To See You Again

by gard, marian

  Not long after Collin and I became friends, I went out on a date with a guy who forced himself on me. By some miracle, I was able to escape before things got really bad, but it was still one of the most terrifying encounters of my life. I don't recall everything I did to get out of his car, but I do remember that the moment my foot hit the pavement, I broke into a run, and didn't even take a second to look back. Frenzied and disoriented, I just headed in what I thought to be the general direction of the main campus and dorms. I must've been turned around though, because I ended up in the business district. Everything was closed for the day. The entire street felt dark, quiet and vacant, adding to my panic. I rounded a corner, still running, when I practically crashed into Collin. He was crossing the street after finishing his shift at the copy shop. If I'd been even a moment earlier, or later, I would've missed him completely. At first he seemed a little shocked and confused. I wasn't dressed for a late-evening run, and jogging in that area didn't make any sense anyway. I did my best to play off my weird behavior and demeanor as a joke, but inside I had a sickening cocktail of fear, shame and embarrassment churning within me, and felt moments away from losing it. He wasn't fooled though, and seemed instantly aware that I was far from okay. He didn't push for an explanation, but insisted on walking me home.

  When we reached my room, I didn't want to be alone, so I asked him to stay until my roommate got there. He sat down next to me and whispered, "I'll stay here as long as you want, and you don't have to tell me anything, but I need you to understand one thing." He waited for me to look up at him, and when I did, he said with conviction, "You're safe now, OK? I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." Even as overwhelmed with fear as I was, I knew he was telling me the truth. I could feel it. His comforting words and presence allowed me to break down and explained what was wrong. I told Collin how the asshole had tried ripping my jeans off in the backseat of his car, and how he had bruised my hip and wrists attempting to hold me against my will. Collin carefully took my hand in his, examining the reddening welts on each arm and listened intently to my every word. His expression shifted from steely and outraged, while I retold the events, to comforting and soothing the moment my first tears fell. He pleaded with me to go to the police, or at the very least, allow him to track down the guy and kill him. I felt ashamed for going out with some guy I'd barely known and being dumb enough to be alone like that with him. I felt guilty for having put myself in such a dangerous situation, and I admitted as much to Collin.

  "Hey," he'd said, cradling my chin gently, "none of this is your fault…absolutely none of it. Promise me you'll believe that." I still struggle with accepting his words, even years later, but there's never been a moment when I wasn't thankful for them. In the end, I wouldn't let Collin do anything except sit with me. I just wanted to forget.

  I now regret not reporting it, and last year when the same thing, only far worse, happened to my friend Cassie, that's what we did. In fact, Collin drove us. He didn't say anything. He was just there—a quiet, safe presence, fetching water and ensuring she spoke to the right people, doing everything behind the scenes so Cassie and I could just focus on getting through it all.

  I never worry about Spencer hurting me, but I won't lie: it feels good to know you have someone in your life who always has your back. For a long time now, that's been Collin.

  My confession about my near-rape experience changed things between Collin and me. Even though we never spoke of it again, we've been very close ever since. In my heart that's the night that he became my best friend. It's amazing how something beautiful can be born out of one of the worst moments of your life. Things changed for him too, it seemed, because after that he began opening up more to me about his family. He'd tell me things here and there, never lingering on any one story or anecdote for too long. It was clear that talking about any of it was a huge challenge for him. After I met his family for the first time, and saw firsthand how difficult things had been for him, he revealed he'd never told anyone what he'd shared with me.

  His biological dad passed away when he was eight and it wasn't long after that his mother married his stepdad, Victor. He was a widower too, with a bratty daughter, Reba, and his much-prized son, James. Collin was sandwiched between their ages by a few months in either direction and quickly went from a pampered only child to a lost and forgotten middle one. Collin's mother had grown up with a lot of money, but when she was married to Collin's dad they didn't have nearly as much, a fact that seemed to be a perpetual source of arguing between them. When his mother remarried she chose uber-wealthy Victor, elevating her lifestyle more to what she had been used to growing up and greatly pleasing her side of the family.

