Falling Into Infinity

by Layne Harper

  My phone rang. I grabbed it and didn’t even bother to look at the screen.

  “I’m so sorry,” I cried.

  “Caroline, you should be,” my dad said to my surprise. “You should know that Colin called me. I have woken up my attorney. This is going to cost a pretty penny. He is working on a sternly worded letter to all the media outlets that run this story. I am not sure what good it’s going to do, but we have to do something.”

  I tried to say something, but he cut me off.

  “I have no idea what you were thinking, but this is very bad, Caroline. You better pray that my attorney can stop this wildfire.”

  The phone went dead.

  Chelsea gave me a knowing look. Our father was our father.

  Rachael had us packed and ready to go in ten minutes. Surprisingly, we were both dead sober now. Off to College Station we went to try to fix this nightmare.

  Rachael called Aiden when we were about ten miles outside of College Station. I could hear from her tone that the call was not going well.

  She hung the phone up and looked at me. “Aiden has asked us not to come over. They are at Quinn’s house playing poker, and they finally have Colin calmed down, and he is drinking water.”

  I grabbed my phone and tried to call Colin again. This time, I could tell that he had turned his phone off.

  “Rachael, I don’t care what Aiden says. I want to see Colin. He can’t pull this business that we are getting married one minute and divorce isn’t an option, and then he ignores me when I screw up. Granted, this is monumental, but I am suffering too. The article makes him look like the second coming of Jesus Christ and me a groupie whore.”

  “That’s exactly what I hoped you would say, Charlie. Let’s go to Quinn’s,” she said.

  In hindsight, we should have listened to Aiden. When we arrived at Quinn and Jennifer’s, we were met by Quinn. He all but begged me to go home. I ignored him and pushed my way inside.

  When Colin saw us, he said, “If it isn’t the lesbians. Come to put a private show on for us? I bet we could all chip in $20.”

  No one had ever spoken to me like that before. I chose to ignore him and recognized that it was his hurt heart talking.

  “Colin, I am fucking exhausted. I know that I fucked up, and you’re furious. Come home with me. It’s not like I did anything that millions of college students don’t do on a regular basis. I went dancing. I had a good time. Someone snapped a picture from just the right angle. Aiden isn’t condemning Rachael,” I offered.

  Colin stood up and flipped the kitchen table over. He came barreling towards me, standing over me and yelling in my face. I could hear Quinn and Aiden moving toward him, but I did not take my eyes off him or step away.

  Right now, we were 6’5” staring down 5’7”. We were green eyes pitted against lavender. We were the two most determined and stubborn people in the world.

  “Aiden isn’t furious with Rachael because she is the ‘unidentified friend.’ You are Colin.Fucking.McKinney, Quarterback for Texas A&M’s fucking girlfriend. Your pretty little face is captured on TV every time that you are in the stands. They are waiting to see if you flinch when I get hit, or how your now nonexistent boobs jiggle when you are happy that I score. For God’s sake, Caroline, the media has already nicknamed us CharCol. How fucking cute is that?” he bellowed at me.

  I was not backing down. I’d done nothing wrong, but somehow this was my fault.

  My voice was deadly calm. “Colin, I am giving you one more chance to come home with me. A few days ago, you gave me the speech about how divorce wasn’t an option. You said that if I agreed to marry you right now that we would fly to Vegas and be husband and wife the next day. Here’s the first rough patch that we hit, and you are ready to write me off. If I had been cage dancing with a guy instead of Rach how would you feel? Would you have already broken up with me? It’s time to put your money where your mouth is. Pick up the table, tell your friends goodbye, and come home with me.” This was it. It was time for Colin to put up or shut up. I needed reassurance that he truly believed what he had been preaching to me.

  He spun away from me. For a quick moment, I thought that he was walking away from me, but he stooped down and picked up the table. He pushed all the chairs neatly around it. He grabbed my hand, and we walked to Big Bertha.

