash over her. The air seemed to have gone out of the room, and even Bagel held perfectly still. But the question wasn’t a difficult one; what her mother didn’t understand was that Graham wasn’t some summer adventure, and he wasn’t a fling. The reasons he was worth it had nothing to do with the reasons that so many girls pored over his pictures in the magazines.
It was much simpler than that. It was that he’d been happy to eat stale tortilla chips at her house tonight. And that he’d sketched her an entire city when she’d asked. It was the way he joked around, and the look behind his eyes when they met hers. It was all the hundreds of e-mails he’d sent her, the words they’d traded back and forth like precious currency for so many months.
It was that he already seemed to know her better than almost anyone, and it had been just a single day since they’d finally met in person. And if that was the case, then imagine what a few more days might bring.
Mom was still looking at her, waiting for an answer, but Ellie didn’t bother. Instead, she spun around and headed for the door.
“Ellie,” Mom called, but she didn’t sound angry, just weary and confused. And it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because Ellie was already picking up speed, hurrying out the door and down the driveway, where the back of Graham’s white shirt was still glowing in the surrounding darkness.
When he kissed her, it was like the answer to the question.
It was the only thing she needed to know.
“I’m sorry,” she’d whispered again, once they broke apart. He still had his hands on her shoulders, and he was gripping them like he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go.
“It’s okay,” Graham said, glancing over at the lit windows of the kitchen. “But I should probably…”
Ellie nodded, and he leaned down to kiss her once more. She imagined there were thousands of girls who wanted to kiss Graham Larkin, who had imagined this very moment, but standing here in the darkened driveway, it wasn’t like something out of a movie. It was better.
“Come find me tomorrow, okay?” he said, starting to walk away.
“Good luck with your scene,” she said, and when he smiled, her heart lurched.
Afterward, when she’d stepped back inside the house, edging into the kitchen with a sheepish look, it was to discover that Mom had already gone upstairs. And so the argument simply dangled there, unfinished until this morning, when they were now forced to deal with it over their typically peaceful pancake breakfast.
“Look,” Mom began, sliding a plate onto the table in front of Ellie, and then sitting down in the chair beside her. She leaned forward, and a strand of auburn hair slipped out of her ponytail. “Maybe it’s unfair of me to judge without knowing the whole story.”
Ellie reached for the bottle of syrup. “We’ve been e-mailing,” she said without looking up. “For months now.”
“How?” Mom asked. “I mean, how did you—”
“It was a mistake,” she explained. “A mistyped e-mail address. He was trying to write someone else, but it came to me instead, and we just started talking. I didn’t know it was him. Graham Larkin, I mean. I thought it was just some guy.”
“Well, that’s comforting,” Mom said. “I suppose we’ll save the lecture on Internet safety for another day…”
“Mom,” Ellie said with a groan.
She held up her hands. “I’m only saying that there are a lot of crazy people out there…”
“Mom,” Ellie said again. “That’s not the point.”
“Okay, okay. Then what’s the point?”
Ellie lifted her eyes. “The point is…” she said, then trailed off, taking a deep breath. “The point is that I’m glad I didn’t know who it was, you know? Otherwise I never would’ve gotten to know him. Not really. Not like I do now.”
Mom nodded. “And you like him.”
“I do,” Ellie said, her voice suddenly thick. “A lot.”
On the griddle, the second batch of pancakes began to burn, and Mom rose from the table, then stood there long after she’d flipped them, her back to Ellie, her head tipped to the window above the sink.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said eventually, turning around. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“He wouldn’t—”
“Ellie, come on,” she said, and something in her face stopped Ellie cold. All of a sudden, she realized they weren’t just talking about Graham. They were talking about her father too. “You know there are about a million ways this could go wrong,” she continued, her voice strained. “Not just because of who he is, and not just because he’s leaving soon.” She pressed her lips together, considering her words. “You saw the way he gets followed around.”
