FORTY
Ryan
From the minute Willow fled my loft, I felt like my life had become a ticking time bomb. Over dinner at her father’s deli, she told me her plans. She was going to rejoin Gustave’s ballet troupe and resume her dance career. Upon hearing this news, rage pummeled through me. A huge fight erupted.
“No fucking way!” I yelled at her.
“Please, Ryan, try to understand.”
“I get it. You’ve chosen him over me.”
“No, Ry-man, it has nothing to do with him. It has everything to do with me.”
“Bullshit. You’re fucking obsessed with him.”
This is how the conversation bounced back and forth. My rage rising with each harsh breath. Before we ended our relationship right then and there—and I combusted—we reluctantly agreed on a next step. Something I’d resisted. Couples therapy.
“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.