To See You Again (26 page)

"Hey Collin, it's Rachel. It's been awhile, I
don't know if you've gotten any of my texts or not, but, um…it's no big deal. I
just thought maybe we could catch up or something?" I babble into Collin's
voicemail very nearly telling him that I miss him, or that I'm really worried, but
thank God
, somehow I manage to censor myself. "So, give me a call back
when you get a chance, if you want. OK…um…talk to you later."

I hit "end" on my phone and stare at the blank
screen. I feel so confused. No, wait…I feel more than that. I feel hurt. Collin
comes over to my place, takes care of me when I have the worst flu of my
lifetime, leaves me a sweet note, makes me think we're friends again, and then
just drops off the earth. This voicemail feels like a desperate move, and the
sad thing is I do
feel
desperate. The last text I sent basically asked
him to give me a call and that was at least two weeks ago. I'd say that's more
than enough time to get back to someone, if you wanted to…So, I guess he
doesn't want me back in his life after all.

This all feels eerily reminiscent of years ago.
Why does he think it's OK to just disappear? I suppose there's more I could do
about it, but how much chasing do I really want to put myself through? I
practically drove myself insane when he took off the last time. I don't think I
can stomach it again.

The thing of it is, I just can't get him out of my
head. He's become all I think about. I kept the note he left for me and I
must've read it a thousand times by now, along with the text he sent me the
morning after I was sick. I can't seem to reconcile all of that, with what's
happening now. I resolve that he gets until the end of the week to call me
back. If he doesn't make contact by then, I have to let him go…again.

*** *** ***

By the time Friday rolls around I'm feeling
completely wiped out. In a rare move, I spent the morning working from home
until I felt like I could stomach being in the office. I'm on my way to throw
some things in the community fridge, when I hear snickering coming from the
break room.

"I'm sick," she whines in a high-pitched voice. I
freeze just outside the doorway and press my body against the wall, ninja style.
I can hear a chorus of laughter and then the same voice drops an octave and
says, "Did you see her in the meeting this morning? She was pouting like a
little girl!" I touch my face. Are they talking about me?

"She always looks like that." A voice I identify
as Robin's, replies. I can't tell for sure who the other two are. Maybe Tina
and Karen? I really thought we were friends…well, at least
friendly
.

"She's just taking it to new levels now that she
isn't the favorite around here anymore." That's Tina. Definitely.

"The bitch has been dethroned!" One of them pseudo
yells in a deep voice. They burst into laughter and I feel my face go hot. I knew
I'd been unceremoniously kicked out of the in-crowd here, but I had no idea I'd
become fodder for break room mockery! This is clearly not the first
conversation about me they've had. I carefully slink back down the hall to my
office trying to compose myself. The urge to call Vanessa is strong and I pull
my phone out from my purse and silently debate if I should bother her or not. An
alert on my phone shows three new text messages. Two are from Beckett: one confirming
our plans tonight and the second, some random question about wine. The third
message is from my half-sister, Mindy.

Mindy: Would you mind looking at my resume? I
heard about a position in Chicago I might be qualified for --we could be
neighbors!

I quickly begin typing back to her.

Me: Of course! Email it to me and I'll check it
out after work tonight. How are you?

Mindy: Things are good. Ready for a change I
think. Esp since I'm unattached at the moment. Speaking of which, how is your
bf?

Me: He's good. Let me know more about this job.
I'm excited to hear about it! If you come up here to interview you can most
definitely stay with me!

Mindy: Awesome! I'll email you soon!

Me: TTYL

Mindy: xoxo

I log into my shared calendar with Beckett. He's
booked every weekend for the next two months, with the exception of this
weekend, which is oddly blank. I sigh out loud, thinking about the battle it
will be to get him to shift things around so Mindy can visit. He claims he's flexible
and spontaneous, but he's about as far removed from those two attributes as a
human could be.

Motivated by my irritation, I choose a random
weekend two weeks from now, and type in: "Visit with Mindy". I take a moment to
stare at the visual of our conflicting plans, as the two events are layered on
top of one another within the computer application.
Beck is going to be
ticked
. I tap my finger rhythmically on the mouse, and feel a pang of guilt
for being so passive aggressive.

Beck's been so sweet and attentive lately.
Selfishly, I've found all of his affection to be unnerving because of the
mental state I've been in. I've let him think my work stress is to blame, and
that's part of it, but I know if I'm really honest with myself, my emotions are
all tangled up about Collin. His disappearing act has made it hard for me to
focus on anything else. As much as I try to tell myself it doesn't matter, I've
been checking my phone constantly, wishing and hoping for a text or call from
him. I know it's time to admit he's officially dropped off the radar—but there's
this nagging strand of hope forever tugging on my brain and curling around all
my thoughts. It's been almost a week since I left him a voicemail, and I've
heard nothing. I click out of my chat with Mindy and scroll down to the last
text I had with Collin. I stare at my lonely, little, ignored conversation
bubble and wonder for the hundredth time why he's blown me off.  I take a deep
breath and conjure up some new determination. I need to get over this. Perhaps
it's for the best. I was the one, after all, who told him we needed separate
lives. Maybe he just finally agreed.

*** *** ***

"Beckett?" I call out. Tossing my keys on the
table by my front door. He appears in the hallway, already wearing jeans and a dark
burgundy shirt.

"Hey, babe," he says, taking my bag from me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, pulling my boots
off. Ugh, if feet could cry out in relief, mine would be doing that right now.

"I told you I was headed to your place after work,
remember?" He laughs nervously.

"Oh yeah," I mutter.

