***Author's note: I'm the worst. Thank you for your patience. Part II to come. So tired. I love the playoffs, but man, Im feeling very Jessie Spano right now.***
Red.
Red, red.
Red, red, red...green.
The sound of the horn behind her broke Rebecca from her trance. From staring at the light, but not seeing it.
She gave a wave of apology and pressed the gas. The road towards the freeway moved fast. Too fast. The bag next to her contained clothes and toiletries for the next few days.
Turn left. Turn right. Then a left. Then came the signs.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…
She came upon it.
The Pennsylvania turnpike. Head east 324 miles and she would be home. Six hours. It was only 4 o'clock. She'd be there by ten. Her dad waiting for her, Molly too. Her old room. Her bed. Her dad would make blueberry pancakes in the morning. Molly could play hooky and go into the city. They could drive around Temple and talk about how come Fall it would all be different. They'd grab cheesesteaks for lunch and then go to the University of Pennsylvania campus and daydream all over again.
She would forget Pittsburgh. It would be like a dream.
He would be like a dream.
She would take the next left. She would pay the toll at the end of her journey, although she felt like the toll had already been paid.
Paying for the past. Paying for the future.
Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
She turned, the on ramp just ahead.
Goodbye Pittsburgh. You were...something.
Rebecca blinked. A new sign came into view. With a sigh she eased her car into the right lane, the turnpike curving away in the opposite direction. The large green sign passing over as she chose the way she knew she always would.
65 West.
Sewickley.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.
"God I missed you." His lips brushed hotly against her neck. The moment Rebecca walked in the door, he pulled her into his arms. His embrace strong and sure.
Rebecca hadn't decided yet if she was going to ask him about Katy. It's all she'd been thinking about. Wondering if he would say something. Wondering if she should.
Casually. Off-handedly. As if she could not care less.
When she did care. More than anything. When she thought about Katy in that hallway, in his hotel room.
It made her crazy.
Because she didn't know. When it came down to it, despite all the years and the misunderstandings and the love that was only now finding its way, she didn't know. Rebecca still wasn't quite sure that if given the chance, he would turn Katy away.
She'd meant something to him. For many years. Rebecca couldn't change that.
"What are you thinking about? And if it's anything other than a list of the things you want me to do to you to make up for the past eight days, then I command you to put that brain of yours on airplane mode and let me have my way with you."
She could feel his smile against the tender skin of her neck. The soft tufts of hair tickling her throat.
"Did you see Katy in Colorado?"
The kisses along her neck stop. He pulls back but keeps her in his embrace. His eyes shift from bright and playful to flat and guarded.
"What?"
She repeats her question.
Sid untangles himself from her and takes a step back. Then nods.
"Yeah, I did. I was going to talk to you about it, but was hoping to get a little one on one time first." He gave a grin and waggled his eyebrows.
Rebecca frowned.
"Did you have dinner with her?"
Sid nodded.
"Did…" she looked away, not sure how to proceed. Not sure if she wanted to hear his answer.
"Did she come back to the hotel?"
Sid nodded. His face showing no signs of regret or apprehension to her line of questioning.
"What did she do there?" It was a lame question, but she was too cowardly to ask straight up what she needed to know.
"Are you asking if I slept with her?"
Rebecca nodded, her gaze steady on his.
He smiled. "Of course I did."
Rebecca's veins turned icy.
"You did?" Her voice trembled.
Sid nodded. "Yeah, and she was good too. We are two consenting adults. Satisfying urges. You know all about that Rebecca."
"But…" she didn't know what to say.
"It was a long time. And it's Katy. I mean have you seen her? That body." He blew a low whistle.
"What about us?" Her voice was small.
"What about us?" He repeated, "I mean, you're not going anywhere right? I mean what do you expect?. That's how this works Becs, that's how it has always worked. Keep up, ok?" His voice so condescending, his gaze on her so pitiful.
The whooshing came back. Filling her ears. Pounding at her temples.
"Ok?"
"Ok?"
Rebecca blinked.
"Hello, earth to Rebecca?" Sid waved his hand in front of her eyes. "I didn't mean literally go into airplane mode. Are you in outer space or what?" He grinned, his eyes crinkly.
