by gard, marian
"He just was, like, immobile. He wasn't crying or anything it was like…like he was really far away. He wasn't working, or showering, or eating anything that wasn't like, total crap." She looks beyond me as she talks as though she's visualizing it all over again. "He was like a mute. Way beyond normal, quiet Collin. Like practically catatonic."
"Did you get him to the hospital?" I ask, having no clue what the protocol should be in a situation like the one she's describing.
"No." She shakes her head. "Believe me, I wanted to."
"What about his mom?"
"She completely freaked, and I don't mean like, trying to do something about it freaked, like the opposite of that. She acted like I was making it up and then she and my dad went on some overseas trip. The vacation had been planned for a while, but still if your kid wasn't leaving the house or taking care of himself, and was barely speaking… Wouldn't you, like, want to do something to help?" She sounds completely pissed, even years later, and I can't say I blame her.
I reach over and put my hand on her arm. "I'm so thankful he had you." I'm thankful and floored. Completely floored.
"Well, I wanted to be there for him, but honestly? I didn't know what to do, and I was terrified. You know how his dad died, right?" She whispers. I nod my head and feel a wave of chills. It makes me sick to think he was suffering like this and I wasn't there for him.
"So, what happened? How did he get better?" I need to hear the part where he got better.
"Well, I had this friend from high school whose dad was a psychiatrist and we got him to make a house call. He wasn't thrilled about it, but we begged him. It was so crazy, but what else could we do? Collin was pissed!" She smiles. "I didn't give a shit, though. He refused to go to the hospital; so the deal was, he had to take the meds. The doctor told me if he said or did anything suicidal, I was supposed to call 911. I was scared to leave him alone, so I moved into his apartment with him. I got the place clean and made him healthy meals. I'm not a cook like him, but I do OK. After a while he agreed to go talk to someone. Then one day, I was doing his laundry and he took the basket from me and told me what a pain in the ass I was." She grins, full Reba-wattage, again.
"Um, for what, saving his life, doing his laundry?" I feel outraged on her behalf.
She laughs and pats my leg. "It was his way of saying thank you. I moved out a couple of months later and we haven't really spoken about that time since."
"I can imagine Collin wouldn't want anyone to talk about it." Not that I can really imagine any of this.
"So, that was about eight years ago. He will tell you that it's still hard for him, really hard at times, but he's never gotten bad like that again. Thank God!"
"Thank God is right," I echo.
"I would never wish that on Collin again, but in this weird way I'm really thankful it happened, because it made us really close."
"I can see that." I'm in complete awe of Reba. She handled an incredibly tough situation in a truly adult manner, at a time when she was barely an adult herself. I was so focused on Collin, years ago, that I never considered the pain of her loss, too. She's a survivor, just like him.
"He used to talk about you, you know." I shake my head. What? "A lot. Well, a lot for Collin. He really missed you."
"I missed him, too." My voice is unexpectedly shaky and she notices.
"So, what the hell happened? He would never tell me. He just said you two weren't friends anymore, and I could never pry the story out of him. One time, I suggested trying to contact you or find you, or whatever, and he was all, ‘Do not!' She points her finger at me, adding to her impression of Collin. I want to laugh, but I'm so freaked out I can barely move the muscles in my face beyond the shocked expression I've worn for the last twenty minutes. "So, I knew whatever happened between you guys must've been big, but I really wished you'd been around when all that shit was happening. You were the only person he'd ever talk to about anything. So, seriously, what the hell happened?"
She leans over and stares intently into my eyes. For a moment I feel obligated to tell her. She's shared an immense amount of really serious personal information with me, and I feel like the reciprocal thing to do is to share back, but I just can't. I won't. In a flash of inspiration I default to blaming Collin for my secrecy. I doubt he'd mind.
"It sounds like it isn't something he wants me to discuss, and I need to respect his privacy." Reba looks like she's going to go Cujo on me if I don't say more than that, so I add, "but basically, it was a really bad misunderstanding. We were both pretty upset at the time." She nods, and much to my relief, she doesn't appear to have plans to push me more on the topic.
