Hot Mess (28 page)

"You." And that was why.

"I can't, Sam." The tears that had threatened all day in his presence suddenly emerged again. She sniffed to hold them back.

"You can, Rachel. If I had known for a second that leaving you would do this to us, then I never would have done it. I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"How could you
not
t know this would happen? Just forget about us, Sam. There
is
no us. I wish I hadn't opened myself up to you, don't you see? I can't have this. It's just not in the cards."

Sam's voice got angry, and the huskiness fell away, replaced with a gruffness that was scary. "Don't turn this into a cliché, Rachel. I fucked up, and I know it. I want to get past this and live our life, together. I'm coming over."

"Don't." Through the phone, she heard his footsteps, and his front door open. "Don't, Sam." She said it again, with more urgency. "Please!" As she heard his door slam through her phone, she got off her bed, and began running to the foyer. "I won't let you in," she said desperately into the phone.

Rachel didn't hear anything else besides his angry breathing and birds chirping, as he crossed the street. She made it to her front door and locked it, peeking out through the curtain over the window in the door. She could see his bulk, through the screen, coming menacingly closer, as he crossed the street towards her house.

Feeling slightly surreal, she watched through the window, as she listened through the phone, to him coming closer. She watched and listened, clutching the phone to her ear, as he strode up the steps, yanked open the screen door, and pounded on the glass window, making her jump.

"Rachel, let me in!" Now his voice was in stereo, and it sounded doubly mad.

"No." She whispered into the phone, turning her back to the door and leaning heavily against it.

"Why?" His voice had lowered too, matching hers, almost a whisper.

"Because I can't get hurt again." There, she'd said it. "I'm scared."

"I love you." He sounded like a child, giving his final argument in a fight that could not be won. "I love you." She listened carefully and was rewarded with a click, as he hung up his phone. A sob escaped her throat.

Rachel felt, rather than heard, his retreat, as he walked back down the steps and back to his own house.

From Remainingrachel.com:

Zeus gave Pandora a box and her husband Epimetheus the key, telling them not to ever open the box. One day, while her husband was napping, Pandora stole the key unlocking the box. When she opened it, she was overwhelmed by the horrible things that swarmed out of it: disease, pestilence, greed. All the evils of the world flew out of the box before she could slam the lid shut. Epimetheus was awakened by the sound of Pandora's sobbing. When he asked her what was wrong, she showed him the box. When she opened it, one tiny little thing fluttered out: hope.

If you set aside the fact that this story places the blame for the evils of the world squarely on the shoulders of the woman, just like Eve, then it has potential to be a sweet story. You release the bad things from your life and hold onto hope. Because hope is probably our most valuable commodity. Pandora inadvertently released the evils, but she also released the weapon to conquer them.

Of course, it's easier said than done. There are things every where that would like nothing more than to squash hope, like the delicate fluttering bug it is. Whether it's circumstances, or people, or events trying to kill it, you have to protect the hope. Hope for your own circumstances, hope for you health, hope for your future. Without it, all is lost.

Rachel slept fitfully that night, dreaming dreams she couldn't have, waking up with tears streaming down her face. At three-thirty a.m., when she'd woken up, she vowed to make an appointment with Dr. Bane to change her antidepressant dosage. She knew she couldn't go on like this. If nothing else, she had to keep it together for Sophia, and she couldn't keep anything together if she was waking up crying all night. Having decided to go ahead with the stronger antidepressants, she closed her eyes and willed herself into another fitful sleep.

When she finally awoke to the sunlight streaming in her windows, Rachel realized she was dreaming again.

Sam's massive arm was draped over her waist, and his legs were wrapped around hers. Instead of waking herself, she snuggled into his arm, and smelled his spicy manly scent, marveling at the warmth his embrace made her feel.

Why couldn't she have this? What was so wrong with her that she didn't deserve this, like every other person on the planet?

She closed her eyes and felt his warm breath on the back of her neck, her hair shifting slightly in the motion. This dream was so real, more so than the others she'd had. Her head rested on his bicep, his arm wrapped around her chest, and she brought one of her hands up, and played with the hair on his forearms, marveling at the detail of the dream.

When the sound of children's laughter from Sophie's room caught up with her, she realized what was happening. She froze.

"Took you long enough, sleepy-head." A husky voice over her shoulder made her insides pool. This couldn't be happening.

She willed herself to stay still, instead of snuggling further into him. "What are you doing here, Sam?"

"Making up."

"What?" Slowly, she drew a foot up his leg, and let out a relieved sigh when she felt flannel pants. At least he was dressed.

"I didn't wake up with you in my arms before. I wanted to do that."

She shifted and turned around so she was facing him, then instantly regretted it. His sleepy face was even more gorgeous than his awake face. His blue eyes were droopy, and his hair was messed up. She shut her eyes against the vision.

"Look at me, Rach." He said softly.

"I can't."

"Come on."

She cracked one eye at him. "How did you get in?"

"I talked Sophie into letting me borrow her house key."

Both eyes were open now. "You what?"

"I didn't want to have to break another window to get in the next time I had to rescue you."

"Rescue me?"

He pulled her close to him, resting his chin on top of her head. "Well, not really rescue you, this time. I wanted you to listen to me, and this thought came to mind."

"What thought?" Rachel couldn't breathe, he was all over: his legs all wrapped up with hers, his arms around her, his head on hers, his smell everywhere. She was trapped in Sam.