  “Are you okay to drive?” I asked.

  “You can’t drive the truck, and I am not riding home with Rachael. So yes. I am okay to drive,” he answered coldly

  He opened my door and helped me inside the cab. Before he shut the passenger door, he said, “If it had been a guy instead of Rachael, I would have fucking killed him for touching my future wife.”

  Oh my!

  We didn’t say a word to each other as we drove to my apartment. I kept wondering what we were going to do when we were in my room. Were we going to fight? Did he want to rehash this? Were we just going to go to sleep?

  My questions were soon answered when he slammed my bedroom door behind us and locked it. “What song was playing when the picture was taken?”

  “I, I am not sure,” I stammered. He had completely taken me off guard. “We danced for five or six songs in the cage, I think.”

  “Well, then name of one of the songs that you danced to,” he spat at me, treating me like I was a child.

  “I don’t know… Maybe Britney Spears’ ‘Toxic’?” I answered, very confused.

  He grabbed his iPod and started searching. I was standing on the other side of the bed from him completely clueless as to what to do. After a few minutes, I heard the song start playing.

  “Dance for me, Charlie. Show me the moves that you were doing in the cage with Rachael,” he commanded.

  Okay! How awkward is this? I’m bone tired. My eyes are puffy from crying. He’s staring at me like I am an alien. I can’t dance for him.

  “Colin, this is ridiculous. Let’s just go to bed,” I pleaded.

  “Caroline, move your fucking body to the music. Do I sound like someone that you care to fuck with tonight?” he barked.

  From somewhere deep in my soul, I found the strength to start dancing. The more that I swayed my body and moved to the music, the more turned on he became. This was actually kind of fun. His erection was straining against his jeans.

  “Do the move that you were photographed doing,” his raspy voice commanded.

  As I moved my body to the ground and back up, he pounced on me. My dress was pushed up over my hips, and my panties were shredded as he shoved his erection inside me. It took me by surprise and it hurt for just a second. He paused until he felt me get wet. Then he started his punishment of my body. I was bent over my bed. He was holding my hips and slamming into me repeatedly. It was grueling. It felt like the night that he’d fucked me against my bedroom door when he left me. I was not sure if I should stop him or let him use me like this. My body was begging me not to stop him. My mind was telling me that I was in a heap of trouble. Before I could make up my mind, he reached one hand around my hips and started massaging my clit. My body won. I screamed out as I came, and he finished a few seconds later.

  We were spent. I didn’t get up to clean myself. In the early dawn hours of Sunday morning, we somehow managed to crawl to the top of the bed. We were holding on to each other for dear life. “Colin, I got an almost perfect score on the MCAT,” I whispered.

  “That’s wonderful, beautiful girl,” he said as we drifted off to sleep.

  February, Senior Year

  I WATCHED him walk out of my apartment…

  The last two days had been hell. We had done nothing but spend the last forty-eight hours grieving the loss of this relationship together. We hugged, cried, screamed at each other and made desperate, passionate love. The drive back to College Station was awful. Every time that I thought that I had it together, I would remember that this was it. He was walking out of my life. During our last conversation, Colin had admitted that he needed all or nothing from me. He couldn’t take being my fri
end. I was desperately sad that he’d made that decision, but I respected it and understood. We were ripping the band-aid away from the wound instead of gently coaxing it off.

  I had texted Rachael to let her know what was going on and asked her not to be home. She graciously obliged.

  We were like ghosts packing up his things. We didn’t talk much. I handed him his clothes from my closet. He folded them neatly and put them in his duffle. I bagged up his toiletries. He silently carried his things to Big Bertha.

  He insisted that I keep the Porsche SUV. He said that he at least had to know that I was safe on the roads in Boston. I didn’t want the car, but I knew not to try to argue with him. I just smiled and thanked him.

  When everything was in his truck, and he was ready to go, we stood there like two stupid fools in my living room. Neither wanting to say the word “Goodbye.”