"So, what did your boyfriend think of that huge photo of you?" She smiles provocatively.
"Um, what?" I exclaim loudly. What the hell is she talking about?
"You guys slept in the guest room downstairs, right?"
"Yes, but I think I would've noticed a picture of me in there."
"Well then, let's mark you down as totally oblivious, because it's huge and hanging on the wall in the main room of the basement." She raises her eyebrows in a look that says, ‘you're so stupid'. Now, there's the Reba I know.
I gasp. "It was late and I didn't even look around down there. I pretty much just went straight into the bedroom. In the morning, we kind of rushed out, too." I feel my face go hot.
She laughs at me. "You look stunned. Do you want to see it?"
Holy shit.
"I think so," I stammer.
"Don't worry. It's nothing scandalous." She pauses. "Oh my gosh, did you guys take scandalous pictures?"
"No!" I answer entirely too quickly, both sounding and looking totally guilty, I'm sure. Oh, God. Reba just laughs and takes me by the hand down to the basement.
"Here it is," she says, pointing to a large black and white photo. I immediately recognize the scenery, but I don't remember the shot at all.
"You look hot." She nudges me with her elbow as we both appraise the picture. "He's had this forever."
"I don't know what to say," I whisper. I feel numb.
"Yeah," she giggles. "I wouldn't know what to say if I found out some guy had a super big photo of me in his basement either." She laughs again and then studies my face. "Oh shit, you are freaking out, aren't you? Please don't. Listen, he's not a stalker or pervert or anything. I promise you. Plus, look around; there are incredible photos all over this basement and his whole house. It's not just you." Her tone is more panicked than reassuring.
"No. I know he isn't a stalker. If he were, he'd really suck at it." I laugh again, releasing tears down my cheeks. I wipe them away, hoping in vain Reba doesn't notice. "It's all just, um…overwhelming." I feel tears welling up again. "It's a lot to take in." I step closer to the photo. An internal voice suggests, what my gut already knows. This is a picture from the last day we spent together. This was the final day of our friendship. Oh my God.
She clasps both my hands in hers and I jump at the feel of her touch, like I've just been roused from a trance. "I've laid a lot on you. I can tell you're on overload. I'm sorry for hijacking your morning. Here, let me give you my cell number. If…if…um, you ever need anything, OK? Or you want to talk more?" I give her a slow motion nod. "I'll let you get to work now." I follow her up the stairs, my legs and arms moving on automatic, my brain still hovering around that photo.
Reba has ahold of my phone, plugging her number in. "Does Leighton know that's me in the photo?" My brain can't even begin to register what it means if she does, but I feel like I have to find out.
Reba freezes, and I can see she's pondering my question. "I kind of doubt it. When I said he used to talk about you—that was pretty past tense. He hasn't brought you up to me directly since I moved out…that I can think of, but you know how private he is." She hands me my coat. "Although, maybe he has told Leighton. She's the most significant girlfriend he's had in ages, maybe ever, so if he was going to tell anyone the super personal stuff…" she trails off. She hands me
my purse. "Hey, Raven?"
"Yeah," I say, not bothering to correct her, as I look up from searching in my purse for keys.
"He doesn't look at Leighton the way he used to look at you, though," she says in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.
I nod, because I'm not sure what else to do. What does that even mean? It was all so long ago. What does she want me to say? I know Collin wants something now, but I'm not really sure what that even is, and as far as the past goes, I was never really aware of, nor did I understand, what he was feeling. One thing I do know is I sure wasn't thinking clearly in that elevator. I doubt he was either. Now Reba is piling on now with information I can't even begin to process. I'm speechless. I think of Beckett and attempt to center myself. "Leighton seems nice." I sling my purse over my shoulder. Take that. I'm not going to get sucked in, no matter how tempting it is.
