Who Do You Think You Are

sounded so unnatural, wheedling, silly. As soon as he opened the door and she faced the fact of him, his sleepy eyes, his pajamas, she saw that what she had come to do was enormous, impossible. She would have to explain everything to him, and of course she could not do it. She could not make him see her necessity. She could not find any tone of voice, any expression of the face, that would serve her.
    “Are you upset?” said Patrick. “What’s happened?”
    “Nothing.”
    “How did you get here anyway?”
    “Walked.”
    She had been fighting back a need to go to the bathroom. It seemed that if she went to the bathroom she would destroy some of the strength of her case. But she had to. She freed herself. She said, “Wait a minute, I’m going to the john.”
    When she came out Patrick had the electric kettle going, was measuring out instant coffee. He looked decent and bewildered.
    “I’m not really awake,” he said. “Now. Sit down. First of all, are you premenstrual?”
    “No.” But she realized with dismay that she was, and that he might be able to figure it out, because they had been worried last month.
    “Well, if you’re not premenstrual, and nothing’s happened to upset you, then what is all this about?”
    “I don’t want to get married,” she said, backing away from the cruelty of I don’t want to marry you .
    “When did you come to this decision?” “Long ago. This morning.”
    They were talking in whispers. Rose looked at the clock. It was a little after seven.
    “When do the others get up?”
    “About eight.”
    “Is there milk for the coffee?” She went to the refrigerator. “Quiet with the door,” said Patrick, too late.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, in her strange silly voice.
    “We went for a walk last night and everything was fine. You come this morning and tell me you don’t want to get married. Why don’t you want to get married?”
    “I just don’t. I don’t want to be married.”
    “What else do you want to do?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Patrick kept staring at her sternly, drinking his coffee. He who used to plead with her do you love me, do you really, did not bring the subject up now.
    “Well I know.”
    “What?”
    “I know who’s been talking to you.”
    “Nobody has been talking to me.”
    “Oh, no. Well, I bet. Dr. Henshawe has.”
    “No.”
    “Some people don’t have a very high opinion of her. They think she has an influence on girls. She doesn’t like the girls who live with her to have boyfriends. Does she? You even told me that. She doesn’t like them to be normal.”
    “That’s not it.”
    “What did she say to you, Rose?”
    “She didn’t say anything.” Rose began to cry.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Oh, Patrick, listen, please, I can’t marry you, please, I don’t know why, I can’t, please, I’m sorry, believe me, I can’t,” Rose babbled at him, weeping, and Patrick saying, “Ssh! You’ll wake them up!” lifted or dragged her out of the kitchen chair and took her to his room, where she sat on the bed. He shut the door. She held her arms across her stomach, and rocked back and forth.
    “What is it Rose? What’s the matter? Are you sick!”
    “It’s just so hard to tell you!”
    “Tell me what?”
    “What I just did tell you.”
    “I mean have you found out you have T.B. or something?” “No!”
    “Is there something in your family you haven’t told me about?
    Insanity?” said Patrick encouragingly.
    “No!” Rose rocked and wept.
    “So what is it?”
    “I don’t love you!” she said. “I don’t love you. I don’t love you.” She fell on the bed and put her head in the pillow. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t help it.”
    After a moment or two Patrick said, “Well. If you don’t love me you don’t love me. I’m not forcing you to.” His voice sounded strained and spiteful, against the reasonableness of what he was saying. “I just wonder,” he said, “if you know what you do want. I don’t think you do. I don’t think you have any idea what you want. You’re just in a state.”
    “I don’t have to know what I want to know what I don’t want!” Rose said, turning over. This released her. “I never loved you.”
    “Ssh. You’ll wake them. We have to stop.”
    “I never loved you. I never wanted to. It was a mistake.”
    “All right. All right. You made your point.”
    Patrick’s face was so white the birthmark stood out like a cut, and that only made her eager to