Crossing Boundaries [COMPLETE]

You've Got A Friend in Me

Once he calmed down, Chris's mother tended to his bruises, which he got of course from assaulting a defenseless tree.

The tub with food sat on the countertop waiting patiently to be delivered.

Everyone, except Shanna and the kids, gathered 'round the dining table, discussing how they could help Tiffany. The poor woman has nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. But the Evanses and the Fosters have been friends since the latter moved to their neighborhood.

"She needs people to lift her spirits up," Lisa rumbled while storing the first aid kit in a nearby drawer. "So unfortunate what happened, but she has to get out of the rut sooner or later."

"I'll take care of it." Chris stood and took the tub of food from the counter.

His mom followed him to the kitchen. "Son, slowly ease into it. Don't force any conversations if she doesn't want to open up." She gave him a hug. "I've been visiting her briefly for the past weeks and... she's way too fragile right now. Most days we just sit in the living area without saying a word to one another."

"Does that work?"

Lisa stared beyond the glass door. "I'm not sure. But at least she still opens the door for me everyday. And I see her breathing still everyday."

Chris's forehead crinkled. "You don't think..."

"I don't know honey... What I know is it's important to let her know that she has someone to lean on whenever she's ready to unload the baggage."

Chris planted a kiss on his mom's forehead, took in a deep breath and made his way outside the house.

*

It's almost 2 in the afternoon and she's just finished taking a bath. She rubbed her brown hair with a towel as she looked at her reflection on the mirror. The eye bags were increasing in size now, her arms a whole lot thinner than they used to be. A few more weeks and she'd look like the Corpse Bride.

Just as she was about to comb her locks, she heard a knock on the door. She glanced at the watch she stopped using since she came back to the old house. She lingered for a moment longer, staring at her reflection one more time. If Mrs. Evans weren't so nice, she wouldn't be answering the door.

The knock came again. She mustered the little courage left in her and practiced a smile. She dragged her feet down the stairs and heard another set of tap at the door. Mrs. Evans did not usually knocked more than once so she was puzzled why the old woman kept knocking this time.

When she reached the door and opened it, she formed the smile she had just practiced in front of the mirror. But it turned quickly into a jaw drop coupled with widening brown eyes.

"Hey there, stranger," Chris waved his hand filled with Band-Aid. His smile extended to his blue as the sky eyes. Thank God for years of acting, he thought.

"Evans." Tiffany's voice hinted shock.

"Mom told me to bring this to you." Here's to hoping she would open her home to him.

When she snapped out of the surprise, she motioned her arms asking him to come in. Chris stepped in immediately the place taking him back to the past. Only that the past is covered with dusty white fabric and a kitchen countertop filled with bottles.

He sat down on the uncovered couch opposite an equally uncovered sofa with a quilt spread. Tiffany continued to walk to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and took two bottles of beer. She handed one to Chris before she sat on the sofa.

"Don't you think it's a little too early for happy hour?"

Her laugh was cold. "I'm out of a job. Happy hour is 24/7." Before she could gulp in some beer, Chris snatched the bottle from her. She stared at him, her eyes diminished into thin lines, her lips flinching.

"You can drink as many beers as you want after you fill your tummy with a bit of food." Although Chris wanted to heed his mom's advice, the protective friend in him was just stronger. His mind was actually bracing itself for when Tiff kicks her out of the house. But that didn't happen.

Again, she sat there motionless for a while until she reached out her hand to Chris. As if knowing exactly what she meant, he handed her the tub of lasagna. He then strode to the kitchen looking for utensils. When he found a fork, he immediately goes back to the couch and handed it to her.

Her entire eating was strained like an ill person trying to down food. It was excruciating for Chris to watch her in that state. Her usual bright eyes were devoid of light, her glowing skin now pale and she was much frailer than the last time he saw her, that was on her wedding day.

"You look terrible." His voice in a jest, hoping she'd grin at his sarcasm.

Without looking at him, Tiff  remarked, devoid of emotions, "Funny, Evans. Tell me something I don't know. I see myself everyday on the mirror and I do look like hell."

"Oh so you wanna know something you don't know?" Chris wavered for a bit then retorted. "You'll be spending Thanksgiving tomorrow with the Evanses." Was this far-fetched? He waited for her reply with bated breathing.

Tiffany placed down the fork in the half-empty tub, grabbed the opened beer bottle on the coffee table and downed the liquid. "I dunno, Chris... Thanksgiving should be a fun time with the family." She tucked herself under the quilted sheet. "I might just be a downer if I went to your place."

Without even thinking Chris commented. "So, what's your great plan? Rut in here forever?"

She shut her eyes, breathing hard. "The truth... If your mother wasn't patient enough to check on me every single day... The plan is to wall off myself here forever... My body will only be found ten years after, rotting on my bed." Her statement was humorless. What's more painful for him to hear was the hint of truth in her words. And with her assertion, a tear escaped her eye, which she wiped as fast as it slipped down her cheek.

Chris breathed out heavily as he made his way beside her. Tiffany could feel his strong arm pull her closer to him. "But that hasn't happened. And it won't happen." He stared straight into her miserable eyes, which were still fighting back tears. "My mom didn't let that happen. And with every ounce of my being, Tiff, you would have to kill me first before you push through with that stupid plan."

She buried her face in his broad chest, and with his arms around her, enveloping her in the warmth of his care, Tiffany allowed herself to be sheltered by him. "You'll always have me in your corner, Tiff. Always." His every word dripping with sincerity.