Love Love (31 page)

I’ve been thinking about what Brad
said to me that night in Central Park, about going back to school,
which is why I’m on my way to Parsons The New School for Design on
Fifth Avenue to get some brochures and meet with the program
director. I did some research online and apparently they do have a
terrific Master of Fine Arts program.

When I arrive, I’m met at
the front desk by a very professional looking girl wearing a brown
pencil skirt, cream silk blouse, and what appear to be black Jimmy
Choo heels. Her blonde hair is pulled up in a perfect ponytail and
her diamond studs are a fabulous complement. Seems appropriate,
after all, this is a design school. I’m feeling seriously
underdressed in my blue blouse, skinny jeans, and blue Converse
sneakers. At least I’m color-coordinated. I take a seat and pick up
a magazine called
Spaces
until my name is called.

All of about two minutes later;
“Gabrielle Willis.”

“
Yes, that’s
me.”

“
Hello, Gabrielle. I’m
Edith Hanley. Come on in.”

Making my way to her office, I trip on
the hardwood floor and hear a girlish laugh from the reception
desk. There’s absolutely nothing on the ground; I tripped over my
own sneaker. What a lovely first impression.

I take a seat in one of two velvet
wingback chairs that face a large glass window overlooking Fifth
Avenue.

Edith takes a seat in a chair opposite
me, crossing her legs and propping her notebook on her lap. Her
features are sharp; she has short, cropped red hair and big blue
eyes surrounded by a pair of black designer glasses. She’s wearing
a black tailored suit with a crisp white shirt. Her outfit screams
serious, but her smile is welcoming. “So, what brings you here,
Gabrielle?”

“
Well, I’m interested in
learning more about the Master of Fine Arts program. I currently
work at Landon & Castell as an assistant and I have my
Bachelor’s in Interior Design from UC Berkeley.”

“
That’s fabulous! Then you
have a bit of a head start. We have a very comprehensive program
with both seminar and studio classes, as well as the opportunity
for work outside of the classroom.”

“
That sounds great.” I’m
pretty excited. It feels good to be here, and I finally feel like
it’s the right time for me to do this. I can probably complete the
program on a part-time basis in two years.

“
I’d like to give you some
brochures and additional paperwork for you to review. Also, we’re
having a program information night next Wednesday at six if you’re
interested.”

“
Thank you, Edith, I
appreciate it.”

She gives me a big smile with those
huge blue eyes and pats my hand. “Here’s my business card. Just
give me a call and let me know if you have any additional
questions.”

“
Terrific. It was great
meeting you.” I shake her hand. “Thanks again.” I make my way out
of the building, taking my two clumsy feet with me. Once I’m
outside, I lean against the glass, look up at the sky, and
smile.

Fran and I are having a girls’ night
tonight. With Brad out of town, Fran’s taking a break from Kyle and
spending some time with me. I stop at the corner store on the way
home to pick up a giant bag of Swedish Fish and a box of those
Devil Dogs Fran loves so much. I’m excited to spend some quality
time with Fran. She’s been with Kyle so much lately, and now with
Brad and I spending all this time together, we’re like ships
passing in the night.

I browse through the narrow aisles to
see if they have any Twizzlers and pick up some orange
juice.

“
Clark, put that back, we
need to get going.”

Immediately, I twist my body to the
voice. A frazzled woman is speaking to a little boy with dark hair
and wide blue eyes, his little fingers clutching a Hershey’s Bar.
Closing my eyes, I draw in a deep breath. Our little boy might have
looked just like him. I could really use that Hershey’s Bar right
about now.

I walk back to our apartment,
devouring the entire Hershey’s Bar along the way. By the time I get
to our door, I’ve got a wicked stomachache. I open the door,
excited to share my goodies, but am completely unprepared for what
I see. Fran is sitting on the sofa, her mascara-smeared eyes
riveted to what appears to be a spot on the carpet. I call her
name, but she doesn't respond.

“
Fran, what’s going on?
What happened?” She still doesn’t look at me. If I didn’t know
better, I’d think she was in a catatonic state. I shake her
shoulders until she looks over at me, fresh tears forming in the
green of her eyes.

With a shaky voice, she exhales.
“My-my mom called me. She…told…tol-told me that my dad committed
suicide yesterday.”

Dear God. I pull her to me and hug her
tightly. Holding on to her, I feel the overwhelming grief over the
loss of a father she never even knew, who had no interest in
knowing her, only hurting her. The problem is, your father is still
your father.

After several minutes, I
force her green eyes to meet mine. “I’m so sorry, Fran. But listen
to me. This
isn't
your fault. You didn't push him to this. He had severe issues
and...”

Fran stops me mid-sentence. "I'm not
crying because I blame myself, Gabby. I'm crying because I'm
relieved that he can never hurt me again. I'm fucking relieved
because he's dead. My own father. Isn't that sick?”

