Dirty Letters

Doc was seriously nuts. He’d parked the RV at his house and basically told me it was ready to go anytime I decided to take him up on his offer to drive us to California. The damn thing was bigger than his actual residence.

He would have taken off with me the day he’d first brought it to my house if I’d agreed. I told him I really needed some time to think about it.

A part of me wanted to take him up on his crazy idea, but actually moving forward would mean having to face the potential of finding something out I really didn’t want to know. Griffin was hiding something. That I was certain of. The realization hurt. His most recent letter had asked me to have blind faith in him, but how could you do that when someone has given you every reason to suspect something is awry? A battle was waging inside me as to how to handle things moving forward.

A knock at the door startled me. I knew it was Doc, but I was nowhere near ready to go to wherever he was threatening to take me tonight.

I opened the door. Doc was wearing a suit. Oh no.

“You haven’t gotten dressed yet?” he asked.

“No. Because you won’t tell me where we’re going.”

“Luca . . . that’s the point. I promise it won’t be anything you can’t handle.”

A couple of hours later, having donned my fanciest black dress, I shivered in Doc’s car as we drove along.

He glanced over at me. “You look splendid.”

“Thank you. Now, will you tell me where we’re going, please?”

“We’ll be there soon enough.”

We ended up pulling up in front of an old brick building. Outside, the sign read: VERMONT AUDUBON SOCIETY.

“You’re taking me to meet a bunch of your bird nerds?”

“It’s the annual gala. It’s packed full of people and the perfect opportunity to practice your panic skills. Don’t worry. It’s out back in the courtyard, not inside.”

I sunk down into my seat. “I still can’t handle that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You can do anything you put your mind to or, in this case, don’t put your mind to. Keep your mind out of it and go with the flow, moment by moment. Sit there and experience all the feelings of panic without fleeing.”

I wanted to flee this car, never mind the gala. “I can’t.”

“You can. True freedom awaits if you can just learn to sit through the feelings without escaping. Once panic subsides, you’ll realize there was never anything to fear at all. Have you learned nothing from our studies of Dr. Claire Weekes’s teachings?”

My tone was abrasive. “Why are you doing this tonight?”

“Because, Luca, it’s time. Your life is passing you by. We need to get you to a point where you can be functional around people again. That means being able to handle being around them.”

When I said nothing, he continued.

“I’ll tell you what . . . if you can just get through fifteen minutes at the gala, we can leave. I won’t bother you for the rest of the night. Then I’ll take you right home.”

Letting out a shaky breath, I said, “I don’t know . . .”

“If you won’t do it for me, do it for your Griffin.”

My Griffin.

I thought a lot about what that statement really meant—doing it for Griffin.

I thought about the many miles between us.

I thought about the lifestyle he must live as a single man in California, how different it must be from mine.

If I truly ever wanted a chance to meet him, I had to at least try to face my fears. I suppose if I made a fool of myself in front of a bunch of bird people, that would be better than doing it in front of Griff.

I surrendered and began to exit the car. “Fifteen minutes.”

A wave of nausea hit me upon joining the crowd gathered in the society’s courtyard. The adrenaline immediately started pumping within me, and I was in full-fledged panic mode almost immediately. The sound of all these people talking mixed together into one loud, jumbled mess. The sky above seemed to be swaying.

When we got to a table, I sat down and trembled in my seat.

“You’re doing great, Luca.”

Doc started a conversation with the woman in the next seat over, leaving me to suffer in silence right next to him. Sweat permeated my body as the torturous minutes passed while I gripped the linen tablecloth.

Do it for Griffin, I kept telling myself.

At one point, something interesting happened. The dizzying hot flashes of panic seemed to dissipate after they had gotten to the worst point. My heart rate slowed. Relief washed over me. I wanted to cry because it felt like I’d survived a near-death experience. I didn’t recall this ever happening before because I typically never stuck anything out long enough to really see it through to the end.

Before I knew it, Doc announced, “Time is up, Luca. How are you feeling?”

“Still alive. Can we leave now? I feel a bit exhausted from this.”

“You did a good job. I’m very proud of you. We can absolutely leave.”

Once we returned to his car, I broke down, and tears started to fall. It was the first time I’d cried since reading the letter about Griffin’s mom passing. It seemed that once I’d allowed the floodgates to open, tears were going to be a regular thing for me. Great. Just great.

He was shocked. “You’re crying . . .”

“This is only the second time I’ve cried in a very long time.”

“I know. It’s not because of what happened in there, is it?”

“No. It’s because I’m . . . scared.”

“Okay . . . tell me why.”

“It’s Griffin. His last letter. He basically implied that there is some reason why he hasn’t wanted to take things further with me. He asked me to have blind faith in him, that it’s the right decision to keep going as we are for now, without talking to or seeing each other. A part of me really wants to believe in him, and the other part of me is terrified that I’m going to get hurt.”

“You don’t think he’s married, do you?”

“No. I don’t think it’s anything like that. Griffin has always been very unforgiving toward cheaters. So that never even crossed my mind.”

“Are you thinking some other ominous thing is going on?”

