Story Sharing

I want to share a little snippet of The Time Traveller's Wife with you. And, this is one of the parts that brought me almost to tears.
To give you a bit of background, Henry is the Time Traveller. So far from what I've read, he mainly travels back to the past. Meaning, his self at age 36, would travel back to the time when he was say, 16. Clare is Henry's wife (they marry when Clare is 21, on Oct 23, 1993). In real time (if Henry and Clare are situated together) Henry is 8 years older than Clare.

The following snippet takes place April 12, 1984. Clare is 12. Henry is 36 (meaning he has travelled back in time). Thus, he knows the future that young Clare doesn't know.
They are playing chess and talking about the Beatles, and Paul McCartney. It evolves into a discussion of who Clare likes, and who Henry likes when he was her age, 12.

"Who do you like now?" she asks without looking up.
"you mean at twenty? Or at 36?"
"Both."
I try to remember being twenty. It is just a blur of women, breasts, legs, skin and hair. All their stories have been jumbled together, and their faces no longer attach themselves to names. I was busy but miserable at twenty. "Twenty was nothing special. Nobody springs to mind."
"And thirty-six?"
I scrutinize Clare. Is twelve too young? I'm sure twelve is really too young. Better to fantasize about beautiful, unattainable safe Paul McCartney than to have to content with Henry the Time Traveling Geezer. Why is she asking anyway?
"Henry?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you married?"
"Yes," I admit reluctantly.
"To who?"
"A very beautiful, patient, talented, smart woman."
Her face falls. "Oh." She picks up one of my whit bishops, which she captured two moves ago, and spins it on the ground like a top. "Well, that's nice." She seems kind of put out by this news.
"what's wrong?"
"Nothing." Clare moves her queen. I move my knight.
"Am I married?" Clare inquires.
I meet her eyes. "You're pushing your luck tday."
"Why not? You never tell me anything anyway. Come on, Henry, tell me if I'm gonna be an old maid."
"you're a nun," I tease her.
Clare shudders. "Boy, I hope not." She takes one of my pawns with her rook. "How did you meet your wife?"
"Sorry. Top secret information."

Clare, then she does some complaining about how it's not fair and not knowing if Henry is made up or not. Henry makes a remark about God, and after Clare exclaims that he shouldn't say things like that:

I shrug and change the subject. "I'm more real than Paul MacCartney."
Clare looks worried. She starts to put all the pieces back in their box carefully by dividing white and black. "Lots of people know about Paul MacCartney - I'm the only onw who knows about you."
"But you've actually met me, and you've never met him."
"My mom went to a Beatles concert." She closes the lid of the chess set and stretches out on the ground, starting up at the canopy of new leaves. "It was at Comiskey Park, in Chicago, August 8, 1965." I poke her in the stomach and she curls up like a Hedgehog, giggling. After an interval of tickling and thrashing around, we lie on the ground with our hands clasped across our middles and Clare asks, "Is your wife a time traveler too?"
"Nope. Thank God."
"Why 'thank God'? I think that would be fun. You could go places together."
"One time traveler per family is more than enough. It's dangerous, Clare."
"Does she worry about you?"
"Yes," I say softy. "She does." I wonder what Clare is doing now, in 1999. Maybe she is still asleep. Maybe she won't know I'm gone.
"Do you love her?"
"Very much," I whisper. We lie silently side by side, watching the swaying trees, the birds, the sky. I hear a muffled sniffling noise and glancing at Clare I am astonished to see that tears are streaming across her face towards her ears. I sit up and lean over her, "What's wrong Clare?" She just shakes her head back and forth and presses her lips together. I smooth her hair, and pull her into a sitting position, wrap my arms around her. She's a child, and then again she isn't. "What's wrong?"
It comes out so quietly that I have to ask her to repeat it: "It's just that I thought maybe you were married to me."