Enduring Love by Ian McEwan Page A

say.”
    “You’re very cruel,” he said. “But you’ve got all the power.” He inhaled deeply through his nose again, as though preparing himself for some difficult circus feat. He managed to look at me as he said simply, “You love me. You love me, and there’s nothing I can do but return your love.”
    I said nothing. Parry drew another deep breath. “I don’t know why you’ve chosen me. All I know is that I love you too now, and that there’s a reason for it, a purpose.”
    An ambulance with a whooping siren went by and we had to wait. I was wondering how to respond, and whether a show of anger might see him off, but in the few seconds that it took for the din to recede I decided to be firm and reasonable. “Look, Mr. Parry—”
    “Jed,” he said urgently. “It’s Jed.” His interrogative style had deserted him.
    I said, “I don’t know you, I don’t know where you live or what you do or who you are. I don’t particularly want to know, either. I’ve met you once before, and I can tell you now that I have no feelings for you either way—”
    Parry was speaking over me in a series of gasps. He was pushing his hands out before him, as though to repel my words. “Please don’tdo this … It doesn’t have to be this way, honestly. You don’t have to do this to me.”
    We both paused suddenly. I wondered whether to leave him now and walk up the road to find a taxi. Perhaps talking was making matters worse.
    Parry crossed his arms and adopted a worldly, man-to-man tone. I thought perhaps I was being parodied. “Look. You don’t have to go about it like this. You could save us both so much misery.”
    I said, “You were following me yesterday, weren’t you?”
    He looked away and said nothing, which I took as confirmation.
    “What possible reason would you have for thinking I love you?” I tried to make the question sound sincere and not merely rhetorical. I was quite interested to know, although I also wanted to get away.
    “Don’t,” Parry said in a whisper. “Please don’t.” His lower lip was trembling.
    But I pressed on. “As I remember it, we spoke at the bottom of the hill. I can understand if you felt strange after the accident. I certainly did.”
    At this point, to my great surprise, Parry put his hands over his face and started to cry. He was also trying to say something, which I could not hear at first. Then I made it out. “Why? Why? Why?” he kept on saying. And then, when he had recovered a little, he said, “What have I done to you? Why are you keeping this up?” The question made him cry again. I moved from the wall where I had been standing and walked a few paces away from him. He stumbled after me, trying to regain his voice. “I can’t control my feelings the way you can,” he said. “I know this gives you power over me, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”
    “Believe me, I have no feelings to control,” I said.
    He was watching my face with a kind of hunger, a desperation. “If it’s a joke, it’s time to stop. It’s doing us both damage.”
    “Look,” I said. “I’ve got to go now. I don’t expect to hear from you again.”
    “Oh God,” he wailed. “You say that, and then you make that face. What is it you
really
want me to do?”
    I was feeling suffocated. I turned and walked away quickly toward the Edgware Road. I heard him come running up behind me. Then he was plucking at my sleeve and trying to take my arm. “Please, please,” he said in a gabble. “You can’t leave it like that. Tell me something, give me one little thing. The truth, or just a part of the truth. Just say that you’re torturing me. I won’t ask the reason. But please tell me that’s what you’re doing.”
    I pulled my arm away and stopped. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t understand what you want, and I don’t care. Now, will you leave me alone?”
    Suddenly he was bitter. “Very funny,” he said. “You’re not even trying to be convincing.