“Crew cut, yes. Tattoos . . . well, they sort of come with the package, but no one’s perfect.”
I nudged her and pretended to be wounded. “Well, had I known how you feel, I wouldn’t have got them.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, pulling back. “But I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that. I was speaking more about how I’d feel about getting one. On you, they do tend to project a certain . . . image, and I suppose it fits.”
“What image is that?”
She pointed to the tattoos, one by one, starting with the Chinese character. “This one tells me that you live life by your own rules and don’t always care what people think. The infantry one shows that you’re proud of what you do. And the barbed wire . . . well, that goes with who you were when you were younger.”
“That’s quite the psychological profile. Here I thought it was just that I liked the designs.”
“I’m thinking about getting a minor in psychology.”
“I think you already have one.”
Though the wind had picked up, the rain finally began to slow.
“Have you ever been in love?” she asked, switching gears suddenly.
Her question surprised me. “That came out of the blue.”
“I’ve been told that being unpredictable adds to the mysteriousness of women.”
“Oh, it does. But to answer your question, I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
I hesitated, trying to think of what to say. “I dated a girl a few years back, and at the time, I knew I was in love. At least, that’s what I’d told myself. But now, when I think back, I’m just . . . not sure anymore. I cared about her and I enjoyed spending time with her, but when we weren’t together, I barely thought about her. We were together, but we weren’t a couple, if that makes any sense.”
She considered my answer but said nothing. In time, I turned toward her. “How about you? Have you ever been in love?”
Her face clouded. “No,” she said.
“But you thought you were. Like me, right?” When she inhaled sharply, I went on. “In my squad, I have to use a bit of psychology, too. And my instincts tell me there was a serious boyfriend in your past.”
She smiled, but there was something sad in it. “I knew you’d figure it out,” she said in a subdued voice. “But to answer your question, yes, there was. During my freshman year in college. And yes, I did think I loved him.”
“Are you sure you didn’t love him?”
It took her a long time to answer. “No,” she murmured. “I’m not.”
I stared at her. “You don’t have to tell me—”
“It’s okay,” she said, raising her hand to cut me off. “But it’s hard. I’ve tried to forget about it, and it’s something that I’ve never even told my parents. Or anyone, for that matter. It’s such a cliché, you know? Small-town girl goes off to college and meets a handsome senior, who’s also president of his fraternity. He’s popular and rich and charming, and the little freshman is awed that he could be interested in someone like her. He treats her like she’s special, and she knows that other freshman girls are jealous, so she begins to feel special, too. She agrees to go to the winter formal at one of these fancy out-of-town hotels with him and some other couples, even though she’s been warned that the guy isn’t as kind or sensitive as he appears to be, and that in reality, he’s the kind of boy who carves notches in his bed frame for every girl he’s had.”
She closed her eyes, as if summoning the energy to continue. “She goes against the better judgment of her friends, and even though she doesn’t drink and he happily brings her a soda, she starts getting woozy anyway, and he offers to take her back to the hotel room so she can lie down. And the next thing she knows, they’re on the bed kissing, and she likes it at first, but the room is really spinning, and it doesn’t occur to her until later that maybe someone—maybe him—put something in her drink and that carving another notch with her name on it had been his goal all along.”
Her words began to come faster, tumbling over one another. “And then he starts groping at her breasts and her dress gets torn and then her panties get torn, too, but he’s on top