Letting Go

Angie raced into the waiting room. She instantly saw Rollie, and ran to him.

"Oh, God. When I heard, I came as soon as I could..." she fell into Rollie’s arms. "What happened?"

"It... it was supposed to be a stunt ... she wasn’t supposed to really be killed off..." he let his voice drop.

"Oh, Rollie," Angie let her head fall onto Rollie’s chest. "How is she doing?"

Rollie shook his head. "First Rick, now her too."

"No, Rollie, you can’t think that way. You know Lucinda. She’s been scraped up before, but she’ll pull through."

The two sat down on the hard, plastic chairs, and waited for news.

A doctor emerged from the hallway, a bleak expression on his face. He stopped when he saw Rollie, and motioned him over. Angie followed.

"You the ones with Miss Scott?"

Rollie nodded. "Any news?"

The doctor shook his head. "She’s still unconscious. You have to understand that Miss Scott’s sustained serious injuries to her brain, and even if she survives, she will not lead a normal life."

Rollie nodded. "We just want her to pull through, that’s all."

Suddenly, a nurse emerged behind the doctor, and whispered something in his ear, fiercely. She nodded towards Rollie and Angie, and briskly walked away.

"Wait, is it Lucinda? Is something wrong?" Angie called.

The doctor shook his head. "No, everything’s under control."

The same nurse emerged again, a nervous look on her face. "Doctor, we need you right now. We’re losing her."

Rollie grabbed Angie’s hand, and ran after the doctor.

"Dammit, tell us what’s wrong!" He pounded the door.

The sound of a beeper, a life support machine sounded, and Rollie froze.

The doctor emerged again, walking briskly pat them.

"Wait, tell us something!" Rollie shouted.

"It’s your friend," a voice said. They turned around to find the nurse before the,. "She just went into cardiac arrest, and there was nothing we could do ..."

"Bloody hell," Rollie whispered, and took off down the hallway.

"Rollie! Wait, please!" Angie called after him.

"Let him go," the nurse urged. "He’s in pain, just let him pull himself through."

Angie watched as Rollie walked down the hallways, away from her, away from his problems. And away from his life. She sighed.

* * *

"So, is he still mulling over Lucinda’s death?" Mira asked.

Angie nodded. "And I hate it, you know. There’s nothing that I, or anyone can do for him. He’s fighting this demon on his own, and I don’t know if he can."

"Well," Mira began. "He’s been through a lot this year, you know. With Leo’s death, and now Lucinda’s. Bet he’s feeling pretty crappy right now."

Angie sighed. "Yeah, he sure is. But I mean we all feel bad, you know? Lucinda was my friend, too. And Francis’. She was a good person."

"She was," Mira agreed. She suddenly stood up. "Well, thanks for the tea, Angie. I’d best be on my way ... God knows what Francis is doing by himself! I will talk to you later, right? Maybe take you and Rollie out for dinner?"

"Sounds good," Angie replied. She waved, "See ya, Mira!"

"Take care." Mira said, as she left, closing the door behind her.

* * *

"Rollie, what the hell do you think you’re doing?" Angie shrieked.

Rollie sat down on his chair, and turned away from Angie. "I didn’t want the job." He said, shortly.

"Since when have the decisions been up to you?" She cried. "Rollie, you’ve turned down every job since ..." She caught herself. "... well, for the past few weeks. It’s not especially good for business!"

"I think I’m selling, anyhow."

"‘Selling?’ Oh, Rollie, you can’t be serious! You’re just going to leave?"

Rollie shrugged. He spun around to meet Angie’s gaze. "I just have to."

"Have to what? Give up on your life, your job, your friends? Rollie, whether you believe it or not, there are people here who care about you, and we are very worried."

"Don’t be." Rollie replied. "It’s my life, Ang. My choices."

"What is your problem?" Angie said, suddenly. "We’ve all been hedging it because we weren’t sure if you could handle it, but I don’t care anymore. What the hell is your problem?"

Rollie stood up, so suddenly that his chair toppled over. "You want to know? You really want to know how I am responsible for the death of my closest friends? How I am a murderer?"

