To See You Again (12 page)

"Was it how you hoped it would be?" He asks
tentatively.

"No," I murmur. No good can come from me
elaborating on this point.  My one word answer triggers silence in him, but I'm
not sure what else to say. He wouldn't understand my disappointment surrounding
that week or the ceremony. He had such a disdain for all of it. I'd been so excited
and had thought it was going to be one of the best weeks of my life. The reality
couldn't have been more opposite. I was a wreck. I ended things with Spencer,
who first flew off the handle, and then called me an hour later, crying and
begging me to take him back, to make it work. He said he would do
anything.
I very nearly recanted, but I knew there was no going back. If nothing else, I
no longer felt deserving of the life he offered. I was too much of a chicken to
tell him what I'd done, and so instead I just fed him ambiguous break up lines
about it being me and not him, it just wasn't working out, etc. It was awkward
and horrible.

My friends thought I was nuts. Even my mother,
who'd previously expressed concerns about me settling down too soon, was
aghast. Spencer managed to avoid me at graduation, tearing off quickly with his
friends, but I saw his mother just after the ceremony. She congratulated me in
the peaceful, classy way that was true to her character, but her eyes told another
story of hurt, confusion and grief. I felt like she could see through me and
sense my betrayal. The shame I felt as a result was overwhelming. That same
feeling quickly translated into anger toward Collin. How could he have just
blown up everything like that? Why did I let him? Then to top it all, he just
disappears as though the disastrous aftermath had nothing to do with him. Now,
I find out he was in Europe? How rough for him! My life was in shambles with
every plan I'd made ruined and he was gallivanting around Europe doing God
knows what with God knows who.

He breaks my train of thought. "How was the
ceremony?"

"Fine, I guess. You know, it's all just a blur in
my memory now."

We're both silent and I think about my yoga
teacher and how she talked about envisioning a stream when you feel stressed.
Then, when you're ready, you're supposed to picture each worry you have
dropping down onto a passing leaf.
Collin was in Europe while I was back
home, losing my mind. Plop!

"Did Vanessa throw that party she was talking
about?" He asks.

"I can't believe you remember that!" I feel a
smile erupt on my face and my anger wanes a little. It feels like pressure
being released from my chest. "She had it, but I didn't go. Spencer was going
with all of his friends and I just…well, um, I ended up doing something else
that night."

I think back to how Vanessa had pleaded with me to
come, but eventually gave up when she understood that in some very slight way,
I was trying to do right by Spencer. At the time it seemed like a ridiculously
small consolation for such a significant crime…not that he was aware. 
Here
Spencer, I made your worst nightmare a reality, but, um, you can go to this
party instead of me. How's that for fair?

"I'm so sorry, Rachel. It never occurred to me,
I—um…" His voice trails off and I'm suddenly intensely aware of the tension
that continues to shift and morph in the compact space we occupy. "I'm really
sorry if I fucked up your graduation in any way. I…" he starts again, but then
falls silent.

"That was a long time ago, Collin, and that whole
big mess with Vanessa's party and everything, that was my fault." The truth
crystalizes in my head about all of it. I was an equal partner in what happened.
What's worse, I let Collin go, thinking I wasn't feeling anything for him. I
lied to myself and to him—that part was all me.

Suddenly the phone rings out just as deafening as
before. This time I'm more adept at locating it. I rip it from the holster and
yank it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Ma'am?" a gruff voice questions.

"Yes?"

"Are you both doing OK?"

I turn toward Collin in the dark, uselessly—I
can't see a thing. "Yes, we're fine."

"I'm glad to hear it, because the outage is more
extensive and serious than we originally thought. It may be quite a while
before we can get you out. Try to remain calm and conserve your energy."

"OK," I reply, feeling helpless. What does someone
even say to that?

"Use the phone to contact us if your status
changes, otherwise we will get to you as soon as we can."

"OK."

He hangs up and so do I. I sit back down and lean
against the wall. "It's going to be awhile, Collin. I guess the outage is
pretty widespread and I didn't get the impression that we're much of a priority."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, sounding truly
apologetic. "You wouldn't be stuck in here if it weren't for me."

I rest my head on my knees. "That's not true,
Collin. I dragged
you
in here, remember?" He doesn't respond and I
exhale slowly trying to compose myself. I can't sustain this anger toward him.
He doesn't deserve it; and frankly, it's exhausting. A decade ago, I would've
given anything to just see him again, hear his voice, see his face. And now
here he is, right next to me—an answered prayer and I'm drowning us both in my
guilt and anger. I take a deep breath. "Looks like we've got some time to kill.
Would you tell me about Europe?"

Collin

As always, Rachel shocks the hell out of me. I'm
not dumb enough to think she isn't still plenty ticked at me, but she sounds
calm, and kind, just like I remember her sounding years ago. I can tell she's
making an effort. Some of it may be forced, but I came here to get her to talk
and that's what we're finally doing. I push my fear aside as best I can. I
close my eyes and try to summon memories of graduation week in my mind. "Well,
first I went to this shitty motel off campus, finished out finals, and then
after only about a day I got on a flight to London. Classic post-college trip:
backpack, youth hostels, drunken nights—as clichéd as you might think. I was
gone for five months."

My words hang in the air for a moment. It feels
strange to talk casually about such a painful and confusing time. In the blink
of an eye, a dark, cold glacier had formed between us. It was vast, steep and
impassable. At the time, I saw no other option than to disappear and dissolve
away into a place where no one knew me, or anything that had come before. It
didn't really matter where, or for how long, because I couldn't fathom a path
back to her. It was all over.

