To See You Again

by gard, marian

  I don't believe in love at first sight. In fact, when people say shit like that I have no idea what they're talking about. The idea of loving someone the moment you meet them feels more than improbable to me; it feels insane. Still, there was something about Raven that drew me in immediately, and it wasn't just physical attraction, I can admit that much. Things have built between us for years and now I'm faced with the reality that I'm about to lose her. I can feel it. I've been trying to ignore graduation plans, moving, job interviews, all of it, but time is running out. She's all but said it. It's goodbye, soon.

  Raven is gazing at me and I see her eyebrow crook up on one side. I'm acting weird; I know it. She knows it. I have minutes, or more likely, seconds, before she says or does something that causes this moment between us to collapse. I won't know how to recreate it, if it does. I hold her gaze, attempting to will something, anything, to come out of my mouth, but nothing does. Instead, I just nod my head, and she releases her brow and leans toward me like I'm about to whisper something. I lean in too, and I do whisper.

  "There's one thing." Her eyes widen and she's looking at me. She's looking at me that way that only she does, and for a moment I feel safe, a sensation that for me, is typically foreign and fleeting. I use it, and the adrenaline that appears to accompany it, to reach out and touch her, gently tugging her toward me until our faces are just inches apart. I feel her breath hitch the same moment mine does, and I close the space between us by running my lips over hers, teasing her mouth open.

  Her shocked response tells me she didn't see this coming, but the way her lips and hands move with mine, I know that she's at least thought about it. We kiss for what seems like several minutes and I keep waiting and bracing for the moment when she pulls away, but she doesn't. I move my lips to her neck and kiss my way up to her earlobe, where I whisper, "Tell me to stop, Raven, if you don't want this." I want her more than anything, but I won't take her if she doesn't want to be taken. She shudders in my arms and I open my eyes and pull back to look at her. Her blue eyes look three shades darker, illuminated only by flickering glow of the TV and a distant light in the kitchen. She searches my face briefly, and then, as though a decision has been made, pulls me back down onto her, kissing me deeply.

  My mind is racing. I can't believe this is happening and I want so badly to feel her everywhere, see every inch of her and memorize every single sound she makes. She slips her hand inside my shirt; first kneading my back, then pushing her hand from my stomach to my chest up to my shoulder, which she grips tightly, pulling me closer to her. Her touch feels incredible and I feel like I'm going to lose my mind with want. I shift her clothing, gaining access to her bare skin, and caress her breast. She gasps and arches in my arms. If it's possible, I begin kissing her even more passionately than before and a sudden wave of urgency runs over both of us. I lift her swiftly from the couch; careful not to sever the connection my lips have with hers, and walk down the hallway to her room, where I press her onto the bed. It's dark in her room; a street lamp just outside her window provides us with our only light. She runs her hand down my cheek and I lean into it.

  "Collin," she says.

  "Raven." I mimic her touch. "I want you."

  "I want you, too," she whispers, and her eyes close. I memorize everything I can about this moment. I know I'll want perfect recall of it later.

  I've been having sex since I was fourteen. Over the years, I've done it with a lot of girls, and some of those encounters have been incredible. I'm pretty sure by most standards, I would be considered good in bed, and I've been with women who are as well, but never would I have described what I was doing as making love. Not even close.

  I run my hands through Raven's hair and then trace a single finger along her collarbone, before carefully removing her clothes and mine. Seeing her naked exceeds every image of her I have shamelessly imagined before this moment. I catalog her expressions as our hands explore each other's bodies, and I know, in this instant, without a doubt, I love her, and what we are about to do is an expression of all of that.

  Chapter 3

  Raven

  It's nearly three o'clock in the morning when I carefully extract myself from Collin, who remains in a deep slumber with his limbs crossed over my own. I've gone in and out of a very restless sleep since he passed out a few hours ago. After we had sex he held me in his arms with my back to his chest, while he traced lazy circles on my skin and whispered that I was beautiful. I didn't respond beyond a sigh, and when he got up to use the bathroom I rolled over and feigned sleep when he returned. He drifted off not long after, and I felt the pain of guilt seeping in like poison being pumped into my veins.

