Your Magic or Mine? (33 page)

He hadn’t been following that advice. He hadn’t recognized—hadn’t wanted to recognize—the truth of their being soul mates. He knew, however, at this moment, on this subject, he was correct.

I’m going to lose her
. The words battered the inside of his skull the way the shower water beat on the outside. Despite his resolve to reject a soul mate, his excellent reasons for doing so, his refusal to perpetuate a recurring cycle of behavior bringing only heartache, the very real chance that he would not have Gloriana in his life after the next hour made him want to pound his head against the wall to stop the pain.

But… her seduction replayed itself in his mind, and his body responded. What he would have done if she hadn’t let him into her body, he didn’t want to contemplate. And when she had, his entire being opened up, accepted her, and gave itself to her.

He had to look the truth in the eye. He’d ruin all her loveliness, her giving nature. Better to make a clean break.

Hell! The conversation was going to be difficult. He shut off the water and toweled himself dry.
Be a man
,
damn it! Face it and get it over with
.

Dressed again—in different clothes since the jeans he had been wearing still smelled of her and she’d wrecked his shirt—he straightened his shoulders and went down to the living room.

Five minutes later, he paced in front of the windows, wondering how best to begin and cursing himself for his ambivalence. Would she understand? Would she agree with him? What if she did? She’d be gone in a heartbeat. He sucked in his breath as a great hole opened inside him.

No, he had to be strong. His reasons were true and good. Their not being together was in everyone’s best interests.

When she came up the stairs, his throat went dry. Rushing into the kitchen, he prepared glasses of ice water and carried them back out.

“Thanks,” she said with a brilliant smile that he felt down to his toes.

He waved her to a seat on the couch and remained standing. Better to face the catastrophe on his feet—otherwise, he might end up on his knees.

She took a sip of water and looked at him expectantly. She was so beautiful, so colorful in her red and blue against the neutral colors of his house that he almost smiled—until he remembered his purpose.

He cleared his throat, but still began with a rough voice. “The soul-mate imperative and the whole phenomenon are supposed to never make a mistake. The bond is supposed to make for strong marriages and from that, strong families, for the kind of relationships and feelings I can see in your family. Right?”

She nodded.

“In my experience, the bond doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes it goes too far. That’s the case in my own family.”

She still didn’t say a word, only put her glass down, and brought her gaze back to his. She looked puzzled, not angry.

He broke the contact. Somehow the explanation would be easier if he didn’t have to look into her eyes. He cleared his throat again, stiffened his back. Damn, telling her, saying it all out loud, was harder than he thought it would be.

“It took a long time for me to figure it out. Here’s the gist of it. The phenomenon and the SMI screwed up with my parents. From everything I could find out, and most of it came from people who knew them before they met, each of them was totally focused on a career and had no discernible interest in the opposite sex. The soulmate connection hit them hard when Judith was thirty and Stefan thirty-four. After that, they were still focused on their careers and also on each other—to the exclusion of everybody else.”

“What about your grandparents?” she asked.

“They were living at the time of my parents’ marriage, but all died before I was born. I’ve never understood why my parents had even one child after five years, except for the idea of continuing their bloodlines. Both are only children. I traced my genealogy once. Only children run in my ancestry. All of my forefathers and mothers were quite intelligent, only not prolific.” He looked out the windows and pondered his next point.

She didn’t let him deliberate long before asking, “No uncles, aunts, cousins, either? I have a bunch.”

He shook his head and turned back to face her. “My grandparents had siblings, who had some kind of family falling-out—I remember a reference to my great-grandfather’s will being the cause. I believe there are a few distant cousins, although no one ever made overtures to the others.” He shook his head and stared down at his feet for a few seconds as he wondered what having other close family members would have been like. Nothing like what Gloriana had, but at least they would have been around.

She must have become impatient with his stopping and starting because she said, “Go on.”

He sighed and continued, “At any rate, here I was. Putting this information together with what I can remember of my years before boarding school, Judith and Stefan did little to change their lives because of a baby and then a young child in their house. I had a nanny, and starting when I was five, a tutor. I was precocious and that seemed to please them—when I saw them. I believe I was scheduled for an audience between six and seven in the evening.” He heard the bitterness in his voice but decided not to worry about it. She had to understand how strongly he felt.

Evidently she did because when he was silent, she waited a little while before asking, “What happened next?”

“When I was eight, I was sent to a boarding school for gifted children. It was a boys-only institution, and I hated it. Oh, I had an excellent education. On a personal level, however, let’s simply say it left a lot to be desired. During school vacations, I either traveled with my parents—and a tutor—and met their colleagues or continued my studies at home with more tutors or at educational camps. I’ve never been to Disney World, by the way, but I’ve seen every important museum in Europe.” He shrugged, and she gave him a small smile and said nothing.

“I spent my school years trying to live up to my parents’ expectations—high grades, difficult subjects, honor rolls, and awards. I was good in sports, but they didn’t care about that—mostly they saw athletics as a waste of time better spent on intellectual matters. I played despite their opposition—probably more for the thrill of my slight rebellion than for love of the game.”

“Marcus, are you sure they feel that way, that you’re reading them correctly?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” he answered. “When I discovered theoretical math and it was clear my magical talents lay there, they were pleased. When I made professor, they were even more satisfied. Their only goals for me that I haven’t achieved are to take a position at one of the schools like Harvard or MIT and to win the Fields Medal, the greatest math prize. They’ve never asked me what my goals are for myself, and they pay no attention to my fiction writing. We don’t talk much. In fact, outside of academic subjects and current events, we have little to say to each other, except for their continuous questioning of my career choices and place of employment. It makes for awkward visits.”

“What does all this have to do with your decision on soul mates?”

