Page 412 - A Little Life: A Novel

He was careful never to say his name aloud, but sometimes he thought it,
and no matter how old he got, no matter how many years had passed, there
would appear Luke’s face, smiling, conjured in an instant. He thought of

Luke when the two of them were falling in love, when he was being
seduced and had been too much of a child, too naïve, too lonely and
desperate for affection to know it. He was running to the greenhouse, he
was opening the door, the heat and smell of flowers were surrounding him
like a cape. It was the last time he had been so simply happy, the last time
he had known such uncomplicated joy. “And here’s my beautiful boy!”
Luke would cry. “Oh, Jude—I’m so happy to see you.”