‘Cripple them? How?’
‘By not teaching them to be independent.’
‘But it’s not just mothers and children,’ said Gamache.
‘No. It’s friendships, marriages. Any intimate relationship. Love wants the best for others. Attachment takes hostages.’
Gamache nodded. He’d seen his share of those. Hostages weren’t allowed to escape, and when they tried tragedy followed.
‘And the last?’ He leaned forward again. ‘What was it?’
‘Equanimity and indifference. I think that’s the worst of the near enemies, the most corrosive. Equanimity is balance. When something overwhelming happens in our lives we feel it strongly but we also have an ability to overcome it. You must have seen it. People who somehow survive the loss of a child or a spouse. As a psychologist I saw it all the time. Unbelievable grief and sorrow. But deep down inside people find a core. That’s called equanimity. An ability to accept things and move on.’
Gamache nodded. He’d been deeply affected by families who’d risen above the murder of a loved one. Some had even been able to forgive.
‘How’s that like indifference?’ he asked, not seeing the connection.
‘Think about it. All those stoic people. Stiff upper lip. Calm in the face of tragedy. And some really are that brave. But some,’ she lowered her voice even more, ‘are psychotic. They just don’t feel pain. And you know why?’
Gamache was silent. Beside him the storm threw itself against the leaded glass as though desperate to interrupt their conversation. Hail hammered the glass and snow plastered itself there, blotting out the village beyond until it felt as though he and Myrna were in a world all their own.
‘They don’t care about others. They don’t feel like the rest of us. They’re like the Invisible Man, wrapped in the trappings of humanity, but beneath there’s emptiness.’
Gamache felt his own skin grow cold and he knew goose bumps had sprung up on his arms under his jacket.
‘The problem is telling one from another,’ Myrna whispered, straining to keep an eye on the grocer. ‘People with equanimity are unbelievably brave. They absorb the pain, feel it fully, and let it go. And you know what?’
‘What?’ Gamache whispered.
‘They look exactly like people who don’t care at all, who are indifferent. Cool, calm and collected. We revere it. But who’s brave, and who’s the near enemy?’