To See You Again (15 page)

Up until now, Collin and I have kept things
solidly in the friend zone. Several of my girlfriends have insisted that
something more must be going on between us, but I've adamantly denied it. In my
opinion, there haven't been any clear signals. I do know he has a fair amount
of casual sex, but I've never known him to have a girlfriend, so I'm not sure
what signs would be like from Collin if he were interested. If Vanessa were
here, she would be arguing the invitation to spend Thanksgiving with his family
was case in point.

Tonight however, in her absence, I'm considering
her point of view more seriously. I begin ticking through potential clues in my
head. Allowing me to meet his family is a big deal, it seems, and the touching
this weekend has felt more intimate. Maybe Vanessa's right and I have been blind
to something happening between us. I feel a sudden rush of excitement wash over
me…what if?

I'm covertly studying Collin's profile and
contemplating what his lips would feel like against my own, when Reba saunters
into the room and interrupts my daydream. She plops down on the couch across
from us and unabashedly glares at me. After a moment of staring, she points to
my blouse with the same smug look that she gave me at dinner, and says, "You
have cranberry sauce on your shirt."

My mouth falls open as I un-tuck my blouse and
examine the red spot closer. "Just great," I mutter.

"There's a bathroom right back there." Collin
points behind him.

I get up and walk into the bathroom, turn on the
lights, and shut the door. I scrub at the stain with water, my nail, and some
hand soap—but it makes little difference. I'm exiting the bathroom when I hear
Reba say my name. I stop short, back into the bathroom and hold the door
slightly ajar.

"Is Raven your girlfriend?" She asks in her sing-songy
voice.

"No," Collin responds flatly. I feel a pang of
hurt in my chest at his denial, but I don't know why. He's only saying what's
true.

"Is she
going
to be you girlfriend?" From the
doorway I can make out the outline of their heads as she leans in toward him.

"No," he says definitively. I press my head
against the door. What had I been thinking? He gives her a playful shove. "When
have I ever had a girlfriend? You know I'm not into the whole relationship
thing." She leans in and whispers something into Collin's ear that I have zero
shot of hearing. My stomach churns. I'm sure it's nothing favorable about me.
Collin listens and then loudly exhales. "I'm not answering that. Can you quit
bugging me? Surely, you have something else you could be doing instead of
stalking me and Raven." He gently pushes her away.

"Shut up." She shoves him back. "It's just that
you never bring anyone home, so what's up with this girl, anyway?"

He turns toward her. "Nothing is
up
with
her. What's with the third degree, Reba?"

I push the door open a little more trying to get a
better view of them, but I can't see much. I don't want to get busted spying,
so I retreat a little, straining again to listen.

"She didn't have plans, so I invited her to come
here. It's that simple." I feel my heart sink. So,
was
this just a pity
invite? My throat tightens and my cheeks warm as embarrassment takes hold of
me. Have I misjudged our friendship, too? I begin giving in to the feeling of rejection
and then I hear him add, "You better play nice with her, Reba. You get me?"

She mumbles something I can't understand and I
decide I've hidden out about as long as I can.

I slink back out into the rec room and sit where
Reba had been, before she stole my seat. It's probably a good thing she did. I
need to put romantic ideas of Collin out of my head, and curling up next to him
on the couch isn't going to aid in that pursuit. As much as it stung to hear
him tell her he doesn't see me that way, it's better to know what he's thinking
than to be stuck wondering. I linger over his protectiveness of me. He's so
indifferent to just about everybody that I have to feel that is still
significant in some way.

"Any luck?" Reba asks, in a mock sweet voice.

"Nope." I respond as flatly as possible. I'm not
going to let this girl get to me.

Collin turns toward me. "Do you want to take it to
the cleaners while we're here?"

"Nah, it's no big deal."

He smiles at me and I smile back…friends it is.

Rachel (Present Day)

I realize Collin has been silent, while I was lost
in thought. His question about Spencer comes back into focus, and I try to think
of a way to explain it all to him.

"He made me feel safe, Collin. As pathetic as it
may have seemed to you…for us to have had a five-year plan was immensely
comforting to me at the time. He had this idea for a shared future. He wasn't
going to leave me." There's something about darkness that makes it easier to be
honest; it gives you the bravery to find the words you just can't find in the
light.

"It wasn't pathetic," he murmurs.

An awkward silence fills the space between us. The
tension feels almost painful before Collin speaks again.

"Is that what I did?"

"What?"

"Leave you?"

"I wasn't talking about you, Collin…but yes, what
you did felt an awful lot like leaving me. We were best friends. It was really
tough for a while…losing the friendship." I inhale deeply and brace for his
response. Giving him this little bit of honesty, this piece of me, it's the
scariest thing I've done in a long while. His reply comes much faster than I
expect.

"Rachel, I'm so sorry. I never thought of it that
way before, but I guess that
is
what I did." There's a trace of
astonishment in his voice that shocks the hell out of me. He pauses a moment
and then whispers, "I felt like I was in the way, like you wanted me gone."

"I didn't want you gone, Collin."

I inch a little closer to him, and then my stomach
growls so loudly it sounds like I have denied it food for an entire month.

Collin bursts into laughter. "How does a noise
that big come out of little you?"

"I don't know," I giggle. "I'm half expecting some
alien to burst through my stomach in a minute."

I hear the plastic bag rattling near me, and then
the sound of a Styrofoam container popping open.

"Here, I have our sandwiches from lunch. Where are
you?"

"I'm next to you," I answer, batting the air
around me, hitting nothing, and then I feel Collin's hand on my leg, and my
breath hitches.

