Unravelled (19 page)

Twenty-five

GODDAMN THAT COLIN! It was all his fault. Okay, it’s not like I thought Colin actually
gave
Jim’s mom a stroke, but I was sure he’d had something to do with the timing. It was like Mel had said. He was still sending negative vibrations toward me that were screwing things up with my new boyfriend. If Jim even still was my boyfriend. He probably didn’t appreciate being screamed at moments after he discovered his mom was in hospital.

I had left several messages on Jim’s cell phone, but he had yet to get back to me. There was no need to panic; it had only been seventeen hours since he first received the news about his mother. And, of course, he would have had to turn his cell phone off in the hospital. He would call me, eventually, of course he would. I had apologized profusely for my outburst at the hotel, and explained that it was just because I valued our time together so much. But obviously, I understood that he had to go. If one of my parents had had a stroke or a heart attack or even a broken leg, I would have left, too. Some things were even more important than our time alone together—like our parents’ health. I totally got that! He seemed to understand, and had even given me a brief kiss goodbye. There was nothing I could do now, but wait for him to call.

And while I waited, I would deal with Colin. I wasn’t exactly sure the best way to do this. Part of me feared contacting him. If he saw me or heard my voice, it would probably make it even harder for him to get over me. But I couldn’t very well
will
him to stop thinking about me, could I? Then, I had an idea. I could go see him looking really awful: wild hair, smeared makeup, ratty old clothes... Yes, I would even act a little crazed! I’d rant and rave and carry on like a lunatic! And I’d do it at his office. That way, he’d be frightened
and
humiliated and all his coworkers would say, “God, what a psycho! Good thing you’re not going out with her anymore.”

But I had just started to backcomb my hair in front of the bathroom mirror when I realized—I couldn’t do it. Maybe it was my residual feelings for Colin, or maybe it was just my vanity, but I couldn’t embarrass us both like that. I was going to have to talk to him about our problem, calmly and sanely—but I would not freshen my makeup or wear any flattering clothing.

At 6:17, I called his apartment. I knew from experience that he would have just arrived home, gone to the fridge to get a beer, and sat down in front of ESPN. He answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

The sound of his voice still stirred something in me, but I brushed it away. “It’s me. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh... Okay. When?”

“Are you doing anything now?”

“No.” Of course he wasn’t. If he was doing something, that would have meant he was moving on. But no! He was sitting at home, drinking beer, watching sports, and ruining my life.

“Let’s talk now, then.”

“Sure. Do you want me to come to your place?”

God no! Kendra would be home any minute. But I didn’t relish taking the bus all the way out to Capitol Hill. “Yeah, come here. We can talk in the car.”

“Uh . . . do you want to tell me what this is about?” There was a hopeful intonation in his voice that stabbed at my heart.

“Just come over. We’ll talk when you get here.”

I waited in the lobby of my building for his blue Pontiac to appear out front. As soon as it rolled to a stop, I hurried out to meet him.

“Hey,” he said brightly, opening the passenger door for me.

“Hey,” I said, coolly, as I got inside. Colin looked and smelled great. His mop of sandy hair was just washed and he was wearing cologne. I, of course, had gone to no such efforts. My hair was still a little wild from the backcombing attempt and I had purposely donned a pair of stained, baggy sweatpants.

“So . . . do you want to go for a drive somewhere?”

“No, we can talk here.”

He turned off the ignition but flicked the key over so the tape deck still played. It was an acoustic performance by Everything but the Girl, one of our favourite bands.

And I miss you . . . Like the deserts miss the rain
. . .

Oh, come on! I shot Colin a dirty look and turned off the volume. “Well, thank you for coming,” I began formally, and then paused. How did I enunciate my concerns? How did I find the right words? What did I say—
Colin, you need to get over me. You’re sending negative energy out into the universe, which has been affecting my new boyfriend’s erection and has now given his mother a stroke.
I cleared my throat, and then finally said, “Look . . . I’m concerned that you’re not moving on with your life. I’m afraid that...that you might still hold out hope that we’ll get back together.”

“I’m doing fine,” Colin muttered, staring out the front window.

“I’m glad. But fine isn’t really good enough. I want you...” I trailed off, before mustering the courage I needed to continue. “I think you should start dating, again.”

He turned toward me. “It’s none of your business what I do with my life anymore, Beth.”

“I know! But if you started seeing someone, you’d be able to let me go and... and it would be better for both of us.”

“I haven’t called you. I haven’t harassed you! Why do you care if I still love you?”

“I want you to be happy!” I shrieked. “I want you to have positive closure . . . like I have.”

Colin’s voice was venomous. “And your new boyfriend’s given you that, has he?”

“Y-yes,” I stammered. “He has. And I want that for you, too.”

“Well, thanks,” he said, turning to stare out the window again. Then, in a soft voice, he added, “I guess it just takes some of us a little longer to move on.”

“But Colin...”

“No, Beth,” he said, facing me again. “You can’t order me to stop loving you. I won’t . . . I can’t.”

I looked at him for a long moment and I felt my heart swell with emotion. But what was it: Love? Guilt? Pity? I fought an almost overwhelming urge to take him in my arms and whisper in his ear that everything would be okay. But, I couldn’t do that. It would be wrong... it would be cruel. Not to mention that he’d never have positive closure if I kept hugging him and whispering in his ear. I had to say goodbye. Colin and I were over and I had a future to look forward to, a future with Jim. “I’m sorry,” I said through the lump in my throat, “but you’re going to
have
to stop loving me.”

When I let myself back into the apartment, I felt worse than before. Obviously, my words had had no impact, other than to upset Colin further. I should never have called him. What had I expected? That he’d exuberantly agree that starting to date again was a fabulous idea? I had to accept it. I couldn’t force Colin to have positive closure on our relationship. I would just have to wait—and hope his negative energy didn’t have too much more of an effect on Jim and me.

