“So, what brings the two of you here?” asked Dr. Goodman, adjusting his glasses on his nose. He was sitting in a leather armchair facing Willow and me, the two of us seated on the couch. Though we were sitting side by side, it felt like miles separated us. The tension between us was so thick a knife couldn’t cut through it.
“We have a major problem.” We blurted out the words together.
Dr. Goodman’s brows lifted. “And that might be…”
Willow and I exchanged a glance. Who should answer?
I jumped in. “Willow wants to go to Paris and pursue her career as a ballet dancer.”
Dr. Goodman’s impassive reaction to the news floored me. He simply folded his hands in his lap. My body tensed as Willow spoke up.
“I’ve asked him to come with me.”
Our shrink’s gaze stayed on us as he asked calmly: “Ryan, why is that a problem?”
Jesus fucking Christ. After all these years in therapy, did he not have a clue? Time to inform him.
“Seriously, Doc?” My voice rose with anger as I grasped at the roots of my hair in frustration. “It’s where Allee spent her last days on earth and turned to dust. I can never go back there.”
“It’s the City of Love…the City of Lights,” he responded, his voice even-keeled.
“Are you kidding? For me it’s the City of Death. The City of Gloom.”
The doctor stroked his beard. “I see.”
I see. Is that all he could say? What part of this fucked-up situation wasn’t he getting? I searched my mind and then spit out, “I don’t understand why Willow has to do this.”
Dr. Goodman looked at Willow. “Willow, can you explain your reason.”
She gave him the same reasons she’d given me. That ballet was in her blood; dance was calling her. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.
“But, there are other companies you can join,” I protested. “What about the New York City Ballet?”
“The NYCB rejected me. I wasn’t good enough for them.”
“Audition for them again!”
“It doesn’t work that way. I’m too old to do that.”
Desperation rose in my chest and I took another tactic. “Doc, how can you let her go back to that monster—”
He cut me off. “Are you referring to Gustave?”
Obviously, he knew whom I was talking about. “Yes, that psychopath. The man is violent and abusive. I read he even raped a dancer. For all I know, he sexually abused Willow!” With a jerk of my head, I turned to face Willow. “Tell me, did he?”
Silence was my answer. My companion fidgeted with her ballet-slipper necklace as my mind flashed back to one of our earliest conversations. The lunch following her father’s heart attack.
“I was in an abusive relationship.”
“You let some guy hurt you?”
“It’s complicated. Let’s not go there yet.”
“A boyfriend?”
“Please, Ryan. Drop it.”
This time I wasn’t going to drop it. The pieces of Willow’s shattered past were coming together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
“Now, I get it. That’s why you took a sabbatical. That fucking asshole abused you. Shredded you to pieces!”
“It wasn’t like that!” Willow cried out. “I was weak. Needy. Obsessed. I let him…”
“Sexually assault you?”
Tearfully, Willow shook her head. “No, it was always consensual.”
I looked at Dr. Goodman. “Is that true?”
“Ryan, I can’t divulge that. Doctor-patient privilege. You will have to take Willow’s words at face value.”
Frustration was surging along with my anger. I wanted to shake someone. Knock some sense into them. “Jesus, Willow, how can you go back to him?”
“He’s changed. I’ve changed.” Her voice quivered.
“Bullshit!” I cried out.
Dr. Goodman lifted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Willow, Ryan’s right. It may not be wise—”
“Not wise!?” My voice rose several decibels with anger. “Are you kidding me? It’s insane! Stop her!”
Dr. Goodman lowered his glasses. “I can advise against it, but I can’t stop her, Ryan. She’s an adult woman, who is perfectly capable of making her own decisions.”
Panic set in. “You’ve got to! Tell her not to go!”
“Ryan, that’s your job, not mine.”
I turned again toward Willow. Cupping her shoulders so she was facing me, I looked deep into her watering eyes. “Willow, please don’t fucking go.”
Unable to hold my gaze, she looked down and chewed her trembling lip.
