THREE
Ryan
My segment on Good Morning America went well. Now that Undying Love was finally being made into a movie, the producers of the early morning talk show wanted to give viewers an inside scoop on my involvement in the production process. Truthfully, after consulting on the script, it was rather minimal although I did have casting approval. They were all over Lalaland Oscar-winner Ryan Gosling to play the lead. One of the hosts asked me if I ever considered playing the part myself. With a nervous laugh, I told her I was no actor, silently adding that I could never relive my life with Allee. That led to the final question: “Was I going to see the movie?” My answer: a straight forward: “NO.” I was glad it was time for a commercial break so that I wouldn’t have to elaborate.
After the interview, I stopped at a Starbucks for a latte and then walked uptown to the office of my shrink. I had a standing appointment with him on Thursdays at ten a.m. His office was located in a stately pre-war building on Central Park West and Seventy-Fifth Street, not too far from ABC studios where I’d taped the GMA segment.
I always felt at ease in his office. It was filled with unpretentious antiques, Hollywood memorabilia (his passion), and impressive awards and degrees. Like Father and me, he was Harvard all the way. The two of them, in fact, had been classmates. Class of ’74. Dr. Goodman had treated me as a child when I was going through a bout of depression, thanks to my dysfunctional family. He was like a surrogate father to me. The warm, loving, caring man my father never was. I felt comfortable telling him everything… and he was the sole person other than my sister who knew about the frozen embryos.
Seeing the state of despair I was in following Allee’s death, my sister Mimi, who had also seen Dr. Goodman during her conflicted teenage years, had urged me to seek his help. God bless, Mimi. Dr. Goodman, who was a saint, had been instrumental in helping me overcome my grief. When I got back from Paris, after scattering Allee’s ashes in the Tuileries Gardens, my pain morphed into anger. Or should I say rage. I was so fucking mad that Allee had been taken from me at such a young age. Mad enough to want to take someone down. My temper was never one of my strong points to begin with.
“Ryan, your rage is normal,” Dr. Goodman explained. “Especially when people you love die so young.”
She wasn’t even twenty-five when I lost her. It was unfair. So goddamn unfair that someone as young, beautiful, and talented as my beloved Allee could be denied the potential of her life. Dr. Goodman worked with me patiently, letting me express my feelings of pain, guilt, remorse, denial, and fear. There were times when I thought she might come back, and others when I hated myself for not being able to save her.
He was now working on getting me to accept Allee’s death and to move forward. To rebuild my life and feel again. Trust me, feeling nothing was worse than depression. Way fucking worse.
“Will I ever be able to love again?” I had asked him recently.
“Yes, Ryan, you will. Broken hearts mend.”
“But I don’t think I can ever get over Allee.”
Dr. Goodman quirked a smile. “That’s because love never dies. But you are capable of loving another. The mighty heart has a lot of room.”
Today, as I reclined on the couch that by now probably had a permanent imprint of my body, I thought about those words; I was feeling very conflicted. I began by telling him about my interview on Good Morning America.
He listened intently behind his large mahogany desk without interrupting. “It’s very understandable, Ryan, why you would not want to see the movie version of Undying Love. It will certainly dredge up sad memories and evoke great pain, and there’s also the possibility that it will not live up to your emotional or artistic expectations.”
I had to say, Dr. Goodman was brilliant. Without thinking twice, I told him about my previous night’s masturbation experience. That I had imagined another woman jerking me off.
With a smile, Dr. Goodman nodded. “Ryan, that’s good. Progress. Tell me more about her.”
Without mentioning her name, I simply told him that it was some girl who worked at a restaurant. “She made me a killer sandwich.”
Dr. Goodman chuckled. “Any woman who knows how to make a good sandwich scores points in my book. Ryan Madewell, I want you to ask her out.”
It was an order. A firm order. That made two…Duffy and the Doc. Okay, I was going to ask Willow out. I just didn’t know when and how I was going to do it.
On the way home, I made a quick stop at a drug store and picked up a box of condoms.