The Mathematics of Love

It was a couple of days before I was due back with Carenza; I was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast and mother was at the sink washing up, when she asked, "Are you going to go on living with Carenza in the New Year?"

"I don't really know, mother."

"You don't know?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet."

Mother turned to look at me.

"Robin, is there something wrong? Have you and Carenza had a...I thought you two got on so well together."

I suppose when you're young the last people you want to use as confidantes are your parents. Talking about this once with a guy he laughingly told me how when he was eighteen he had decided his parents knew nothing. He went on to say that by the time he was twenty two he was surprised how much his parents had learned in four years.

Well I was approaching twenty two when mother asked her question, and I really felt I needed a confidante and who else was there if not mother?

Hesitatingly I replied to her question, "Yes and no."

"Yes and no what, Robin?"

"Yes there is something wrong and no there isn't."

Mother picked up a tea towel and wiped her hands, and then came to the table and sat down opposite me.

Looking at me closely she said, "You're not making sense, but I know you've got something on your mind, I saw it soon after you arrived.

"Oh."

"Why are you doubtful about staying on with Carenza, there must be something wrong. Doesn't Carenza want you there anymore?"

"She hasn't said so."

"But you feel that she doesn't want you there?"

"No...no...she seems to like having me there."

"Then what is it?"

"It's me."

"You! Robin, you're starting to exasperate me. I know you're a big boy now and I don't want to interfere but..."

"It's hard to explain, mum."

"What is?"

"How I feel."

"Do you want to try and explain?"

"I don't know."

Mother sat looking at me for a few more moment, and then rising said, "Well when you make up your mind and you want to talk about whatever it is, let me know; in the meantime I've got work to do."

"Mum."

"Yes?"

"I'm in love."

Mother subsided onto the chair.

"In love?"

"Yes."

"What's her name, do I know her?"

"Her name is Carenza."

There was a long silence before mother said, "Does that mean that you and Carenza are lovers?"

"No...no...nothing like that."

"You haven't..."

"No."

"How does Carenza feel about this?"

"I don't know."

"You don...well surely she's said something."

"No, I haven't told her."

There was another long silence as mother seemed to digest what I said. For myself I couldn't see what else I might say.

Then speaking very slowly mother said, "You-haven't-told-her."

"No, I..."

"You say you love her and you haven't told her?"

"No, how could...."

"You say you love her; you haven't told her, and you're thinking of leaving her."

"How can I..."

"How do you think she'll feel about that?"

"About what?"

Mother's voice became strident, "About you leaving -- are you being deliberately obtuse Robin?"

"No, but what can I do?"

"I suppose you'll say, 'I love you Carenza so I'm leaving.' No, come to think of it, you'll probably make up some other excuse. And suppose she loves you?"

"She's never said anything."

"She hasn't...has it never occurred to you that actions can sometimes speak more eloquently than words? In any case you haven't told her so why would she tell you?

"No...yes...no...what?

"Carenza coached you -- is still coaching -- for virtually no charge. When your father and I had to move she took you in; she's shown every sign of friendship and generosity...no, she's shown every sign of love, and you can't see it?"

"Well, now you put it like that..."

"Are you sure you love her, after all, once you used to be in love with a different girl on almost a weekly basis."

"This is different mum. I'm sure I love her, more sure than I've ever been of anything in my life before."

Mother gave a long sigh and said, "Then don't you think you should be fair."

"Fair about what?"

Mother flung the tea towel at me and snapped, "Fair...fair...fair to Carenza you stupid boy; tell her you love her, give her a chance. Don't just pack up and leave."

"But suppose..."

"Don't suppose anything. My God Robin I'm beginning to think you really are as stupid as your father used to say you were. You're in love with a beautiful woman...a good woman...an intelligent woman...and you want to...oh I've no patience with you."

She went back to her work at the sink, leaving me with some things to think about.

I was somewhat surprised that mother was obviously urging me to deepen my relationship with Carenza. I thought she would have discouraged me, pointing out the age gap -- something I suspected most people would do.

* * * * * * * *

On the day I left my parents' house mother's last words to me were, "Be fair to her." I returned to Willy Wagtail Cottage having made up my mind to tell Carenza of my love.

Arriving at the cottage my resolve began to evaporate. She was so attractive and sophisticated, and I felt that if I declared my love for her she might laugh at me, or take on that condescending air which would begin, "My dear Robin, I am honoured that you feel like that about me, but..."

