The Echo of Old Books

by Barbara Davis

“How can I get on that train now? When all I can think about is what else you may have lied about—and what you might lie about next. All I’d be doing is trading a family I can’t trust for a man I can’t trust.” For the first time, it occurs to me that I could actually lose you over this. “Belle, I swear to you . . .” Your face is so steely, so completely devoid of expression, that the words dry up in my throat. I’d prefer that you rail at me, fly at me, strike me. Instead, you stand there, still and white, icy calm. “Don’t you see?” you say at last. “It doesn’t matter what you swear now. It will never matter. Because I’ll never believe you. You said you loved me, but you couldn’t. Not if you could do something like this. I thought I knew you, but I don’t know the man who could do what you meant to. And I don’t want to.”

geez. ok. I get it but also I don't