“Why?” He shot up to a sitting position. “You wouldn’t have faith in me then, would you?”

“It isn’t that, David.” I reached out my hand and put it on his arm; he didn’t move away. “It isn’t that. I’d want you alive, no matter what. But it isn’t that I wouldn’t have faith in you. You may be doing those things, but the reason I’d have faith in you is that I don’t think you are. And if what you say did happen, I guess, after I’d been hurt, I’d think you had a good reason. Maybe I’d hate you, too. But then I’d say to myself that maybe you had to do it because of something I didn’t know about or couldn’t help you with or maybe even because you’d found something with her that you couldn’t find with me. I guess I’d still have faith that you did the best thing as you saw it.”

He didn’t say anything to that.

“Well then, what if I did something like that and then found out I was wrong and felt guilty about it, and felt I’d betrayed you and, most of all, myself? Who could get me to have faith in MYSELF again?” He stopped. “Could you do it? Could you say anything to me that would make any difference in how I felt about myself?”

“I don’t know, David. I’d try. I’d accept the fact that you’d done it and try to make you accept it.” I could see him better now, sitting up in bed, his body leaning slightly forward, his fists clenched.

“What if I hadn’t done something that perhaps I should have done? Suppose I was a coward when I should have, when I could have been brave? Because, Camille, that’s what I am. I’m a coward when I don’t have to be. And that’s even worse than being a coward when you have to be, when you can’t be anything else.”

I wanted so much for him to tell me. “What about?”

“That isn’t even important now.”

“But it is!”

“Not the particular thing. Just that I was supposed to have believed very strongly in something and when the time came to stand up for it, I didn’t. I retreated.”

I should have thought more carefully about what I said then. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have believed in it at all. Maybe it wasn’t any good to start with.”

He turned to me; I’d hurt him. “But it was good! It still is!”

“But maybe not for you. Maybe it isn’t the right thing at all for you.” I shouldn’t have pressed him.

“Oh, for God’s sake, you don’t understand at all.” He fell back onto his pillow, staring at the ceiling.