Then to my surprise, Dr. Goodman threw her a curve ball. “Willow, why do you feel you’re ready to go back?”
Willow fidgeted again with her necklace, batting back tears. “I’ve grown a lot stronger over the last year. I have control over my emotions and my body. I no longer need to be hurt to feel alive.”
“Oh, the tables have turned,” I snapped. “So, now you like to dish it. Hurt others.”
Tears began to fall. “Please, Ryan, I’m not doing it to hurt you.”
My cheeks flared. “Oh, you could have fooled me.”
“Please, Ryan, don’t do this to me.” Her voice cracked with desperation. “Don’t make it harder than it already is. We’ll figure things out…we’ll write…we’ll talk. I’ll be back. Remember, with love, there are no goodbyes.”
I thought I was going to implode. Allee’s words to live by. Or die by.
“Screw you, Willow.”
With that, I stood up and walked out the door. And out of Willow Rosenthal’s life.
FORTY-ONE
Ryan
What the hell was I thinking? During a long, grueling run the next morning, I came to my senses. I needed to see Willow. Make things right. I couldn’t end things with a fight like that. In fact, I didn’t want to end things at all. I wanted her in my life and somehow, I needed to figure out how. With sweat clustering on my chest and my heart rate elevated, I turned around about five miles in and ran straight down Broadway until I got to Mel’s Deli. Not bothering to stretch, I hurried inside, breathing heavily.
It was noon, and the place was already packed for lunch. My eyes searched for Willow, but she was nowhere in sight—neither helping behind the counter nor seating the long line of diners. Then I saw Mel trudging down the stairs. I dashed up to him.
“Mel, is Willow around?” My voice was frantic.
He heaved a breath. He didn’t seem his normal jovial self. A cloud of sadness shrouded him.
“She’s gone.”
My heart skipped a beat as his words twisted in my head. The line in my book announcing Allee’s death—And in the morning, she was gone— stabbed my brain. No, it can’t be!
“Sh-she—” I could barely form words. I could barely breathe.
Mel cut me short. “…flew to Paris this morning with The Royal Latvia Ballet. A chartered flight.” He pressed his lips thin in a tight, grim line. “I couldn’t stop her.”
While I should have been relieved that Willow was all right, I couldn’t fight the despair that was swallowing me.
“Mel, did she say anything about me?”
Forlornly, he shook his head. “It all happened very quickly. Gustave Fontaine came by in a limo to pick her up.”
Fucking Gustave. I’d like to hang him by his balls. “Is it too late to call her?”
Mel glanced down at the worn leather-band watch on his wrist. “The plane took off a half-hour ago.”
Fuck. Shit. Fuck. That meant I would have to wait close to eight hours to call her. Dammit. Why didn’t I try harder to stop her? I’d managed to stop Allee from going to Paris. From pursuing her dream of living in The City of Lights. All I had to do was ask her to marry me. Then, it dawned on me. More like hit me like a bolt of lightning. That right there was the problem; I’d made no commitment to Willow and she’d called me on it. And I knew in my heart why. I was af
raid of commitment. Afraid of getting attached to someone and then having her ripped away from me. Of losing a great love again. It just hurt too much.
With a ring or without one, I’d lost Willow. With the way I had walked out on her, the chances of her coming back to me were slim. As reality stabbed at me, my aching heart sank deeper and deeper into the pit of my stomach.
“Ryan, can I get you a bite to eat? A sandwich to go?” asked Mel, sensing my despair.
“Thanks, but no. I’ve got to go.”
“I know how you feel.” I suddenly realized he had lost Willow too. His precious daughter to that fucking bastard. Then, he slapped his forehead.
“Sheesh. I almost forgot.” My eyes stayed on him as he hurried behind the cash register, squatted down, and then returned holding a takeout bag.
“Honestly, sir, thanks but no thanks. I’m not hungry.”
“No, it’s from Willow,” he said, handing me the bag. “She wanted me to give this to you.”