"Rollie! It wasn’t your fault! You read the reports, you heard what Mira said. Lucinda didn’t die because of anything you did. It was an accident, okay? Accidents happen!"

"Accidents don’t happen on my set," Rollie muttered. "First Rick. My carelessness cost him his life. Now ... Lucinda too."

"My God, Rollie, her death was not your fault! You couldn’t have known the plastique was faulty!"

"It was my fault, Ang. I let her do that stunt in the first place." Rollie said, quietly. "Don’t you remember the debate we had over the stunt scenes? Lucinda said she was ready, that she knew what to do. I let her, Angie. I let her go in ... inexperienced. I practically led her to her death."

Angie was silent before replying. "Well, if that’s the way you feel, than I am guilty to. I let her do it as well. I hooked up the plastique."

"No," Rollie shook his head. "It’s not your fault. It’s mine." He walked away from her.

"Rollie, please." Angie called. "We care ... I care about you. Let me help."

Rollie kept walking.

* * *

As Rollie stood at the station, he looked out the window, sullenly. He tried to smile. He knew that he should be happy ... afterall he was leaving behind the town that had caused him so many hardships. The town where Lucinda had lost her life, as had Rick ... and Leo. All because of him.

He thought of the new life that awaited him. A life where he was no longer boss, no longer in charge of other people’s lives. Freedom.

So why did he feel like he was leaving something behind?

He hadn’t said goodbye, hadn’t told anybody that he was leaving. He thought it would be easier that way.

Angie’s face lingered in his mind. Her sweet smile, her kind eyes. Her words that had always made him happy before. But now ... now was different.

He would regret leaving Angie behind. He knew that he was all she had left. He remembered the many times she’d cried for fear of losing him. He’d always told her not to worry, that he’d never leave her. He was going to back on his word, wasn’t he. Betraying the trust she had placed in him.

He’d never even gotten to tell her how much he really cared. How she’d been more than a friend. He had never told her. Well, except for the letter.

He’d put it beside her bed before he left, and glanced down at her sweet face.

"It will be easier this way," he’d whispered.

The note was simple. "Angie," it read. "I care." He hadn’t even bothered to sign it.

He glanced at his watch. 7:46 a.m. He knew she didn’t wake until 8:00, and by then he would be on his way to his new life. Without her.

He shook his head. No, he couldn’t let himself be confused now. Now was too late.

"Flight 689 boarding at Gate B. Flight 689, boarding." A voice over the loudspeaker spoke.

Rollie picked up his bags, and began to walk towards the gate. He glanced back, instinctively, and caught himself staring towards the entrance.

A young woman was running through the gates, ignoring the attendant who was calling after her.

"Angie," Rollie whispered.

The tears on her face were falling, and Rollie found himself taken back to the first time he’d seen her. She had been eleven, he twenty. When he’d first seen her, she was returning from her mother’s funeral. The tears on her face that day were similar to the ones now.

"Rollie." Her blue eyes shone.

"Angie." He dropped his bags, and took her into his arms.

"Please don’t go," she sobbed. "I ... I won’t let you." She wrapped her arms around him. "I’m not letting you go."

He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Nor am I." He replied.

"Were you really going to leave? Is what you’re fighting really bad enough to make you desert us?" She looked up into his eyes.

"Yes," he replied. "But I couldn’t. I kept thinking about ... you. About your father, and Rick, and well ... Lucinda."

"Rollie, let it go. Lucinda’s gone. No matter how many times you replay it, you can’t change the past. What’s done is done. Please let it go."

Rollie let go of her, and looked at the flower. "I don’t know if I can." He answered, sheepishly.

"Rollie, listen to me," she said. "We’ll help you ... I’ll help you get through this. Just don’t do it on your own."

"For you?" He held his hand out.

"No," she replied, taking his hand. "For you."

He nodded. "Okay. I’ll try."

Together, they began to walk away, hand-in-hand.

"Angie?" He asked, suddenly.

"Yeah, Rol?"

"That letter ... I meant what I said, you know."

She smiled. "I know."

The End!

An oldie, written in March of 1998