I’d memorized the part of his last letter that had bothered me most. Sometimes when you follow your dreams, you realize they aren’t free, and the cost is far greater than you’d ever anticipated. “I’m not certain, but I think he may struggle financially. He’s mentioned before that his career hasn’t gone as planned. And then in his last letter, he said his dreams were far more costly than he’d thought. I don’t know if he means that literally or figuratively. But I don’t care if he lives a simple life or has gone through some tough times. I have money—between what my dad left me and the success of my books—and look how much it’s helped my personal life. Money and things don’t buy happiness—a beautiful heart is far more valuable than anything that can be bought.”

Doc smiled. “You’re very wise for a person of your age, Luca.”

“Nah. I just had a smart mom. She used to say, Money impresses the lazy girls. Smart girls are rich when they have something they can’t buy.”

“Wise mother, wise daughter.” He nodded. “So what are your plans, then? Will you broach the subject with Griffin and see if that changes his mind-set on taking the next step together?”

“I honestly have no idea what to do, Doc. None. A part of me wants to take you up on your offer to drive with me to California, show him that I don’t care if he lives in a one-room apartment or sings for tips outside the bus depot. But the other part of me feels like that would be a terrible violation of his trust.”

“I can tell you from personal experience that sometimes we men need a little push. I remember when I met my Geraldine. I was in medical school and on day eight of eating ramen noodles. My water bill was two months late, and I held my breath each evening when I turned on the faucet, hoping they wouldn’t turn off my water because I’d lose half the ingredients of my nightly meal. Geraldine had a job and always dressed so nicely. She worked at the library I frequented, and I had the biggest crush on her. But what was I going to do, ask her to split a bag of ramen noodles and skip eating on Friday the following week?”

“Did you wait until after you graduated to ask her out?”

Doc looked out the window for a moment, and I watched the fondness of the memory he recalled play out on his face. He shook his head. “My Geraldine was a straight shooter. One day she marched over to the table I was studying at and said, ‘Every night before you leave, you spend ten minutes hanging around my desk and talking. You are flirting with me, right?’ I said that I had indeed been flirting, or at least attempting to do so, and her response was to blurt out, ‘Well, why haven’t you asked me out yet?’” Doc chuckled. “She’d caught me so off guard, I didn’t have time to make up an excuse. So I told her the truth—that I’d like nothing more than to take her out, but I was too broke because my books and rent drained every last cent from my bank account.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. Not a damn word. She just walked away. I thought I’d blown it with her. But the next night when I showed up, I found a magazine on the desk I normally sat at. It was opened to an article titled ‘Fifty Dream First Dates That Are Free.’”

I laughed. “Did it work?”

“I ripped the pages from the magazine and took her on one of those fifty dates every single week for fifty consecutive weeks. By the time I got to the last one, I’d just graduated and secured my first job. I proposed on our fiftieth free date—inside a tent I’d made out of sheets in the backyard.”

“I love that story! How come you never shared it with me before?”

Doc shrugged. “Guess the right time just hadn’t come. Unlike now.”

I sighed. “I suppose we could take the trip to California and play it by ear. I mean, Griffin wouldn’t have to find out we were even there if I decided against letting him know who I am. We could go simply to uncover what we need to and then leave. He doesn’t know what I look like. But what about the whole blind-faith thing? I’d be violating his trust.”

“Well, my dear, you need to determine if you can be patient with him or if you need to know what’s really going on now. I do think a trip out west would be beneficial in more ways than one. It could not only satisfy your curiosity about Griffin but also serve as an excellent exposure exercise in tackling the unknowns of travel.”

My heart was racing. “So you’re thinking we should go to California . . .”

“I’m thinking that no harm can come from discovering the truth and venturing out of your comfort zone. I am a bit biased, as I’ve already mapped out some fantastic bird-watching locations on the way, but I digress. Don’t let that influence your decision. This needs to be your call.”

Later that evening, I was pacing in my living room.

“Give me a sign, Hortencia. I need to know the right thing to do here.”

Groink.

The truth was, I knew that the right answer for me was to take Doc up on his offer. When else in my life would I have access to an RV and a willing road-trip partner? But it might also be the wrong answer for moving things forward between Griff and me. Blind faith. That’s what he’d asked me for. I wouldn’t exactly be honoring his wishes if I found him working the front desk at a music studio and walked in pretending to be someone else. I’d be violating his trust. But at the same time, wouldn’t I be having blind faith in us? It felt like maybe he didn’t have blind faith in me—to trust that I’d like him for the person he was inside, regardless of whatever his issues were. Maybe I had to have enough faith for both of us? Sort of like Geraldine did with Doc. I wouldn’t be disrespecting his wishes; I’d be taking a leap of blind faith for two.

Oh my God.

I’m going to do it, aren’t I?

I looked over at Hortencia, who had been lying next to my desk. “What do you think, girl? Should I take a road trip?”

My faithful companion sat up and perked an ear.

“Should I go and take a blind leap of faith or not?”

Hortencia answered by running out of the room. For a second, I thought she was rushing to the front door—showing me that she was ready to go, too. But she came back a minute later. And laid her answer at my feet.

Mee-Mee. I hadn’t even realized that she’d swiped another Furby. But the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

I picked up the wet furry key chain and patted Hortencia on her head. “Okay . . . whatever you say. Road trip it is!”