37. Leo

37

LEO

I’m not worthy.

As I turn the card over, staring at the bright blue, red, and yellow of the comic book couple, I know with a cold, stark certainty that I’m definitely not worthy of her.

But so what?

The woman wants me.

The woman loves me.

And I’d be a fool to throw this away.

I’d be an absolute idiot to take any longer to process anything at all in the world.

What kind of man walks away from this kind of love?

A stupid one.

I might be stubborn, I might be tortured now and then, and I am definitely, absolutely pigheaded.

But stupid? I am not.

I fold the card, tuck it into my wallet, and vow to keep it with me always. I don’t know what to say to her, and I still don’t know that I completely feel like this is okay. But at least I don’t feel that guilt. At least now I’m free of that.

I grab my phone and call Lulu.

It goes straight to voice mail.

I do it again.

Same response.

I flop down on the couch, read the note again, letting her words fill me with champagne happiness. Because that’s what this is.

The trouble is, I don’t want to sit here. I need to keep busy while I wait for her to call back. But I don’t want to run, or hit baseballs, or work on furniture.

I have business to tend to. Personal business. There’s someone I need to apologize to.

I find Vivian’s number and call her. She answers immediately, and I ask if I can come see her. She tells me I’m always welcome at her home.

Maybe I always will be, and perhaps that’s simply a good thing, not a thing to feel guilty about. In fact, it’s a great thing that I forged a friendship worthy of admiration and respect from a mother.

I pat my pockets to make sure I have my phone, keys, and wallet, when my gaze catches on that photograph of Tripp and me. I stare at it, seeing it in a new light, remembering that night.

Mesmerized, I step closer, like I’ve turned a flashlight on the faded edges of my memory.

That wasn’t just some night at his restaurant.

That was the night he opened it.

And I’d completely forgotten how special that night was to someone—someone who’s still here.

I grab the picture frame and catch a Lyft across town.

Vivian clutches the photo to her chest. “This I will cherish. This is something I wanted so badly. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“No. It’s the most. I think of that night fondly. He was the happiest he’d ever been. That’s my memory. That’s what I choose to hold on to. Not the other stuff. Not the terrible things. But this night.” She taps the glass for emphasis.

“How did you get there?”

“Get where?”

“To this place. To your clarity. To embracing only the good.”

She laughs, the wise kind of laugh only a woman who’s been through hell can have. “Sit. I’ll make some tea.” She stage-whispers, “Tea’s the only acceptable drink for a serious conversation.”

She makes some, then we sit and drink and talk about funny moments, the little jokes, the times we all laughed over the years. We debate hellions and hell-raisers, and we decide Tripp was simply both.

It’s cathartic—a catharsis I needed.

“Vivian, I wanted to apologize.”

“Whatever for?”

“For yesterday. For the way the news all came out.”

She waves a hand, seeming to make it all go away. “Please.”

“No, I mean it. I didn’t want any of it to come out that way, and I’m sorry you had to walk into that mess.”

“Don’t think twice about it.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You know you can.”

“What did you think when you heard I was with Lulu?”

She smiles faintly. “I was shocked at first, but then I wasn’t. I always liked her. I always liked you. The two of you liked Tripp. You all had so much in common, and I suppose it’s not a surprise that you’d wind up together. Maybe it was inevitable. Some people are simply drawn to each other. They’re magnets, and they can’t stay away.” She takes a drink of her tea. “You and Lulu are magnets. How is it going?”

I wince. “That’s the thing. It’s not going right now. She told me to figure out my stuff.”

“Ouch.”

“I deserved it. I’ve been tangled up in guilt.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Do you really think Tripp wouldn’t want you to be happy?”

“I don’t know.”

She stares sharply at me, her ice-blue eyes challenging. “Think, Leo, think.”

“I’ve been thinking. It’s all I’ve been doing. And every time I think about it, I keep looking for permission.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

I laugh wryly. “Not so well.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“What do I do now? I’m waiting for Lulu to call me back, but I don’t even know what to say. What do I say to prove I’m not reluctant?”

“Do you want to be with her, no questions asked?”

“I love her so much it hurts. I love her so much it feels incredible. I love her so much, I don’t want to give her up. I love her so much, I would give her up if I had to. But I don’t want to. All I want is to move forward the way she wants. I want to be okay moving forward.”

Her brow furrows, as if she’s considering all I’ve said. “Did you come to me for permission? Like I’m a proxy for him?”

“No.” But maybe in some way I did. “Maybe?”

“Look at me.”

I meet her eyes.

“I’m not going to give it to you. Because you’re not going to find that, and somehow you’re going to have to be okay with it. Because you know what? I’m not the one to give you permission, and he’s not either.” She taps my heart. “This is where it comes from.”

The earth stops on its axis. The oceans cease churning. In that moment, I realize how completely wrong I’ve been. I’ve been looking for permission in the wrong place.

It exists in only one place, and that’s inside of me.

I have to give it to myself.

I say goodbye to Vivian, thanking her profusely. I walk across Central Park, remembering the laughter, the friendship, the needling, the teasing, the calls to go out and celebrate, the calls to go to sporting events, the calls to go help each other move a piece of furniture, test out a recipe, anything, everything.

And then the last call. The night we went to The Red Door, the hottest eatery in town.

He can’t call me anymore and tell me that everything is cool and to just go for it with the woman of my dreams.

And finally, I don’t want that anymore. I don’t need it any longer. Because I’m giving it to myself.

I’m the only one who can decide to love Lulu the way she deserves. With my whole heart. I’m the only one who can go forward gladly, exuberantly, without a shred of reluctance.

Life is full of choices, and I’m making this choice.

It’s exhilarating.

Tonight, I say goodbye to guilt.

I shout see you later to any last doubts.

I call out I’m done to the past.

The choice is now, and it’s high time to embrace the present and make room for the future—an absolutely fantastic future with the woman I adore.

The woman who’s somehow wonderfully, fantastically mine.

Well, as long as I don’t fuck things up anymore.

Shoot.

I need to fix things, stat.

That’s when I start running.

There’s not a moment to waste.

I run out of the park, down Fifth Avenue toward my home, dialing and dialing, reaching voice mail every time.

But voice mail won’t win.

I’m a resourceful man. I strike business deals for a living. I know how to work my way around a problem.

I call her best friend, and he answers.