by Anne Conley
Chapter 25
From Remainingrachel.com:
So, here's the deal…I've been saying for years that I'm happy with the relationships I've got. I have a healthy daughter, a bestie that can handle a sporadic girls' night out, and a brother that occasionally speaks to me. I was fine, I thought.
That's what I get for thinking.
Several months ago, I got a new neighbor. A decidedly smoking hot fireman type new neighbor. He's nice, our daughters are friends, and there's some serious chemistry going on.
A lot of chemistry.
So I told him. And he freaked. Granted, I didn't tell him under the ideal circumstances: No literature, no Q and A session, no rationality, no calmness. So it ended whatever relationship we might have had.
But he's still a neighbor.
Our daughters are still friends.
There's still chemistry.
And I see him almost every day. A constant reminder of what could have been. Months later, after sinking into the downward spiral of depression, he tells me he's sorry, and wants to try again. He says he can live with it, and he's very convincing.
So now there's hope. Hope to grasp, while I claw my way out of the hole I've been in. Hope that there is actually somebody out there that I can share my life with. Hope he will keep his word, and work through issues that arise from being in a serodiscordant relationship with me.
There is hope for me.
Rachel awakened gradually, feeling relaxed and fulfilled after a heavy sleep, loins tingling in fulfillment. However, when her eyes opened to an empty bed, thoughts of rest and contentment fled. After last night, and all the sweet words, she had fallen asleep, fully expecting to waken in Sam's strong, warm arms.
But he was gone.
Well, she couldn't exactly expect him to leave the girls alone all night, she supposed. But what if he'd had second thoughts? She couldn't keep the thought from niggling its way to the forefront of her consciousness.
Rachel should have realized this would happen. Why did she actually believe that she could find happiness in an intimate relationship with another human being? She had taken her own advice all these years and tried to find happiness with herself, had tried to be content and grateful with what she had. After all, she had a healthy daughter, and she was relatively healthy herself. Why couldn't that be enough?
Throwing her covers off, she dressed hurriedly and walked across the street to collect her daughter.
Sam saw her coming and braced himself for a confrontation. Leaving her this morning had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Seeing her sleeping so peacefully, her soft, petite body laying there, barely covered in a sheet had awakened some primal force within him, and he'd wanted nothing more than to take her again, and again.
He could admit to himself, he was scared of what he'd done. Hell, he was terrified. He'd just willingly had sex with someone with a potentially lethal STD. He knew the risk was low. He knew he'd been safe.
But he couldn't deny the fear.
So, instead of staying there and putting his thoughts into actions like a man, he'd run.
And here she was, coming to him, reducing the space he'd frantically put between them this morning.
Opening the door before she could start banging on it, he stepped onto the porch and into the blazing fury her eyes pierced him with. Guilt tore at his insides. He'd put that look in her eyes. Again.
"The girls are still asleep, I have no idea when the finally went to bed." He tried to keep his voice low, and calm.
"Is that why you came back, Sam? Are the girls the reason you left?"
He couldn't meet her eyes. Looking at the ground, he knew in his heart that she knew he'd run. "Yes and No." He looked back up at her to see the hurt in her eyes, and the guilt he'd been feeling cranked itself up a notch. He just had one chance to fix this. "I want to show you something." He held out his hand to her, hoping she would take it.
Rachel was silent a minute, and he could hear her breath snag, as if she was fighting tears. He was so in tune with her, he could tell just how angry she was. And he couldn't blame her.
He could see the reluctance as she slowly reached out her hand to grasp his. He pulled her inside the house and to Amanda's room. Quietly, he opened the door and ushered Rachel inside. Wrapping his arms around her, they watched the two girls sleeping, arms wrapped around each other, traces of blue eyeshadow on their faces, lost in the peace of sleep.
"I was running scared, and when I came home, I found this." He pulled her back into the hallway and shut the door. "Initially I was scared for Amanda. I didn't want her to get attached and then go through the loss again. But the truth is, she's already attached to your family. I'm attached to your family." He grasped her face in his hands, gently, forcing her to look at him. "I'll be honest with you. I was scared when I woke up in the night, but I'm not now. Here in the light of day, I can see what we have." He clasped her hand in his, willing her to understand. "So, I made pancakes for you." He pulled her to the kitchen, and she followed reluctantly. He had to tug to get her there.
Setting her on the counter top, he hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans. "Talk to me, please."
She wouldn't look at him, and he saw that as a bad sign. "Rachel?" When she finally looked up, it was a look filled with tears that made him pissed at himself.
"Christ, Rachel. I'm so sorry." He pulled her head to his chest and encircled her with his arms. "I thought we were in this tell-all part of our relationship. You tell me about the room full of guys you fucked in college, I tell you I got scared after sleeping with you." He was trying for levity, but it fell flat.
She pushed away from him. "I can't do it Sam, if you're not all in. If you keep turning away from me, I'll fall apart. I can't keep doing this."
