NINE
Ryan
I nursed my caffè latte. A grande two percent. During my unexpected and unnerving encounter with Willow, I impulsively asked her to meet me at the Starbucks on Columbus and Eighty-First. While she agreed to it, I wasn’t sure if she was going to show up. Especially after my dickish behavior last night. I alternated sips of my latte with glances at the entrance and nervously fiddled with my wedding band. Maybe Dr. Goodman was right…about everything.
It was weird that we’d run into each other at Dr. Goodman’s office building. Maybe her dentist shared the same floor as my shrink. She told me she had an appointment, and I wasn’t expecting her to show for another forty-five minutes, if at all, but on the next sip of my hot beverage, she dashed into the coffee shop.
Our earlier encounter was so rushed that I hadn’t had a chance to soak her in with my eyes. She was again wearing black leggings, this time with a heavy, oversized rust sweater. Combat boots had replaced ballet flats, perhaps because of the cool autumn weather. No matter what she wore, she was still so waif-like, something that turned me on and made me want to hold her and take care of her. Her fiery red hair, almost the color or her sweater, was loose and cascaded wildly over her shoulders. Man, that mane of hair was insane. She looked ravishing.
Despite the place being packed, she spotted me right away and waved. Before joining me, she ordered something at the counter. After her name was called by a barista, she grabbed her order and sat down in the vacant chair opposite mine.
She sipped her coffee without ever taking her eyes off me. Her intense green-eyed gaze made me feel jumpy and heated at once. Each of us was waiting for the other to start a conversation. Finally, after another sip of my latte, I began.
“So you were visiting your childhood orthodontist?”
“Very funny. I didn’t need braces.”
She shot me a toothy smile. Her sparkling teeth were pearl-white and perfect. Cover-girl perfect. I fought back the urge to run my tongue over them.
“So, why were you there?” I asked.
“The same reason you were.”
I processed her words. Holy shit. We shared the same shrink. My brows lifted to my forehead as I inquired. “Dr. Goodman?”
She nodded. “Yes, Dr. Goodman. I’ve been seeing him since I was a child.”
“Me too. I’m fucked up.”
“Headline news. I am too.”
My eyes widened then softened. “What do you mean?”
“Listen, Ryan Madewell, your life is an open book, no pun intended. I know you hurt. But I hurt too. So, keep that in mind.”
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. I had no clue what motivated them. An unrequited love? An untimely death? Or maybe I was the cause of them? My freakish behavior last night was nothing to be proud of; I owed her an apology. Whatever the source, I knew they were real. With my paper napkin, I dabbed them. They kept spilling down her high cheekbones. The words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow flashed in my head. Every man has his secret sorrows, which the world knows not.
Allee had hers and obviously Willow did too. Maybe I was just attracted to fucked up girls, though my ex, Charlotte, who I hadn’t seen in ages, definitely took the cake in the fucked up department. A total nutjob. But Willow was nothing of the sort. From what I could tell, she was sweet and unpretentious. I promised myself to be more sensitive. More caring. To listen more…starting right now.
“So, Willow, tell me…”
“I have self-esteem problems. I’ve been working on them.”
“Did you lose someone?” I ventured.
“Yes. I told you. My mother. I never got to say goodbye to her.”
With love, there are no goodbyes. Allee’s almost last words to me. “Maybe she didn’t want you to.”
Willow shrugged. “Maybe. But her death left me with terrible guilt.”
I understood guilt. I was supposed to be Allee’s Superman, but I couldn’t save her. My guilt had morphed into various emotions from failure to anger. Even fear.
“How have you dealt with it?” I asked.
“I’ve inflicted pain upon myself.”
Then silence.
I digested her words. Was she a cutter? Did she try to commit suicide? Starve herself to death? Before I could ask, and truthfully I didn’t want to, she continued.
“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.”
We shared a long stretch of silence until Willow broke it. “Maybe we should end whatever we started.”
I jolted, for sure not expecting her reaction. “Is that what Dr. Goodman advised?”
She looked deep into my eyes and shook her head. We both broke into sheepish smiles at the same time.
I asked her out on the spot. She agreed.
Tomorrow night, we were having our first official movie and dinner date.
We finished our coffees when Willow’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her backpack and answered it. Her face turned as white as chalk.
“Oh my God.”
“Willow, what’s the matter?” I asked.
“My father. He’s had a heart attack!”