To See You Again (35 page)

 I can't help but think how much I sucked at doing
that when Mom died, and I almost feel like a fraud telling her this, like I'm
pretending to be an expert. Almost as if she's sensing my trepidation, a tiny
crease forms between her eyebrows, and I want to extinguish her worry with my
words. When I work at it, I feel really good…like I'm free. I've labored so
hard to live a life with hope in it, and I'm not giving up. I need her to know
that, too.

"My therapist is always telling me while
my depression is, you know, part of my biology—on the other hand, my thoughts are
all mine. Positive thinking can be healing, transformative. I've experienced
that. So, I keep trying." I say this with the confidence of the truth within it.
Our eyes lock.

She reaches up with her free hand and
strokes the side of my face. "You amaze me, Collin, over and over again."

I lean forward and kiss her, deep and
passionately and she's kissing me back, like it's all she wants. I push my hand
up the back of her shirt and pull her closer. Without breaking our kiss she
climbs onto my lap, straddling me. There's no way I'm stopping her tonight. I
move my kisses to her ear and then her neck and she releases a moan. The sound
of it flows through me like a shot of adrenaline. I open my eyes and she does,
too. She reaches forward and pulls off my shirt, whisking it over my head and
tossing it on the couch beside us. Our lips find each other again and I kiss
her hard and urgently and she's kissing me back with equal desperation and
passion, her hands raking my back and arms. I feel like we're in perfect sync
until I bring my hands to her blouse and begin undoing the buttons. I'm on the
third when I feel sure something is wrong. She's still kissing me, but I feel
her pulling back just a fraction, and this slight change rings a warning bell
in my mind that there's no damned way I'm going to ignore. I've read things
wrong before and the consequences were devastating. I can't risk ignoring
anything. I remove my hands from her blouse and instead run the back of my hand
gently along her cheek before pulling away altogether. Her eyes open slowly and
when they meet mine I ask, "Do you not want…?"

Before I can finish she jumps in.
"No!"  She shakes her head once and then looks up at me, her eye contact
intense. "I
want
." She reaches forward and runs her knuckles along my
cheek mimicking my motion from moments before.

My eyes leave hers and follow a path
down her blouse to where I left the middle button still fastened. "It's just
you…" I gesture subtly, and she nods, moving her gaze to her blouse, as well.

"I'm not…" she shakes her head and
falls silent.

"Rachel, it's OK," I whisper. I feel
my hand tremble and plant it firmly on my thigh.

"No." She shakes her head one more
time. "It's not what you think." Her eyes are fixed in her lap. "I'm not
twenty-two anymore, Collin."

That's what this is about? My
immediate reaction is a mix of confusion and incredulity that is almost
instantly washed over by a tidal wave of relief.
Thank God
. I place a
single finger beneath her chin, which triggers her eyes to meet mine.

"I'm not either, Rachel." She laughs
like this simple statement of fact is completely ridiculous.

"It's not the same for you," she
insists.

I don't bother to argue this
assertion. Between my sister and past girlfriends, I've learned all about the
pressures women face when it comes to beauty and aging. Hell, my own mother had
enough plastic surgeries over her lifetime to drive that point home. I can't
believe this is what is weighing on Rachel, though. If I thought she'd believe
me, I'd tell her I find her more beautiful today than I did when we were in college,
because I do. She was gorgeous then, and nothing about her beauty has
diminished in my eyes, it's only grown.

"Rachel, I won't touch you anywhere
you don't want me to, but you have to know there is nothing I want more than to
worship you with my hands…" I run the tips of my fingers along her arm and then
bring them to rest on her thigh "…and my lips". I lean forward and kiss her
just behind her ear and then suck her earlobe into my mouth. I release it in
response to her moan. "There isn't an inch of you that I don't find beautiful.
I want you…" I swallow and rapidly try to think of the best way to express how
the connection I feel to her is far more than physical, without saying
something neither one of us is ready for. I plant a line of kisses along her
jaw and then once gently on her closed lips. I shut my eyes and whisper, "I
want
all
of you."