  Now, in this early hour, I'm facing some difficult truths. Among them: I'm a liar. I'm a cheat. I'm a horrible person. I've hurt my boyfriend, whom I thought I loved, and destroyed my relationship with my best friend.

  I pad out to the kitchen where I pour myself some water and then click off the TV in the adjacent room. Tabby's door is slightly ajar, which means she probably isn't home. She must've stayed with Erin or Vanessa tonight. Thank God. I lean into the hallway glancing at her door again and then my own. The Reservoir Dogs poster Collin bought for me sophomore year hangs slightly askew on the outside of my door. It always looks crooked, no matter what I do. I tiptoe down the hallway, avoiding the creaky floorboards—the ones that will give me away—and gently tap on Tabby's door. It swings open and reveals her neatly made bed. That answers that. OK, no more stalling. It's clearly just me, a passed-out-Collin, and a huge relationship-ending crisis, hanging out in the apartment tonight. I saunter back to the kitchen and take a slow sip of water. There's a part of me that desperately wants to write off what happened tonight as some sort of a dream. Maybe all of it could've been an apparition, some phantom version of Collin, but I know that isn't true. Just a few feet away, lying in my bed is Collin, in real form. I can't blame this on alcohol. I wasn‘t that drunk; neither was he.

  The other part of me is contemplating phrases that until tonight I would have completely dismissed as total hyperbole, ridiculous adulation. Mind-blowing. Earth-shattering. I've had friends use these terms and I would sit there and think that they were full of it. No one has sex that good. I haven't had a lot of sexual partners in my life, but I'm not inexperienced either. I'm guessing I'm about average for my age, although nowhere near the number Collin's had. I'd planned to stop with Spencer. Sex with him was good, but after having been with Collin I'm realizing there's no comparison. I had no idea sex could be like that. I had no idea that those ridiculous expressions could be experienced in real life. I had no idea. I shiver, thinking about his passion tonight and the natural way I felt myself respond. Even in our most intimate moments, it'd never been that way between Spencer and me.

  Add this to the list of reasons that I currently hate myself. Thanks to Collin I will forever compare this experience to any one that comes after it. Collin has ruined me. This sex has ruined my life. There's no way I can continue to date Spencer, though I'm not sure I'm capable of telling him what I've done. I place my glass against my forehead and exhale a shaky breath. How have I messed up everything like this? I don't do impulsive. That's never been me. No one is going to get this. Hell, I don't get this. All my friends, even Vanessa, will be beyond shocked that I've thrown my relationship away for a one-night stand with a notorious ladies man. They won't accept sardonic, angry Collin as a substitute for my supportive, sweet boyfriend. My friends' judgment of me however, is the least of my problems. Spencer is intertwined in all the meaningful aspects of my life and together we've figured everything out.

  I look down and my hands are shaking. In fact, I'm trembling all over. I guess when you've managed to throw all your plans away in one night, that's what you do—shake uncontrollably. My mind floods with everything that was supposed to happen next in my life: graduate, move to Spencer's hometown in Michigan, start our careers and then get engaged. That's our plan. It's a good one, and I just set it all on fire. I
was going marry Spencer: kind, thoughtful, stable Spencer. What the hell have I done?

  A memory of him getting emotional about Collin thrusts its way into my brain, as though my conscious is showing me bloodied crime scene photos. Here, take a good look at what you've done. He's always been insecure around Collin, and I would alternate between chiding and reassuring him for it. I had the nerve to get angry with him over his jealousy just one week ago, when I'd skipped dinner with him to go hiking with Collin—an activity I'd mentally justified because Spencer doesn't like to hike, though he probably would've for me. "Don't you trust me?" I'd questioned, employing my most reasonable calm voice, and poor Spencer had apologized. He'd said ‘sorry' to stupid, slutty, about-to-cheat, me. I shut my eyes, realizing I have successfully made his worst nightmare come true.