“You can’t tell me not to date someone because he gets his picture taken a lot,” Ellie said. “Do you even realize how crazy that sounds?”
“Everything about this is already crazy,” Mom said, sliding the last two pancakes off the stove and onto a plate before returning to the table. “Things like this,” she said, shaking her head. “They don’t end well.”
“You mean because it didn’t end well for you,” Ellie said with a frown. “This isn’t the same thing. He’s not some sleazy senator. I’m not some—”
“What?” Mom said, looking at her levelly. “Some cheap waitress?”
“I didn’t say that,” Ellie said, shaking her head. “You know I didn’t mean that.”
“Your father…” she began, then paused, looking far away. “It was complicated.”
“Right,” Ellie said. “But this is different. Graham is different.”
“That’s not the point,” Mom said, glancing down at her plate. Neither of them had touched their food, and the pancakes were growing cold on the table. “He’s someone in the public eye. And you don’t want to get dragged into it.”
“But what does it matter?” Ellie asked. “What happened with you and him—with my father—it’s not like it’s a secret. It’s already been out there. So I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal if people find out. I don’t get why we still have to hide.”
“We’re not hiding,” Mom said, stabbing a piece of pancake with her fork. “We’re just living our lives like normal people. That’s not the same thing.”
“But you don’t want my picture in the papers.”
“It’s not just that,” she said with a sigh. “It’s that I don’t want you under the microscope. Your picture would just be the start of that. You get that, right? All it takes is one photo of you and Graham Larkin for the photographers to start following you around. Then people start digging for information. And they think they have the right to share anything they might find. You were too little to remember the last time.” She shook her head, wincing a little. “It’s awful, what they do. There are no boundaries at all.”
Ellie took a bite and chewed slowly, thinking this over. “But if that’s the only reason, then wouldn’t it be my decision?” she asked. “My risk to take?”
“It’s not that simple,” Mom said. “It affects me too. And your father.”
Ellie snorted. “We’re trying to protect him now?” she asked, sitting back in her chair and folding her arms. “He’s never done one single thing for us, never even tried to find us—”
“You know that’s because I told him not to.”
“—and yet you still worry about him? If he ends up running for president, they’ll probably find us anyway. So what’s the difference?”
“They might,” she said. “But they also might not. That was three campaigns ago now. There are new scandals all the time. They’ll bring it up like they always do, but it doesn’t mean they’ll necessarily seek us out.”
“I thought you just said there were no boundaries.”
“As far as politics goes, it’s old news,” she said. “But as far as celebrity gossip? It’s a big story. Anything involving that kid seems to be a big story.” Mom pushed the last pancake around on her plate. “Don’t you get it? We have a life here. I worked hard to make that happen. And once something like this is out there, you can’t take it back.”
Ellie’s voice, when she spoke, was very small. “But I really like him.”
“I know,” Mom said, reaching out to put a hand on top of hers. “But even if your father wasn’t an issue, you don’t want this. Trust me. Nobody wants to wake up to photographers camped out on their front lawn. I’m sure Graham Larkin would say the same thing.”
As she walked to work later, Ellie wondered if that was true. When she’d asked Graham about being recognized, he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, though when it came to the photographers in town, he seemed oddly resigned, treating them with no more ill will than a pesky stray dog that refuses to take a hint. She’d seen so many photos of him in Quinn’s magazines, leaving the gym or trying to have a quiet dinner at a restaurant, and it didn’t seem possible that someone could ever get entirely used to that sort of thing.
As she passed the trailers, she noticed the crowds were thinner than usual, and she remembered Graham saying they’d be filming out on the water. Even so, she spotted one of the photographers smoking a cigarette off to the side, and she quickened her pace, still unsettled by the morning’s conversation. She was grateful her first shift was at Sprinkles; even if Quinn was still mad at her, it would be better than being stuck in a small space with Mom all day as she tried to figure out what she was going to do about Graham.