"I am all in, Rachel. That's what I'm trying to say. Did you see the girls in there? Amanda told me a couple of weeks ago that she wants you for a mother and Sophie for a sister. Doesn't that mean anything?" He was desperate now, pleading. Sam didn't like this side of himself.
"I need for you to need me, Sam."
"I do…"
She hopped off the counter top and started to walk away, Sam's heart in her hands. Stopping before she left the kitchen, she said, "You know the story of Pandora's Box, right? She opens it up and releases all the demons into the world, and the only thing left in the box is hope. Hope, Sam. That's it. That's all that's left after I released my demons, Sam. Hope. And you destroyed it this morning. Now, I have nothing, except my daughter. I need Sophie. Now."
"I just needed to think, Rachel. Nothing's changed." Sam stated weakly. Hearing the ineffectiveness of his words, he watched as Rachel went to retrieve her daughter. He couldn't keep her from Sophia, no matter his intentions.
He watched impotently, as Rachel marched her sleepy daughter back across the street, and heard the door slam echo in his ears. And his heart.
Monday, after dropping Sophia off at school, Rachel drove across town to an older neighborhood. She had called the Serendipity Herald, pretending to be following up on a story that Crystal had written, and found out that she wasn't at work until ten. So she had plenty of time to "visit" with her. Catching her at home was not ideal, but Rachel didn't have much choice. The woman wasn't likely to willingly meet her anywhere else.
Crystal Simmons lived in a huge old house that had been split up into rental units. There were a lot of these in town, some maintained really well, others not. Rachel was surprised to find that Crystal lived in one of the latter types.
Taking a deep breath, Rachel knocked on the door, hearing a TV blaring just beyond it. An elderly man, dressed in shorts and a stained undershirt answered the door. He obviously hadn't done much this morning, as his silver hair was sticking up wildly, and he hadn't shaved his face. She regretted her early visit, until he opened his mouth.
"You're that lady that Crissy wrote about, arent' you? The one with AIDS?" His tone suggested that he knew good and well who she was,and
didn't care much for her gracing his doorstep.
She nodded. "Yes, Sir. Is Crystal home? I would like to speak with her, please."
"You're not here to cause any trouble are you?"
"No, sir. I just wanted to visit. I won't even come inside, unless she invites me, sir."
She watched, as his gaze perused her before he grunted and slammed the door in her face. Rachel shuffled her feet, unsure if the man was going to get "Crissy" or if he was just going to leave her standing here indefinitely. She was ready to knock again, when the door opened, and Crystal Simmons stood in the doorway.
Rachel had interrupted her getting ready for work, she could tell. The woman was dressed, but her face shined with creams, and her hair was wrapped in a towel.
"Hi, Rachel. Can I help you?" Crystal's voice was innocent, as if she had no idea why Rachel could possibly be standing in front of her house.
"I wanted to talk to you about the article." Crystal's eyebrows rose in a question, and Rachel plunged ahead. "First of all, why would you write it? It's not the least bit news-worthy and bordered on gossip. I wasn't aware that the Serendipity Herald was that type of a newspaper."
Crystal shrugged. "This is an incredibly small town, and I was just writing about what people wanted to read. I guess it was a slow news day that day."
"Why me? There are thousands of other people to gossip about, people that don't try to do good things for the world. Why would you skew what I told you and make me out to look like a bad person?" Rachel had wondered this since the reporter had started asking around about her. Had she done something to the woman personally?
Another shrug answered her question. "You were so vague about yourself at the Fireman's Ball, I knew there was a story there somewhere. And I was right. You are a story."
"But you didn't write my story. You wrote a bunch of libelous connotations. You didn't use the information that I gave you to write about. Instead, you used my work for the Human Services commission to infer that all I do is pass out condoms to teenagers! You wrote nothing about the people that I've helped. You didn't write about ways people can get involved. You didn't say anything to the people here that might also be suffering with HIV or AIDS. None of that!" She paused to take a breath, watching Crystal's smirk fade slightly. "How did you find me, anyway?"
"Process of elimination. I had seen you at the Ball, and you piqued my curiosity, so I asked around. When I found out you did work at HHR with sexual health, I started cruising the internet. Tracing IP addresses is easy, if you know what to do. Then, I posed as a "client" and participated in the forum, to get more info, and voila! Nothing illegal. I promise."
"Except fraud, and the article itself was borderline libelous. I could take you to court, you know. If you publish something like that without my consent, it has to meet criteria of newsworthiness. I can prove that it didn't. I can also prove that you misrepresented me, possibly purposefully." A thought occurred to Rachel. "You've brought up the Fireman's Ball a couple of times. And the photo you ran was one that you took at the event. Is it possible that this has something to do with my date to the Ball?"
Rachel watched Crystal carefully, as a bright red flush crawled across her cheeks.
"Sam Owens?"
Rachel nodded.
"Nope." Crystal's jaw pulsed. Her eyes cut to the left, and her fingers clenched into brief little fists. Liar.