  Collin said on the outside it had looked to many that, apart from the sadness of losing his father, his living circumstances had improved. Inside the walls of his family mansion, however, it was a completely different story. Adjusting to a life with siblings was difficult, and Collin's mother showered Reba and James with attention in an attempt to win their favor. Collin tried really hard to be good at everything, to keep her attention and to please Victor, but it all backfired. When it became clear he was outpacing his stepbrother James, physically and academically, his stepdad began targeting him. He became the family scapegoat for everything. If he did well, he was punished; if he screwed up, he was punished. There was no winning; only surviving.

  He told me he knew life as he had known it was over when his stepdad, angry with him for supposedly "showing off," grabbed him by the arm and shoved him in his room, leaving a large, red welt on his arm. It was the first in what turned out to be a long line of similar instances. Later, when Victor wasn't home, Collin attempted to seek refuge with his mother, only to find none. "He just wants the best for you, Collin. You have to try not to make him so angry. He's your dad now. This is our new life." The way Collin tells it, he died that day. From then on, he squandered his intellectual and athletic abilities in every way he could. He stayed out of his new family's way and tried to become non-existent. He explained the disappointment over his failings was much easier to take when he'd quit trying to be himself.

  I've seen another side of Collin though; one I think few people know exists. I've experienced his protectiveness, watched him catch a magical moment through his camera lens, and witnessed him commit generous, loving acts when he thinks no one's watching or will find out. He's brilliant, sweet and funny. It's all these things and more that have made him my closest friend. I wish he could let go of the protective shell he wears, the one that makes him standoffish and indifferent, but I think after everything he's been through, it's just how he's built.

  Spencer is clearly ticked about Collin hanging out with us tonight. Apart from tethering me to the table with his hand on my knee, he basically ignores me. He and Ryan have been doing shots, which isn't like him at all. Spencer is more of a beer-only dude. While he gets drunk a lot on the weekends, he doesn't typically aim for plastered. Tonight appears to be an exception. Their drunken revelry is punctuated by an excessive amount of high fives and fist bumps. It's clearly getting worse and soon they'll be quoting stupid guy comedies; it's only a matter of time. I give Tabby a help-me-out-here raised eyebrow expression.

  She tugs on her friend Erin's hand, and says, "Let's go hit the dance floor, ladies!" She shoots the guys an authoritative look. "I trust you guys can hold the table?"

  Spencer releases my leg and waves us on. Collin's expression shifts from cool indifference to alarm in the span of a few seconds. He shoves the cigarette he was about to smoke back into his breast pocket and extends a hand to Erin, the only single girl besides Tabby. Erin eagerly accepts his outstretched palm, ignoring Tabby's agitated scowl. I scan Spencer's face for irritation, but if his half-mast eyes are any indication, he isn't noticing much of anything right now.

  We dance and move, as much as is possible, on the overstuffed dance floor until I'm sticky, sweaty and in need of a beverage that won't further dehydrate me. I search for Collin and find him nea
rby, still with Erin, who's drunkenly grinding into him as he towers over her. I make eye contact with him and he shoots me a helpless look. I laugh and he laughs too, holding up two outstretched palms in the universal sign for not guilty. I motion that I'm going outside to get some air, and he nods and then extracts himself from Erin, who sways and stumbles toward Tabby and Vanessa, who are doing some semi-coordinated dance to Livin' La Vida Loca.

  Collin and I reach the front door at the same time and he holds it open for me, leading us out into the noticeably cooler and considerably quieter night air. He lights a cigarette and takes a long drag, leaning against the wall. I pinch the front of my shirt letting cool air waft onto my skin, giving me the chills.

  "So is this college-y enough for you?" His voice is low and deep, serious-sounding even, but he wears a small smile.

  I don't answer him at first, and then I say, "Is it as horrible as you'd worried it would be?"