But when she pushed open the door of the shop, she was surprised to see Devon’s curly head pop up from behind the counter.
“Hey,” she said, walking over and dropping her bag. “Where’s Quinn?”
He slid his eyes away. “She asked me to cover her shift.”
“How come?” Ellie asked. “Is she feeling okay?”
Devon nodded, but he still wouldn’t look at her.
“Is she avoiding me?”
After a moment, he lifted his gaze. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I bet she just had something else she needed to do.”
Ellie nodded. She’d known Devon since he was four years old; he was nice to a fault and unfailingly earnest. If he was lying, it was only to spare her feelings. With a sigh, she reached for the metal tub they used for dirty ice-cream scoops, taking it over to the sink in back, where she could be alone.
They spent much of the morning in silence. In between customers, Devon sat perched on a bar stool reading a worn copy of The Great Gatsby, and Ellie fought back the urge to pepper him with questions.
When her shift was up, she began to gather her things, and Devon lowered his book. “That’s exciting about the movie guy.”
Ellie smiled. “I guess.”
“Want me to tell Quinn you said hi?”
“That’d be great,” she said. “Thanks.”
He nodded and resumed reading, but when she was nearly to the door, Ellie stopped and turned around again.
“Hey, Devon?” she said, and he looked up, his glasses slipping on his nose. “That’s exciting about you and Quinn too.”
His smile broadened. “Thanks.”
Outside, the wind had picked up, and Ellie stood blinking away the dust and grit that were flying around. Down the street, she could see an unfamiliar boat coming into the harbor, two men in dark Windbreakers leaning off the bow, and even before she spotted Graham and Olivia, she guessed it was the one they were using for the movie. Someone cut the engine as it neared the buoys that marked the far edge of the harbor, and the boat slowed, a few seagulls making lazy circles above it.
Ellie was far enough away that she couldn’t make out anyone’s face, but she could see that Olivia was standing very close to Graham, even as he looked out at the wake of the boat. She wondered if she should be feeling jealous. She realized most girls probably would. But from everything she knew about Olivia, it seemed like a guy would have to be schizophrenic in order to be interested in both her and Ellie at the same time. And from the way Graham had kissed her last night, she knew that wasn’t the case. She knew he was only interested in her.
It was this that propelled her down the hill: the memory of that kiss. She was supposed to be at her mom’s shop right now; her shift was just beginning, and there was plenty she needed to do. But as the boat came closer to the dock, Ellie found herself walking toward the water, as if drawn by some kind of magnetic force.
She still didn’t know what she was going to do. Deep down, she understood that her mother was right. And not just about the cameras, but about all of it. The same thoughts kept tumbling around in her head, like clothes left too long in a dryer. He was too big a star. His life was too different. He’d be leaving soon. He’d hurt her.
But at the moment, none of that seemed to matter.
She simply wanted to be closer to him.
By the time she made it down to the bait shop that was perched at the edge of the marina, the boat had drawn up alongside the dock and she could read the name painted on the stern: Go Fish. Graham climbed out onto the gray wooden dock. He was dressed in a suit and tie, which struck Ellie as an odd choice of sailing apparel until she remembered that the scene took place just after his character’s father’s funeral, when Jasper flees the church in order to take the boat out on his own, only to be followed by Zoe.
A gust of wind skipped over the water, and Olivia used one hand to pin down the bottom of her dress as someone took the other to help her off the boat. When she was safely on solid ground, she and Graham made their way together up the long walkway, flanked by the director and a few assistants, all of them with headsets and clipboards and grim expressions. Two members of the crew stayed behind to secure the equipment; Graham had mentioned yesterday that they wouldn’t be done until late in the afternoon, but Ellie suspected they had to break early because of the weather.