"Huh?" She looked at him confused. Reality crashed into her. She was still in his arms.
"I said, does take out sound ok? Where did you go?" He asked with a nervous chuckle.
"I…" she looked up at him. She hadn't asked him about Katy. She'd imagined it. It was horrible and hateful but none of it had happened. And now she wondered if she'd ever have the courage to ask.
"I'm sorry, I sort of zoned out there." She forced a smile and tried not to show how rattled she felt.
"It's ok. I'll put the order in, if you want to get settled in." He pressed his lips to her forehead as if everything was normal.
But it wasn't. But if he wanted to pretend, then she would too.
Hours later, after Vietnamese take out and a make out session that had started on the couch and moved to the bedroom, Rebecca lay in Sid's arms. She felt like a fraud. Acting like everything was normal. Talking to him, kissing him, making love to him, all the while feeling so conflicted.
"I have to talk to you about something."
His voice interrupted Rebecca's thoughts and she felt her whole body tense.
This was it.
Did she really want to know?
"My parents are coming into town on Wednesday and wanted to get together for dinner. I hoped.." Sid paused. "I hoped you could join us. I want them to meet you."
Rebecca turned in his arms and looked up at him. "But I've already met them," she said dumbly.
He laughed. "I know, but I mean, I want you to spend time with them. Get to know them. I want them to get to know you."
It was a bad sign when the first word Rebecca wanted say was, "Why?"
Seeing Sid's parents was the last thing she wanted to do. Every time she'd seen them over the past 5 years, Katy had been with them. They probably loved her. They probably had been devastated when she and Sid broke up. How would they look at Rebecca? Would they see her at this...employee what chased after their son for all those years. Finally trapping him, for reasons they would never understand. Would they see her as the less than in the equation that was their son's life?
All these questions swirling in her head. But she didn't voice any of them. Instead she gave a weak smile and simply said, "Great."
"I just don't think you want to be happy."
Chelsea's voice was matter of fact.
"It's common among those who have lost a parent. Or at least that's what my guru tells me. There's a melancholy to us. We've experienced such profound sadness that we lack the desire or the need for happiness. We find comfort in our grief. Sadness brings us closer to those we lost while happiness is uncomfortable."
Rebecca just stared at her friend. They were sitting in a corner booth at a Vegan restaurant in Oakland, harp music played in the background, while both men and women with long skirts and buns flited around the restaurant.
Chelsea pointed her cashew grilled cheese at Rebecca and said, "You're afraid of joy."
Rebecca leaned back in her seat and picked at the mung bean salad that was as unappetizing as she feared when ordering it.
The whole scene was surreal. It had only be an hour ago, on this Monday afternoon, that Rebecca was pulled from a spreadsheet of hotel occupancies to the grand entrance of her long lost friend.
Chelsea had burst into the office, her hair in long dreads, her clothes baggy and layered, a deep and rich glow from her tanned skin.
She announced she was back and wanted to take her friend to lunch. She proceeded to explain that she'd found inner peace in the mountains of Peru. That she'd hooked up with a group that spread the word of peace and enlightenment. She'd found a guru, a spiritual advisor. She had found her center.
Rebecca asked if she had found a phone, seeing that she hadn't heard from her friend in over a month.
Chelsea had scoffed and told Rebecca not to be a reflection of society's co-dependency on technology. That electronics were the warden of communication. That true connection was found in the soul not your iphone
Rebecca tried not to burst out laughing and instead got her coat and purse.
No matter what her mindset was, she was glad her friend was back. She had missed Chelsea dearly.
Right after they ordered, Rebecca began to fill Chelsea in on what had transpired over the last month or so. She told her everything. Every detail. Finishing with the inner conflict about talking to Sid about Katy and the fear of seeing his parents.
Chelsea had listened and despite a little of some granola mumbo jumbo, she was right.
Rebecca was afraid to be happy.
Joy, excitement, mirth, whatever you called it. It was an emotion that Rebecca always seemed to chase.
Admitting this to Chelsea was difficult. Because no matter how much it had been bruised. Rebecca still had her pride
"I don't think that's it." Rebecca said reluctantly.
