“Perfect timing,” I grin as he makes his way into the kitchen. He pulls out a bottle of wine and opens it as I plate the food.
“Wine tonight?” I ask curiously. He doesn’t really drink, he’s only drunk three times around me and it’s always been cognac.
“It’s for you,” he retorts teasingly while pouring me a glass and sitting it next to my plate.
“Are you trying to get lucky?” I tease him playfully.
“We both know I don’t need to give you wine for that,” he says biting his lower lip, and I fight the thought that comes to mind when he says that because tonight I want to talk, and I can’t do that being so easily distracted. With Collin it is so easy to become distracted, he offers a world of answers but there always seems to be a trade-off with him, each piece of information he gives me seems to come with a hidden condition. As time passes the difference between the three of them becomes more apparent. Initially he reminded me of Cal but now even that comparison has narrowed. We both sit down and he turns on some smooth jazz, which has grown on me since he’s started playing it. My eyes take him in, and it doesn’t matter how long I’ve been with this man, I can stare at him forever. I think of how many days I spent alone here before I found out the truth, how much I missed Cal, how I dreamed we’d be whenever he came back, how I still held on to hope despite how things looked, how clueless I was then about what my reality would truly be.
“You’re quiet?” he says, and my eyes lock on his. They’re not dull how they were earlier but now full of the usual contemplativeness. I take a spoonful of the stir-fry, and it could be more seasoned. Chris’s food is so much better than mine.
“I’ve been thinking,” I tell him hesitantly. He swallows a bite of his food, and his head slightly tilts to the side as his eyes gleam at me.
“Always a good sign,” he counters and I fold my hands together.
“What’s going on with your treatment?” I let it out quickly, and I expect him to become defensive, but he doesn’t. He takes a spoonful of his food and drinks a glass of his water before responding, allowing the nervousness in my stomach to double.
“I know your sessions are private but it’s just been on my mind a lot,” I admit.
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask. I don’t know why you still think you can’t talk to me because I told you, we can talk about anything,” he replies easily looking me directly in the eye with a warm smile.
I clear my throat and try to calm my nerves. “I know I just…”
“I’m not like them, Lauren. I don’t know how else to show you that so you can trust me. The things I do are in the best interest of all of us, not just me. You can talk to me about anything,” he says directly. I look down guiltily.
“Come here.” His tone is warm but authoritative. I stand up and walk over to him. He takes my hand and pulls me down on his lap, and turns my face toward his so he’s looking me directly in the eye. I stare into them, wondering if I look hard enough will I see all the men behind them, if I can see Collin’s actual motives.
“Helen is trying to reach Cal.” He says this easily but my breath hitches. “She needs him to be stable before we can think about integration.” My heart speeds up at how casually he says this. He grins at me seeing how surprised I am.
“Was that hard?” He slips his hand underneath my T-shirt and rubs the small of my back, but it’s not the signature pattern that Cal used to trace.
“No. How will she make him stable?”
“Therapy, but he has to be open to it. He thinks he knows everything and that he can fix himself.” While he says this, his other hand trails up my thigh. I fight the stinging in my chest, thinking how distraught he last was.
“He’s going to be okay.” Collin promises and cups my chin.
“Can he hear me? Can he see me now?” I am almost afraid to hear the answer, but I want him to know I’m here and that I miss him. Though I am nervous for him to know what’s going on, he has to know if there is any chance for them to become one. I’m starting to get a headache.
“He’s in good hands. Helen’s the best in her field, and if he’s broken that makes me broken. Do I look like something’s wrong?” He has a playful glint in his eye. I stand from his lap and grab the wine bottle and pour myself a glass. I feel antsy and jittery.
“I’m sorry, I’m just not used to you talking so casually about them.” I think back to the night when Cal came back and took me to the Venetian, how he shared bits and pieces of history but it was like pulling teeth. Chris hated to hear Cal’s name, but Collin acts like he’s not bothered at all as if it’s routine. He knows so much more than both of them and it’s intimidating. He has answers, but I wonder why he’s so willing to share with me and not them if integration is really what he wants. I swallow several gulps and let out a deep sigh.
“One glass will be enough,” he says his tone low, and I roll my eyes.
“You’re not my father Collin.” I retort a little annoyed.
“Don’t do that talk to me,” he says his brows furrowed.
“Don’t do what?”
“Start a fight. You say you want the truth, that you want honesty and transparency but I don’t think that’s what you want at all,” he says smugly. I laugh at him. “You’ve gotten used to being kept in the dark.” He continues. And I scoff at him.
“You of all people should know I never chose to be in the dark. I’ve always only wanted the truth. I just want a glass of wine; I don’t want you to tell me what to do. You may be used to all of this, but I’m still adjusting okay!”
“Fine, drink the whole bottle then,” he says sharply standing from his seat, his jaw jutted forward. I’m a little shocked, and surprisingly at a loss for words. This is unlike Collin. He doesn’t really show his emotions so easily, and I can’t believe he’s this annoyed even when I do something I know bothers him. He usually will still appear indifferent, but right now his eyes are wide, his skin tinged red. He was perfectly calm before and though I wouldn’t say he’s full-on angry, his mood has swung from left to right.
“I know you and Cal had this sick pattern of fighting and screwing to avoid problems, but I’m not an angry teenager. When you want to actually talk to me, when you’re ready to be an adult, I’ll be upstairs.” He leaves the room, and my mouth hangs open.
Is that what I do? Am I still a coward after all of this, afraid to hear the truth? I’m afraid to even read too much into a message forum. I sigh and sit down at the table and stare at the glass of wine. I should talk to someone. It only makes sense that I end up screwed up in all of this. I pick up my glass and frown at it then shrug.
There’s no sense in wasting good wine. I pick up the bottle and try to finish it.
Something’s not right.
I overreacted.
I don’t overreact.
Of course she’s not used to honesty, she’s never had it. Cal likes his secrets, and Chris is too clueless to tell her anything. She’s so afraid of hearing the truth; she may not even trust what I say as the truth. She’s been in the dark so long; her eyes have to adjust to the light. I should have been calmer, but I wasn’t. I’m off-balanced. It’s more difficult than I thought trying to block him out.