Page 326 - A Little Life: A Novel

anything, Harold,” he says. “And you did anyway. Why did you do that,
Harold? You think my life is a joke? You think my problems are just an
opportunity for you to grandstand?” He doesn’t even know what he means,

doesn’t know what he’s trying to say.
“No, Jude, of course not,” says Harold, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry—I
just lost it.”
This sobers him for some reason, and for a few blocks they are silent,
listening to the sluice of the wipers.
“Were you really going out with him?” Harold asks.
He gives a single, terse nod. “But not anymore?” Harold asks, and he

shakes his head. “Good,” Harold mutters. And then, very softly, “Did he hit
you?”
He has to wait and control himself before he can answer. “Only a few
times,” he says.
“Oh, Jude,” says Harold, in a voice he has never heard Harold use before.
“Let me ask you something, though,” Harold says, as they edge down

Fifteenth Street, past Sixth Avenue. “Jude—why were you going out with
someone who would treat you like that?”
He doesn’t answer for another block, trying to think of what he could say,
how he could articulate his reasons in a way Harold would understand. “I
was lonely,” he says, finally.
“Jude,” Harold says, and stops. “I understand that,” he says. “But why
him?”

“Harold,” he says, and he hears how awful, how wretched, he sounds,
“when you look like I do, you have to take what you can get.”
They are quiet again, and then Harold says, “Stop the car.”
“What?” he says. “I can’t. There are people behind me.”
“Stop the damn car, Jude,” Harold repeats, and when he doesn’t, Harold
reaches over and grabs the wheel and pulls it sharply to the right, into an

empty space in front of a fire hydrant. The car behind passes them, its horn
bleating a long, warning note.
“Jesus, Harold!” he yells. “What the hell are you trying to do? You nearly
got us into an accident!”
“Listen to me, Jude,” says Harold slowly, and reaches for him, but he
pulls himself back against the window, away from Harold’s hands. “You are
the most beautiful person I have ever met—ever.”

“Harold,” he says, “stop, stop. Please stop.”