Curious, I reached into the bag and instantly knew what was inside. Slowly, I pulled out the contents and glared at the worn little monkey, his sad, scratched glass eyes staring back at me. Baboo.
Around his withered neck was a frayed pale pink ribbon tied into a bow. I was positive it was one of the ribbons from the childhood toe shoes that hung from Willow’s bed. I tried to make sense of Willow’s rendering. Baboo was a part of her; she’d had him since she was a baby. Lifting him closer to my face, I could even smell her essence. After a whiff, I studied the satin strand. The Harvard literature major that I was, I wondered—what did it symbolize? Was it the string that tied us together? Or did it mean Willow was cutting me out of her life? Was it our lifeline or the end of the rope?
A shudder, like an unraveling ribbon, spooled through me.
Clutching Willow’s childhood treasure, I told Mel I had to leave. With the tiniest glimmer of hope in his eyes, he gave me a bear hug. “Hang in there, Ryan. If I hear from her, I’ll let you know.”
The next few days were living hell. Pure torture. Though Mel called to let me know that Willow had landed safely in Paris, I couldn’t reach her. Every time I called her cell it went straight to voicemail, and the numerous, desperate texts I sent her all went unanswered. It was like she was completely avoiding me. Shutting me out of her life. Moving on.
I numbed my pain by pounding the pavement, running miles, or escaping the city on my Harley, speeding down the Jersey Turnpike and letting the roar of the engine dull my senses. The nights were even more painful than the days. I drank myself to sleep and conked out on the couch. I couldn’t bear sleeping in the new bed that Willow and I had briefly shared. And might never share again. Much like the way I felt after Allee’s death, I thought my life was over.
My only comfort was Baboo, who never left my side. I was convinced the little monkey missed Willow as much as I did. When his bow became undone, instead of re-tying it around his neck, I tied it around my wrist and wore Willow’s pink ribbon like a love bracelet, never taking it off. Admittedly, sometimes I thought it was more like a mourning band, and other times, I wished it was long enough to tie around my neck like a noose. A few times, I thought about calling my sister, but zombie me was in no condition for a confrontation; she’d probably chew my ear off, telling me that I should have never gotten involved with someone I hardly knew. Making matters worse, Dr. Goodman was away for a few weeks at some shrink conference and wasn’t taking calls. There was no news from Willow, not even from her father, who hadn’t heard from her since her initial call.
Duffy, the other person I could confide in, was also out of town on business. However, the day he got back, he texted me and told me to meet him for drinks. Despite my sorry state, I agreed.
I met Duffy at our regular hangout, the neighborhood pub. As usual, he was there first and had a Guinness waiting for me. At the sight of me, he furrowed his brows.
“Hey, man. You okay? You look like shit.”
He was right. My eyes were glazed from lack of sleep, I needed a haircut, and my beard was unkempt from not taking care of it. A mixture of sadness and stress was written all over my face. I was fucking depressed. A total train wreck.
I took a long sip of my cold, frothy beer. Except for quenching my thirst, it did little to help my state of being.
“I feel like shit,” I mumbled.
“You sick?”
Yeah, I was sick. But not that kind of sick. I was suffering from another kind of disease I knew too well. Heartache. Duffy continued.
“There’s a nasty bug going around. Half the office has it.”
I took another chug of my beer as Duffy rambled on.
“Hey, I meant to tell you that my glowing review of The Firebird got over a million hits. Willow is something.”
Was something is more like it. Setting down my mug, I just blurted it out. Got it off my aching chest. “She left me.”
Duffy’s eyes widened like saucers. “What!?”
“She went to Paris with Gustave.”
“That prick with the brick dick? She’s fucking him?”
“No, but they did. And she still has an obsession with him. Dancing The Firebird last week awoke her need to dance. He’s making her a principal dancer and asked her to come with him and his company to Paris. Then, they’re going on a world tour.”
“Man, why didn’t you go with her? There’s nothing holding you back here.”
“I couldn’t. I didn’t think I could handle it. You know, with Allee dying there and everything.”