Reba's lips pull up on one corner like she's amused by my defense of Leighton. "Maybe she is nice. I'll give her that much, but there's a pretty big leap between nice and genuine. Nice out in the world is one thing, but in a relationship, I'm not convinced that it adds up to much." I stare back at her in shock. Her dislike of Leighton seems to be a lot more than the pettiness I assumed it to be initially. "Look, I have to admit, he seems happy—well, happy for Collin, I guess. It's just she's all about trying to make him into something he isn't. There's a difference between encouraging someone to grow and forcing them to pretend. She doesn't get that. I think she looks at him and sees someone she can mold into something else, rather than just loving him for who he really is." In my gut, I know she's completely hit the nail on the head, but I find myself defending their relationship anyway.
"I can't imagine Collin not holding his own with that sort of thing. I've never known him to bend to anyone's will. I'm sure he's fine with it, or he'd end it, right?" I defend. Reba shrugs like she's considering my point, but then she takes a step toward me and counters.
"I don't think he feels like what he is, or who he is, is good enough for the people he loves. I actually think he puts up with a lot; he always has. He just handles it by acting indifferent. On the outside that might look like defiance, but just because he doesn't change the way other people seem to want him to, doesn't mean he isn't buying into the idea that he needs to be fixed."
She's got a point. I let her words sink in. My stomach churns at the notion that I may have made him feel this way too. If I accept this reformed version of him now, does that make me just as bad as Leighton? I'd like to think I know Collin at his core, though, and I've always loved the deepest parts of him—I feel sure of that much, but I'm not sure how that applies to our lives now. I sigh and notice Reba examining me. We share a smile. Little Reba turning out to be insightful—who would've thunk it?
"Are you going to tell Collin I stopped by?"
"Well, I have to explain the returned clothes somehow…but hey, don't worry, I'm not going to tell him what we talked about, if that's what's worrying you." If at any point this morning I've been thankful for this new alliance between Reba and me, it's now.
"Why are you here, anyway? If you don't mind me asking." That question has been nagging me, but until now, I haven't been bold enough to ask.
"My boyfriend is out of town and I can be kind of a scaredy cat sometimes. I hate being there alone. So Collin let me sleep here last night. Like I said, he looks out for me." She smiles in a way that suggests this explanation proves a deeper point.
I nod. "Thanks, Reba. I'm glad we talked."
"C'mon," she says, opening her arms wide, "let's hug this one out."
Chapter 23
Collin
"Collin!" Leighton's voice breaks through my daydream like a glass shattering. I shift my eyes to hers, serving her up an apologetic grin. She looks beautiful today. It's chilly out, but sunny, and we're braving the cold with coffee outside of her favorite café. She's wearing the brown leather jacket, the one I got her for her birthday, and knee-high boots in a matching color. She would be all her usual adorableness if it weren't for the knitted eyebrows and matching angry-eyes. Christ.
I know I have to do better than a smile to win her over, but I'm having a tough time finding the energy for everything Leighton demands of me now. I wish she would just ease up a little. I need a minute to catch my breath and get my shit back in order. I've been agitated and distracted ever since the night Rachel spent at my house, the same night she told me to get lost…again. I've been fighting to flush her out of my mind, but it's proving to be very difficult. Everything I do seems to lead back to thoughts about her, including trivial things, like those oranges we shared. I had to pitch them. How pathetic is that? I couldn't even handle the sight of fruit she ate being in my fridge…Shit. So, with that level of crazy running around in my head, it's taking just about all I've got this morning to focus on the reality that she isn't here. Leighton is.
Ever since the photo in the basement thing, Leighton's been a wreck. I heard her crying in the shower yesterday morning. Usually when Leighton cries, it's all about strategy and manipulation. I'm not saying they were all disingenuous displays, but she's acutely aware that I'll almost always give in when she, my mother, or Reba are tearful. So, the fact that she was purposely hiding it is far more significant than the fact that she was crying at all. The worst part was I didn't need to ask her why, to know the answer. She's more intuitive than I give her credit for most of the time. She can feel the distance between us. She asked me this morning if I love her. It's a question she's asked multiple times since I first uttered the words to her voluntarily. I told her "yes", just as I have every other time before, because I do love her. I know I do, but it may not be the deep, passionate kind of love that will help us survive. I don't know how to change that. It kills me that I've been hurting her. She has every right to hate me. Hell, I hate me right now. I'm stupid not to just be satisfied with what I have in my life, especially when who I want, doesn't want me.