She answers me wordlessly by taking my
face in her hands and kissing me deeply. In just a moment's time we've returned
to the intensity from which we started. I get so lost in the feel of her tongue
running over mine, and my hands in her hair, that I don't even realize she's
removed the blouse she was too shy to have me unbutton for her. She guides my
hand to her now bare breast and I waste no time making good on my promise. She
reclines on the sofa and I touch and kiss her until she's breathless and
panting. I run my hand up along her side, over each rib and up to her neck. I
trace her defined cheekbone and she reaches to cup my chin in her palm. We're
both silent and unmoving, just staring deep into each other's eyes. In spite of
my stillness, I feel my heart hammering away in my chest, and I'm wishing I could
suspend time and just live in this moment forever. Eventually, I lower my lips
to hers, keeping my eyes open, as I plant the smallest of kisses on the corner
of her mouth.

"Yes, Collin," she whispers,
verbalizing her desire and consent in the same breath.

I close my eyes again and slow our
pace; carefully listening and responding to everything her body tells me. When
I slide my hand between her thighs, she rises to meet me. I can feel she's
ready and wanting me, and just the knowledge of this, is a reward beyond
anything I could've imagined. I pull her into my arms and carry her to her
bedroom. The act of it is an echo of so many years ago.

Some time later, after we've made
love, we lie intertwined in the center of her bed. So many thoughts bubble up
and dissolve unsaid in my mind…
we fit so perfectly…You're safe with me…I'm
so glad we've found each other again…I love you
. I can't decide which words
are right, and I'm too afraid to choose wrong, so I don't choose at all,
telling myself that I finally have time, a future even, with Rachel. Exhaustion
begins to pull me under and I willingly surrender, replete and content, with
her wrapped tightly in my arms.

*** *** ***

I wake in the morning to find myself alone in
Rachel's bed. This waking is all too similar to the last time she and I had
sex, something isn't right, and I feel dread consume me. I throw my t-shirt and
boxers on and stride out to the kitchen to find Rachel seated at the table,
sipping coffee and listening to the radio on low.

"Been up awhile?"  A small nod is her only reply. She's
freaking out. I cautiously approach her as she sits motionless.

I keep my voice calm and even. Everything is
riding on this. I can feel it. "Rachel, last night was not a mistake. I know we
were both drinking, but this is right. I know it's right."

"How can you know something like that, Collin? How
can you
know?"

She looks up at me briefly, her eyes big and fearful,
and then she stares off into the distance again. The moisture leaves my mouth
and I almost feel faint. This
cannot
happen again. I take a deep breath
and sit down beside her, pulling my chair so close to hers that our knees touch.
She doesn't react.

"Look at me, please." She raises her eyes to meet
mine, they're so beautiful, but right now they're also wet with tears.  I want
so desperately to erase all her worry, smother every fear, until all that's
left is everything good between us. "How do I know, Rachel? I know, because I
love you." A tear escapes down her cheek and she inhales a ragged breath. We
stare at each other, both silent and still, while my words, my
truth
,
hangs unclaimed in the air between us.

"Can I ask you something?" Her voice is tiny and
filled with apprehension. I try to relax mine, while doing my best to ignore
the fact that I just told her I
love
her, and she isn't saying it back.

"Anything, Rachel."

"Why did you wait so long when we were in
college?" She continues to stare straight into my eyes. "There were long
stretches when I was single and you never did anything then. Why?" I hear her
anger and frustration and I'm wishing I could go back in time and throttle
twenty year old me.

I run my hands through my hair and take a deep
breath. "I don't suppose telling you I was an idiot would do?" I smile at her,
but her expression remains serious. I swallow and start again. "Rachel, when we
first met and became friends, I didn't really believe in relationships or love,
so having that with anyone was just off the table. We were friends and you were
so important to me right from the beginning. I didn't want to do anything to
screw it up."