  "Right now isn't horrible at all, actually." He extinguishes his barely-smoked cigarette and takes a step toward me. Just then, the doors burst open and out stumbles Ryan with a very wasted Spencer draped over his shoulder.

  "I think homeboy's check's been cashed," Ryan announces. Ryan had appeared pretty trashed in the bar, but he seems surprisingly sober in contrast to Spencer's current level of inebriation.

  Spencer opens his eyes halfway, and gives me an unfocused once-over. "There you are," he slurs.

  "It got hot on the dance floor. I just needed some air." I take two steps closer to him, but just before I reach him, he vomits all over the sidewalk.

  Ryan jumps back half a foot. "Whoa!"

  Spencer stumbles toward a small patch of bushes and proceeds to empty his stomach further. I don't glance over at Collin, but I think I hear him softly chuckling. I turn my attention to Ryan. "My God, Ryan! How many shots did you idiots do?"

  Ryan's hands are obscuring most of his face, but he widens his eyes in my direction and mumbles an apology. "Listen, I'll take him home, OK. I'll get him to drink some water and return him to you tomorrow, all right?"

  "Sounds like a plan, Ryan. Thank you."

  I'll admit it. I'm pleased that I don't have to spend the rest of my night dutifully crouched near the toilet with him. Ryan rights a groaning Spencer and then practically drags him down the street.

  "I'll call you tomorrow, Rachel," Spencer calls out, and it sounds like an apology.

  Collin is smirking at me.

  "Getting drunk seems a whole lot less appealing," I observe.

  "Yeah." He nods his head in agreement. "That pretty much did it."

  "I'm calling it a night. Walk me home?"

  Collin can't hide his smile. He's relieved to be leaving the bar scene. I guess when he isn't in pursuit of his typical objective there's not much here that interests him. I leave Collin to enjoy some more nicotine consumption and head back inside to let Vanessa know I'm going home. I swim upstream through a sea of pulsating, perspiring bodies in search of my friends. I reach Vanessa and explain about Ryan and Spencer's exit.

  "Yuck. I have no idea why those two thought it was a brilliant idea to drink themselves stupid. Um, do you care if we stick around? Tabby just got us all another round." She takes a swig from her beer.

  It's so loud, I have to lean in and yell into her ear. "Absolutely. Do you care if I go?"

  "Collin's walking you back?"

  I nod. "Yeah, he said he would. You guys have fun."

  "Thanks, doll." She leans in and gives me a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Let's do breakfast tomorrow."

  "Sounds good," I call out as she pushes back through the crowd toward the dance floor.

  Vanessa turns back around once more and cups her mouth as she shouts to me, "And by breakfast, I mean greasy food sometime after twelve-thirty!"

  "Got it. Call me when you get up!" I scream back, but I don't think she hears me. She's already been swallowed up by the rhythmic swell of the crowd.

  Collin

  Raven pushes through the doors and finds me leaning against the wall.

  "What took you so long, Rave? I had to resort to chain smoking over here!" I gesture around me with a lit cigarette balanced between two fingers.

  "Huh?" Raven glares at me, then, registering my joke, she retorts, "Yeah, nice try. As though you need an excuse to chain smoke."

  "I can't just stand out here doing nothing without looking like some kind of creeper." I start walking down the sidewalk, and Raven follows a half step behind me.

  She raises her eyebrows and gives me a gentle nudge with her elbow. "You think a cigarette makes you look like less of a creeper?"

  "Less of a creeper? Ouch!" I smile at her. "How ya' feeling?"

  She looks up at me. "A little drunk…you?"

  "Pretty darn sober, but that's OK." We keep walking. We're just a few minutes away from her apartment and thoughts are rolling around in my head. I almost told her how I felt before Spencer came out and showered the sidewalk. What a dipshit. Of course, if he hadn't done that, I wouldn't have her alone with me now. I look down at her and she shivers, hugging her arms across her chest.

  "Cold?"

  She nods.