A crowd had gathered along the harbor wall, and the screams reached a fever pitch as the two stars approached. A few oversize security guards patrolled the edges, but this didn’t prevent the tourists from recording it all on their phones or the tween girls from leaning over the rail with wide-eyed glee as Graham approached. Olivia paused to whisper something in his ear before stopping to sign a few autographs, and the rest of the paparazzi appeared as if from nowhere, moving in to bear witness to the moment with their heavy cameras.
Ellie had come to a stop near the harbormaster’s office, still a safe distance away from the crowds, but as he headed back toward his trailer, Graham looked over. His eyes found hers quickly, so quickly it was almost like he’d known she would be there. She smiled reflexively at him, but before she had a chance to do anything else—shake her head or give him some sort of sign—he changed direction, walking toward her without seeming to notice that the attention of the entire dockside had shifted his way.
From where she was standing, Ellie’s knees went weak, her legs suddenly wobbly, and for a brief, panicked moment, she remained frozen there like that, unsure what to do. Graham was completely oblivious, waving as he drew closer, his smile widening. Over his shoulder, the photographers had abandoned Olivia’s autograph session and were tracking Graham with their lenses. The words that Mom had spoken earlier now flashed through Ellie’s mind—Once something like this is out there, you can’t take it back—and she found herself moving away.
I can’t, she thought, hoping he would understand.
But of course he didn’t. She caught his eye only for a moment, just long enough to see the confusion in his face, and she felt a quick stab of guilt. But it was too late. Already, she was cutting around the side of the bait shop, the shortcut down to the beach. And then, like the best of magicians, she made herself disappear, leaving the rest of the three-ring circus behind her.
From: [email protected]
Sent: Tuesday, June 11, 2013 12:18 PM
Subject: weather report
E,
We came in early because of the wind. I’m gonna go ahead and assume that’s what carried you off too. We’re working late tonight, but I’ll try to stop by afterward…
G
All afternoon, Graham was tailed by a kind of low-grade panic, making it impossible to concentrate. As they waited for the weather to improve, he pretended to study the script, but his mind was elsewhere. Outside, the wind buffeted the sides of the trailer, and he rubbed his eyes and willed himself to focus.
It took two hours for the weather to shift, the world going quiet again, and there was a new urgency to the production as they headed back out on the water, trying to make up for lost time in the last of the good light. Graham could feel everyone’s impatience with him as he stumbled through his lines, tripping over the words, missing his positioning, fumbling with the gears even as an expert called out instructions from off camera. The water was choppy, biting at the sides of the wooden boat, and even though the wind had weakened, the hair people were still fighting a losing battle in their efforts to keep Olivia’s ponytail in check.
Graham kept his feet planted wide near the bow as Mick conferred with two of the cameramen, deciding whether to pack it in once again or press on and see what they could get. The Go Fish rose and fell on the blue-gray waves, the deck canting from side to side. If Graham’s performance was being taken into consideration, he was pretty sure they’d be heading to shore. The scene called for raw emotion and hard-earned declarations of love. It required anguished looks and choking voices, but Graham was simply unable to muster that kind of passion at the moment. Not today. Not for Olivia. Not after watching Ellie walk away from him.
He should have still been flying after last night. When he’d kissed her, it had felt like the striking of a match, something hard and bright in his chest, a part of him he hadn’t even realized was waiting to be lit.
But this morning, he’d seen the look on her face across the harbor path, just before she turned away, and it had pushed the breath right out of him. He couldn’t blame her. He shouldn’t have waved in the first place. As soon as he had, he’d felt the surge of attention at his back, and anyone in her position would have done the same thing when faced with such a mob. But even from a distance, he could read her expression so plainly it was like she was speaking the words aloud: I’m sorry, she’d managed to say, without saying anything at all.
And then she was gone.
It was probably just a moment of panic. He was probably overreacting. But still, Graham couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been walking away from more than just the crowds and the cameras.
