Why do we cause pain to the people we love? Why do we do things that we do not want that torture us more than anybody else?

This part of the story is very strange. I am not even sure if I want it to be in the book. It is part of a various little episodes entitled together "Strange Passages From The Second Part of The Book". I called this one "Love". This is how Richard preferred to call Madeline. In fact, he didn't like her name a lot. It irritated him at first as the pure essence of her character. Though with time it became very dear to him as the girl who wore it.

This episode takes place after Richard’s mother explained them the nature of their connection.

Madeline was ironing Richard’s shirts. She was musing:

“I wonder if I can have you and still love another man.”

The expression of utmost pain crossed Richard’s features. As usually he rearranged them into a calm  as fast as possible but not fast enough.

Madeline hang away one of his shirts and started ironing another one. He spoke in a broken voice:

“You know you don’t have to do it.”

Madeline looked up at him curiously. Yet she didn’t ask the question he expected to hear. She knew he was talking about the shirts this time. He didn’t allow himself any remarks about their relationship.

“I wonder why you do not call me ‘love’ any more? Have you changed your mind?” 

“You wish,” Richard responded gloomily. Her words were still torturing him more than the pain from the wounds ever did.

“Why then?”

“I’m afraid.”

She turned off the iron, put away the last shirt and came up to him. He was still wretched. If that man could cry he would be crying now. Instead Madeline’s eyes were full of tears. Her reaction surprised Richard as always. He looked at her alarmed.

“What did I do?”

She stroke his face gently trying to comfort him.

“Do you not see how bad it is? I make you feel miserable, unwanted, worthless. It tortures me I bring you so much pain. I don’t want it. I’m sorry I said that. I don’t even know why. It’s very stupid of me. I cannot do anything with myself. I love you even if I don’t want to. Would you please forgive me?”

“I have nothing to forgive you. I deserve it all.”

“Nobody deserves what I’ve made you go through. I will never do it again! Do you believe me?”

“Of course, I do.”

She looked like a child lost in the darkness. Ironically she turned to him searching for the light. If this is what she wants she can surely have it. He will give it to her.

“What are you thinking?”

So surprising to hear his favourite question from her.

He didn’t knew how to answer. She was staring in his dark blue eyes looking for the clues and risking to get lost in their depth. She broke off the silence.

“You can call me ‘love’ you know”.

“Why do you never call me any of the affectionate words?”

“Which ones?”

“Something like ‘honey’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘baby’.”

“I know that you hate them all. You call me ‘love’ yourself so I cannot use it. Your name is the most affectionate sound to my ears.”

She sighed.

“It cannot go on like this.”

“It doesn’t have to be always so. Don’t worry, dear, we’ll be fine.”

“Do you think so? You re still upset with me.”

“I am not upset with you. I am upset with myself. You are just showing me small glimpses of the pain I’ve made you go through and it resonates in my heart. I will never forgive myself.”

“It makes me unhappy to see you sad. Will you forgive yourself if I forgive you?”

He smiled.

“You are asking me tricky questions tonight.”

“Why tricky?”

“I should never forgive myself for causing you so much damage. However, you say you will  be unhappy if I don’t forgive myself.”

“Can we at least forget this matter for today? I’m so tired of it. I want to see you happy.”

“You see, love, body and soul do come in one package. Your soul is tired of pain, your body needs rest too. Go to bed, my dear!”