by gard, marian
"You got it. Tim barely talks to me anymore. I'm not in the loop on anything important lately. He's reduced my work load, and you'd think that'd be a relief, but all it's done is totally erode my confidence." Beck follows me into the bedroom as I toss my skirt on the chair. "That's probably what he's trying to do. I've seen Tim push other people out before; I just never thought it would be me." I'm only wearing my bra and underwear and I notice a hungry look in Beck's eye as he casts his gaze over me. I'm too tired for that right now. I march back over to my closet and he trails behind me.
"It'll blow over," Beckett soothes, caressing my bare shoulders. I slip out of his grasp and head toward my closet where I flip through t-shirts looking for a comfy one to wear.
"I'm not so sure. I've worked so hard there for so many years and really, what do I have to show for it?" I say more to myself than him.
"Come away with me this weekend," he whispers.
"I can't."
"You mean you won't." He folds his arms, frowning deeply.
I don't feel like fighting, but there's no way we can go away this weekend. He didn't even ask me, which is classic Beckett, making all the decisions for us. "Beck, give me a minute to change? I'm so tired and I just want to get comfortable."
"Fine," he mutters, sauntering into the living room.
I slip into a t-shirt and sweats, and then untwine my hair. The roots ache from a day spent forced into a tight bun. I pull it to the side and braid it loosely across my shoulder. I wash my face and brush my teeth, and finally begin to feel human again.
When I enter the living room, it's been transformed. The lights are all off, and on nearly every flat surface is a lit candle. As my eyes begin to focus, I see Beckett in the center of the room down on one knee. I gasp and then immediately cover my mouth.
"So, I was going to do this tonight at the bed and breakfast, but maybe this is better, anyway. My beautiful, Rachel, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, black velvet box. He opens it, and even from across the room I can see the bold diamond, sparkling.
"Oh, my God," I whisper.
"Is that a yes?" He laughs nervously.
"Beck, I…" He rises and walks over to me.
"Rachel, I love you. I've loved you since before we were even together, and I'm ready. I think we're ready. Let me put this ring on your finger and with it, I pledge my life to you." He bends down and kisses my lips gently.
I close my eyes, and it just comes out. "I can't."
"What?" He pulls back and thrusts his hand against his chest as though he's been stabbed.
"I mean, I'm not ready, Beck. I don't think we're on the same page." I shake my head and he looks horrified. He's not buying my back peddling.
"Do you love me?" he asks, already sounding heartbroken. I shut my eyes tight. "Look at me, Rachel." He places two fingers under my chin.
I open them and stare up at him. "Yes, I love you."
"Are you in love with me?" The pain in his voice is obvious and I feel horrible.
I start to cry, and shake my head ‘no'. He releases my chin and steps backward looking like he's been punched in the gut.
"Well Jesus, Rachel, when were you gonna to let me in on this small detail?" He throws the ring box onto one of the open suitcases with so much force it sends an empty candle box skidding halfway across the room. I stare it for a minute and then look back up at Beck, feeling my lower lip tremble.
"This was so beautiful and perfect, Beck. I'm so sorry." I'm not sure what to do next. He's holding his hand over his heart, looking stunned, or devastated, probably both.
I feel ashamed and ridiculous. Beckett is a great guy. This was a beautiful proposal, but I just can't lie anymore, not to him, not to myself. We are both like statues, frozen in place. He walks across the room slowly and bends down to zip the suitcase.
"I guess there's nothing left for me to do, but go," he says gruffly.
"You don't have to leave, Beck," I whisper.
"What the hell are you talking about, Rachel? What am I gonna to do? Stay here and hang out with you?" He laughs humorlessly in a way that gives me chills. I've never witnessed this much anger from him before. "What do you want me to do? Pop in a movie and act like this never happened?" He begins to yell, and I wrap my arms around myself and start to cry harder. "Do you understand what has taken place here tonight? I asked you to marry me and you tell me you're not in love with me. The end. We're done with the purgatory, Rachel. I'm not gonna to stick around and continue to waste my days, my years, with you just because you're afraid to be alone! We're over!" I sob loudly and he pauses and then says, "I don't even understand why you're crying! You just told me that you don't love me!" he shouts.
