by gard, marian
"Collin?" Vanessa stands on the front stoop staring up at me in shock.
"Hey Vanessa, it's been a while," I say, opening the door wider for her to enter. This is unexpected. I feel my pulse accelerate, but I keep my voice and expressions neutral. Thank God with most people I'm damn good at the nonchalant act.
"What are you doing here?" she practically shouts.
"Shhhh! Rachel is sleeping. She's exhausted." I gesture toward the couch where Rachel remains out cold. Vanessa looks over at her and then back up at me.
"What are you doing here?" she asks again, this time whispering.
"We were both supposed to be at a meeting today. I heard she was sick and alone and I felt like coming to help was the right thing to do." I am going to be so pissed off if she tries to get me to leave. Vanessa still looks unsure, so I add, "She was in pretty bad shape when I got here about three hours ago, but I helped her get some fluids and I think her fever has gone down."
Her speculative glare doesn't change as she says, "I brought chicken soup." She hands me a warm crock-pot and I set it on the counter. "I had to wait until Ryan got home to watch the kids or I would've been here sooner. I feel awful."
"She'll be OK," I murmur.
"No! She missed her big meeting and it's all my fault." I shoot her a look of confusion.
"We had this terrible stomach flu go through our house. Each of us got sick; one by one we fell, like dominoes. Anyway, she was over twice during that time and she clearly caught it."
I shrug. "She'll be fine. This stuff happens."
"I know, but her boss is nuts. I guess he flipped out when she called in sick. Apparently, she tried to drive there and was so ill she almost didn't make it back home." She places a hand over her mouth as though the retelling of it all is making her emotional. "I'm glad you were here. I was so worried. I kept checking in with her, but I wasn't sure if she'd tell me if she was really bad off or not, and then after a while I heard nothing." She glances up at me clearly connecting Rachel's silence with the timing of my arrival.
Rachel moans and shifts on the couch and Vanessa and I freeze, neither of us moving a muscle. A few beats go by and she doesn't move again. We look at one another and Vanessa whispers, "Let's go to the dining room." I nod and follow her.
Rachel's dining room is narrow and just barely fits a table and four chairs. Vanessa takes a seat and I squeeze in across from her. I glance around the room and then settle in on a framed photo above her that's clearly from her wedding. With their arms linked, Vanessa beams in her wedding gown and Rachel clings to her, clearly sharing in her joy. This would've been a couple of years after school, but they look the same as I remember them both back then. A wave of nostalgia washes over me, but I don't have time to fully absorb it. Vanessa is still eyeing me closely.
"So, how've you been, Collin?" Her words are simple, but the question is loaded.
"Good. Congrats on your marriage and the kids. Your girls are beautiful." And back to you, Vanessa.
She looks at my quizzically. "How did you…?"
"Facebook."
"Ah ha," she says, nodding her head.
"For the record, I didn't sign up for that. My ex-girlfriend, Leighton, created the whole thing." I don't add that this includes the acceptance of her friend request, or however that went down.
Vanessa looks alarmed. "Ex?" She asks. Crap. That was a misstep. I just became more dangerous, not less.
"Well, I don't know. Apparently, she's taking a break from me." Vanessa's expression doesn't change.
"Does Rachel know that?"
We both instinctively look in the direction of the living room where she's sleeping, though clearly neither of us can see through the wall that separates the rooms. "Um, I don't think so. We haven't really talked much until tonight and I was mostly just helping her with the flu…so…"
"I see." I feel judgment wafting off of her.
Sometimes the easiest path is the most direct. I think with Vanessa this is my safest bet. "Look, I know about Beckett. He seems like a good guy. I'm just here to help her, because she was alone. I'm not trying to screw anything up for her."
Vanessa is silent as she studies me. I know this interaction is crucial. Besides me, Vanessa was Rachel's closest friend in college and obviously that friendship has endured. If I want any kind of relationship with Rachel moving forward, I cannot be at war with her.
"Collin, you know I've always been a cut through all the crap kinda girl, right?"
I grin at her. "Yes, and I've always admired that about you."
"Well, so that's what I'm going to do for you now, but then that's it. This is my one contribution to you in this whole mess and after this, I'm out—mainly because my husband will kill me if I'm not, but also because it's the right thing to do. Are you ready?"
I'm not sure if I'm ready to hear what she has to say, but I don't think I have a choice at this point. I swallow so hard that it's audible, and then nod my head. Vanessa takes a deep breath and then looks me squarely in the eyes.
"Once upon a time, you broke my best friend's heart." I open my mouth to protest and she holds a single finger pointed in the air with a nearly-comical, authoritative look on her face. "Clamp it, Collin! This is my speech and that is what it is. This isn't a conversation, negotiation or a debate. So just buckle up and listen. Got it?"
How does a man argue with that? Poor Ryan. I can't help but laugh—but only nervously—and then I nod my head for her to continue.
