Free Wish Upon a Star by Jim Cangany Page B

making in the industry with folks at
Park Tools and Specialized and places like that, he'd begun to warm
up to it."
    "And he understood that the time you spent on the road was
what was opening those doors for you."
    "Yeah."
    "So your parents were proud of what you did. They
understood that spending a lot of time on the road was one of the
requirements of your career. As tragic as it had to be to lose your
father, given the circumstances, how were you responsible?"
    "I never said I was responsible. Dammit, Annie, it was just
totally senseless. And why are we talking about all of this anyway. I
thought we were supposed to be talking about Mom's car."
    "We are honey." She went to the stereo and put on some
Billie Holliday. When the music started, she took me in her arms.
"Will you let me tell you what I think? I think you feel terribly guilty
about not being able to prevent your father's death. It was that guilt
that led to your decision to stay home with your mom. Kind of like
saying I made a mistake once and I'm not doing it again."
    When Annie paused, I ran my fingers through my hair. "I
have a feeling there's more."
    "It seems to me that staying home with your Mother, while
extremely noble, didn't help you deal with your lingering guilt over
your Father's death. In fact, I'd bet that having to watch her slip away
like she did, only intensified the guilt because even though you were
close by, you were still powerless to do anything to prevent losing
her."
    "That's a lot to take in. But I still don't understand what
that's got to do with the car."
    "Your father bought that car for your mother, yes? She drove
it until she wasn't able to, and then you chose to keep it. Correct me
if I'm wrong, but it seems to me that car was one of your last
connections to your parents. Keeping that car has been your way of
saying I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you better Mom and Dad, so
I'll take care of your vehicle."
    My legs got shaky, so I dropped into my recliner. Annie got
down on her knees in front of me and took my hands.
    "Oh honey, don't you see? You've been carrying all of that
guilt on your back for years now and the car's been your badge of
honor. But your dad's passing wasn't your fault. Your mom's passing
wasn't, either. I'm so, so sorry I didn't ask for your permission to
trade the car in, but that car is just a thing. Keeping that car wouldn't
have brought them back.
    "How long did it take you to accept Evan's death, months?
And these were your parents. I know it's hard. I know you miss them,
but you have to let that guilt go. You have to let them go."
    My eyes bored into Annie's. She believed she was helping
me. Was she right? Had keeping the car been a way to keep some
metaphysical line tethered from me to them? And what did Evan
have to do with this?
    "What's Evan—"
    She shook my hands up and down. "Listen to me, please.
You've told me countless times how guilty you felt about not being
able to see Evan before he passed. As if being in New York City with
me made you responsible for his death."
    "Of course I felt guilty. I mean, we went to college together.
We raced together. We were business partners, for God's sake. He
was my friend...and then he was gone."
    "I think it wasn't until we made the trip to the summit of
Mont Ventoux that you even began to come to terms with his
death."
    "It was his favorite Tour de France climb. He deserved that
little ceremony."
    Annie climbed onto my lap. "It was very touching. And you
deserved it too. You felt better afterward, yes?"
    She stroked the hair out of my eyes as I nodded. "Your
problem is you have trouble letting go. Don't get me wrong, it can be
an admirable quality. You're tenacious as a pit bull when it comes to
things, and people, you care about. The way you chased me halfway
across the country, I should know."
    I gazed at her and she responded by crinkling her nose and
crossing her eyes. I let out a laugh. "I chased you? Who hunted down
who like a criminal in Vegas?"
    "Oh