Page 26 of The Square

And what I’m really saying is, I was always this guy, Christine. I just hid it really well. And that’s why I never wanted to touch you when we were younger. But fuck it. We’re not kids anymore, and you said you wanted this, so here you go. You got it. This is me.

She stops brushing her hair and turns around. Waits there, on pause, for a few moments. Then she walks over to me—stalks me like a fucking lioness looking to take down a baby gazelle on some barren, too-hot savannah—and when she reaches me, she slips her hands around to the back of my neck, resting her forearms on my shoulders, and says, “I love you.”

Which means… I get you.

So I say, “I get you too.”

A limo takes us to the jet. I’m still wearing cargo shorts and a sleeveless white t-shirt even though it’s gonna be cold as fuck when we get to London. I’ll change before we disembark. I’m just not ready to let go of what we had just yet.

I cling to it. The way you cling to a moment after waking up from a perfect dream.

Maybe Alec’s dead.

Maybe I’ll die, or Christine will die.

Hell, maybe we’re all dead right now and we just haven’t figured it out yet.

So I wear cargo shorts and a t-shirt until we’re circling around London and there’s no way out.

We must go forward and meet our fate.