"I know this to be true better than anyone, because I was there for the whole aftermath. We lived together in Chicago after graduation and she was wrecked. Yes, she landed a great job, and on the outside—for her friends and family—she never missed a beat, because she's Rachel. But on the inside she was shattered. I'm sure it also won't come as a surprise to you that since then there have been no shortage of guys interested in her. She spent some time alone, dated a few people here and there, but it took her a long time to settle down in a relationship with anyone. It's also true that Beckett is a decent guy and I believe he really loves her."
I look away from her and stare at the table. This must be the token get-the-hell-away-from-my-best-friend-speech. I should've known. Just then, Vanessa grabs my hand from across the table. "Collin! Tune in here. Listen! I'm not done talking, OK? When I'm finished you can take it or leave it, but for now, you're gonna hear me out."
I return her eye contact and she continues. "I know part of the appeal of Beckett is, like Spencer, he is tried-and-true. He isn't going anywhere. She's totally safe with him. Deep down though, it's like she's always been waiting for something else, or someone else." She holds my gaze for a beat and then says: "You." I feel my throat clench unexpectedly and my mouth drops open. This is the last thing I ever expected her to say. "Some part of her never let go of you, never let go of the hope of you. There's a problem here, however. A pretty big one, too. That is, you scare the shit out of her. She can't predict you, and let's face it; your track record isn't great. Rachel fears being abandoned more than anything else in the world. The other truth is, if you hurt her, you'd better never show your face anywhere near me again." I don't laugh this time. She looks dead serious.
I swallow and am careful to extract any amusement from my face. "Permission to speak?"
She raises one eyebrow and nods. "Granted."
"So, what are you telling me to do here?" She gives me a lightning-quick eye roll.
"I'm not telling you to do anything, Collin. I'm just giving you the facts, including some I don't think you knew. What you decide to do from here is entirely your choice. I'm just letting you know, if you're going to make a move, then make it now, and mean it. Really mean it." She splays her hands out on the table, leans forward and stares me down. "OK, Collin. That's it. That's all you get from me on this topic." She breaks our eye contact, looks down at her wristwatch and sighs. "I promised Ryan I would be back in time for bath time. I gotta hit the road. Would you please tell her I was here?"
&n
bsp; "Absolutely."
She stands up and starts heading for the door, I follow her, still reeling, and then suddenly she does an about-face, leveling me again with her big, brown eyes. "Please, don't fuck this up." All I can manage in response is a nod. I close and lock the door behind her and then exhale a long, pent-up breath.
Holy shit.
Rachel
My entire body hurts. I roll over and open my eyes. For a moment everything is unfocused. I shut them again and then hear a low, gruff voice. "Hey there, sleepy head."
Oh, my God, it wasn't a dream. Collin is really here in my living room, while I have been sleeping off the worst sickness I've had in years. I open my eyes again and see him sitting in the chair across from me. "Hey, you're still here."
"Hope that's OK. I wanted to make sure you were alright." His voice is a husky whisper.
I sit up and the whole world rocks around me, or at least that's what it feels like. Before I know it, Collin is next to me with a tall glass of water.
"Here, you need to drink. You've been asleep for a long time."
I take a long drink, gulping nearly half of it. "Thank you," I whisper. My hand trembles as though the weight of the glass is more than I can handle, and I can't seem to muster the effort to properly set it down without spilling its remaining contents. Collin seems to notice my ineptitude, and gingerly removes the glass from me and sets it on the table in front of us. As he leans forward, I covertly inhale his scent. He smells clean and fresh and I vaguely recognize his cologne from our time in the elevator. It dawns on me how gross I currently am from head to toe, and a wave of embarrassment washes over me. Too late now. "Um, what time is it?"
"About two in the morning."
"Oh my gosh, Collin! I can't believe you're still here. What about you? You need to get some sleep, too!"
He reaches over and gently sweeps my hair from my face. I feel chills erupt all over my body that have nothing to do with a fever.
"I don't mind at all. I've gotten a lot of work done tonight, and tomorrow is flexible for me. It's no big deal." His expression is kind and gentle. I know I should feel self-conscious or uncomfortable, but I can't bring myself to feel any of that in this moment. I'm just so thankful he's here.
"Thank you for taking care of me. You didn't need to do all of this."
He takes my hand in his. "I wanted to, and you were so sick, you needed help. I think you still do."
My mind is struggling to fully connect with everything that's happening around me, but I still feel awful—really ill—and I just can't quite get there. All the painful sensations in my body are overriding my ability to think clearly. "I think I need to pee," I blurt.
Collin smiles and I can tell he's restraining a laugh. "That's good. That means you probably aren't dehydrated anymore."
I move to stand, but my legs feel weak, and suddenly I'm very dizzy. He puts his arm around my waist, steadying me.
"Easy, there. I think your fever's back. Let me help you."
Before I can protest, he's lifting me off the couch and gently guiding me to the bathroom that's off the bedroom. He turns on the light, deposits me through the doorway, and quietly closes the door. After I use the bathroom, I examine myself in the mirror. Oh God. I splash water on my face and brush my teeth. I have to do it very gently because, everything, everything hurts. Somewhere in my brain a voice is shouting that Collin is currently in my bedroom, and I know I need to respond to this information somehow, but I'm so tired, I just can't. When I emerge from the bathroom the lights are low in my bedroom and Collin is sitting on the edge of the bed.