  He slowly slid my key off his key ring and handed it to me. I begged the tears to stay away, but they wouldn’t.

  I looked up at him and said, “I never want you to doubt that our relationship was real, strong, and filled with all the love that I have to give you. I am not going to Harvard because you are inadequate. I am going to be Harvard because I am inadequate.”

  He kissed me tenderly on the lips, reassuring me that he knew. “You will always be important to me Charlie. If you ever need anything, I want you to call me. I can’t be your friend, but I can be your guardian angel. Do you understand me?”

  I nodded yes.

  With that, he turned and walked to Big Bertha. I watched him climb inside that awful truck and drive away. I knew that my heart was in that ugly pickup truck.

  Three days later, I got a call from the car dealership confirming a delivery time for Colin’s new car. I had completely forgotten. I told the sales person that there was a change in the delivery address and gave them Colin’s apartment information and cell phone number. I asked the salesperson to start dealing with Colin directly.

  I sent Colin a quick text to let him know what was going on. We hadn’t spoken to each other since he left my apartment. It was brutal, but I knew in my heart of hearts that Colin was right. This was the best way for us to try to move on with our lives.

  Me: The car dealership was supposed to deliver your new, SAFE, car today. I gave them your address in Dallas and phone number and asked them to coordinate with you directly. I know that you are very upset with me, but please don’t return the car. I want you to be safe on the roads in Dallas, like you want me to be safe on the roads in Boston.

  He didn’t reply. I didn’t expect him to. Blissfully, Aiden and Rachael were not mentioning his name to me. There were no sides to take in our break-up. We were two people who desperately loved each other, but we knew that we couldn’t make a four year long-distance relationship work.

  Five days later, I was getting out of the shower when I heard my phone trill telling me that I had a text.

  It was him. It was from Colin. My heart fell in my stomach. I hadn’t realized how much I missed seeing his name on my phone.

  I grabbed it and opened the text.

  Colin: The maroon hybrid Cadillac Escalade was delivered today. I am assuming hybrid so I can try to make amends with the environment after driving Big Bertha for so long. Thank you. It’s a great car. I’ll keep it. However, I can’t keep the license plate STATMNT. It’s just too painful. I hope you understand.

  And that was the last time that I heard from Colin McKinney for eight years…

  The Present

  Chapter 1

  I STEERED my red Mercedes CLK convertible into my reserved parking spot and turned the engine off. I always take a few minutes to get my head straight before I head into the chaos that is my day. Today is a patient day. I like surgery days better. I can just do what I have been trained to do and not have to play good bedside manner doctor.

  I grab my ridiculously expensive purse, brand new phone and head into my office in Smith Tower.

  I am greeted by Carmen, “Good morning, Caroline. I love the dress. It looks stunning on you.” I have on a black, knee length dress. It’s nothing special. She must be trying to butter me up for something.

  “Thanks Carmen. When do I see my first patient?” I ask. This is our morning routine. I have an assistant, but I don’t see him until I get to my office, which is in the back of the practice.

  “Ten o’clock and you are booked solid today,” she replies.

  “Great news!” I reply, tying not to sound sarcastic.

  I know that my dad is already here. He beats me every morning. I swear the man doesn’t sleep. I stop by the break room and try to fix a cup of coffee without being spied. Coffee is a fun addiction that I picked up in medical school. I’m not particularly happy with it, but every time that I try to give it up; my coworkers insist that I have a mug.

  “Made it! Yes!” My dad hasn’t seen me yet. I mentally high five myself. My wonderful assistant Brad is waiting for me at my office. He knows the drill. We do everything that we can to avoid my father until I’ve had coffee. Brad is my savior.

