The Peacock 78

 "I never actually heard him come out in favour of same sex marriage..."

"Lovely play on words", says Carl.  "Did your father ever suspect you?"

"Oh, I dare say, as Carol says.  After Greta and Eric, her brother, returned to Sweden, one morning at breakfast--we always seemed to have our most interesting conversations during breakfast--Dad stared up at me between sips of coffee.  Very rarely did he ever look directly at me.  This time he was impaling me with those blue eyes of his.  So he simply asked me, who do you miss more, sister or brother?

"Your father met Eric?"

"A couple of times.  They seemed wary of each other.  Dad never probed any further."

"But how did you answer him?"

"I didn't.  I didn't know how to answer.  And anyway, coming from Dad, that was going to be meant to be taken more as a declaration than a question."

"Your father knew that you married Greta more for him, than for yourself?  What were you trying to hide?"

"I wasn't trying to hide anything.  I just wanted to please him.  I loved him.  I adored him.  I owed him everything.  I still owe him everything."

"You lived in your father's shadow."

And I see the shadow cast by the lamp from Carl's reclining body.  He seems to have become truly relaxed in that armchair.  I want him to stay.  He is even welcome to sleep in the bed with me, not for sex, but just to have him there next to me.  I know that is something I am not going to ask.  Not because I fear his refusal, but instead I fear his acceptance.  This feels decidedly dangerous, this sudden and precipitous intensity and intimacy we have thrown ourselves into.

"I still do, I think.  I still live in my father's shadow..."