Page 455 - A Little Life: A Novel

When he opened his eyes again, Jude was sitting on the edge of the bed
and smiling at him, and he was filled with affection for him: for how
beautiful he was, for how dear he was, for how easy it was to love him.

“Don’t go,” he said.
“I have to,” Jude said.
“Five minutes,” he said.
“Five,” Jude said, and slid beneath the covers, and Willem wrapped his
arms around him, careful not to wrinkle his suit, and closed his eyes. And
this too he loved: he loved knowing that in those moments, he was making
Jude happy, loved knowing that Jude wanted affection and that he was the

person who was allowed to provide it. Was this arrogance? Was this pride?
Was this self-congratulation? He didn’t think so; he didn’t care. That night,
he told Jude that he thought they should tell Harold and Julia that they were
together when they went up for Thanksgiving that week. “Are you sure,
Willem?” Jude had asked him, looking worried, and he knew that Jude was
really asking if he was sure about the relationship itself: he was always

holding the door open for him, letting him know he could leave. “I want
you to really think about this, especially before we tell them.” He didn’t
need to say it, but Willem knew, once again, what the consequences would
be if they told Harold and Julia and, later, he changed his mind: they would
forgive him, but things would never be the same. They would always,
always pick Jude over him. He knew this: it was the way it should be.
“I’m positive,” he’d said, and so they had.

He thought of this conversation as he poured Kit a glass of water and
carried the plate of sandwiches to the table. “What is this?” Kit asked,
looking suspiciously at the sandwiches.
“Grilled peasant bread with Vermont cheddar and figs,” he said. “And
escarole salad with pears and jamón.”
Kit sighed. “You know I’m trying not to eat bread, Willem,” he said,

although he didn’t know. Kit bit into a sandwich. “Good,” he said,
reluctantly. “Okay,” he continued, putting it down, “tell me.”
And so he did, and added that while he wasn’t planning on announcing
the relationship, he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise about it, either, and
Kit groaned. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck. I thought it might be this. I don’t know
why, I just did. Fuck, Willem.” He put his forehead down on the table. “I
need a minute,” Kit said to the table. “Have you told Emil?”