"I do love you!" I shout back. He stops and looks at me. "I just…I just…" I sink to the floor shaking and sobbing, while he towers over me.
After what seems like a lifetime, he finally speaks. "You just don't love me the way I love you," he says, no longer yelling. "And really, Rach, I have myself to blame too, because on some level I've always known I loved you more. I just thought…I thought it was enough. I thought I could be enough for you." He crouches down next to me. I'm still crying but no longer sobbing. His voice is low and quiet now. "Listen to me, Rachel." I look up at him. "You're gonna to need to let me go, though. If this is really how you feel, then I need things to end tonight. Right now. This can't be like our other fights, where you call me in an hour, or the next day. This is the end, Rachel. If you don't want me, and you don't want to move forward, then let me go, OK?" He starts to cry and I reach up and cradle his face in my hands. "I've been hanging on for so long and I just can't do it anymore." His voice cracks and I feel it reverberate in my heart.
I hate that I'm the cause of his pain. I lift my face to his and we kiss, light and tender. Then he pulls away, silent tears still streaming down his face as he stands and walks out. Moments later, I hear the front door close, and he's gone.
I curl into a ball and continue to cry, and cry, until my throat is raw and my eyes burn. After some time I finally stand, wipe my face, and look around my candle-lit room, wondering how I could let someone so great out of my life, and still feel like I did the right thing. I know in my heart that I have, in spite of the pain I feel, and the heaviness. I move about slowly, blowing each and every candle out in my room, like I'm performing a ceremony. I head to the kitchen, where my purse is, and extract my phone. I scroll down to Vanessa's name and just before I click, it begins to ring.
I answer without thinking. "Hello?"
"Raven, I'm so glad I caught you. Do you have a minute?"
It's Reba.
I notice her use of Raven, but I'm too drained to correct it. I slump down in my kitchen chair and heave out a sigh. "Apparently, I have all the time in the world."
"Um, OK, you sound weird. Are you still at work?" she murmurs.
"Why are you whispering?
"Because, I swear, he's like omniscient or something. I can't get away with anything over here."
"Are you at Collin's?" I whisper back. I have no idea why I'm whispering. I'm sure he can't hear through the phone.
"Yes. I know it's like Friday night, but this is kind of important. Can you come over?"
I'm stunned. "To Collin's house?"
"Yes. I think he'd listen to you. He's certainly not listening to me." Her voice is clipped, but she's still whispering so it's tough for me to tell if she's irritated or concerned.
"I don't know why you'd think he would. We haven't talked in a long time, and it isn't because of my lack of trying. He hasn't responded to my texts or the voicemail I left." I pause a moment, I sound a lot more upset than I want to reveal to Reba. "Besides, isn't this sort of Leighton's department?"
"Leighton?" She scoffs. "Um, no. OK, it's clear you have some major catching up to do." Now, she definitely sounds agitated.
"What?" I ask, no longer whispering.
"He just came downstairs. I bett
er go. Can you come or not?" I can hear the urgency in her voice.
"This is a bizarre phone call, Reba."
"Just come! Text me when you turn on his street, OK?"
"Reba, what the hell is going on?" I demand. She says nothing in response. I pull the phone away and see she's hung up. Reba is the most completely random person ever. I head to my bathroom and splash water on my face. No matter what, I'm not going anywhere looking like this.
Thirty minutes later, looking only marginally better, I'm pulling out of my garage and en route to Collin's house. This is nuts. It's taking every last drop of my willpower not to call Vanessa right now. If I do, we won't get off the phone for at least an hour and I'm already on my way to Collin's place for some unknown reason. I rationalize that in two hours, or however long this takes, I'll still be broken up with Beckett and I can call her then. I text Reba as I turn down Collin's street.
Me: I'm here. You better be too!
Reba: Thank God! What took you so long?
Reba: Park. I'll meet you outside.
I've barely shut my engine off and Reba is already pacing outside my car.
"You need to tell me what the hell is going on, Reba." I slam my door.
"I will. C'mon." I follow her down the sidewalk to Collin's townhouse. She walks up two stairs and sits down, patting the cement next to her.
