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Miro shrugged. "It's a root in the path. But I think I can step over it."
"But what if I'm not attracted to you?" asked Ender cheerfully.
Miro spread his arms and turned to show his profile. "Unthinkable," he said.
"You are cute as a bunny," said Ender. "I'm sure young Valentine dreams about you. I wouldn't know. The only dreams I have are of planets blowing up and everyone I love being obliterated."
"I know you haven't forgotten the world in here, Andrew." He meant that as the beginning of an apology, but Ender waved him off.
"I can't forget it, but I can ignore it. I'm ignoring the world, Miro. I'm ignoring you, I'm ignoring those two walking psychoses of mine. At this moment, I'm trying to ignore everything but your mother."
"And God," said Miro. "You mustn't forget God."
"Not for a single moment," said Ender. "As a matter of fact, I can't forget anything or anybody. But yes, I am ignoring God, except insofar as Novinha needs me to notice him. I'm shaping myself into the husband that she needs."
"Why, Andrew? You know Mother's as crazy as a loon."
"No such thing," said Ender reprovingly. "But even if it were true, then ... all the more reason."
"What God has joined, let no man put asunder. I do approve, philosophically, but you don't know how it ..." Miro's weariness swept over him then. He couldn't think of the words to say what he wanted to say, and he knew that it was because he was trying to tell Ender how it felt, at this moment, to be Miro Ribeira, and Miro had no practice in even identifying his own feelings, let alone expressing them. "Desculpa," he murmured, changing to Portuguese because it was his childhood language, the language of his emotions. He found himself wiping tears off his cheeks. "Se nao posso mudar nem voce, nao ha nada que possa, nada." If I can't get even you to move, to change, then there's nothing I can do.
"Nem eu?" Ender echoed. "In all the universe, Miro, there's nobody harder to change than me."
"Mother did it. She changed you."
"No she didn't," said Ender. "She only allowed me to be what I needed and wanted to be. Like now, Miro. I can't make everybody happy. I can't make me happy, I'm not doing much for you, and as for the big problems, I'm worthless there too. But maybe I can make your mother happy, or at least somewhat happier, at least for a while, or at least I can try." He took Miro's hands in his, pressed them to his own face, and they did not come away dry.