At first Cary was reserved with me. If our conversation became serious or introspective, he would try to make a joke out of it. When he got too close to his center, his true feelings, he confided in me and trusted me. It disturbed him that although he had been married three times, he had never really sustained a relationship with a woman. He talked about his life in London, and his early struggles. He disclosed his deepest self-doubts. He wanted to be open and honest and direct, yet he could not make himself vulnerable. He was afraid to be touched. And of course, one cannot have it both ways.
Slowly our relationship grew, and his trust in me grew. He realized that trust and vulnerability went hand in hand. When his trust was strong enough, he no longer bothered with his mask, I was just as open and trusting with him.
Evening after evening we dined on the craggy hilltops to the accompaniment of flamenco guitars. We drank the good Spanish wine and laughed and confided in each other…and fell in love. I was fascinated with him, with his warmth, affection, intelligence, and his wonderfully dry, mischievous sense of humor. —Sophia Loren