Her expression and tone were neutral. He wished he could tell if that augured well or ill for her acceptance of his explanation. All he could do was tell the truth, and he plunged ahead. “Everything I know of the actuality of soul mates is from my parents—two people so wrapped up in each other and their careers, they had no time for one child, much less more. All they could do was push me to succeed, grant me sparse praise, and present me with role models for success in the academic world. From what they’ve told me about their upbringings, they parallel mine. I’m determined that I will not force a child to repeat my experience. I will not perpetuate the total concentration on success and pressure on a child to succeed according to his parents’ ideals, not his own.”

He paced back and forth in front of the windows for a moment.

She didn’t let up on the pressure for him to talk, however. “If you’re that determined, why do you think you’ll continue their ways?”

“Wait, it gets worse,” he said. “I don’t
know
how to be a mate. I don’t
know
how to share emotions, or even show them, for that matter. I knew they were soul mates, but saw no overt expressions of affection or emotions between them, ever. Hell, I never saw them enough to form a basis for behavior toward and with a mate. I’m a solitary person. I don’t
know
how to be otherwise. With everything my parents ingrained in me, how could I be a good soul mate, much less a good father? It will be disastrous for both of us and for our children if I’m your mate. All I know is how to be like them.” His center lurched, and a chasm opened inside him. He tried to ignore the empty feeling. He should get used to it. It was going to be with him for a long time.

“How are you absolutely certain they were ‘wrapped up in each other’ if they never showed it?”

“Because all their practitioner colleagues I met said so. Over and over I’ve been introduced to someone who knew them during those years and who spoke of their ‘double-mindedness’ for themselves and their careers. It’s famous among their friends.” He held up his hands with crossed fingers to demonstrate his point.

“I didn’t get that idea at all,” she protested. “My parents said they enjoyed their company when they went for drinks and never mentioned even a notion of their being self-centered.”

“Among strangers, Judith and Stefan are always guarded and charming. I am, too, for that matter—guarded, at least. When we’re simply three together, it’s like I’m a spectator or outside the bond. Oh, we converse, but have little to say to each other about things that matter.” He gave a little laugh that sounded more like a croak.

“As for soul mates? We’ve never discussed a potential soul mate for me. Stefan and I had the usual father-son talk about sex and mates when I hit puberty, yet when I brought the subject up later, it was clear he didn’t want to discuss it further. My mother has never mentioned the word that I can remember.”

Gloriana stared out down at her clasped hands, clearly mulling over what he had told her. She didn’t look convinced. He had to make it absolutely clear, and that meant he had to open up even more, talk about what he never spoke of—whether he liked it or not. The emptiness in his chest grew until it seemed to reach the bottom of his soul.

“Believe me, I’ve spent long hours thinking about it. There are no other logical conclusions I can draw, given the evidence. I will fail as a soul mate and a father. I’ve seen your wonderful family. I don’t have a clue how to be part of a group like yours. You have no concept what it’s like living in mine, and you’d hate it. We don’t joke or tease or play around. Neither Stefan nor Judith would have joined in with that ridiculous rap song of George’s. They’d have thought everybody was either crazy or—one of my mother’s favorite put-downs—’common.’

“I envy the way you all hug each other. I can’t remember the last time my mother hugged me. I don’t think my father ever has. If the debate hadn’t been in Boston, they wouldn’t have come. They would never have come far simply to provide support like yours did.”

“Marcus, there are all sorts of families,” Gloriana interjected. “The real questions are, do you love them and do they love you?”

He had to think about that for a moment. Again, he had to look the truth in the eye. He didn’t particularly like what he saw, but he told her the truth. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t. It seems more like it’s been a duty on both sides rather than love in our interactions. I’ve never thought they didn’t support me—when I’m pursuing their goals. As for my own goals? They never bother to ask if I have any others.”

He held out a hand to her. “Look, Gloriana, I don’t want to contemplate what my upbringing did to me or would do to you or our children. I sure as hell don’t want to find out I’m correct after we’re bonded. You’d hate me, our children would think I’m a lousy father, and our lives would be miserable. You’re too lively a person, too vital and energetic to get stuck with someone like me. I can’t be what you need. It’s better for both of us not to go through the frustration, despair, and finally hatred that would result. Let the SMI attack me. I can take whatever it dishes out. Surely there’s a more appropriate, better mate out there for you. You deserve one.” There, he’d said it all.

There was a long moment of silence while she stared at him. Finally, she took a deep breath, slapped the couch with both hands, stood up, and glared at him. “Marcus, that’s the biggest load of manure I’ve ever heard of. I’ve spread better stuff on my petunias!”

He opened his mouth to refute her, but she pointed a finger at him. “Now, you be quiet, and let me have my say. First off, I am not your mother, and you are not your father. I don’t act exactly like my mother does, Daria doesn’t, either, and Clay certainly doesn’t act like Daddy.

“Second, in the old ‘nature versus nurture’ argument, you’re saying we’re ruled as adults by the way we’re brought up. So what if their nurturing wasn’t very good? What happened to conscious free will and your nature? Is their nature truly yours? Are you happy to sit here behind your immaculate walls and keep out the messy world? Or do you want to wallow in self-pity and claim your sacrifice is for
my
own good because you’re afraid to face the truth about your own nature or afraid to change?”

A part of him tried not to listen to what she was saying. Another part, several parts, however, loved the way her eyes flashed, the way her expressions made no bones about her reaction to his arguments, and the way she ran agitated fingers through her hair. God, the woman was a fireball.

“That reasoning won’t wash,” she continued. “Furthermore, let’s look at the evidence
scientifically
, the way you’re always saying. To date, we have
only your
observations, interpretations, and conclusions, your
knowledge
, and you are hardly a disinterested observer. You have never been in the position of having a soul mate before, am I correct?”