"We're not going in his house?" I shoot Reba an irritated look of confusion as I sit down beside her.
"Not yet. First I need to brief you. So, did you know Collin's mom had cancer?"
My stomach plummets at the word cancer. A long history of distrust of Reba, coupled with being wrapped up in my own crap, has prevented me from considering that something truly awful could be happening to Collin tonight. A hazy memory comes floating back to me from when I was sick. "Um, yeah. He did tell me, but just in passing. We didn't really get a chance to talk about it." A combination of guilt and worry takes ahold of me, as I fear I know what she's about to say next.
"Well, it was pretty bad. She suffered for a long time and a little over a month ago she died." Her tone is matter of fact, but her somber expression instantly gives me goose bumps.
"Oh, my God, Reba. I'm so sorry." I place my hand on my chest and feel my heart pound. I can't believe Collin's mom is gone.
She looks away from me and says almost robotically, "It's OK. In some ways it was a relief, she was in a lot of pain."
I place my hand near hers, but think better of touching her. I'm not sure what to say or do. For as much time as we spent together via Collin, we've never been independently close.
A small smile rises on her face. "Collin was so great with her, Rachel. I wish you could've seen them like that. He was amazing. It was the best they'd ever been with each other, but I guess the last time he visited they had a fight." She turns to look at me and her eyes are serious, her expression solemn, the tiny smile has vanished.
"A fight?" I shiver from the cold and hug my legs to my chest. "About what?"
"I'm not sure exactly what was said, but she gave him these papers, or letters—I don't know what they are, from his dad."
"Oh, God," I interject.
"I know, right? Anyway, she had them all along. He never knew about it. Words were exchanged. It wasn't good. I guess he'd planned to come back the next day, but then she died that night." She bites her lower lip.
"Poor Collin." I cover my mouth with my hands.
"Yes, poor Collin. But he is, of course, completely blaming himself. What's even worse is he thinks he's all alone now, because she was really the last of his family. I keep telling him we're family, but he's like, dismissed me, twice."
"Dismissed you?" I give her an incredulous look. "What do you mean? What did he say?"
"He's all, ‘you can go now, Reba', like as though I was hanging around all of these years just because she was my stepmother!" She does a deep voice when she imitates Collin that very nearly sounds like him. It's eerie, and I would tell her as much, if we weren't talking about such a somber topic. "Does he seriously not get by this point that I love him, too? He's my brother, blood or not."
It's clear she's hurt, but she seems determined too. "Where's Leighton?"
"Ah, yes, Leighton." She sighs. "I guess they broke up a while ago. He won't give me the exact details." I shoot her a knowing smile. "I know, shocking, right? But what I do know is she got really mad at him and told him they needed to take a break. I guess she kept thinking he'd call, come running back, or something." She rolls her eyes. "Of course he didn't, and then one day he comes home and all her crap was gone, and her key was on the counter. That was it, I guess." She shrugs.
"Whoa. When was this?"
"I guess the fight was quite a while back, but the key on the counter thing was literally the day after his mom passed."
"What a bitch!" I exclaim.
"No," she shakes her head, "as much as I wasn't Leighton's biggest fan, I know she wasn't cruel like that. There's no way she knew."
"Did you guys have a service?"
"Yup." She closes her eyes for a minute, and I can tell her emotions have taken her by surprise. She exhales a moment later and seems to have collected herself. "For all of my stepmother's bravado she wanted a really quiet ceremony. Cancer changed her a lot. She didn't want a big to-do in the end. That, I suppose, made it a little easier on Collin. He couldn't have handled a big thing, I don't think." She shakes her head.
This is all so crazy and so awful. My heart aches for Collin and Reba, and even for his mom who passed away amidst a conflict with her only son. "I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known. I would've liked to have been there, to have helped somehow."
"I know you would've, and maybe I should've called you. Believe me, I almost did several times, but Collin didn't want me to." She glances at me, evaluating my reaction. My hurt must be obvious. "Try not to take it personally. He didn't want me to call anyone. I had to twist his arm just to contact some extended relatives, who in the end, didn't show up anyway." She huffs out an irritated sigh that's reminiscent of the Reba I knew a decade ago, but that sure isn't who is sitting next to me tonight. She's all grown up and asking me for help. Part of me rises to this, but what about Collin? My worries have been confirmed. He doesn't want me in his life. I hate the selfishness of this thought, but there it is.