"There you are," he says, releasing his hand.
"Scoot over by me. I'll hand you your sandwich." I move toward the sound of his
voice and stop when our legs touch. "There you are," he says again, and I feel
him place his hand back down on my leg gently, tentatively, palm up. "Put your
hand by mine and I'll give it to you." I lower my hand onto his and then I feel
the crusty bread tickle my fingers.

"Thanks," I murmur. We eat in silence for a little
while and eventually I hand him what remains of mine. It felt good to eat, but
I'm not sure I could've tolerated another bite without a drink. Collin cleans
up what he can of our lunch in the darkness, and once he's finished rattling Styrofoam
and plastic, the elevator swells with silence once again. Eventually, I find
the courage to speak.

 "I'm sorry if I hurt you, too. I lied earlier
when I said I just came to lunch because my boss told me to. I wanted to see
you, even if doing so scared the crap out of me."

I leave out the apology for the most critical lie
I ever told him; when I denied the feelings I had for him as he stood in my kitchen
looking like a lost child.

Using the same hand he used to give me the
sandwich, he takes my hand in his and laces our fingers together. I adjust
slightly, closing any space left between us, and rest my head on his upper arm.
He makes a contented noise that I feel, more than hear, and then squeezes my
hand gently.

"What I didn't lie about was that I'm happy to see
you doing well. You're so transformed."

"Well, I may not be as
transformed
as you
think." I can hear his smile, and warmth washes over me as I snuggle close to
him.

"Oh yeah?"

"I guess Victor was on to something when he told
me a decent haircut and some grown up clothes would go a long way," Collin says
flatly, but I hear the undercurrent of his humor.

"Oh no!" I exclaim. "If you're endorsing
Victorisms, pigs must be flying. Nice try though, Collin. I can
feel
things are different with you."

He squeezes my hand again. "Oh you can, can you?"

"Uh huh. Now fess up."

"Turns out there was a little more to my brooding
than we all thought." He pauses a minute while I quietly curse the darkness.
"Um…so I saw a doctor a few years ago and was diagnosed with depression."

This is definitely not what I was expecting him to
say. "Wow, Collin, I'm sorry to hear that." I feel like an idiot for not having
anything more empathic or profound to say. He's most likely already regretting
telling me.

"Don't be. It was probably one of the best things to
have happened to me. I've learned a lot about it. I take meds, exercise, try to
eat right. I even saw a therapist for a few years."

"Has it helped?"

"To quote you from earlier, yes and no." He clears
his throat and shifts a little bit. I can tell he's holding back telling me
more, even though I can't see him.

"Do you need me to move?" I ask, suddenly feeling
self-conscious about resting on him. I lift my head up.

"No, you're perfect. Don't move unless you want
to." He gently pulls me in closer to him and I feel his breath like a whisper
on my neck, as I return to leaning on him.

I inhale sharply. "So, what do you mean yes and
no?"

He pauses and I feel a slight tension pass through
his fingers where his hand softly grips my arm. "Well, some days are still
really hard. At first I really hated being on medication, and it was tough for
me to adjust to that being part of my life, but it has seemed to help. One of
the biggest realizations I've had was that there's a difference between just existing
and actually living. Every day I get up and make the choice to live, but I
still have issues—shit to sort through."

"When you say a choice to live…does that mean you
ever considered
not
living?" My pulse accelerates terrified of his
answer. Careless, self-destructive, apathetic—these are all terms I would've
used to describe Collin in the past, but
never
suicidal.

Collin

Rachel's question conjures a memory of a dark
period, one I haven't thought about in a long time. In the clearest part of my
memory, I remember hearing Reba creeping around my apartment, trying to be
quiet, as she navigated through a floor covered with take-out boxes, magazines,
unopened mail and God only knows what else. She probably assumed I was asleep.
At the time, it was a fair assumption, because by that point, I had barely left
my bed all week.

"I'm awake, Reba," I called out to her.

She appeared in the doorway of my bedroom.  "Did
you go to work today?"

I rolled over in the bed away from her and pulled the
sheet over my shoulder. "Seriously, Reba?" I mumbled into the pillow.

I felt the weight shift on the bed as she sat
down. "It stinks in here, Collin. Your place is trashed. Why don't you hire
someone to clean it?" I didn't answer her, and after a moment she shoved me.
"Collin?" She pushed on me harder. "Collin, listen, you're really beginning to
freak me out, OK? Please talk to me. Why are you like this?" Her voice cracked
like she was going to cry and I filled with dread. I didn't have the energy for
her emotions. I didn't have the energy for
my
emotions. I didn't have
the energy for
anything
.

"Just go, Reba. I'm fine. I'm just tired, OK? I'll
get the place cleaned, if that'll make you happy." I buried my head deeper in
the pillow. I felt the weight shift again and I quietly prayed she'd given up.
A moment later her face appeared in front of mine, as she knelt next to the bed
and stared earnestly at me.

"Collin, I don't give a shit about your place, or
how dirty you choose to be. Although, it
is
gross. I get that you've
always been angry or withdrawn or whatever." I closed my eyes and felt her run
her hand through my unkempt hair. "But I have never seen you like this. Not
even close. You're scaring the shit out of me, Collin. Are you sick? Did
something happen?
Please
talk to me!"

I moved slowly, sitting up in bed, and
everything
in my body ached. She scrutinized each movement, and I felt like a caged
animal. I wished she'd just leave. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and stared
down at my lap. "I don't know, Reba. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with
me. I've felt like shit for months now—maybe longer and I'm just sick of it.
I'm tired of always feeling so tired."