59.

Allison’s gaze hadn’t faltered since Maurice and Sharon had left. She wouldn’t take her eyes off mine. I jumped in, desperate.

“You know, Allison,” I said, “that I love you.” Her silent, serious eyes said yes. I put a trembling arm around her shoulders and squeezed in closer to her on the couch. “You’re the love of my life. You always have been and you always will be. But I see it now—I’m selfish. And I have a big ego.” I cleared my throat. “I’m really sorry for running us all over the place for all these years. I’ve ruined some of your best years, and that’s not right. I guess I ... I’ve always focussed my attention on what I don’t have. As if life owes me something more. I’ve wasted my life, just ignoring how much I already have, what a lucky guy I really am. I wish to God I’d seen this earlier, but I guess I had to truly bottom out before I could change.” Allison quietly passed me a Kleenex so that I could blow my nose. It was starting to get easier, this opening up of my soul business. “I also don’t want to lie ever again, Allison, and I’m through chasing fame—it sucks, I hate it, and I hate myself for ever wanting something that shallow. It’s not important—I can see that now, clearly.” Allison was stroking my leg, a sad little smile on her face. “I wouldn’t blame you for not believing me when I say that, Allison. I wouldn’t blame you.” My voice was trailing off. I pulled her into my arm and cried like a newborn baby—there, now it’s said. Now you know. And I said it, and normally I would never say that kind of thing to anyone, so I really had changed, and it was a big relief, let me tell you.

We were both crying, and I whispered a promise to Allison. I meant it more deeply than any promise I’d ever made to her.

“You know how I knew I still loved you?” she said, her face muffled against my shirt.

I shook my head, unable to speak.

“When those American agents forced you into their car and drove away. My heart just split open for you, Donny. It was a physical pain.” There was still a note of surprise in her voice. “I wanted my Donny back, my partner for life! It’s like we’re Siamese twins—I felt torn in half when they took you. And it really hit me that I needed you. Despite your flaws,” she added mischievously.

“I guess it takes a terrible crisis for two people to truly realize that,” I said.

She smiled up at me. “For these two people, anyway.”

We stayed that way a long time. Other than the experience of seeing my child born in the delivery room, I don’t think I’ve had a moment more poignant. I saw, for the first time, how really lucky I was to be married to Allison.