  I switch back to thoughts of Collin and my mind starts racing as my heart begins to pound. I can't deny that once he kissed me, I didn't want him to stop. He asked me twice if I was sure, and both times I just kissed him. I couldn't say yes, I was way beyond no, but I never stopped him. Just the thought of Collin kissing me now makes my knees buckle. I place my hand on the counter and force myself to drink some water. I have to calm down! I have to figure all of this out. Now. Get it together, Raven. Morning is coming and I need to know what I'm going to do next about this huge mess I've created.

  I close my eyes and try to picture Collin and me together, but it's just a complete mess. If this had happened when we first met then maybe a relationship would've been possible, but that's a big maybe. Now I've got a pending graduation day, job interviews, and the life I've worked so hard to achieve finally starting. I don't know what the hell he's doing! He's just coasting along as though a plan doesn't matter, as though nothing matters. And maybe to him, nothing does. Including me.

  I know he doesn't do relationships, and I doubt that's what he'd want, even from me. My stomach churns at the thought that I was just another conquest for Collin, one more notch in his belt. He sort of said that didn't he? Before he kissed me. When I asked if there was anything he wanted to do before we graduated. The idea of being on some checklist floods me and I feel ill. I shake it off, inhaling and exhaling deeply. What he wants, or what this was to him, is actually totally irrelevant. A relationship with Collin isn't part of my future. Even if I'm no longer part of Spencer's five-year plan, I know that Collin isn't part of any plan of mine. We don't fit into each other's worlds outside of the life we have here. It seemed possible we could've remained friends, and I'd hoped for that, but now that too, is ruined.

  I hear a creak in the floor and I whirl around, startled. Collin is standing in the doorway of the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxers. Oh God.

  "Hey," he says, taking a few strides toward me, "you, OK?"

  I'm going to throw up. I don't answer. Instead I turn away from him, stare down at my empty glass, and exhale. Collin comes up behind me and gently places his hands on my bare arms. "Come back to bed, Raven. I want to hold you." His voice is so soft it feels like caress and for a split second I want to do exactly what he says.

  I turn around to face him, backing up a few paces, so I slip out of his grasp. "I can't."

  A crease forms on his forehead and he exhales nervously, looks away, and then returns his attention to me. "Raven, this isn't what you think. Um. Shit. I'm really bad at this, OK? I wanted to talk to you about this beforehand, but…"

  "Wait," I interrupt him, "beforehand? You planned this?"

  "No!" He puts a hand up defensively and then closes his eyes and inhales and exhales slowly. Reopening his eyes he says, "OK, not exactly." He shakes his head, looking rattled. I don't think I have ever seen Collin rattled. He always has the cool I-don't-give-a-crap thing down pat, even when his stepdad is taking shots at him, pushing every button he can find. "I mean, I'd planned to try to talk to you about…and back at the bar…God, this is so hard." He runs a hand through his hair, causing clumps of it to stand on end. I glance at his chest, and he follows my gaze and then exchanges it for staring at my bare legs. I'm only wearing a tank top and my panties. We're not dressed for friendship-ending conflict, but let's just add that to the ever-increasing list of reasons why tonight is shaping up to be the worst night ever.

  "Collin, we fucked up. I fucked up. This," I gesture back and forth between us, "can't happen." Panic and hurt sweeps over his face making him look years younger, like a little boy. For a split second I falter. I don't know what I expected, but this wasn't it. I want to understand what's going through his mind and what he thinks all of this means. I notice him swallowing hard and I expect his expression to dissolve as a result. I've seen him do that before, squash some internal stirring that has interrupted his ever-present neutrality, but this time it doesn't. The hurt remains. I ache all over. I know, better than anyone, how much pain and rejection Collin has faced by the people closest to him in his life; the thought of being the cause of more of that for him makes me ill.

  I soften my tone, but decide not to delve further. It's best for both of us if we don't. We made a huge mistake tonight and we have to make it right the best we can. I have to stay the course. "You're my best friend, Collin. You mean so much to me, but I have a boyfriend." (Though, probably not for much longer…)

  "This is about Spencer?" All anguish seems to wash out of Collin's face and is replaced with incredulity. "That guy, Raven?"

