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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.”
