Page 545 - A Little Life: A Novel

money, the apartment, the man. How’d you get so lucky?” JB had grinned
at him, and he had grinned back. He was glad Willem wasn’t there to
overhear that comment, because he knew Willem would get testy at what he

saw as JB’s jealousy, at his conviction that everyone else had, and had had,
life easier than he did, that he, Jude, was blessed in a way that no one else
was.
But he didn’t see it like this. He knew it was in part JB’s way of being
ironic, of congratulating him for fortune that they both knew was, yes,
excessive but also deeply appreciated. And if he was to be honest, he was
also flattered by JB’s jealousy: to JB, he wasn’t a cripple who was being

cosmically repaid for a lousy run; he was JB’s equal, someone in whom JB
saw only the things to envy and never the things to pity. And besides, JB
was right: How did he get so lucky? How did he end up with everything he
had? He was never to know; he was always to wonder.
“I don’t know, JB,” he said, handing him the first slice of cake and
smiling at him, as from the dining room, he could hear Willem’s voice

saying something, and then a blast of laughter from everyone else, a sound
of pure delight. “But you know, I’ve been lucky all my life.”