The sun had already set behind the steeple of the church when they docked for the second time, but the day was far from over. They were scheduled to shoot another scene outside one of the local bars this evening, and as he crossed the road toward his trailer, Graham could already see the enormous lamps being set up, a small oasis of artificial twilight on the otherwise darkening street.
A production assistant was calling to him from across the lot, but he wasn’t needed on set for another twenty minutes, so he kept his head down, pulling his phone from his pocket as he walked. He scrolled past e-mails from his agent and publicist, his business manager and a girl he’d met at the gym before leaving L.A. But there was still no word from Ellie, and as he bounded up the steps of his trailer, he hit the call button, listening to it ring. He was already assembling the message he would leave if she didn’t pick up—something casual and upbeat to hide his growing worry that she hadn’t responded to his e-mail—but when he opened the door, he was pulled up short by the sight of Harry, who was sitting at the small table inside. He lowered the phone again, fumbling to switch it off.
“Who was that?” Harry asked, setting aside a sheaf of papers.
Graham didn’t answer. He reached into the mini fridge for a bottle of water, then sat down opposite his manager.
Harry smiled, but it was a smile with a warning inside it. “The redhead?”
Graham tipped his head back and took a swig of water, his eyes on the ceiling. When he’d finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, in a voice that didn’t entirely sound like his own, “What redhead?”
“C’mon,” Harry said. “Everyone saw you chasing her earlier.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You’ve got to cool it with these locals.” He leaned back in his chair and scratched the back of his head. “You think I haven’t seen this happen before? You get out of L.A., and suddenly there are a thousand girls screaming your name—”
“It’s not like that.”
“I’m sure it’s not,” Harry said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “But the point is, this isn’t the right moment for you to suddenly turn into some kind of skirt chaser.”
Graham snorted. “When is the right moment for that kind of thing?”
“I’m serious. We’re at a crucial juncture here, and your image is important. I don’t need you out with a different girl every night.” He pulled a tabloid from beneath the stack of papers on the table in front of him, sliding it over to the edge. “Just one.”
Graham regarded it warily, surprised to see a glossy photo from yesterday’s shoot. It had been taken during the moment when he first lifted Olivia for the big kiss, the two of them still in motion, eyes shut, arms entangled, a moment that could easily be construed as more than just acting when taken out of context. The caption below read: “On-screen chemistry or real-life romance?”
“Nice work,” Graham said, letting it drop.
Harry beamed. “It’s why you pay me the big bucks, remember? Though you’d make my life a whole lot easier if you’d stop chasing the redhead and just take Olivia out to dinner one night.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s your job to make my life easier,” Graham said, standing up from the table. He reached over to toss his water bottle into the overflowing garbage can beside the fridge, and then, for good measure, sent the magazine flying in there as well. “And she has a name, you know.”
“What is it?”
But Graham was already out the door.
In the street, the set had come to life again. After a disappointing day out on the water, there was now an undercurrent of energy to the place, everyone moving with purpose, animated by the idea of a clean slate and a fresh scene.
It was almost fully dark, with only a pale smudge of pink along the edge of the water. A block away, enormous lights flooded the sidewalk in front of the bar, the site of Jasper’s unraveling, and Graham knew he should be turning his mind to the scene ahead. But he paused to slip his phone out of his pocket one more time, anxious to see whether there was any word from Ellie. Instead, he was surprised to find a message from his mom.
Up ahead, a wardrobe assistant was waving him over. But Graham made no motion to follow her, pausing to cup a hand around the glowing screen of his phone as he read. His eyes skipped over the words: a string of excuses, a list of previous plans for the holiday weekend, worries about air travel and the cost of the trip, suggestions that they might be out of place with his “movie friends” anyway, apologies and promises to make it up to him when he returned to California.
In spite of all this, it still took a moment for the full weight of the message to become clear to him.
They weren’t coming.
He should have expected it. There’d been no reason for him to think their answer would be anything but no. Still, it wasn’t until he lowered the phone that Graham realized—against all logic—he’d actually been counting on seeing them.
