“Millie—”
“No!” she cried. “You don’t think you are worthy of love if you aren’t Tag, if you aren’t the ‘sexy man!’” Millie did air quotes and mocked me, mocked the conversation we’d had when she’d played my chords. “You don’t think you are worthy of love if you are sick. You don’t think you are worthy of love if you can’t be the strong one all the damn time! If you can’t take care of me twenty-four seven, you must not be worthy of love.”
“That’s not it!” I protested, shaking my head, denying everything.
“That is it, dammit!” she cried, stamping her foot. She stepped toward the decorative vanity where she’d carefully placed her things and, with a rare show of temper, pushed everything to the floor. Toiletries, a blow dryer, a pile of folded laundry—all of it tumbled off the edges, and Millie kept pushing, just like she was pushing me.
“Millie, cut it out, dammit! You’re going to hurt yourself, baby!”
“NO!” she shouted. “This is not about me! If I want to throw a few things, I will. I’m not an invalid. I’m not a princess. I’m a grown woman. And I can throw a fit if I feel like it!” She threw her hand out in my direction, pointing her finger at me and wagging it fiercely. “And I don’t expect you to clean it up when I’m done!”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing as I watched her come unglued. At me.
“Do you know when I lost my sight I felt guilty for a long time? I felt guilty for the pain I put my parents through. Then my dad left. And my guilt grew tenfold. I felt guilty when my mom had to change her whole life to accommodate my blindness. Henry was just a little kid, and he had his own set of issues. And I made everything worse! I made everything fall apart. That’s what I told myself for a long, long time.”
I knew exactly how that felt. Guilt. I’d been consumed with it when Molly disappeared. Eaten alive by it. And I was racked with it now. But Millie wasn’t waiting for me to contribute to the conversation. She was shaking with anger, and I stayed silent.
“I don’t know when things started to change. Maybe it was gymnastics. Maybe it was music and dancing. Maybe it was when my mother got sick, and someone started to depend on me for once. And I handled it, David. I handled it! I was strong. And I was worthy of love. I had been worthy all along! I just didn’t see it.” Millie thumped her chest emphatically and repeated. “I am worthy to be loved. Blind eyes and all.”
The lump in my throat was so wide and hard that I groaned a little, trying to breathe around it. Millie’s sightless eyes were filled with tears that spilled over and slid down her cheeks. She brushed at them impatiently.
“Even still. I would never have asked you to love me, David. I asked for a kiss because I wanted it so badly. But I would never have asked you to love me. My pride would not allow it. My self-respect would not stand for it. But you gave it. You offered it. You fell in love with me anyway! And I am worthy of that love,” she repeated, her voice rising again.
“Yeah. I did. And you are,” My heart was in my throat and I walked toward her. She heard me coming and stepped away, her arm extended stiffly, palm toward me, warding me off.
“No. Not yet,” she told me firmly, though she was no longer yelling. “I understand guilt, David, I do. But love can’t be one-sided. One person can’t always give and the other person can’t always take. If you truly love me, you have to trust me.”
I couldn’t think of someone I trusted more, not even Moses.
“I do trust you, Millie.”
“No. You don’t. You don’t trust me. And you don’t think you are worthy of love.”
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t move. So I listened.
“You don’t think you are worthy of my love if you can’t be strong all the time,” she repeated firmly. “And you don’t think that I’m strong enough to be there for you when you aren’t. You don’t trust me.”
“This has nothing to do with my faith in you. I know who you are, Millie.” I stumbled over my response, trying to express myself, trying to say what I meant and mean what I said. “I know you would see me through. You say give miracles a chance, but I feel like I already got mine. You’re my miracle! The fact that you and I came together, that we met, that I found the love of my life. That’s a miracle, Millie! I’m so grateful for that. So many people don’t get that. We did. It’s a miracle I was awake enough not to miss it. And it’s a miracle you loved me back.”
Her face crumpled and she reached for me. At last she reached for me. Entreating me. I went to her immediately, but she pressed both hands against my chest, framing my heart, keeping me from pulling her into me. Then she ran her hands down my arms and found my hands. She cradled one of my hands in both of hers and brought my palm to her lips. She kissed it softly, sweetly, pressing her lips to the center as if she could ease my pain and her own by kissing it all away. Then she moved my palm from her lips and let me cup her cheek. She leaned into it briefly, holding it there, as if she drew strength from me, despite what she’d said. Then she slid my hand down her neck, past the fine bones at her collar, and pressed my palm against her breast, covering her completely.
“Most people think the most intimate thing in the world is sex,” she said softly.
I shuddered at the sense of belonging I felt, touching her like that, where no one else touched her, but I didn’t curl my fingers against her, didn’t caress the crest of her breast with my thumb or reach up and cradle her other breast in the hand that still hung at my side. I just waited, feeling the pounding of her heart against the tips of my fingers, and she rewarded me by continuing.