Leighton's glare has transformed into a melancholic look that causes more guilt to swell up inside me. "Sorry, Leighton. I'm listening. I'm just kind of out of it. I didn't sleep very well last night." She stands, rubbing her hands on her upper arms before snatching up her coffee and taking a sip. I follow, offering her my outstretched palm. Her gloved hand slips into my bare one and I marvel at how miniature it feels, not at all like Rachel's long, elegant fingers. Stop thinking about her.
"What do you want to do today?" Leighton asks, leaning into me.
"Want to see what's playing at the Music Box Theater?" I watch her grimace. "OK, then." I sigh loud enough for her to hear me and read between the lines. "What do you have in mind, Leighton?"
"I thought maybe we could stay in today. You know, get all cozy. Then you could show me some of your photo albums from college." She gives me a pleading look.
"What?" I can't hide my surprise.
"Yeah. I mean, I have only seen, like, two photos of you from when you were less than twenty."
I stare down at her. "Leighton, I…"
"Please don't tell me no, Collin." She pulls us to a stop. She blinks and her eyes fill with tears. She's killing me. "You've seen tons of my college photos."
"Well, they're kind of hard to avoid, Leighton. They're all over your apartment." Her expression immediately informs me that I've really stepped in it now.
"Avoid?" she cries. "Is that what you want—to avoid me?"
Oh God.
"Of course not, Leighton." I pull her close to me and out of the path of an on-coming dog walker moving at a break-neck pace. I touch her cheek gently and lower my voice. "I'm just trying to say, that's you, it isn't me."
"What's me?" her voice cracks. Her lips are puffy and red and she looks so young. I hate hurting her like this. This'll be a tough hole to dig out of, though.
I gesture around me. "Pictures of you and your friends, scrapbooks, trinkets. That's not me."
"I don't believe you," she counters, pulling away from me and folding her arms across her chest.
I shoot her an exasperated look. "You don't believe me?" She nods. This is about that goddamn photo of Rachel. "Listen, I really don't want to fight with you today, or any other day, for that matter. The truth is I don't have a lot of pictures of me, and I definitely don't have many with other people. I can dig around and find photos I took back then, but I'm not going to do it if you're just going to keep riding me like this."
"Riding you?" She raises her voice and I look around us feeling self-conscious.
"Can we please not do this here?" I touch her elbow gently. She doesn't budge. I guess that's a no. "I just feel like whatever I can find probably won't be good enough for you."
She inhales deeply and looks away from me. Our breath comes out in little puffs, it's freezing in the shade. I fight the urge to just pull her toward me and kiss her so deeply she forgets all of this, but I don't, because she won't. Plus, it would feel an awful lot like lying.
"You can't keep shutting me out, Collin."
"I'm not."
"Fine. Tell me something, anything, about when you were in college." Her voice rises again.
I comb my fingers through my hair and sigh. "I don't know, Leighton. I just sort of went through the motions back then. There isn't much to tell." She glares at me and I feel my irritation grow in kind.
"Fine. Then tell me about Rachel," she commands. I immediately shake my head and fail to contain an eye roll. Nope. No way are we talking about Rachel. Talk about a goddamn mine field. I'm not that stupid. "You can't even manage to tell me about some girl from a decade ago, Collin. Do you get how sad that is? How alone it makes me feel?" She abruptly shifts her weight on the sidewalk in a way that looks a hell of a lot like she just stamped her foot. Is this really happening? Did my girlfriend seriously just stamp her foot at me? Jesus.
"I'm not trying to make you feel alone, Leighton. It's just…I don't know…can't we do this without the inquisition? I think this sort of stuff should just come up more organically, you know?" I try to gently pull on her arm so we can start walking and she wriggles out of my grasp, flailing dramatically.