Pressing his lips thin, Duffy nodded. “I get it. How did you leave things?”
One word: “Badly.”
My buddy’s eyes stayed on me, squeezing me for more information.
Hedging, I ran my fingers through my unruly hair. “We had a big fight. I walked out on her.”
“And…”
“The next day, I went over to her dad’s deli to talk to her and try to work things out, but she’d already split for Paris.”
“Did you try to call her? Text her?”
“Yeah. I’ve been trying. But my messages go straight to her voicemail and she hasn’t responded to my texts. She probably never wants to hear from me or see me again.”
“Bullshit. Don’t jump to spurious conclusions.”
“Duff, I don’t know what to do.” My voice lowered. “I love her.”
“Then, tell her that.”
“I don’t know how to. She’s unreachable. Even her father doesn’t know how to get hold of her.”
“Bro, do what you do best.”
My brows jumped up. I was all ears as “Dear Duffy,” my relationship guru, went on.
“Write. Write her a letter.”
“But I don’t know where she’s staying. Nor does her father.”
“Send her an email. She’s bound to get it sometime.”
What would I do without Duffy? Paying for the beers, I sprinted home. My fingers were as twitchy as my dick. The words in my head were already flowing.
As soon as I got home, I raced up the stairs to my bedroom and made a beeline for my desk. On top of it sat my computer…the very laptop with which I’d written every word of Undying Love. I was due for a new one, but somehow I couldn’t part with this Mac. Memories trumped technology. Sitting down, I flipped open the case and went straight to my Gmail. I hit “Compose,” and then in the subject line typed two letters: U-S. Us. As my heart beat with hope and determination, my fingers danced across the keyboard.
My beautiful butterfly~
The next morning after our session with Dr. Goodman, I went to your dad’s deli to see you before you left, but you were already gone.
It’s only been a few days, but my life has no meaning without you. With every step I take, I wish you were here with me. My loft is empty without you. It’s you I dream of and wish were in my bed at night. I miss your lightness of being; every day is dark, my heart heavy.
Allee is still in my heart, not just a memory, but a treasure I will
always cherish. You are a treasure too. A brilliant, shimmering jewel that can light up a room as well as a stage. Most of all, you, only you, lit up my heart and showed me that I could love again. Allee always wanted me to meet someone new after her death, and you are that special person.
Perhaps it was fate that you were already on your way to Paris when I came by. Allee taught me a universal human truth. In love, there are no goodbyes. So, hello, my beautiful butterfly, and I hope all is well.
When you come back and I pray you will soon, there’s something I want to ask you and we’ll figure out a way to make things work. I understand your need to dance. It is not much different than my need to write. Your stage is my page. It is who we are…what defines us.
Allee wanted me to have Plan B as in B-E, to go on and live my life to the fullest. I know now, my beauty, I want to live my life with you and be wherever you are.
I’m not giving up on us.
With all my love—
Ry-Man
I re-read my letter, and as I did, a warm breath of air dusted the back of my neck as if someone were standing behind me. I looked over my shoulder and for a flash instant I saw Allee. An approving smile graced her angelic face. She’d read what I’d written. The near final words of her farewell letter whirled in my head. Madewell, I’ll be reading every word from wherever I am. In the blink of an eye, she disappeared. My pulse in overdrive, I turned around and hit send. I blew out a deep breath. Now, I had to play the waiting game.
FORTY-TWO
Willow
This was so not Paris. Not the Paris I envisioned with bustling streets, cafés on every corner, and a view of the Eiffel Tower everywhere one walked.
To my surprise, Gustave sequestered us in a remote chateau owned by one of his benefactors in the countryside. I had no idea exactly where we were or how far we were from civilization. Upon our arrival, he made us relinquish all our devices, including laptops, cell phones, tablets, and iPods. He didn’t want us to have any distractions and besides, there was no Internet service where we were staying. Our focus was to be on dance 24/7. He wanted us to live it and breathe it.
Endless Love Page 19