  He holds my office door open for me and scoots in behind me. He closes my door, and we both collapse in my office letting out a sigh of relief. My office is large and comfortable. I have a big desk with lots of drawers. They are mostly empty. I have a large credenza behind my desk that is also empty. My dad insisted that I have this desk and credenza because he said that it makes patients feel like we have lots of knowledge and importance behind us. In reality, all of our patient records are kept digitally. With a few clicks on my keyboard, I can access any file that I need. I have two club chairs in front of my desk and a couch along the wall. Sometimes I need to accommodate families. I sit down behind my desk and Brad takes his spot on my couch. He looks more like he is watching TV than having a meeting with his boss.

  “So Brad, tell me about my patient load today,” I instruct. Brad is obviously gay. He has copper colored hair, brown eyes and smattering of freckles across his nose. He is a yoga and Pilates enthusiast. He has become a dear friend and personal shopper for me. There are times that I wonder how I lived so long without him. He’s an RN by schooling, but he needed a break from the hospital world. He doesn’t like whiney patients, vomit, infections, or anything dealing with vaginas. That’s what he told me as his opening line when I interviewed him. He’s also meticulously organized, has a great bedside manner and everyone loves him. Working for me, he is still able to dabble in medicine while he gets to run my life. This is something that he takes great pride in.

  “Doctor Collins, just let me tell you, you are slammed today. I don’t know who is doing the scheduling, but they must think that you wear running shoes instead of those fabulous high heeled Christian Louboutins,” he gushes.

  “I have some sort of stupid fund raiser tonight. I’ll slip on more practical shoes. I don’t want our patients to think that I get paid too much.” I wink at him.

  “Well, whatever the reason, you are a busy little beaver today,” he reaffirms for me.

  We make it about halfway through my patient list, when there is the inevitable knock on the door. “Come in Dad,” I call. Brad rolls his eyes at me.

  My dad steps into my office and barely acknowledges Brad. It’s nothing personal. My dad doesn’t have time for niceties.

  “Good morning, Caroline. I need to talk to you,” he says.

  Brad takes the cue and leaves flashing me a super big grin as he walks out my door.

  “What’s up?” I ask. This is our morning routine. Thankfully, he let me have some coffee first. My dad is an expert at helping professional athletes extend their careers. He exclusively deals with the world’s best athletes, and they are all fighting to see him. When I graduated from Harvard, we went into practice together. I see the everyday athletes. Mostly my patients are weekend warrior types who play beyond their age. His side of the practice is cash only. He doesn’t accept insurance, and he doesn’t take too many athletes on at one time. There is a waiting list a mile
long to get in to see him. It’s the who’s who of professional athletes. We’ve been known to have some seriously great offers of persuasion show up at our office. My dad hasn’t missed a World Series or Super Bowl in years.

  “Have you had your coffee?” he replies. Maybe he isn’t as clueless to my coffee addiction as I thought.

  “Yup. Just finished my second cup. Am I going to need a third?” I ask.

  “Brad,” he yells. “Bring Doctor Collins another cup of coffee.”

  “Absolutely!” Brad yells back.

  Great! What is this about? It has to be either really bad or really good. Dad doesn’t behave this way when it’s nothing.

  My dad dives right in. “I’ve been invited to attend a formal dinner honoring the long and successful career of Clay South. Mainly because Clay passionately believes I extended his professional career by three, very important, years. He has asked that I sit at his personal table with him and his family.”

  Clay South retired at the end of the football season after playing seventeen years as quarterback. He led his team to five championships. He is a God and legend in the football world. Clay came to Dad five years ago. He was suffering from a neck ailment that was preventing him from throwing the football with the maximum velocity he needed to stay at the top of his game. He had seen numerous other doctors. They all suggested surgery, but it could be career ending. My dad was able to rehab Clay’s neck during the off-season and fix the issue without him going under the knife. I seriously think Clay is crazier about my dad than he is about his own kids.

  “That’s fabulous, Dad. What an honor,” I reply. It’s very cool, but I am not sure what this has to do with me.

  Just then, Brad knocks on my door and comes in without waiting to be acknowledged. He hands me the cup and says, “Let me know if you need some Bailey’s.”