CHAPTER 22
Date: 2015-10-07; view: 606.
Phil Cavilleri was in the solarium, smoking his nth cigarette, when Iappeared. "Phil?" I said softly. "Yeah?" He looked up and I think he already knew. He obviously neededsome kind of physical comforting. I walked over and placed my hand on hisshoulder. I was afraid he might cry. I was pretty sure I wouldn't. Couldn't.I mean, I was past all that. He put his hand on mine. "I wish," he muttered, "I wished I hadn't He paused there, and Iwaited. What was the hurry, after all? "I wish I hadn't promised Jenny to be strong for you. And, to honor hispledge, he patted my hand very gently. But I had to be alone. To breathe air. To take a walk, maybe. Downstairs, the hospital lobby was absolutely still. All I could hearwas the click of my own heels on the linoleum. ''Oliver. I stopped. It was my father. Except for the woman at the reception desk we wereall by ourselves there. In fact, we were among the few people in New Yorkawake at that hour. I couldn't face him. I went straight for the revolving door. But in aninstant he was out there standing next to me. "Oliver," he said, "you should have told me." It was very cold, which in a way was good because I was numb and wantedto feel something. My father continued to address me, and I continued tostand still and let the cold wind slap my face. "As soon as I found out, I jumped into the car." I had forgotten my coat; the chill was starting to make me ache. Good.Good. "Oliver," said my father urgently, "I want to help." "Jenny's dead," I told him. "I'm sorry," he said in a stunned whisper. Not knowing why, I repeated what I had long ago learned from thebeautiful girl now dead. "Love means not ever having to say you're sorry. And then I did what I had never done in his presence, much less in hisarms. I cried.
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