As I headed for my bedroom, Kendra, who must have arrived home while Colin and I were ensconced in his car, called to me from the sofa. “Someone phoned for you.” My heart leapt. It had to be Jim! Maybe things hadn’t gone so badly with Colin after all? Maybe, as he drove away, he thought:
Beth’s got the right idea. I should start dating again and move to a place of understanding and forgiveness regarding my past relationship.

“Who was it?” I cried, eagerly.

Kendra’s eyes remained on the TV where she was watching a DVD of
Just Like Heaven.
God, didn’t she
ever
get sick of Reese Witherspoon? “Uh . . . it was a guy . . . Tom or Bob . . . or John.”

“Jim?”

“Maybe.”

Oh, for Pete’s sake! “What did he say, Kendra?” I demanded.

Her eyes left the TV for a moment and looked at me in surprise. She was unused to such a forceful tone coming from her unassuming roommate. “He said to call him back on his cell.”

“Great. Thanks.” Grabbing the phone, I hurried to my bedroom.

Jim’s voice sounded exhausted when he answered. “Hey, babe,” he said.

“How are you?” I asked. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“I’m hanging in there.”

“How’s your mom?”

He sighed heavily. “Not good, I’m afraid. The doctors need to run some more tests, but it’s looking pretty serious.”

“Oh, Jim, I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“Look, if there’s anything I can do . . .”

“Thanks. My sister’s here and she’s a great help. We’ve got a lot of decisions to make. My mom might need long-term care, or she might...” His voice trailed off. “She . . . might not come home again.”

“I wish I could be with you,” I said, fervently. “Can I come to the hospital?”

“No . . . it’s really not necessary. I’ve got to go home and take care of a few things, but I’ll be back in Seattle tomorrow. I’ll call you over the weekend.”

“Okay . . . Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“I . . . uh . . . I want you to know that... I really care about you.”

“Me too.”

I had been on the verge of telling him I loved him, but something stopped me. While my feelings for him were undeniably strong, it was still too soon to be saying the “L” word. Besides, it wasn’t right to say it for the first time over the phone with his mother clinging to life a few feet away. But that moment made me realize how much I cared about Jim and our future together. Although we’d only been together a couple of months, I had to admit, if only to myself, that I was in love with him.

On Saturday I worked feverishly on my article for
Northwest Life,
and then took Mel and Toby with me to do another coffee shop review. The rest of the time, I tried not to obsess about Jim and his mom: He would call when he was able to. But I couldn’t help but feel there was so much more I could do, if only he’d let me. I could make coffee runs, so Jim and his sister never had to leave their mother’s side. I could pick up sandwiches and bring them to the hospital. I could even act as his secretary and reschedule meetings for him. But for whatever reason, Jim seemed to want to do this alone.

Maybe he wasn’t ready to introduce me to his family? Or maybe he felt the timing wasn’t right? God, I hoped he wasn’t
ashamed
of me, or something? No, I had yet to introduce Jim to any of my friends and family and I certainly wasn’t ashamed of him. Of course, I wished I hadn’t blabbed to my friends that he couldn’t get it up, but that didn’t mean I was
ashamed.
In fact, I was proud to be dating a man of his calibre.

As promised, Jim phoned on Sunday evening. “There’s been no improvement,” he reported. “We’re going to have to move her into a long-term care facility.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s really tough. We’ve got to take care of her apartment and all of her belongings . . .” he sighed. “And I’ve got a couple of projects on the go that need my attention.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I offered eagerly. “Bring you and your sister coffee? Sandwiches? Reschedule your meetings?”

“You’re so sweet,” he said. “But we’ve got it under control. I want to see you though.”

“Sure. When?”

“I’m going to be really swamped for the next couple of weeks. Could we go for lunch tomorrow?”

If I worked late tonight and got up early in the morning, I should be able to finish the article for Martin’s magazine and still have time for lunch with Jim. “Of course. I can’t wait to see you.”

Angie’s words about being at Jim’s beck and call flitted through my mind when I dragged myself out of bed at 6:30 A.M. the next morning to finish up my piece. But of course I had to be flexible with my time, given the circumstances. Jim’s poor mom had had a stroke. It sounded like she was practically a vegetable! As her son, he had duties and responsibilities. I couldn’t very well demand he stick to my schedule at a time like this now, could I?

I met him at the front door of my building just after noon. He looked good, considering what he was going through—maybe a little bit tired. I walked directly into his arms, and we held each other for a long while. “I’m so sorry,” I murmured into his cologne-scented neck.

“Thanks.” He squeezed me tighter, kissing the side of my head. “God, it feels so good to hold you again.”

“I’m here for you, Jim,” I said, pulling away to look at him earnestly. “If there’s anything I can do . . . Anything you need . . .”

“Just seeing you,” he said, pulling me back in to him, “is enough.”

Eventually, we got into his car and drove a couple of blocks to a neighbourhood deli. “I’ve only got time for a quick sandwich,” Jim said. “I hope you understand.”

“Of course I do.” I squeezed his hand.

When we were seated, facing each other over a chipped red Formica table, Jim said, “I wanted to thank you for being so understanding.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said, through a mouthful of chicken salad. “Your mom’s had a stroke.”

“I know, but it’s not just that. Since we started seeing each other, I’ve been travelling so much.” He gave a regretful chuckle and picked up half of his roast beef and Swiss. “Sometimes I think I work harder now that I’m supposedly retired.”

“It’s just your Capricorn way,” I almost said, but managed to refrain. Something told me that a serious professional like Jim might find my belief in astrology a little flaky.