Chapter 3: Rachel's Return

I don’t think I’m some irredeemably bad person.

Even if I did sleep with Rachel while married. I mean, it’s not the kind of thing you set out to do. Sometimes, you just end up where you never thought you’d go, one small step at a time.

All I can say is, there are just some things in this world—so damn unsatisfying. Sometimes life hands you a plate full of what you never ordered, and you stare at it, hungry anyway.

A year ago, at a high school reunion, I ran into my teenage crush, Rachel, again.

The moment I saw her, I could hardly believe my eyes. The reunion was at the American Legion hall, the air thick with the smell of cheap beer and stale potato chips, a scratchy PA system echoing someone’s speech. Rachel stood near the makeshift buffet, her smile tired, her posture a little slumped.

The Rachel of the past—beautiful, radiant, from a well-off family, top of the class. For guys like us, stuck in self-doubt and gloom, she was like a dream—unreachable, not even in our wildest hopes. In the yearbook, her picture was always circled in someone’s pen.

But that day, what I saw was a woman life had worn down.

Haggard, thin, exhausted. The lines at the corners of her mouth and brow were harsh, the kind that come from years of bracing yourself against hardship. She wore thrifted jeans and an old cardigan, the once-bright spark in her eyes flickering behind fatigue.

Suddenly, my heart ached in a way I couldn’t describe.

It was like seeing your old high school stadium in daylight—peeling paint, cracked seats, nothing magical about it.

At the end of the night, when we said our goodbyes, everyone was gathered around my new car. Rachel said, “This car must’ve cost, what, forty, fifty grand?”

A classmate next to her scoffed, “Are you kidding? This car’s over a hundred grand. Mike’s a regional manager now, you think it’s like before?”

Her face flushed, lips pressed tight.

I quickly said, “It’s not that expensive—don’t listen to them.”

She glanced at me, her face tightened, and turned away without saying goodbye to anyone.

Later, amid sighs, I heard about her past few years: her family lost everything while she was in college. After graduation, she married a guy with a bad temper. During a fight, he died. She sold the house and car to pay off debts, then ended up in jail. After the divorce, she raised a four-year-old son alone, renting an apartment and selling insurance to get by.

“She never came to reunions before. Probably just here to drum up some business. Nothing wrong with making money, but with that attitude, who’d buy from her?”

The words stung, and I found myself defending her out loud, even as I kept my real feelings to myself.

Half a month later, Rachel called out of the blue, asking if I needed any commercial insurance.

Emily works in the bank’s insurance department, so she’d already taken care of all my policies.

Rachel sounded a little disappointed, so I introduced a few friends to her. I told myself it was just a favor, but deep down, I felt a tug I couldn’t quite shake.

Later, Rachel invited me out for dinner to thank me. I happily accepted. We went to a little Tex-Mex joint near her apartment, and for a couple hours, it almost felt like old times—two kids from high school, trading stories, pretending the world hadn’t changed.

Not long after, her son, Danny, suddenly came down with a high fever. She couldn’t get a cab in the heavy snow and called me in a panic.

Of course, I did everything I could to help. I remember racing across town, windshield wipers struggling against the slush, my heart pounding every red light.

After that, whenever Rachel cooked something good, she’d invite me over. Danny called me “Uncle Mike” and stuck to me like glue.

That day, it was snowing heavily. I couldn’t leave for a while, so we both had a couple of drinks.

When Danny fell asleep, she suddenly got up and went into the bedroom. After a while, she called my name from inside.

I went in.

She was sitting on the bed in a revealing nightgown, her eyes red as she looked at me.

She bit her lip and whispered, “Mike... I don’t have anything to give back. If you don’t mind, the only thing I can offer is me.”

Embarrassed, I quickly turned around, stammering, “Ra—Rachel, I didn’t help you expecting anything in return. We’re old classmates—of course I’d help.”

She sighed quietly behind me, her voice full of sorrow.

“I remember in class, you’d always sneak glances at me. I know I can’t compare to how I was back then.”

“If you’re worried, I’ll say this now—I don’t plan to marry again, and I won’t break up your family. I just want what we have right now…”

Outside, the snow kept falling. Inside, it was a different world. The silence pressed in, thick and warm, broken only by the hum of the radiator and our uneven breathing.

Suddenly, I turned and rushed toward her.