The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [52]
“It is true. I’m very fond of you, Will, and in a way I do love you. But not in the way you’re talking about. Not in the way you think you love me.”
“Think!” He was struggling for control. “I don’t think, I know! Paula … why …” His voice was having trouble staying steady, and it sounded plaintive even in his own ears. “Why don’t you love me?”
She sighed and turned back on her side to face him, her expression gentle. “Will, darling, I don’t love you because we’re not equals.”
He could only look at her, completely taken aback. Paula smiled faintly. “Oh, I’m not turning into some kind of social snob or something, never fear. I just mean that insofar as age and experience go, we’re not equals, and we never will be. The gap is too wide. By the time you could possibly catch up, it would be impossible. I’d be too old.”
He started to protest, and she put a hand over his mouth gently. “Will, do you know how old I am?”
“Older than I am,” he admitted grudgingly. “But, hell, that doesn’t mean anything! What’s five or six years? Or ten?”
She smiled faintly. “Bless you, Will. I chose well that day down by Land’s End. You have the instincts of a diplomat and a silver tongue to express them with. You’re going to cut quite a swath with the ladies of the galaxy.” Paula hesitated, then said flatly, “Will, I have a son who is five years older than you are.”
He stared at her, momentarily stunned, but rallied after a second. “I don’t care! What difference does that make?”
“I told you what difference it makes,” she said. “Will, you’d be crazy to tie yourself down at your age to anyone, let alone someone who doesn’t have time to wait for you to come back from a long mission.”
“Doesn’t have time?” he repeated numbly. “You’re not trying to tell me you’re sick or something?”
“Of course not. But at my age, I don’t have time to waste on waiting. And, to be honest, I don’t want to wait for you. I’ve been in this situation before, and it’s better just to break off now, believe me.”
He felt numb. “You don’t want to see me when I come back?”
“No, Will, it wouldn’t be wise. I’d be lying if I said I would, and I’ve never lied to you, darling.”
He knew that was true.
Paula leaned over and kissed him tenderly. “Now get some sleep,” she said, mock-sternly, “so we can have some time together in the morning. I want to send you off to those distant stars with beautiful memories.”
But after she was breathing regularly, Will slipped quietly out of bed, located his clothes by touch, and carried them out into the hall to dress. He let himself out of the apartment, inwardly debating over whether he should leave a note, but it seemed as though everything had already been said. He didn’t want to hurt Paula by not staying the night, but he didn’t think he could face her again, knowing that she didn’t love him.
San Francisco was silent and moonlit as he walked along, head down, thinking. Tomorrow he would head out into deep space for the first time. Tomorrow everything about his life would change … had already changed. Already he felt different—harder, stronger, older.
At the end of the block, he stopped and turned back, his eyes unerringly picking out the window of her apartment. I wonder whether she was really asleep, or only pretending, he thought, and rather suspected it was the latter. She knew it would be easier on both of us this way, he realized.
Smiling faintly, he blew a silent kiss back in the direction of the apartment building, then turned and walked away, into the night … and the future.
Commander Will Riker opened his eyes on darkness, then sat up. The blond woman who had been snuggled beside him made an inquiring noise and opened one blue eye.
“Time to get up?” she mumbled from the depths of the pillow.
“No … go back to sleep,” he whispered.
“Okay …” She closed her eyes.
Riker got up and stood looking down at her for a moment, wondering whether she was dreaming, too. He supposed that he’d been lucky. His dream, while as real as the others he’d heard described, had at least been benign.
But