You & I Collide

Paul

I held Rachel’s hand as we drove along the streets of La Push in my blue truck, enjoying the sensation of her fingers woven through mine. It had been such a long time since I’d touched her, since I’d kissed her, since I’d held her in my arms….As we drove, comfortable in the easy silence, yet still tense, I remembered the conversation I’d had with Jared a little over a week before she’d come back to me.

- - - - - - - - -

“All right, Paul, that’s it,” Jared said, plopping himself down on the couch next to me. We were all at the Clearwater’s (“we” being about a dozen werewolves and some girls certain of those wolves had imprinted upon, who miraculously all fit into Sue’s house without somebody suffocating from the claustrophobia) and everyone was either in the kitchen or hanging out on the back porch, enjoying the snacks Sue and Emily had prepared. Everyone except me—I was too depressed about Rachel to want to eat or be around people; the fact that she’d left me had been gnawing at me ever since…well, ever since she’d left me. But now here was Jared, cutting in on my personal space when it was probably very clear to him—and to everyone else—that I wanted to be alone.

“You can’t just sit here and mope all evening—come get some hotdogs and hang out with the rest of us, man.” Jared nudged my arm, but I shoved away from him.

“I’d rather not,” I said. I didn’t exactly mean for the words to sound rude, but they didn’t come out as nicely as they could have.

“Dude—mourning over Rachel isn’t doing anything positive for anyone.”

I snorted. “Mourning? Come on, Jared, it’s not like she died!”

“She might as well have, with the way you’re acting. Paul, we get that you’re upset, but it’s getting kind of…well, annoying to have to put up with it every time we’re wolves. I mean, it’s bad enough that Leah’s thoughts are in our heads, but this is too much.”

“Oh, so you’ll take Leah’s pain over mine, will you?” I snarled, glaring at Jared.

He shook his head quickly. “No! That’s not what I meant. Just…act happy for once. Like, this isn’t the end of the road. You could still imprint.”

“You think that matters to me!” I yelled at him, feeling the anger burning beneath my skin. “I don’t want to be with anyone but Rachel! I love her!”

“Yeah, but…dude, when you imprint, you won’t even care about her anymore…she won’t even matter….” Jared looked at me innocently. But boy, he was far from innocent.

“Of course I’ll care! I’ll always care about her! Even if I’m brainwashed into loving some girl I don’t even know.”

“Okay, but you won’t love her,” Jared pointed out. Dude was getting really annoying now. “Seriously—maybe if you imprint soon, it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”

“Shut up, Jared!” I shouted in his face. “You think that I could just walk away from this hand-in-hand with some other girl? Rachel left me. What if Kim left you, huh? You wouldn’t be spouting all this trash about ‘imprinting’ and ‘getting over it’. You wouldn’t be skipping around town singing show-tunes if your other half—your missing piece—left you!”

“Yeah, well that’s different, see, ‘cause Kim won’t leave me because, you know, I imprinted on her, and—”

“Dang it, Jared, will you just shut up?” I shouted. “You’re such an idiot—you don’t understand what I’m dealing with! Just leave me alone, okay?”

And then I leveled a hard glare at him until he scampered out of the room.

- - - - - - - -

Leave it to Jared, of all people, to get in my face about my personal life when I wanted nothing more than for him to turn around and walk the other way. Of course, I’d apologized to him a couple days later for being such a jerk about everything, but still.

The reason I was reflecting on the conversation was because now Jared’s words were incredibly relevant. Sure, about a week ago—yesterday, even—imprinting on a girl and falling in love with a complete stranger would have taken away every scrap of pain about Rachel. It would have made me forget, made me realize that there was someone else….But now, now that we were back together, now that we had to face the reality of our situation…imprinting would just make the pain come back, only worse.

But maybe Jared was right…maybe I wouldn’t feel any pain at all, because instead I’d feel so happy and complete. Maybe Rachel wouldn’t even matter in that way whatsoever….

But I didn’t want things to change! I loved Rachel with all my heart, and even though it wouldn’t make a difference if I imprinted, I still didn’t want to let her go. Not after I just got her back.

“Is this the place?” Rachel asked, pointing with her free hand out the window to a shabby house hidden behind a few trees.

I nodded, squeezing her hand tightly, liking its warmth. “Yeah, this is it.”

I parked the truck in the span of dirt and gravel in front of the house, got out, opened Rachel’s door for her, and took her hand again once she closed the door. As we began to walk towards the house, Rachel suddenly stopped and collapsed into me, burying her face against my arm as I felt her tears soak my bare skin. Automatically, I wrapped my arms around her and held her close, nestling my face into her hair and breathing in the sweet scent of her.