  "Yes, that guy, Collin! Otherwise known as my boyfriend. Whose heart I probably broke tonight, or I will, when he finds out…" My voice trails off and Collin is looking away from me now, his gaze down the hall, toward my bedroom. I stare at him, waiting. He looks back at me and I can tell he's calmer and more resolved than before, but when he speaks his voice is heartbreakingly raw.

  "Don't you feel anything for me, Raven? Didn't this mean something to you?" I'm thrown again. For as close as we've been over the years this is uncharted territory. His words awaken a wanting within me that is trying to break free, but I feel terrified by it. Any step closer to whatever this is feels like it would be a blind jump off a cliff. I can't do it.

  I close my eyes and feel my heart as it pounds in my chest while images from tonight replay in my mind. His kiss. His touch. I feel weak in the knees thinking about how breathless he'd left me. How right everything had felt with him. I think of all our time together over the past few years and I realize I feel for him in ways I never wanted to admit, or was afraid to acknowledge, fearing he'd never reciprocate. Yet here he stands, in all his male beauty; vulnerable, and asking me what I want. I want to say to hell with everything rational in my life and throw myself into his arms, kiss him, and pretend that somehow we can make this work. Maybe we could, if Collin took anything seriously. I try to envision him in my life, in the future I want for myself, and he just doesn't go, like a puzzle piece shoved in the wrong box.

  I raise my eyes to meet his and for the first time since I've known Collin, I lie to him. "Of course I feel something, but it is just friendship, nothing more. What we did tonight…it wasn't right." The words come out slow like they're sticky and adhering to my cheeks and tongue—not wanting to be spoken at all.

  He stares back at me, hard, like he's trying to ferret out the lie I've just told. I hold his gaze, but all the moisture leaves my mouth. I'm completely torn—part of me wants to get away with my deceit, and the other part is withering as my resolve begins to drain away. I imagine myself in his arms again; only this time he's telling me everything will be OK. I want him to tell me he has a plan to make it that way. Instead he drops his eyes and stares at the floor. He lifts his hand and touches his chest running his fingertips back and forth like he's feeling around for something. Then he turns, without a word, and walks away. I sink into a chair and bite my lip, willing the tears that are threatening not to escape from my eyes.

  Collin appears moments later fully dressed with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He stops in front of where I sit, but says nothing; instead he pulls his lighter from his back pocket and lights his
cigarette. He takes a long dramatic drag and then exhales in my direction sending smoke billowing toward me. This gesture and the expression on his face all scream fuck you in a way only Collin could perfect. I've seen him with that look on his face before, but have never been on the receiving end of it. It feels like ice slicing through me.

  "You start work tomorrow at ten?" His voice is cold, flat, devoid of emotion. I nod and blink and a rush of tears race down my cheeks. "I'll come by a little after that and get the rest of my shit. I'll leave my key under the mat or with Tabby, if she's home. Please don't be here." His voice is firm and distant.

  "Collin," I say, sounding desperate and panicked.

  "Don't," he says, blowing more smoke in my direction and pointing his lit cigarette at me. Then he turns and slips out the door, shutting it quietly behind him. I sit silently at the table listening to the sound of his boots thumping down the stairs until I can't hear them anymore.

  Chapter 4

  (Ten Years Later/Present Day)

  Rachel

  Meredith is standing in the doorway of my office looking at me. She makes a little sniffing noise. It's one of her signature sounds; that, and her clambering heels clacking on the floor as she walks down the hall. I can always tell when she's coming. Now she's standing here sniffing; she wants my attention. Use your words, Meredith. I raise my eyes to hers.

  "Uh, Rachel? Is this an OK time?" Is she trembling? God, she is.

  Meredith is the most nervous creature you will ever meet. She's a tumultuous ball of slipping, spilling, and nervous shaking. She wants desperately to please, but she gets in her own way, tripping over her words, falling all over herself. To watch us interact you'd think I must've treated her poorly, done something horrible to her to leave her shaking and fearful, but she does that all by herself. I'm pretty sure she could be frightened by her own shadow. For some reason all of this makes me just want to shake her. It's almost impossible not to want to be mean to her.