Page 438 - A Little Life: A Novel

Willem should be with; for Willem to be with him over the theoretical
fantasy woman he’d conjured for him was an unbelievable tumble.
The next day, he presented Willem with a list of twenty reasons why he

shouldn’t want to be with him. As he handed it to him, he could see that
Willem was amused, slightly, but then he started to read it and his
expression changed, and he retreated to his study so he wouldn’t have to
watch him.
After a while, Willem knocked. “Can I come in?” he asked, and he told
him he could.
“I’m looking at point number two,” said Willem, seriously. “I hate to tell

you this, Jude, but we have the same body.” He looked at him. “You’re an
inch taller, but can I remind you that we can wear each other’s clothes?”
He sighed. “Willem,” he said, “you know what I mean.”
“Jude,” Willem said, “I understand that this is strange for you, and
unexpected. If you really don’t want this, I’ll back off and leave you alone
and I promise things won’t change between us.” He stopped. “But if you’re

trying to convince me not to be with you because you’re scared and self-
conscious—well, I understand that. But I don’t think it’s a good enough
reason not to try. We’ll go as slowly as you want, I promise.”
He was quiet. “Can I think about it?” he asked, and Willem nodded. “Of
course,” he said, and left him alone, sliding the door shut behind him.
He sat in his office in silence for a long time, thinking. After Caleb, he
had sworn he would never again do this to himself. He knew Willem would

never do anything bad to him, and yet his imagination was limited: he was
incapable of conceiving of a relationship that wouldn’t end with his being
hit, with his being kicked down the stairs, with his being made to do things
he had told himself he would never have to do again. Wasn’t it possible, he
asked himself, that he could push even someone as good as Willem to that
inevitability? Wasn’t it foregone that he would inspire a kind of hatred from

even Willem? Was he so greedy for companionship that he would ignore
the lessons that history—his own history—had taught him?
But then there was another voice inside him, arguing back. You’re crazy
if you turn this opportunity down, said the voice. This is the one person you
have always trusted. Willem isn’t Caleb; he would never do that, not ever.
And so, finally, he had gone to the kitchen, where Willem was making
dinner. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it.”