opened them again. 'But you were never an escape route. It was you -- you who made it fall apart -- you and me.' He was staring, but the face softened, becoming obviously emotional yet in a secretive way. 'And if you don't want me this way,' I said, 'the way it was those last few days, I understand. I mean it's not what you came for, right? I understand if you don't answer me. I understand if you call me names. But that's what happened.
And I love you. I am in love with you and I've never said that to anyone else.' I blew my nose and wiped my eyes. And I stood looking at the floor, and thinking, well, it's done. Whatever happens, it's done. The worst was over. And I had a splendid sense of that, that it was over. It had its chance now, whatever it was going to be. There was no impediment now. So let him blow up. Silence. 'Well, anyway. That's what I had to tell you,' I said. 'That I love you, that I'm sorry for what I did.' Tears again. 'This is really something,' I said, 'this crying at regular four-hour intervals. It's getting almost to feel natural, like a new kind of sadomasochism', the heat and the chills.' The room was fading like the light was being closed off. And then coming back gradually and brightly. He had come closer, blotting out the light of the fire a little, and now he was right in front of me, and I could see the light over his shoulder.
I could smell his cologne and the sea salt smell of his hair and skin. I was disintegrating. It was as bad as I told Martin it was. I wanted to reach out for him, to hold on to him. But we were both standing there, not moving. And I couldn't, didn't dare be the first one to touch. 'You know, I ah ... I booked the plane to Venice,' I said. 'I had this idea, that maybe somehow we could get it going again. And this time we could really take off. In Venice, we could just walk and we could talk things out. I mean if it could be patched up between us, if you ... I mean if it isn't totally fucked.'
Silence. 'You remember you said there is no city in the world other than New Orleans for walking quite like Venice.' Silence. 'You said that,' he said. 'I did? Well, you know the food in Venice, well, I mean the pasta and the wine and all.' Shrug from me. 'Well, I thought it was worth a try.' I looked directly at him. 'I thought it was worth anything and everything actually ... I'd do anything to get you back.' 'Anything?' he asked. 'Yeah, anything, except ...' Be the Perfectionist. You wouldn't ask me to be that ... 'Like marry me? Be my wife?' 'Marry you!' 'That's what I said.' For a second I was too stunned to answer. He looked as if he was perfectly serious, and he was so beautiful that I could hardly stand it. 'Marry you!' I said again. 'Yes, marriage, Lisa,' he said with the smallest smile. 'You know, like walking down the hill and introducing me to your dad? And later driving up to Sonoma and meeting mine? And maybe having a little wedding in the wine country, with your family and my family and --' 'Hold it!' I said. 'I thought you said you loved me. You wanted to be with me forever ... You'd do anything to get me back. Well, I love you, you know that, you're probably sick of hearing it by now. And I want to get married to you, Lisa. That's what forever means to me! That's what loves means, too.' His voice was getting louder, more determined. 'No more just screwing around like we did on the road. It's you and me married, with the rings and the vows and all the rest.' 'You're shouting at me, Elliott,' I said. I backed away from him. It was like somebody had hit me. Go down the hill and meet my father! Get married. For Chrissakes. 'I'm not shouting,' he said. He took a drag off the cigarette and went and smashed it out in the ashtray on the table, all of these gestures like some kind of preparation for a barroom fight.