I give her a weak smile. "Reba, forgive me, but if that's the case, why am I here? What are you hoping I can do now?" I ask, feeling panicked and helpless.
"He needs a friend. He thinks I'm just here out of obligation, and for some reason he can't see beyond that. I'm so terrified that he's going to get real bad again." She stares at me earnestly.
"Is he getting bad again?" I ask, fearing the answer.
"No, not exactly, but I feel like he's teetering on the edge of bad. He's told me he's taking his meds, and I want to believe him, because Collin isn't one to lie about anything, but I guess I can't say for sure." Her forehead crinkles with worry. "I know he's been working from home this entire week, and apparently that seems to involve a lot of lying in bed all day, which by the way, is not like him at all." She turns toward me. "You know, he was fine right afterward. There was a lot to do, and he handled almost all of it. He'd hardly let me do anything." She puts her head in her hands, clearly distressed. "But now that the dust has settled, he just seems…lost, and I'm so scared."
"Wow, Reba. I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. I can't even imagine what it's like to have a parent die and here you and Collin have gone through it over and over again. And Collin? I can't even guess at how he must be feeling. Losing someone you love is always painful, but I'm sure his tough relationship with her complicates his feelings even more. I'm just…so sorry." And useless.
This sensation of helplessness is suffocating. I feel like I can barely breathe let alone find the words to comfort either of them. Reba called me tonight to be a friend to Collin. I used to know exactly how to be that, but now? I have no clue how to handle this and I am terrified of doing anything
to make it worse, especially if he's as fragile as Reba claims. I'm not sure I can do this.
"The thing is…" I trace a narrow crack on the concrete steps where we sit, watching as my finger dips lightly into the dirt trapped within it. "I'm not sure how to help you or Collin. If he doesn't want me around I feel like maybe I should respect that." I nervously glance up at her expecting to be met with the Reba-scowl I know all to well, but that isn't what I see at all. Silent tears begin slinking down her cheeks collecting in a larger drop at her jaw before giving way to plop onto her shirt. She shakes her head slowly and then wipes her eyes roughly with the back of her hands, as though she's giving warning to any other tears that might threaten to break loose. She stares off into the distance.
"I've lost two mothers, my dad, and in many ways a brother, too. James could never cope with my mom's death, not that anyone even tried to help him…or me," she whispers softly. "Collin became the brother to me that James never was…or wasn't able to be." She sniffs and looks my way again. "When I thought that Collin might kill himself, when he was really sick before, that—" she lets out a mix between a hiccup and a strangled yelp and shudders as more tears come. She begins to sob, and I put my arm around her and draw her in close. Another hiccup bursts out of her and I both hear and feel her swallow hard before she tries to speak again. "That was the most scared I have ever been in my life. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, or how the hell to help him. And Lord only knows he didn't make helping him easy! But right now he's inside there," she turns out of my grasp and points toward Collin's home. I release my arm from her shoulder. She's suddenly much more in control. "He's inside there," she begins again, "convinced that he has no one left. I can't say for sure what else he's feeling, but I do know this much—it isn't good. Neither of you will tell me what the hell has gone on between you guys. And I have no clue why he refused to call you when she died. But you know what? I don't give a shit, because I did call you! I called you tonight!" She grabs my hand and grips it so tightly that it's almost painful. "I called you because that afternoon when you came over and I told you all about his depression, I could see how it made you feel. I could tell that you got it. So, when I dialed your number tonight, I knew you'd show. I remember how you two were with each other, and whatever that was, I'm sure it's not gone. You belong here." I exhale a shaky breath and suddenly find my throat gripped tight with a restrained cry. Seeing my distress, Reba continues, "Listen, I get that it's scary. Hell, he's scary sometimes, but however frightened we feel, I promise you, he's feeling so much worse. He needs us." She stares deep into my eyes with a mix of trepidation, hope, and courage—the same courage that I need to muster, and quickly, because she's laid out a pretty convincing case. I know she's right.