Page 86 of Endless Love

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 afraid 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.

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