Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Soon after that time, I’d also started to avoid crowded places, and over the years, my fears had only grown worse. Now at twenty-five, my list of phobias was long. The only good thing to come out of being an antisocial recluse was that it afforded me endless hours of solitude to write. My very first self-published novel ended up going viral a couple of years ago, and before I knew it, I had penned three bestselling thrillers under the pen name of Ryan Griffin and landed a deal with a major publishing house.
“Did you say his name is Griffin? Isn’t that your—”
“Yes. Ryan was the last name I used in my letters to him—it was my teacher’s last name. And the Griffin comes from that Griffin.”
He was intrigued. “That’s so interesting, Luca.” It had been a long time since I’d given Doc new material to ponder and analyze.
Around the time my books started doing well, I realized I wanted to take charge of not just my career but my life. That was when I’d found Dr. Maxwell, who was semiretired and the only shrink in Vermont who made house calls for the agoraphobic. What I didn’t know at the time was that Doc was even more peculiar than I was—which of course meant he eventually became my new best friend. Totally odd patient-client relationship, I know, but it worked for us. It helped that my tree-lined property was a bird lover’s haven.
“When was the last time before this that Griffin wrote to you?” he asked.
“He wrote a few times that first year after I stopped responding before he finally gave up on getting another letter from me. I was just numb back then. And by the time I realized what I’d done—that I’d sabotaged one of the most precious things in my life—I was too ashamed to write him back.” I sighed and admitted the painful truth. “In many ways, losing Griffin was my self-punishment for surviving the fire.”
He stared off for a bit to absorb everything. “Well, your pen name is certainly evidence that you’ve clung to Griffin in some capacity.”
“Absolutely. I’ve never forgotten him. I just didn’t think I’d ever hear from him again. I’m shocked. I can’t even blame him for having an attitude, though. In his eyes, I deserved it. He doesn’t know what really happened.”
“What’s to stop you from explaining now? Writing him back would surely be therapeutic and long overdue.”
“He hates me, Doc.”
“He doesn’t hate you. He wouldn’t have written to you all these years later if he did. Clearly, you’re still on his mind. He might be angry. But you don’t let anger get to you like that unless on some level you care.”
I knew Griffin had cared about me at one time. I’d cared about him deeply, too. Stopping our communication was probably one of my biggest regrets in life. Well, aside from offering to get the sodas at the concert.
As I recalled some of my memories of Griffin, I managed a chuckle. “He was so funny. I always felt like I could tell him anything. But the weird thing is, while he didn’t know my identity and vice versa, he probably knew the real me better than anyone at that time. Well, he knew the person I was.”
“You’re still her, Luca. Just a bit more . . .” He hesitated.
“Extra?”
“No.”
“Nuts?”
“I was going to say vulnerable.”
Doc turned his attention to a bird that had landed on the bench across from us. He immediately brought the binoculars to his eyes. “A northern cardinal!” He turned to me. “Do you know what they say about cardinals?”
“What?”
“They’re messengers from our loved ones who have passed. Perhaps you might want to ponder what our little red friend might be trying to tell you at this very moment, Luca.”
We stayed in New York for five days before the long ride back to Vermont.
Walking into my precious house—my safe haven—after being away for so long brought me a great deal of comfort.
I’d picked up my pet pig, Hortencia, from a local farmer who agreed to watch her. How does a homebound girl end up with a pet pig, you ask? Well, a couple of years ago, there was a fire at a farm down the road from my house. When I’d heard about some of the animals dying, naturally it triggered me. Doc thought it would be a good exposure exercise to visit the site of the blaze. When I had, I learned that not all the animals had died. Some of them were still there, housed in a temporary barn. When I looked into my pig’s eyes, I basically saw myself: a sad, lonely being. She’d probably lost her best friend, too. So I did what any person who’d found her soul mate would do: I took her home. Ever since, she’d been like my child, definitely spoiled. Since I never planned to have kids, I figured I could get away with treating her as such.