“It’s okay, Rach,” I whispered. “It’ll be okay.” I said those words repeatedly as I stroked her hair, ran my hand soothingly up and down her back. I knew that this was going to be hard, but I just didn’t fully realize it until Rachel broke down.

“I’m…sorry, Paul,” she sniffed, pulling back from our embrace to wipe away her tears.

“Don’t apologize,” I told her, brushing my hand down her tear-stained cheek. “This is scary—you have every right to be upset. I am, too.”

She took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

“Are you?” I asked, concerned. Maybe we shouldn’t do this…maybe this was a bad idea.

Rachel bobbed her head up and down in a little nod, so I took her hand in mine once more and led her up the steps to the front door of the house. I knocked three times, and the silence that followed seemed to choke me.

When the door opened and the frail, grizzled face of a very old man appeared, I exhaled deeply, not having been aware that I was holding my breath.

“Paul? Is that you out there?” the old man asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Yes, Mr. Ateara, sir. It’s me. And I brought someone along. This is Rachel Black—she’s Jacob’s sister.”

“Pleasure to meet you, dear,” Mr. Ateara said, shaking Rachel’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, sir,” Rachel replied.

“Rachel,” I said, “this is Mr. Ateara, Quil’s grandfather.” I turned to him, then. “Mr. Ateara, if it would be all right, we’d like to talk to you about something. Something important. See, we know that you know a lot about Quileute legends…and we wanted some…advice.”

“Of course,” said Mr. Ateara. “Come on in, kids. Make yourself at home. Would either of you care for some herbal tea?”

“No, thank you,” said Rachel kindly.

“This isn’t exactly a social visit, sir,” I said. “This is serious.”

“Right, right. Well, come along, now – you can take a seat in the living room.”

Rachel and I sat down on the couch and she held onto my arm. Mr. Ateara took a seat in a comfy-looking chair directly across from the couch. Even though it was irrational considering the season, a fire burned and crackled in the fireplace.

“Now,” said Mr. Ateara. “You said this was serious and important, so why don’t you just start right off from the beginning.”

I looked at Rachel, hoping to get some kind of sense of hope when I looked into her eyes…eyes which were filled with terror. Then – because I couldn’t bear to see that fear any longer – I turned back to Mr. Ateara.

“Rachel and I love each other, Mr. Ateara,” I said calmly, “but…we’re worried about what will happen if I—”

“—imprint,” finished Mr. Ateara. “Yes, I can understand. I’ve had similar conversations with Sam Uley around this particular subject.”

“So…what can we do?” I asked, hearing the desperation in my own voice. “I mean…is there any way to stop myself from imprinting?”

“I’m sorry, Paul…but there isn’t. Your ancestors faced problems such as your own…but once they found that person…there was no denying that they were better off.”

“Don’t you get it!” I shouted, making Rachel flinch against my arm. “I don’t want to imprint. I’m happy now, okay? But I’m just freaking out because I don’t want to lose the girl that I’m in love with!”

Mr. Ateara didn’t even blink at the arrival of my outburst. He merely clasped his hands together on his lap and said, “No one wants to lose somebody they care about, Paul. That is perfectly understandable. But when you imprint—”

“—if I do in the first place,” I added.

“If you do,” he amended, “you won’t be able to imagine life without that person. You and Rachel will hopefully be able to maintain a strong, lasting friendship, but I’m afraid that she is not the person that fate has chosen for you.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Rachel whispered, staring at a spot on the ground and speaking for the first time since we sat down. She looked up to meet Mr. Ateara’s eyes. “People talk about ‘destiny’, and how things are ‘meant to be’…but why can’t we just choose our own path to take? We make our own choices in life—some good, some bad—but there isn’t some mythological hippie force or whatever controlling us. I live my own life, I make my own choices, and I choose Paul.”

The faintest of smiles appeared on Mr. Ateara’s face, and I reached over to grasp Rachel’s free hand. “Be that as it may, my dead, you haven’t factored in the fact that the man you love is a werewolf.” Then, without breaking rhythm, he said to me, “Paul, if this young lady doesn’t mind, I should like to speak with you in private.”

I turned to Rachel, about to ask, but she said, “I don’t mind,” in a hollow voice that scared me.

“Okay,” I said, squeezing her hand and then getting up from the couch. Her gaze did not move an inch. I followed Mr. Ateara outside, closing the front door behind me and feeling a sense of panic overwhelm me. I hoped that what he would tell me would be good news…but I had a bad feeling that it wouldn’t be.