I've been so focused on the texts I
haven't
been getting that I didn't think much about the ones I did get.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in ages." Beck
tugs me toward him and encloses me in his embrace. I kiss his cheek gently and
then give his chest a quick pat as I pull away.

"What are these suitcases doing here, Beckett?"

Sitting in my kitchen are our matching carry-on bags
his mother gave us for Christmas last year. He grabs my hand and spins me back
around to face him.

"Get changed, Rachel. We're getting out of here
for the weekend!" He smiles brightly at me, and I pull my hand from his grasp.

"What?"

"Get changed. I'll drive. I booked us an awesome bed
and breakfast in Galena. We're going to get away and have some ‘us' time."

"Beck, that is so sweet, but I can't. Things are a
complete mess at my job. I'm still at the top of Tim's shit list. I've got
saboteurs all around me. I feel like I have been in perpetual damage control
mode. You should've heard these bitches in the break room today." I walk past
him to my bedroom.

He scoffs. "Tim needs to get over this. You've
worked there for years. They know you! You didn't just call in sick you
were
sick, really sick. Doesn't he get that?"

"No. He's never missed a day of work in his life."

"Well, neither had you until you got that flu.
What did he want you to do? Puke in the garbage can between Power Point slides?
I'm sure that would've gone over great."

"You're searching for logic where there isn't any,
Beck. He called me ‘unreliable', because from his point of view, that's what I
am."

"That's ridiculous!" Beckett exclaims, looking
like he's ready to punch someone. He follows me into the bathroom where I toss
my blouse in the laundry basket. "Well, did you argue with him?"

The thought of arguing with Tim makes me laugh
sarcastically. "And say what, Beck? I'm lucky I still have a job, although it
feels like I've been demoted. He has given all this new responsibility to
Meredith and Donna."

"The scaredy-cat and the office gossip?" Beckett
asks. I nod. I have to admit, I'm impressed at his recognition of those names,
I guess he listens more than I think he does. 

"You got it. Tim barely talks to me anymore. I'm
not in the loop on anything important lately. He's reduced my work load, and
you'd think that'd be a relief, but all it's done is totally erode my
confidence." Beck follows me into the bedroom as I toss my skirt on the chair.
"That's probably what he's trying to do. I've seen Tim push other people out
before; I just never thought it would be me." I'm only wearing my bra and
underwear and I notice a hungry look in Beck's eye as he casts his gaze over
me. I'm too tired for
that
right now. I march back over to my closet and
he trails behind me.

"It'll blow over," Beckett soothes, caressing my
bare shoulders. I slip out of his grasp and head toward my closet where I flip
through t-shirts looking for a comfy one to wear.

"I'm not so sure. I've worked so hard there for so
many years and really, what do I have to show for it?" I say more to myself
than him.

"Come away with me this weekend," he whispers.

"I can't."

"You mean you
won't
." He folds his arms,
frowning deeply.

I don't feel like fighting, but there's no way we
can go away this weekend. He didn't even ask me, which is classic Beckett,
making all the decisions for us. "Beck, give me a minute to change? I'm so
tired and I just want to get comfortable."

"Fine," he mutters, sauntering into the living room.

I slip into a t-shirt and sweats, and then untwine
my hair. The roots ache from a day spent forced into a tight bun. I pull it to
the side and braid it loosely across my shoulder. I wash my face and brush my
teeth, and finally begin to feel human again.

When I enter the living room, it's been
transformed. The lights are all off, and on nearly every flat surface is a lit
candle. As my eyes begin to focus, I see Beckett in the center of the room down
on one knee. I gasp and then immediately cover my mouth.

"So, I was going to do this tonight at the bed and
breakfast, but maybe this is better, anyway. My beautiful, Rachel, will you do
me the honor of becoming my wife?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a
small, black velvet box. He opens it, and even from across the room I can see
the bold diamond, sparkling.

"Oh, my God," I whisper.

"Is that a yes?" He laughs nervously.

"Beck, I…" He rises and walks over to me.

"Rachel, I love you. I've loved you since before
we were even together, and I'm ready. I think
we're
ready. Let me put
this ring on your finger and with it, I pledge my life to you." He bends down
and kisses my lips gently.

I close my eyes, and it just comes out. "I can't."

"What?" He pulls back and thrusts his hand against
his chest as though he's been stabbed.

"I mean, I'm not ready, Beck. I don't think we're
on the same page." I shake my head and he looks horrified. He's not buying my
back peddling.

"Do you love me?" he asks, already sounding
heartbroken. I shut my eyes tight. "Look at me, Rachel." He places two fingers
under my chin.

I open them and stare up at him. "Yes, I love
you."

"Are you
in
love with me?" The pain in his
voice is obvious and I feel horrible.

I start to cry, and shake my head ‘no'. He
releases my chin and steps backward looking like he's been punched in the gut.

"Well Jesus, Rachel, when were you gonna to let me
in on this small detail?" He throws the ring box onto one of the open suitcases
with so much force it sends an empty candle box skidding halfway across the
room. I stare it for a minute and then look back up at Beck, feeling my lower
lip tremble.

"This was so beautiful and perfect, Beck. I'm so
sorry." I'm not sure what to do next. He's holding his hand over his heart,
looking stunned, or devastated, probably both.

I feel ashamed and ridiculous. Beckett is a great
guy. This was a beautiful proposal, but I just can't lie anymore, not to him,
not to myself. We are both like statues, frozen in place. He walks across the
room slowly and bends down to zip the suitcase.

"I guess there's nothing left for me to do, but go,"
he says gruffly.