"How ya' feeling?" He asks. There's a ghost of a smile on his lips and at the sight of it I have a sudden and bizarre urge to muss his hair, or touch his cheek, but by some miracle I have enough sense to know I shouldn't.
"Not good, but I think I'm better than I was this morning. So, thank you." I smile at him and he gazes back as a full smile emerges on his face. He stands and guides me to the bed. On my nightstand is a glass of water and more painkillers. He hands them to me.
"Here, you feel pretty warm. I think the fever has definitely made a comeback."
I take the medicine obediently and he eases me under the covers and then leaves the room. I want to call out to him, but the idea of using my voice above a whisper sounds incredibly painful. I also have no idea what to say, or even what I want—maybe just for him to stay? A moment later he returns with a cool cloth and places it on my head.
"Mmm…that feels good, thank you." He pulls the sheet up to my shoulder and kisses me lightly on the temple.
"Go back to sleep," he whispers in my ear, and then as though my brain has accepted his words as an edict, I feel exhaustion pull me back under.
*** *** ***
I wake up around seven-thirty and sit up slowly. I can feel my fever is gone and my body has started to heal. Events from last night flood my brain and I search around the room to see if Collin is asleep in a chair or on the floor. I pad out to the living room and see the folding tray leaning against the couch with a note taped to it.
Rachel,
I hope you're feeling infinitely better this morning. I had to go, but I left some things behind for you. There's chicken soup in the fridge, crackers by the sink, and some unopened Gatorade. Do you still like the green kind? The ginger candies are by the coffee maker – they'll help with the nausea, so you may want to have one before you attempt solid food today.
Vanessa stopped by while you were asleep last night and also left some soup for you. She was very concerned about you and was worried she had made you sick. Please call her.
Thanks for letting me take care of you. Call if you need ANYTHING.
Collin
"Thanks for letting me take care of you." I reread that line twice before carefully folding the note. He knows me so well. If I'd had just an ounce more of strength last night I would've fought him at every turn and ushered him out the door as soon as I could. My heart flutters, and I search for my phone to send him a thank-you-text. When I find it, I see I already have a missed call from Tim. Lord help me, it's time to face the music. I glance at the clock and decide to call him back in five minutes or so, after I try to drink and maybe eat something. That conversation will need all the strength I can muster. In the meantime, I send a text to Collin.
Me: I don't know how to thank you. I'm feeling a lot better this morning. I hope you got some sleep! I will give you a call later this week.
He responds moments later.
Collin: It was my pleasure. Talk to you soon.
Chapter 26
Collin
Before Leighton freaked out on me, the plan was for her to come with me to see my Mom today, but I still haven't heard from her. I guess I was supposed to call her, but I'm afraid I don't have the answers she wants to hear. I'm feeling hopeful about Rachel in a way I've never dreamed I would, and I'm determined to see it through to whatever end may come. We texted the morning after she was sick and I was relieved to discover that she woke up feeling better not only health-wise, but about us, too. I left just before six in the morning, while she was still sound asleep, so I had time to shower and get to work. I hardly slept, but it was completely worth it.
I feel thoughts of both Rachel and Leighton fade away as I pull into the long driveway leading to my mother's house. The fact my mom is dying is a sobering reality that manages to dwarf everything else in my life, no matter how significant it felt moments ago. I park in the rear of the house, take a deep breath, and let myself in.
"Hey, Mom." Her eyes flutter open, close, and then open again slowly. A small smile rises on her face and I can see the effort it takes just to work the few muscles that control her expressions. I don't think there's anything that really prepares you for watching someone you love become sick and frail. I saw my dad the night before he died when he kissed me and tucked me into bed. His death was so sudden; there was no painful metamorphosis. Not like this.
"Collin." Her voice is scratchy a
nd weak. It's been this way for so long now that I struggle at times to recall what it used to sound like. I reach for her water and bring the straw to her lips. She drinks appreciatively and then pats the bed beside her. I move to sit, careful of her tiny legs, and place the water back down on her nightstand. "I'm glad you're here." She looks more alert.
"Me, too," I whisper, holding her hand in my own. "How's today?"
She sits up slightly. A cloud of pillows cradle her delicate head, which is wrapped in a colorful silk scarf, a gift from Reba. She attempts to clear her throat and it sounds marginally better as she says, "Today is today, and I'm still here. I want to talk about you, though. What's this I hear about you and Raven talking again, dear?"
I lean back, surprised at her knowledge of this. "Reba?" I question. She nods in confirmation. "She goes by Rachel, now, Mom. We're talking a little. I don't know. Why does it matter?" I run my hands through my hair.
She gives me a knowing look. "Don't make a dying woman explain the obvious, Collin."
I smirk at her and squeeze her delicate hand gently. Her skin is soft and smooth, but thin, as though it could hardly be enough protection for the fragile bones within it. I would've given anything in childhood to be close to her like this. Part of me can't contain the pangs of anger I feel toward her for waiting this long, but I know I'd be fool to toss it away now.