The Truth About Love Read Online Free PDF

will not?”
    “No. We will not.”
    “How does your wife feel about that?”
    “How does Sissy feel?”
    “Yes, how does Mrs. O’Hara feel about your decision?”
    “It’s early days. But I think she’s resigned.”
    “Resignation! Ah.”
    “We learn it early here. God’s will.”
    “Resignation, even without the comforts of religion, can be very important.”
    “Our religion is not always that comforting.”
    “Is Mrs. O’Hara resigned?”
    “To staying here?”
    “To everything.”
    “It’s her only hope, Mr. Middlehoff. Resignation is her only hope.”
    “Hope in resignation? I will remember that, Mr. O’Hara.”
    “Well now, Mr. Middlehoff, you seem to be paying a lot of attention to my words. Thank you. You’re a most courteous man. I appreciate it. But what I really want is to buy your gate from you. If that sounds rude, I’m sorry. I’m a bit raw at the moment.”
    “I do not consider you at all rude. But I do need to consider your request.”
    I do not wish to say no immediately. He is indeed too raw.
    “You are certain you will stay here? That if I give it to you it will stay with you?”
    I lie, of course, in this false pursuit of truth. Kindness? Perhaps.
    “Yes. We’ll stay. And don’t think I didn’t try to help Sissy in her sudden search for escape to another place. I played fair though I knew she was wrong. I always knew there was no escape from what we have to suffer. I’m not certain anyone here understands exactly what we have been through. The violence of it, you see …”
    “Yes.”
    “I’ve taken her to half the towns in the Province of Leinster. Didn’t take long—there aren’t that many of them. We went on little drives, just looking you know, in the evening or on a Sunday. We even went to the city of Dublin—where I was born.”
    “I did not know that.”
    “Why should you? Anyway, after Dublin, which held too much noise for her and too many noisy memories for me, we tried Tullamore, where she was young once. But as I guessed it would, it reminded her too much of her youth and what was lost. Not youth but everything since youth. Then we went one day all the way down to Tipperary—longer drive, that one. She knew no one in Tipperary and neither did I. Well, I suppose Dr. Sullivan’s son, but that’s another story. We looked at houses from the outside, you know just looking and getting the feel of the place. I’d point out the advantages of each spot. Like I said, I was fair. She was beside me in the front, the other two, Olivia and Daragh, sitting in the back, saying nothing. The whole business was silent apart from, “Look at that one Sissy!” Or, “What do you think of Tipperary?” No response, of course. But what was there to say? There was some idea in her mind that a new place would change, if not everything, then at least something. Help with the memories. That the newness of a scene would make memory fade. But whatever road we drove down it was following behind. Whatever house we looked at along the way—just from the outside they all seemed to be empty. Empty of our lives, which, in the end, was all we had.”
    “I understand.”
    “And Sissy, you see Sissy is so tired. She’s beyond tired, to tell you the truth. Too much loss. She’s in some place where I can’t find the old Sissy.”
    “After a tragedy, many survivors are lost.”
    “Say that again.”
    “After a tragedy, many survivors are lost.”
    “Well now you’ve given me a thought there.”
    “A balance perhaps, Mr. O’Hara. After all you gave me living close to what is lost.”
    “That’s how we exist here: lines from poetry, from prayers, the Bible. Life-lines, handed down. We live in a world of words. So, after a tragedy many survivors are lost! Pretty bleak. But it’s good. Though not very kind in the circumstances, Mr. Middlehoff Or is it a warning you’re giving me?”
    “I would not presume.”
    “Mmm … I know what you’re saying and I’m doing my