Dirty Letters(20)

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.”