Page 55 of Endless Love

TWENTY-FIVE

Ryan

I’d been to Los Angeles several times before, but it was a whole different experience with Willow. Getting my meetings with the producer and director of Undying Love out of the way, I was able to spend the rest of my time with her. The Malibu Beach Inn, where we were staying and where Duffy and Sam were getting married Saturday evening, couldn’t have been more idyllic. Our luxurious suite overlooked the Pacific, and we woke up and went to sleep to the sound of crashing waves. Rather than sightseeing, we spent lazy hours in bed making love and took long romantic walks on the sandy beach. The warm, sunny weather was a welcomed reprieve from the cold gloom that had befallen us back home. In the late afternoons, Willow took a long nap, and I just sat there staring at her, both bewildered and beholden that this beautiful angel had come into my life. Like a butterfly in winter. And it was during these times that I took out my notebook and jotted down my thoughts. Random words. I wasn’t sure if they’d amount to anything, but it felt fucking good to be writing again.

The three days leading to Duffy’s wedding went by quickly. At six o’clock on Saturday, we joined a small crowd on the beach to watch Duffy and Sam exchange their vows. Barefoot and in a suit as the wedding was far from formal, I sat next to Willow, holding her hand. She looked ethereal, almost like a bride herself, in a flowy ivory dress and a band of daisies circling her head. Her wild red hair hung loose, cascading over her shoulders.

Marching down steps that led to the beach, the procession began as a hippyish guitar-playing duo performed “Sea of Love.”… Do you remember when we met? That’s the day… On which I married Allee in Central Park. The memory hit me like a grenade. Pieces of shrapnel ripped through me, tearing me apart. Then, as Sam appeared on the landing with her father, the music changed. The guitarists began singing a song that totally undid me. “Endless Love.” The beautiful face of my first love, with her jet-black hair and those expressive dark eyes, filled my head. She was every breath I took, every step I made. As we said our vows in Central Park, our lives had just begun, and just when we had it all, everything was taken away from us. As Duffy took his beautiful pregnant bride into his arms, nausea rose in my chest like a hot air balloon. My hands grew cold and clammy.

“Ryan, are you all right?” whispered Willow, turning to me.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” Choking out the words, I leaped to my feet and ran toward the ocean. I didn’t think Duffy or Sam saw me flee because they were both facing the reverend, about to exchange their vows.

I kept running and running and running. My feet sinking into the sand, the gentle waves brushing over my feet, the sounds of the ocean filling my ears, propelling me forward. The sun began to set; pink streaks lit the sky as it turned gray; and not before I long, the sky was pitch black lit up only by a full moon and a bevy of stars. The white crested waves glimmered in the darkness. I’d lost sense of time. I didn’t know how long I’d run or how many miles I’d gone. It felt like a marathon. Breathing heavily, I stopped in my tracks, bending over to catch my breath. As I did, the ugly reality of what I’d done hit me like a giant wave crashing against a rock. I’d deserted my new girlfriend with no explanation and missed my best bud’s wedding. A mixture of guilt and self-loathing pounded me. I felt sick to my stomach. Would they ever forgive me?

Conscious of time, I jogged back to the hotel, too emotionally and physically worn out to run any faster. It took me close to three hours. By my calculations, it must have been close to midnight. The wedding was over, the beach deserted. Staggering into the hotel, I passed some late-night partiers at the bar; neither Willow nor Duffy was among them. Desperately needing a drink, I didn’t stop. In a panic, I sprinted to our suite wondering—what was I going to tell Willow? That I’m too fucked up and you shouldn’t be with me? Or maybe she’d throw those words at me first. If she wanted to break up with me, I couldn’t blame her. A thousand knives stabbed at my heart. Was I about to lose the next best thing that had come into my life?

My breathing labored, I dug out my keycard from my breast pocket and unlocked the door. As I stepped inside, my heart almost stopped. There she was on the couch, one long leg crossed over the other.

“Allee!” I gasped. “What are you doing here?”

She folded her arms across her chest, looking not too pleased to see me.

“I’m always here, Madewell. I just don’t always manifest myself. I hide in a corner of your heart. I like it there; it’s my happy place.”

“Why can’t I always see you?”

“Only certain things make me appear. To be present. They played our song at the reception.”

“I Won’t Give Up?”

“Yeah. It’s my favorite. I keep it on replay.”

I, in contrast, never played it. I couldn’t. It held too many sad memories for me.

“Madewell, why did you ditch Willow?”

“Allee, I fell apart watching Duffy take Sam into his arms. I couldn’t breathe.”

“You seem to be breathing just fine.” Her voice dripped with her signature sarcasm.

“You don’t understand. It was a trigger.” Dr. Goodman had taught me that word.

“I get it. You regressed, but you gotta let go. You can never take me in your arms again.”

My chest tightened and I felt weighted down by my two-ton heart. Allee was right. She was always right.

“Listen, Madewell, the A-For-Allee Plan didn’t work.”

It sure as fuck didn’t. It was an epic fail. A tragedy.

“It’s time for Plan B.”

“Plan B?”

“Plan B as in B-E…Be. It’s time to exist, Madewell. To live your life. Life isn’t going to be here forever. Trust me, that’s the one thing I know for sure.”

My heart stuttered. I knew that too. Too damn well.

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