She felt his chest expand against her, as he inhaled deeply. "Since I left you that night, I've regretted it. I hurt you, again. I want to make it up to you, and I have a plan." He kissed the top of her head, softly.

Rachel pulled herself back, to look into his face. "How do you think you can possibly make it up to me, Sam?" The tears were returning, and she cursed the weakness that this man brought out in her.

"I love you, Rachel. You make me feel so much. I can't explain it, but I won't lose you again. I intend to wake up with you in my arms every morning. For the rest of our lives."

Epilogue

From Remainingrachel.com

Dear readers, it has been almost a year since the day I met Sam, and in that year, I have changed quite a bit. Please indulge me, as I explain.

It's not his fault I've changed, although I can easily say that my relationship with him has given me the kick in the pants I've needed to refocus some of my purposes in life.

I've gone "all in" in my advocacy. I did an article with the
Serendipity Herald
, where they actually published what I wanted them to, in order to gain a little more community understanding of what I do. They no longer think I pass out free condoms and advocate sex. In fact, I'm working a local health fair this morning. You know, those things with blood drives, mammograms, cholesterol screenings, flu shots, and vision tests. I will be there, passing out literature and answering questions. I'm nervous, but I'm doing it.

I will no longer hide behind my computer with my advocacy. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. But in addition to my online stuff, I will branch out and work face to face with people as well.

But in all of the things that have happened to me in the past year, I have learned one thing. It's something I've preached, but never practiced. I've said it, but never lived it. Are you ready?

In order to gain anything, you've got to put yourself out there. You have to step outside your comfort zone in order to reap the benefits of life. And there are benefits. I'm not talking about sex, here. I'm talking about intimacy. If you want to be intimate with another person, you have to put yourself out there. Just like if you actually want to teach people and have their understanding, you need to talk to them.

I've got to go now, the Health Fair is calling, and I've got a hot date afterwards. But, think abut what I've said. If you want people to listen, you've got to talk. Put yourself out there. Sure, some will reject you, but not all. And you won't gain anything at all if you don't try.

"I just think it's wonderful, what you're doing here. You've got guts, girl." The woman, silver-headed and wearing a pink velour running suit, was shaking Rachel's hand. She had introduced herself, but Rachel was in a smiling daze, overwhelmed at the attention her booth was getting at the Health Fair. She had spent all morning answering questions, passing out information, and scheduling STD testing. The smile on her face was genuine. But the people she had met today were all starting to blur together.

It was going better than she had hoped.

Cindy was with her, as was Sam, both for moral support. Rachel hadn't been sure how this would all turn out, but after the fiasco with the newspaper, she felt like she had to make a public appearance. So far today, she had talked to several people who knew someone who was living with HIV or AIDS, and had even met one man who was diagnosed with HIV. For the most part, everyone had been supportive, or at the least, interested in what she was doing and encouraged her to keep it up.

There had been a couple of dirty looks from across the crowded gymnasium, where the Health Fair was being held, but that was only to be expected.

Rachel thanked the woman in the pink running-suit, and turned to the next person in line, a young black woman with tear streaks on her face. She smiled and held out her hand in greeting.

"I'm Rachel Fairchild."

"Are you the woman from the newspaper?" Rachel nodded, and the young woman sniffled. "I need help. I tried to donate blood last month, and they just called to tell me that my blood couldn't be accepted because it showed markers for HIV. I need to know what to do next."

Rachel gestured to Cindy, who jumped up to man the table, as she pulled the woman to the side, scheduling an appointment with Dr. Baine, and talking to her about possible treatments. She gave the woman a card and told her that she and Cindy were going to start a local support group for people affected by HIV/AIDS.

Throughout the conversation, Rachel could feel Sam's eyes on her back. He had come, sitting in the background, just watching everything. When Rachel had time to breathe, she would look to him, and he would smile encouragingly at her. She was ridiculously grateful for his presence. The truth was, he'd done enough research in the past months, he could probably answer any questions anybody asked at this table. But he was staying in the background, as much as a gorgeous piece of eye-candy could. She understood what he was doing, allowing her to build credibility in the community by doing her thing.

When Cindy had approached her again this year about the Health Fair, Rachel had been reserved. When Cindy and Sam together had taken her out to dinner and talked to her about it, she had eventually agreed. They both promised to be there for her and encouraged her to face the people of the community with a brave face. So, she had gone home and blogged about it, ordered the supplies, talked to Dr. Baine, and here she was. Cindy had even talked to her boss about holding support group meetings in the offices of the Health and Human Services building after hours. Since Rachel did some contract work for the state, they agreed under certain conditions, which Rachel was happy to comply with.

After talking to the girl, Rachel felt a sense of triumph. She had tried to reassure her and give her a plan of action. She had given her a business card and told her to call or email with questions she had. Rachel hugged the young woman and sent her on her way, turning to find Cindy packing up the booth's contents.

"Wow. What a day." Rachel breathed a sigh, looking around to see other booths packing up as well.

"You did good, girl. We educated a lot of people today," Cindy replied.

Sam's arms snaked around Rachel's waist, and she leaned back against his chest. "I’m proud of you, Rachel," he whispered in her ear. "Can I take you to dinner?"

Her back to them, Cindy called out, "Y'all go ahead. I'll pack the rest of this stuff up and talk to you later. We need to plan for the support group."