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"Yes?"
"Your father watched from under the willow trees. He stood out there and saw the car come for her. I was standing by my window looking out at him. I could feel the pain in his heart. It was that palpable, even from some distance. Her car left the grounds, and he turned and walked off and didn't return to his office for hours."
That was Daddy... his precious walks."
"Yes, but I always admired him for his ability to lose so much and yet to rebound, to continue his great work, and to find purpose in life. You've got to do the same. Willow."
"Iwill." I promised.
"Good."
He kissed me goodbye. and I left the clinic after saying goodbye to Edith as well. I got into Daddy's car and drove away. imagining Daddy standing under the willow trees the day my mother left him forever and ever. She had left me, too, of course.
But I wasn't trapped the way Daddy was trapped. I wouldn't be left behind forever. I was suddenly very determined about that. The decision was made back in the clinic the moment I opened that folder.
I drove on.
.
I arrived back in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, early in the evening and went directly to my apartment. After I settled in. I called Allan.
"I'll be right over," he said the moment he heard my voice.
That filled my heart with joy. I needed him more than ever. He really did rush over, and in less than a quarter of an hour, he was at my door. The moment I opened it, he took me into his arms, and we kissed. He held me tightly, stroking my hair and telling me how much I had been in his thoughts. How I wished he had rushed over and held me like this before I had left.
"You poor kid." he said, leading me back into my small living room.
After my first year. I wanted to be on my own. Life in the dormitory was not terrible, but I wanted to be more serious about my studies than most of the girls around me. In so many ways, I felt older. I did think about finding a roommate to share the expenses. but I went ahead and found a decent two-bedroom apartment first, turning the second bedroom into a study for the time being. Maybe I was being too cautious. but I wanted a roommate who had the same strong focus that I had on a career for herself.
My seriousness about my career and education was one of the things Allan said drew me to him. He said we were so alike in our determination to make profitable use of our time and fulfill our ambitions. Other girls were fluff to him. He said their heads were full of cotton candy and they were as forgettable as a glass of club soda.
He pressed his forehead to mine and held my shoulders, something that always made me laugh.
Are you all right?"
"Yes," I said, but in a small voice, the voice I had when I was five or six.
We went to the sofa.
"Losing both your parents before you're twenty." He sighed. "That's got to be terrible, even for someone who was adopted." He sat beside me, holding my hand.
We hadn't been dating very long before I told him I was an adopted child. I didn't tell him my mother was a patient in my father's clinic and that I was born there. Up until now, I was afraid to face that myself and was afraid of what Allan would think of me if he knew.
I didn't even have to tell him I was an adopted child. Maybe it wasn't politically smart. but I have always tried to be as honest with people as I could be, avoiding half-truths and little white lies that when strung together usually created enough falsity to hang yourself. I blamed all that on Daddy or his nearly obsessive determination to face reality and to avoid illusions. He had an effective way of getting me to be like him in that respect. Usually, he would ask a simple question in a very calm voice,
"That's not what you saw, now, was it, Willow?" Or "That's not what really happened, was it?"
Who else but someone so steeped in reality he couldn't live with the smallest of fantasies would send the love of his life away, refusing to fool himself and her about their future prospects together, even if it would mean a little more time to be with each other?
"A great deal happened while I was home for this terribly sad event. Allan," I began.
"I bet," he said. "You have anything cold to drink?" he asked, half listening to me. "My throat feels like ten-day-old bread."
He jumped up, went into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. "I'm having a beer," he shouted back to me. "You want anything. Willow?"
"No."
He poured himself a glass and returned, smiling.