  "C'mere." I pull her alongside me and tuck her under my shoulder. I put my hand on her arm, attempting to warm her, and she leans into me and sighs. Body language like this from any other girl would be an indication that I'm green-lighted for the next move, but with Raven, I'm not sure. Everything is different with her. I release her when we reach the front door to the apartment and she unlocks it, takes two strides inside, and flops on the couch. She begins removing her boots in a way that suggests doing so is taking every last bit of energy she has left. I clench and unclench my hands. Sometimes, when I'm not smoking, I have no idea what to do with them. Their need to spasm is a reminder that I want a cigarette. I really want a cigarette.

  "Do you think you'll go to bed now, or are you going to be up for a while?" If she's really drunk all bets are off. I'm not sure what the hell my next move is, but I know I'll need her coherent for it.

  Raven sits up and appraises me with her crystal-blue eyes. "I'm up for hanging out for a while. I think I'll go get changed, though. Do you want to scan the movie choices and see if there's anything decent?" She gestures toward the TV where a big box of discarded movies sits. Spencer dropped it off earlier this week. I guess some of the frat guys were cleaning some crap out before graduation. He knows Raven loves movies, but what he can't seem to comprehend is, like me, she prefers films that don't suck. I follow her gaze to the box and decide to restrain myself from uttering a single one of the slew of jokes that has just flooded my brain.

  Raven rises from the couch and heads toward her room at the end of the hall. When she passes me, a single finger grazes my chest and she says, "Something's up with you tonight. You're not yourself."

  She has no idea.

  I ignore the collection of mindless, blockbuster, caveman shit that undoubtedly occupies the cardboard box and head to the bathroom. I wash my face and hands and then brush my teeth thoroughly. I avoid looking at myself in the mirror until seconds before flipping the lights off; I can never stand to stare at myself for very long. I come out to the living room and collapse onto the couch. Raven is sitting on the floor in a pile of DVDs. She's already changed into plaid pajama bottoms and a light blue tank top. I definitely favor this bedtime getup over the boxer shorts she wore last night. I'm pretty sure they belonged to Spencer.

  "I didn't even know they made this many shitty movies," she mutters, "and then like half of them have sequels! It's disturbing." She tosses another one behind her and then lays back on the floor for a second before rolling onto her stomach and looking up at me. Holy shit. She looks so sexy in that position. If I don't look away right now I fear my feelings will be obvious. I'm not sure what's come over me tonight, maybe it was all her talk about things ending and graduation, but I don't feel like I can hold out much longer. I have to say something to her. Tell her. She huffs out a sigh, stands, and wal
ks over toward where I'm sitting. I pat the green, beat-up couch that doubles as my bed and she plops down next to me, curling her toes into a crevice between the cushion and my leg.

  "Sorry if your night got ruined, Raven."

  She clicks the TV on and starts flipping through channels. "It's no big deal. I had fun. It's just a night of drinking and dancing at a crappy bar, nothing special." A moment passes and my brain is stuck in second gear. I can't seem to formulate a reply to her worth uttering. After another beat Raven murmurs, "I guess I just don't want to look back and feel like I missed out on something." She turns and locks her intense eyes on mine. "Isn't there anything you want to do before this is all over?"

  My breath freezes in my lungs. I open my mouth, but my brain remains clogged. Pathetic! I hear Victor's voice ring out in my head. I can't even manage to speak, let alone properly compliment her. I don't have the words to answer her innocent question. The moment I've wanted, no needed, is right here and I'm at a total loss.

  It took me a long frickin' time to accept these feelings toward her. I didn't want them. It scares the shit out of me to desire her like this, so deeply. Being without her scares me more, though. Other guys have managed to tell her—what's wrong with me? My mind fills with rotating images of all the idiots Raven has dated since I've known her. I find myself focusing on Spencer and the smug looks he gives me when he's got his possessives arms wrapped around her. He knows what I want; he always has, even if it's been lost on her. I shove all thoughts of him aside forcefully. If I'm going to get through this somehow, then for tonight, that d-bag can't exist.