Chelsea looked at Rebecca critically, "How is it in five years, you never asked him?"
"Asked him what?" Rebecca answered quickly.
"Why he left."
"I told you, I saw him, with Katy. In the elevator."
"And weren't you pissed?"
"I was confused. Hurt."
"But you didn't get mad?"
"He made his choice."
"What about after the Christmas party. When he told you he wanted to talk to you, and then nothing."
"He was dealing with a lot then. I wasn't going to bother him. He was waiting for him to come to me."
"And did he?"
Chelsea's voice wasn't mean or accusatory, but it was firm.
"No."
"And did that make you pissed?"
Rebecca looked nervously around the restaurant, "I don't know why you want to have this conversation."
"Because time after time, you haven't said what you wanted. You haven't stood up for yourself, you haven't fought back."
Rebecca was silent for a few moments, then spoke. "Because he picked her, he always picked her. And we've talked about it. We've worked it out."
Chelsea's face softened. "But you haven't, because here you are once again. Feeling like you don't deserve to be the one picked. Not fighting, not getting pissed. This is your life too Rebecca."
"I know...I'm just..."
"Scared?"
The tears prickled in the corner of her eyes as she nodded wordlessly.
"At some point, you have to fight for what you want. You have to let him know that rumors or lies by omission or whatever this ends up being, is not okay. That if this relationship is going to work, you need a level playing field. And part of that is you accepting that you deserve to be in this game. That you aren't some rookie knob playing for the OHL. You're in the big leagues too. You're a worthy teammate and you're not going to get sent down to Wilkes-Barre because you can't keep up."
The hockey analogies were making her head spin, but Rebecca could see Chelsea's point. For many years she felt unworthy. Then then finally talked. Had that epic resolution and everything was fine.
But not really. Because as soon as she heard that Katy was back in the picture, the first thing she did was panic. Retreat.
She knew this. She always did this. She could take the easy way out and say that it was because she didn't want the conflict. That she wanted not to be a bother. When her mother died, her dad had a really rough time. There were nights she laid in bed, her pillow pulled tightly around her head, covering her ears with Molly tucked into her side as they tried to drown out the deep and guttural sobs coming from her father's room. And in the morning, when he emerged, his eyes dark and haunted, his face drawn and looking years older than he was, she pretended. She pretended that those cries in the middle of the night didn't cause her such deep anxiety that she would create callouses on her thumb and index finger from rubbing them together as an anxious habit. Or that she ran a list of vice-presidents from start to finish in her head over and over so that her mind wouldn't wander to the agonizing emptiness that lay in the pit of her stomach, the thoughts of her mother's sallow skin and jutting cheekbones, as she looked at her young daughters with such desperate sadness. She pretended that her calloused fingers didn't bring her comfort as she touched her nose, pretending that the rough skin was really the dry and dying hands of her mother. She avoided it. Because the pain. It was too much. It was just too much. She pretended at eight years old she didn't feel like she wanted to die too, just so that for one moment, she could feel her mother's fingers on her face, gently telling her it was all going to be okay.
She pretended that she wasn't broken.
And so there was this. There was Sid. There was her life now. And the fear, the pretending, the avoiding. Despite that conversation, despite these past few weeks. Despite it all she was back at the beginning. She was back on the rooftop hearing that he had a girlfriend, she was back in that hotel room, alone and she was back in that hallway, watching blood pour from his mouth as everyone looked on in horror and she remained an outsider.
That was the memory Sid's parents had of her. The outsider. That girl off in the corner, who would drive Katy to the hospital. That girl on the other end of the phone that could book a last minute redeye for Troy when Sid had another concussion setback. That girl who they would only see as a replacement.
And so Chelsea could say she understood. But she didn't. Not completely.
Rebecca nodded and agreed and said everything Chelsea wanted to hear. But in the end, two days later as Sid sat in his suit and tie, his mother on his left, his father on his right at the best table The Capital Grille had to offer, she wasn't there. Instead a text, 20 minutes after they were supposed to meet, buzzed on Sid's phone, telling him she couldn't make it.
Always the outsider.
And always afraid to be happy.