If her response was negative then my stay at the cottage would be at an end since I would find it intolerable to go on living with her. I've heard it said that love is a lottery, and that's how I felt about it. The stake would be all or nothing.

It was the second day after my arrival back at the cottage and Carenza and I were sitting in the lounge; she sitting there doing some preparatory work for the forthcoming academic year. I was engaged in a less worthy activity, reading an Agatha Christie novel.

Ever since I had arrived I had been wondering how I would broach the subject of my staying or leaving the cottage. Still playing the vacillator I was putting off the moment when Carenza raised the subject.

Looking up from her task she said, "Before you went away we talked about you're staying on here, have you decided?"

Mother's image loomed large; "Be fair to her."

If I'd had the courage I would have come straight out with it, "I love you Carenza," but I didn't. I took what I thought to be the easy way out and said, "I think it might be better if I looked for somewhere else to live."

She sat looking at me and I could see the hurt expression in her eyes.

"Why do you wish to leave, have I done something to offend you? Is it that you are not happy here?"

"Yes...I mean no...you haven't done anything to offend me; it's just that I feel it would be better if I move on."

There was silence for almost a minute, and then she said, "Have you somewhere else to go, perhaps some girl you wish to live with?"

No...no...I haven't made any arrangements and there's no girl involved."

"If you do not wish to tell me why you are leaving, then I cannot make you tell me, but if you do not tell me I shall not know how to amend what is wrong."

"There's nothing for you to amend, Carenza. It's not you, it's me."

"I shall be very unhappy when you go; I have had much pleasure from you being here. Can you not tell me why you must go?"

Carenza was not the sort of person to cry, but I could see she was close to tears. The maternal voice dinned louder in my ears, "Be fair to her."

I screwed up what courage I had and said, "If I tell you why I must leave, don't be angry with me or laugh at me."

"I shall not be angry or laugh, it will be good to know."

"I love you Carenza."

Again there was a long silence, and then she said, "So that is it. You love me so you want to leave me."

"You do understand, Carenza? It's the sort of love that...that...well...wants....needs..."

"The fulfilment of love between a man and a woman, yes, I understand, I have known such a love before. It is very beautiful, is it not?"

"Yes, but when you can't...when I see you everyday...when I'm with you like this and I feel..."

"You feel desire for me?"

"Yes. It's so...so frustrating."

"I understand, but of course there is much pain when you lose the one you desire."

She had mentioned that pain once before, so I asked, "Did you lose someone?"

"Yes, I lost a great love."

"Can you tell me who...how..."

"Oh yes, I can tell you. It was my husband of eight months. He went skiing in a place everyone told him was foolish but he was so sure of his skill, but his skill was not sufficient to stop him from going over a chasm. How this happened can only be guessed because again foolishly he was on his own. So I lost my great love. If only we had had a child, it would have been something..."

"And there's never been anyone else...you haven't thought of remarrying?"

"I thought there never could be anyone else and I didn't want to trust my love again for loss is too painful."

"That's very sad, Carenza."

"Yes, and have I not been right?"

"How right?"

"Have you not said, 'I love you and I must leave you'?"

"But this is different."

"How is it so different; did you ever ask yourself if I loved you?"

"No because...because I didn't think it was possible."

She had said she wouldn't be angry, but that resolve seemed to vanish as she said, "How not possible? Do you think I am too old, too infertile to want such love? Have you not thought how I have lain in bed at night thinking, 'If only he would come to me'? You think I cannot love like that?"

"No of course..."

"Then why do you wait until now to say 'Carenza I love you'? Why you not come before and say 'Carenza I love and desire you'?"

"I give what love I can and you say, 'I do not want it Carenza, I leave'. If you love then take me to my bed and show you love me; if not go...go soon...go now..."

* * * * * * * *

And so that is how it came about that I made love with Carenza, and it was that first time when she said:

"You cannot understand how a woman feels about these things, dear Robin. When she trusts and loves a man and feels that her love and trust is returned, she will give herself to him, and that is how I feel with you. I have let you get to know me as I have never let anyone know me since the time of my pain."

After that I occupied her bed every night and when she announced she was pregnant we married, and have stayed married for fifteen years with three children the fruit of those years.

I don't go skiing, partly because the ski fields are a long way from where we live, and partly because I don't want to risk giving her the pain a second time.