I was happy, and June was exultant. We talked simultaneously. “I wanted to call you last night.”“I wanted to send you a telegram last night.” June said, “I wanted to to tell you how unhappy I was on the train, regretting my awkwardness, my nervousness, my pointless talk. There was so much, so much I wanted to say.” We had the same fears of displeasing each other, of disappointing each other.
“What have you done to me?” She added, “I was always poised, I could always talk well. People never overwhelmed me.”
She would say something and then beg forgiveness for its stupidity. I could not bear her humility. I told her, “We have both lost ourselves, but that is when one reveals most of one’s true self. You’ve revealed your incredible sensitivities. I am so moved. You are like me, wishing for such perfect moments, and frightened for fear of spoiling them. Neither one of us was prepared for this, and we had imagined it too long. Let’s be overwhelmed, it is so lovely. I love you, June.”