She saw his car from the end of her street. It was after 9 o'clock. She'd gone to her Aunt Hilary's for dinner then spend the last hour just driving around. Trying to clear her head. Her cell phone shut off. She'd done that immediately after sending Sid the text. Because she was a coward.
Finally she'd turned down her street and even in the dark she could see the large grey SUV sitting in her driveway.
Her stomach dropped and her pulse began to race. She wanted to keep driving. Pass him by.
But she couldn't. She was a coward, but she wasn't cruel.
Instead she took a deep breath and pull into the drive. Her car coming up behind his.
He was sitting on the steps. His suit jacket gone, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, the tie loose around his neck. His elbows on his knees as he watched her leave the car and walk towards him.
Immediately he sprang to his feet. His handsome features taut and his hair still nicely combed.
A pang in her chest, slowed her a step.
"Where were you?" His voice was loud and angry. No filtering of emotions here.
"I, I told you. I couldn't make it," she said, her voice wavering much to her disappointment.
"Yeah, I got that. Im wondering why you never replied to my response and more importantly why you couldn't make it?" His voice softens a bit, as if, that will get a better answer out of her.
"I just couldn't." She answers. It's a dumb answer and she knows it. It's just she hadn't figured out what she would do if when she had to answer for her decisions.
"But why?" He pressed. "Do you know how stupid I felt? Not able to get an answer from you? Sitting there with them while I called over and over and it just went to voicemail?"
"Is this some sort of game? Because really Becs, I thought we were past that." His voice turns icy.
"Yeah, well I thought we were past a lot of things," she muttered, brushing past him and up the steps to her house.
Sid came up hot on her heels.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
She unlocks the door and bursts through, knowing he is going to follow her. Knowing he is going to see.
And now its ok that he does, because operation self sabotage has been a resounding success.
"Why didn't you tell me you saw Katy in Colorado?" she asked, turning to face him as he entered her house, his hand pulling the door closed behind him.
He looks genuinely surprised and for a moment sort of tongue tied.
"H-ho-how did you hear about that?"
Immediately she wishes she hadn't said anything. She doesn't want to know anything.
She wants him to leave.
She wants to hide.
But she presses on.
"One of the WAGs told me. She's good friends with Katy." Rebecca looks away. She can't see his eyes for this part. "She said that Katy came to your room at the hotel late at night. She seems to think…" Rebecca begins to fidget and stares at the blank wall. She can feel an unexplainable blush heat her cheeks. "She seems to think you and Katy are working things out. Getting back together. It least that's what she told me."
He doesn't say anything. It's completely silent in foyer where they stand.
And the seconds tick. And each moment is a dagger that stabs at her heart.
Finally she hears the nervous clearing of his throat and her eyes traitorously shoot in his direction.
He's not looking at her, but a small smile forms on his face and she feels her stomach drop.
"Did she come to your hotel room?" The words are out quick because even a pause would rob her of the courage to ask.
He nods, then a small chuckle escapes his lips as he shakes his head.
"Leave," her voice is sharp and quick.
He stops laughing and looks at her surprised.
"Leave!" She shouts, the tears stinging. "I don't want you here, go!"
She wants to keep her composure but as her worst fears are coming true, it's hard. She needs him gone so that he doesn't see how he continues to break her heart.
"Becs," he walks towards her and she takes a step back.
"I don't know why you think hurting me is so funny," she seethes. "But I'm not some joke."
His face turns serious, his eyes soften. He speaks gently and quietly. "You're not a joke. I don't think you are a joke at all. It's just I'm realizing that me coming here. It's just ironic. The way I reacted, to you not showing up tonight, well it's just a changing of roles. If you let me explain you'll understand. I promise."
"Did you sleep with Katy?" she bursts out, having to know. Whatever he wants to explain she needs to know this first.
"No! God, no Becs. I love you. It's only you, I promise. From here on out, no matter what." She can tell he's not lying, so she nods, ready to listen.
And the for the first time, he looks around and sees that there is nearly nothing left of her house. Not a picture frame, not a book. Just boxes. Stacks and stacks of boxes. And he realizes that what he has to say might just be too late.