Rachel smiled. "You can have him, Crystal. If that's all this is about, I can tell you, it's been over between us for awhile." Unless, of course, you counted the intense night at her house Friday…
Crystal exhaled loudly and relaxed her body against the door jam. "What can I do to get you not to sue me?"
"All I want is another article. One with the truth in it, instead of implications, instead of information that will lead the reader to draw false conclusions. That's what I want."
"That's it?"
"Yep. You've outted me, I might as well do something with it. But I'm not going to be able to fix the damage you've done. It's your responsibility as a reporter to report the truth."
"I'll run it by my editor and see if he'll go for it," Crystal hedged.
"Have I told you about my buddy at the ACLU? I don't just have a lawyer, I have an ACLU lawyer, who specializes in HIV/AIDS discrimination cases. He makes national headlines. Would you like to be on that side of the fence? Really?"
"I'll do it," she grumbled. "I've got to go get ready for work."
"See you later, Crystal."
"Yeah. Bye."
When the door shut in her face again, Rachel felt a sense of accomplishment. She held her head up high as she walked back to her car. She may not have Sam in her life, but she was getting her life back on track, and that was a good thing.
When Rachel got home, she called her friend Bill.
"Bill? I've been throwing your name around a lot lately, and I wanted to check in and see if you're busy…"
"Hey, Rach. Not too busy for you. What's going on?" She could hear the leather of his chair squeak as he leaned back, probably propping his feet on his desk.
She gave him a run-down of the article, the community backlash, and most importantly, the school Principal's reaction and intended actions.
"Well, I wish you had let me handle the reporter, instead of you talking to her. But you did good. Email me the name of this principal, the name of her boss and the school board members, and I'll take care of that one. And give me the name of the paper. I'll call the editor, just to get a fire under their asses."
"Thanks, Bill. This isn't too much trouble?"
"Not at all. It's my pleasure. I love throwing around legalese at little hicks who think they're better than other people. It's what I live for."
Chapter 26
From the Serendipity Herald, Letters to the Editor:
To Whom It May Concern:
When my son was diagnosed with AIDS, we as a family panicked, thinking his life was over. Many people think that AIDS is a death sentence, that there's no hope for living a normal life. While in a fog of grief, we searched online for stories of others living with HIV/AIDS. We ran across Rachel's website, and it brought us hope and peace. We follow her blog posts and submitted questions and read the site every day for updates. She provides us with current news, research, and her own personal insight into the condition. Without Rachel's website, we would be lost, as it has provided us with untold amounts of comfort in our most desperate days. She has done so much for us, as a family, to help us cope that we cannot stand by and watch her being persecuted by an ignorant community that would rather point fingers than learn the truth.
The truth is, Rachel Fairchild is a strong, caring human being with many of the same issues that "normal" people face. The name of her website says it all. Even though she is HIV positive, she still remains Rachel. I would like to see her town and community embrace her goodness, instead of shunning her "sins" and write an article about her that is newsworthy, praising the good she has done, instead of something that is borderline slanderous, and certainly nothing more than gossip.
Dr. Emanuel Stone, PhD
Washington D.C.
Dear Readers and Dr. Stone,
In response to the above letter, as well as many others, both international and online from readers of Rachel Fairchild's blog, the Serendipity Herald is printing a new article this week focusing on Rachel Fairchild's contributions and affects of her work.
Sincerely,
Bob Wells, Editor, Serendipity Herald
Rachel wore her happy mask the entire next week and upped it a notch on Saturday, as it was Sophia's anxiously awaited birthday party. Her daughter had chosen the local pizza joint, not for its tasty pizzas, but for the attached game room.
Rachel was pleasantly surprised at the turn out for her daughter. Eleven kids had shown up, despite the recent publicity. Either people were forgetting her, or the letters that her online supporters had sent to the newspaper had worked, or the news about the article that should be in tod
ay's paper was changing minds.
She was busily doling out quarters to the impatient children, throwing harried looks toward the kitchen to get a rush on her pizzas so the kids would settle down and eat. Rachel knew Sam was there and that he was sitting in a corner, staring at her, but she managed to ignore the stirrings within her, telling her to go over and throw herself in his arms. His fathomless blue eyes were on her every time she looked up at him and wondered yet again why he was here.
She been ignoring him all week, and not just for herself. She was giving him the out, that he apparently so desperately needed. She was aware that his weak apologies left on her voicemail were just to make himself feel better. If she ignored him, he would go away and be happier without her.
The only problem was, Sophie and Amanda were inseparable. Even though Amanda had been grounded, and couldn't spend time outside of school with Sophie, Sophie had had a note sent home saying that she'd gotten into trouble in class for talking and passing letters back and forth with Amanda. There was nothing she was going to do to keep her daughter from her friend, just because she couldn't get along with her Dad.
The pizzas finally arrived, and Rachel managed to peel the children away from the video games long enough to serve pizzas and drinks to each one. Watching them happily gobble all the preservatives, fat and processed carbs that she usually frowned upon, Rachel reflected on childhood.
