Page 109 of Back to Willow

“I see you,” I admit. “But you aren’t seeing me. I don’t expect anyone else to understand, but to me, there’s no one else. My heart only has space for Willow. I’m sorry.” Not answering, she searches my eyes for something. Maybe to gauge if I’m telling the truth. When she finally seems pleased with my answer, she nods, and I add, “Please, call someone; otherwise, I’ll worry about you.”

She repeats the movement, sliding her key into the lock of the building before mumbling a “Sorry.”

“Goodnight,” I tell her, right before the door closes with her disappearing behind it.

With the lone company of my thoughts, I go back home, eager for some rest that never comes as I think about tonight’s events. Being drunk and alone was such a reckless move for Johanna, but I also get that she’s hurting.

How many times have I drank myself into a stupor while wallowing in my sorrows?

Way too many times.

The difference is that I don’t automatically turn into a target when hammered drunk. She was lucky I was the one who found her tonight…other women aren’t that lucky.

And that thought automatically brings me to one person. Willow.

Even though the scenarios and circumstances were really different, tonight, I was there to help Johanna. But Willow, she had no one.

All of the hurt and betrayal I once felt for her are now entirely replaced by guilt and respect. Because this woman, that truly, I never stopped caring about, still managed to go on and rebuild her life. Completely by herself.

THIRTY-FOUR

Willow

Decemberisfinallyhere,and with it, proper cold, too.

It doesn’t snow here, since we are so close to the ocean. But it’s humid and windy—not that nice either. And the rain. Ugh, it’s been raining almost nonstop for the past week.

Thank god it’s Friday. That way, I can spend the weekend cuddling with Dylan if it keeps raining. We can make movie days out of it. Warm sofa, blankets, hot cocoa, popcorn, and movies are my favourites.

Since Nana just left to go on a weekend trip to southern Spain—where the temperature is more welcoming at this moment—with some of her friends, I decided to do a few extra hours during the week so I could have the weekend off. I am thankful that Shilah is this flexible; I guess she understands me a lot.

Hannah was young when they opened the place, and she always complains about the time they lost. She told me it went as bad as Hannah not recognizing her as a mother, and that is one of my biggest fears.

The fact that Dylan is very mature for his age and understanding helps me so much more, but nothing beats the ecstatic glow in his eyes this morning when I told him it would be just us for the weekend.

It’s well into the afternoon as I drive home from picking Dylan up from school. Just as I park, my phone rings, with Shilah’s name shining in the middle of the screen.

“Hey!” I put her on speaker as I put everything inside my backpack. “Everything alright?”

“Sweety,” she calls with a frantic voice, making me still. “I—Hannah is in the hospital, I—I need to go check up on her, but my husband can’t take care of the diner by himself.”

“I’ll go. I don’t have anyone to leave Dylan with, though. I’ll just have to bring him with me again,” I say sheepishly.

“Of course, darling. I am so, so sorry for this, but I—”

“No, no. Don’t worry…just go. I’ll be fifteen minutes, tops.”

Turning around, I look at a curious Dylan.

“Em, baby. Do you remember Shilah from Mummy’s work?” I ask, and he nods. “She had an emergency, and I need to go to work. You’re coming with me. Is that alright?”

He pouts slightly but nods without complaining, and I sigh in relief.

When I get to work, Shilah rushes out with a frantic wave, and I place Dylan in a little booth close to the counter and away from the exit so I can keep eyes on him while walking around. Xico is on edge, but with the amount of food he has to send out, I bet it will keep his mind off of it.

Until dinner time, the diner isn’t too busy. I can balance between taking people’s orders, serving them, and wrapping up, and then giving Dylan some attention. He mostly draws at first but then remembers some exercises he was given by the teacher. I pop in once in a while and help him with whichever question he might have.

Then, around seven in the evening, just as I am wrapping up a couple’s check, the bell chimes. The sound diverts my attention to the entrance, showing me no other than my professor walking in.

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