The wardrobe assistant was now standing before him, and she cleared her throat loudly. He glanced up, feeling a bit dazed. She was short and round-shouldered and at least ten years older than Graham, but she was still looking at him with a kind of awe, as if he were doing her a great favor by finally acknowledging her.
“They’re ready for you,” she said, and he nodded, tucking the phone back in his pocket, his face carefully neutral.
Even later, once his costume was on and his hair was gelled and he’d been deemed camera-ready, he wore a similar expression, a well-maintained blankness, a way of making room for someone else entirely: Jasper and his problems, Jasper and his thoughts, Jasper and his complicated feelings for Zoe.
But the rest of it was still there too, just below the surface: Graham and his problems, Graham and his thoughts, Graham and his complicated feelings for Ellie. And so much more: his reluctance to see Olivia, his annoyance with Harry, his disappointment with his parents, his impatience to get this whole damn scene over and done with so that he could find Ellie, the one sure antidote to everything else that was crowding his head.
They finished shooting early. But this time, it wasn’t because of the weather, or the lighting, and it definitely wasn’t because Graham couldn’t conjure up the right combination of emotions. In fact, as soon as they’d wrapped for the day, as an army of workers emerged as if from nowhere to begin breaking down the set, Mick walked over and clapped him on the shoulder.
“That was some pretty intense stuff,” he said. “Think we could see that kind of thing again tomorrow?”
Graham’s laugh was rough. “I’ll see what I can do.”
But what he was really thinking was this: He wanted just the opposite. He wanted calm. He wanted Ellie.
On the way to her house, he tipped his head back to gaze at the wash of stars above, which had been wiped out by the klieg lights on the set. Now they were thick as static across the navy sky, and Graham was reminded of the box in their basement at home where his father kept an antique telescope. The wood was intricately carved with little suns and moons, and as a kid, Graham had wanted nothing more than to haul it upstairs and point it out the window, to capture the stars in those curved panes of glass. But he saw it only once a year, when Dad laid a cloth across the dining room table and lifted the telescope as carefully as he might a dying person.
“Can’t we try it?” Graham always asked, leaning in close to watch as his father polished the wood and cleaned the lenses with the same velvety cloth.
“It’s too valuable,” Dad would say. “You don’t want anything to happen to it.”
But that’s exactly what happened to it: nothing. As far as Graham knew, it was still sitting down there in the cobwebby basement, and what he had always accepted as practical now struck him as a colossal waste.
By the time he reached the hill that sloped down to meet Ellie’s driveway, he was half jogging. The lights were on in the kitchen, and he forced himself to slow down as he reached the steps, taking a deep breath. At the door, he raised a hand, but found he couldn’t knock.
He paced from one end of the porch to the other, then back again, not quite sure what was wrong with him. Suddenly, he felt paralyzed. He paused in front of the doorbell, then turned away, slumping onto the wooden swing, where he sat with his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. What was wrong with him? He’d never been this unsure of himself when it came to a girl, not even in his old life.
He was still sitting there like that—hunched and miserable, unable to bring himself to knock—when he heard footsteps from inside, and his stomach churned. But when the door cracked open, it was Ellie’s mom who stepped outside. She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, and Graham rose from the swing.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said. “I was just about to knock.”
One side of her mouth inched up into the beginning of a smile, a look he’d seen echoed on her daughter’s face. “That’s what I thought about ten minutes ago,” she said. “I figured I might as well kick-start the process.”
He cleared his throat. “Is Ellie home?”
“Yes,” she said. “But it’s late.”
Graham knew this was his cue to leave, and he felt a flash of annoyance. He straightened his shoulders, digging in. He refused to walk away. Not yet. “Would it be possible to see her for just a minute?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, and he was surprised to see a look of genuine pity cross her face. It took him a moment to understand what it meant, that look, to feel the full impact of it square across his chest.