I'm expecting her to drill me about something
else, like the unanswered emails, but then she says, "Five months, eh? So, tell
me, who was the craziest person you met?"

I laugh in response, thinking how only Rachel
would ask that. She doesn't want to hear about the British Museum or The
Louvre, or any of the incredible scenery. Nope, she wants to hear about the
nutty people I met along the way. I tell her about this completely crazy chick
who ran one of the youth hostels, who kept trying to convince me to work there
with her. I describe a few more things that I think would interest her, and try
to cover up for the fact that much of it's a hazy blur, due to me being either
wasted or hung over most of the time. When I've run out of stories, I ask her
about work.

"It's good, I guess. I work more hours than I'd
like, but so does everyone I know. Well, except Vanessa, I guess. She's at home
with her kids for right now. Did you know? She and Ryan got married."

"Yeah, I saw that on Facebook," I reply.

She fails to suppress a laugh. "Am I allowed to
say that that's weird?" she asks.

"What? Me on Facebook? Yes, that's plenty weird. It's
a long story, but it wasn't my doing." An image of Leighton flashes in my mind.
I dismiss it.  I don't want to think about her.  All I want right now is to be
in this moment with Rachel, and if that means pretending the rest of the world
doesn't exist—so be it.

"I wondered if that was the case." I can tell she's
implying, but not mentioning, my girlfriend.

Our conversation fades away after awhile and then she's
silent, and I am too. Fear bubbles to the surface again and I swallow hard.
Screw it. "Can I ask what happened with Spencer? Did you, um… did you lose him
because of me?"

Her answer comes quicker than I expect, but her
voice is flat, lacking emotion. "Yes and no." I've got to play this right.
There's no room for error here, so I just shut up and let her talk.  She
continues and I literally sit on my hands. "I didn't tell him what happened, if
that is what you're asking, but after uh…
everything,
I realized things
weren't working between us. I just didn't want to see it before. So, I ended it
with him. It was really hard, but I knew I couldn't move to Michigan with him.
Vanessa and I got an apartment here in Chicago and we lived together until she
and Ryan got married." Her voice sounds weird and her words come out all tight,
like she can't push them out fast enough. "When did
you
move here, by
the way?" She asks.

"Six years ago." I answer her, but I'm not letting
this crap about Spencer go. I got the hell outta the way, because I thought she
wanted him. I thought
he
was what was going to make her happy. That's
what she said, right? I just wasn't gonna hang around to watch it happen. I
really don't get what
she's been so pissed about all this time. I did
what she wanted. I free my hands from beneath my legs and take a deep breath. That's
it. I'm going all in.  "Did you love him?" I close my eyes, bracing for her
reaction. I know she doesn't want to discuss this with me. My only advantage
now is that she can't run away.

She exhales loudly. "I thought I did, but I think it
was really just the idea of him that I loved." I hear her shift around on the
floor near me, while I stay silent. "You don't know what I mean, do you?"

 I get the concept of loving the idea of someone, and
I guess I understand what she's trying to say, but what I don't get is Spencer
specifically. He was so generic, so basic, and Rachel was so exceptional. She is
still, to this day, the most incredible woman I have ever met. She deserved
more.

"No, I get it," I lie. I pull some loose change
from my pocket and take turns pouring it from one hand to the other, adding it
up, in an attempt to quell my nerves. "I'm sorry for bringing him up, it's just
all this time I pictured you two married."

Rachel

There's no trace of mockery in his tone, no
sarcasm, but that doesn't stop his words from stinging. I mutter back to him
that it's ok and then begin pondering something I haven't thought about for
years—my relationship with Spencer.

He represented security. That's the truth, though
it's always been hard for me to admit it. Like a lot of people I know, my
parents are divorced. They married each other when they were only twenty years
old and had me when they were twenty-one. If you run the math between their
wedding day and my birthday you can guess the reason for their union. They were
separated when I was four and divorced by the time I was five. They both went
on to remarry and have more children with their respective new spouses. I have
five half siblings. I spent years going back and forth between two households,
never feeling like I fully belonged in either. When I got older, I was able to
understand their reasons for divorcing; but it never changed the sensation that
in order to be happy they both had to leave me. Rationally, I knew they had
left each other, but that fear of desertion stuck with me and I've never really
stopped feeling like I don't fit in.

Collin knows all about my family, and the
ping-pong ball routine I went through on weekends growing up and during each
holiday season. He had a front row seat for my family drama early on in our
friendship, and in return, he let me in on his too.

- Ten Years Prior -

Raven

"Hey, Raven, hold up." I turn to see Collin
navigating past a group of girls chatting in the hall, heading toward me.

"Oh, hey Collin. What's up?" I pull my hair out
from where it's trapped under the strap of my messenger bag and flip it over my
shoulder as I glance up at him.

"Whoa. What's that face?" He raises his eyebrows
at me.

"What face?"

"I don't know. You look like someone just kicked a
puppy or something."

"It's nothing," I mumble, pushing through the
glass doors that lead outside. He trails me. I increase my pace, but in just
two strides he's right next to me on the path.

"Well, you don't have to tell me why you have the
pouty face, but you don't get to deny having it." He shoots me an endearing
smile as he nudges me.

"Fine. My respective idiot parents both forgot
about daughter number one and made plans with their
other
families for
Thanksgiving." Speaking these words out loud makes me cringe. It's been an
internal battle between anger and embarrassment for me since talking to them
both last night, and right now all I'm feeling is humiliation.