“Well, you have my cell number. You can always call me, if things get tough. And you can always leave the dormitory, if it's too uncomfortable for you. You and Peter can agree to go there in shifts.” Paris hadn't thought of that, and she liked that as a fallback position if it was too awkward being there with him.
“How bad can it get?” Paris asked her hesitantly, trying to sound braver than she felt.
“That depends on you,” Anne said quietly, and for the first time, Paris realized that was true. “You have every right to walk away, if you want to. Or to not even go out there. I'm sure Wim would understand, if you don't think you can handle it. He doesn't want you to be unhappy either.” And she had been very, very unhappy, and he knew it, ever since Peter left.
“Maybe I'll look at houses while I'm there,” Paris said thoughtfully.
“That might be fun for you,” Anne said, encouraging her. Paris hadn't made any decision yet about moving west. It was just something they talked about from time to time, but she still thought she wanted to stay in Greenwich. It was familiar, and she felt safer there. She wasn't ready to make any drastic moves. But it was yet another option that she had. She hadn't solved the job issue yet either. And for lack of a better idea, she had signed up for volunteer work at a children's shelter in September. It was a start. It was all a process, a journey, rather than a destination, at this point. And for now, Paris still had no idea where she was going, or where she would land. Peter had tossed her out of the plane without a parachute three months before, and given everything that had happened, Anne told her that she thought she was doing well. She was getting up in the morning, combing her hair, getting dressed, seeing her two best friends for lunch occasionally, and she was bracing herself for Wim to leave for college. It was all she could manage for now.
He was leaving in three days, and Paris was going with him, the last time she saw Anne before the trip. She was braced to see Peter, and she kept telling herself she could handle it. And after she dropped Wim off at school, she was going to L.A. to see Meg. It was something to look forward to, and as she left Anne's office, Paris turned to look at her with a worried expression.
“Am I going to make it?” she asked, feeling like a frightened child, and the doctor smiled.
“You're doing fine. Call if you need me,” Anne reminded her again, and Paris nodded, and hurried down the stairs, as she left, reminding herself over and over again of what the doctor had said to her … you're doing fine… you're doing fine. The words echoed in her head. All she could do now was keep on going, and do the best she could, and hope she landed on her feet one day. It was the only choice Peter had left her when he threw her out of the plane. And one day, maybe, if she was very lucky, and the fates were smiling on her, her parachute would open finally. She wasn't even sure yet if she was wearing one, and all she could do was pray she was. But there was no sign of a parachute yet. The wind was still whistling past her head at a terrifying rate.
The flight took just over five hours, and they took a cab to the Ritz-Carlton, where Paris had reserved two rooms, for Wim and herself. And she took Wim out to dinner in Chinatown that night. They had a nice time together, as they always did, and when they got back to the hotel, they called Meg. Paris was flying down to see her in two days, after she got Wim settled in his dorm. She assumed it would take two days, and she was in no rush to leave him there. What she really dreaded now was going home.