The tears start, and they don’t stop.
I’m crying, too; for her, for her mom, even for her dad, who made
his own decision. We sit together for what feels like hours, until
Fran’s tears subside. I lift her chin and look into those beautiful
green eyes. “Fran, your father hurt you in horrible, unthinkable
ways. He was never a real father to you. We’re brought into this
world helpless and innocent, with nothing but love and trust for
our parents. Your father took that away from you, and took
advantage of that love. He didn’t deserve your love. So, no, you’re
not sick.”

She lets out a long, cleansing sigh.
“I love you, Gabby.”

“
I love you, too,
Fran.”

Fran and I didn’t watch movies tonight
or eat junk food. But we did have our girls’ night. Two girls who
care about each other more than life, shut out the world and
cocooned themselves with the strength and love of one
another.

When Fran’s finally asleep in my bed,
I slip out to get a drink. My heart feels so weighted. She didn’t
deserve to have such a shitty father.

I take a seat on the sofa,
curl up under a blanket and grab my book, feeling the need to get
lost, even for just a little while. Concentrating on the book isn’t
even an option. I can’t stop thinking about Fran’s dad, about
Clark, and about the source of disappointment I am to
my
parents. That’s when
the tears start to fall. It’s then that I hear my phone buzz. It’s
Brad.

“
Hi, baby.” The sound of
his voice soothes me.

My shoulders slump down. “I’m so glad
you called.”

“
What’s wrong? You sound
like you’re crying?” He’s immediately concerned. He really cares
about me.

“
It’s Fran.”

“
What about Fran?” His
sincerity warms my heart.

I pull the blanket high up to my
chest, as if it can shield me from the nightmares of the world.
“She found out today that her dad committed suicide.” It feels so
good to let it out and tell Brad.

“
God, Gabby. How is
she?”

“
She’s sleeping now, but
it’s been a rough night.”

“
Do you want me to come
home?”

I want to say yes, but I know he’ll be
home tomorrow. “No, it’s okay.”

“
Will you tell Fran that
I’m thinking about her?”

“
Of course.”

“
You okay,
baby?”

I’ll be much better when you come
home. “Yeah. I just feel so bad for Fran, you know? She didn’t
deserve any of this.”

“
I know.”

“
How are your meetings
going?” I ask, desperate for a change of subject.

“
Good, except I miss
you.”

“
I miss you, too. Oh, I
have some good news, though. I went to Parsons The New School for
Design today to talk about their master’s program.”

“
That’s great! How did it
go?” His enthusiasm gives me so much self-confidence.

“
Really well. It’s given me
a lot to think about. They actually have an information night next
Wednesday, and I might go.”

“
Well, if you want some
company, I’d love to come along. Remember how much you love my
apartment? I do have a knack for design, after all.” I hear the
smile in his voice and it makes me smile, too.

“
I’d like that.”

“
So I’ll see you tomorrow,
okay?”

“
Okay. Hey,
Brad?”

“
Yeah?”

“
I’ve been feeling really
bad about some of the things my mom said to you at dinner the other
day.”

“
Don’t feel bad. You’re not
responsible for your mom. You’re completely separate from her. In
fact, I think she’s actually from another planet.”

His dig makes me giggle, but does
nothing to ease my guilt. “She was just so freaking
condescending.”

“
Baby, I’ve heard a lot
worse. Anyway, it’s just life, right?”

Clark bumped my shoulder
and shrugged his. “It’s just life, right?”

All the blood drains from my body and
I go silent.

“
Gabby?”

Nothing.

“
Gabby? You still
there?”

“
Yeah?”

“
Dream of me,
okay.”

“
Okay.
Goodnight.”

My face feels wet and my nose is
dripping. Running to the bathroom, I splash cold water over my
face. My heart is beating fiercely and I can't control my
breathing. Bending over the sink, I lean down on my knees. It feels
like I’m choking. There’s a lump in my throat and I’m struggling
for air. Breathe, Gabby, breathe. I exhale a harsh breath. Jesus.
It’s been well over three years, but I still see his face, feel his
presence, and yearn for him like it was yesterday. Brad’s words.
Clark’s words. This has to be a sign. I was supposed to be with
Clark. He was my happily ever after. But damnit, he’s dead and I'm
very much alive. I’m supposed to feel dead inside, but I’m starting
to feel life. I just can’t.

I’m getting too close. I can’t do
this. I’ll end up losing him, just like I’ve lost everyone else. I
look down at my courage bracelet and watch a single teardrop
fall.

***

The
sun wakes me up the next morning, and for the first time in a while
I’m not smiling. My eyes are puffy and my body feels stiff. I can
barely drag myself out of bed. There’s nothing to look forward to
today. My insides are twisting at the thought of what I need to do.
I just hope I’m strong enough to do it.

I’m on my way to Brad’s apartment,
pushing through the millions of bodies in the subway. I see no
faces. Everything is blank. Just how I feel.