She looks back down at the table and I gently
place my hand on her arm. "I always thought you were beautiful, though, since
day one." She glances up at me as if she's trying to verify this statement and
then looks away again. My voice is shaky and I feel so nervous. I'm starting to
lose control and I can feel her slipping through my fingers
again.
It's
my instinct to shut down, but I know I shouldn't. I can't, because this could
be it. "When I finally admitted to myself that I was in love with you, the
timing was horrible and I was just too much of an inarticulate jerk to try to explain
what I was feeling. I was terrified you would reject me, and so I handled
things the only way I knew how to at the time. It was messed up. I get that
now. Back then I really hoped you loved me too and things would just…happen.
I'm sorry."

She's silent and my heart is beating so hard in my
chest I feel sure she must be able to hear it, too. Finally, she looks up at me
again. Her expression is grave and lacks any of the reassurance I so
desperately need.

"What if you just think you love me now, because
you once did?" She asks. Her voice is tight, and I can hear her struggle, I can
see her pain.

"Rachel, love isn't linear. You taught me that. It
isn't something that just has a start and an end with some time in between. It
blooms and evolves and withers and reignites. It's organic. It's part of us. I
know
because the love I have for you has surrounded me, drowned me, drained me and
consumed me all over again."

 Tears start pouring down her face and it is all I
can do not to just pull her into my arms, but I have to get through this. I
have to say everything I haven't said, all these years. I pull my chair even
closer to her and continue.

"When you were no longer in my life there was a
part of me that was just…gone. It was with you. I feel that now that you're
back, now that we're together. That! That was love." I grab her hand and place
it on my heart. "This is love, Rachel. It isn't perfect. It's going to hurt
like hell sometimes. It's going to be messy and confusing and
incredible
.
You can decide to leave, but I'm telling you unequivocally my love will go with
you." I put my other hand gently on her heart. "My love is with you, Rachel, it
always has been." Tears fill my eyes and escape down my cheeks, but I don't
give a shit. I would cry in front of every single person we know, if that's
what it would take for her to believe me and know this is real.

"I love you, too, Collin, but I'm so scared. When
you left years ago, a part of me was ripped out." She removes her hand from my
chest, and so I disconnect mine from hers. She's finally said the words I've wanted
to hear for almost as long as I've known her, but she isn't looking at me. She
doesn't think we can work, because I scare her. I scare the shit out of her.

She's trembling. "It took a long time for that to
heal, for me to accept the loss of you. I can't go through that again. I had a
taste of it when your mom died and you didn't call me or respond to my texts."

I wince, as guilt surges within me.
God, I'm
such an asshole.
She touches my face, bringing my eyes to hers. "I
understand. Please, know I understand, and I'm not even mad, I wasn't then and
I'm still not now, but it reminded me of the pain…I know I can't go through
that again." She shrugs and her voice is choked with tears. "I'm not strong
enough."

I shake my head, disgusted with myself. "I'm
sorry," I say. "I'm not good when it comes to handling things like that, it's
true. I hurt Leighton and she didn't deserve any of it. We talked for a long
time yesterday and I made things right with her, the best I could. I know I
didn't tell you that, but I did. Well, I tried, anyway. When my mom passed, it
felt like I experienced my dad dying all over again. It was just all…back…and
his letters…I was…" I feel myself starting to lose it again; I'm really on the
ragged edge. I take a deep breath and just focus on Rachel and nothing else. "I
was so consumed with self-loathing that I pushed my sister away, I ignored
Leighton and I tried to avoid you. I felt like I didn't deserve to be around
you." I grasp her hand, squeezing it tighter than I mean to, but she has to
hear all of this. She needs to know. "But you showed me that wasn't true. I
never really said thank you for that, but I'm so grateful you were just there
with me. It reminded me shutting down isn't the answer. Closing people off when
I need them the most—that's just my depression talking. I can make the choice
to do the right thing, the healthy thing, and push my way through." I look down
at her hand clasped in mine, and I'm so thankful she's allowing it. Feeling her
skin, touching her, it's the only way I'm getting through any of this. "I'm not
perfect though, and this thing I have," I point to my head with my free hand, "it's
life-long, but I won't let it define me, and I'll be damned if it's what keeps me
from you. I can't promise I won't screw up, because I know I will. But I can
promise I will
never
leave you again. Look at me Rachel." We stare into
each other's eyes, blue to blue. "Never."