The Rarity of Falling

by Leeann M. Shane

  “Don’t send her away. For one, she’d never see it as you helping her. She’d see it as one more abandonment. And two, you can’t just take her. You can’t.”

  “What do I do then?”

  “We,” I corrected her. “What do we do? We talk to her. She’s not crazy or broken, Sammy. She’s sad and scared and nothing’s the same anymore. We have to make things the same for her or give her a new same. That’s all. Give back the stability she had and lost. Maybe give ourselves some stability, too.”

  I knew I never had any, and that her mother probably hadn’t had stability for a long time.

  “We?” she whispered, her eyes taking on this knowing glazed look. “Do you love my daughter?”

  I swallowed hard. “I loved Ava the second she saved my life from choking on her sandwiches. Long story,” I told her when she frowned. “She fed me, and saved me, and never looked back. I love her. So, this isn’t just you and her anymore. It’s all three of us.”

  Her mother was looking at me funny. The tears in her eyes were shimmering, but I could see shreds of something else in there. Happiness, maybe? I didn’t freaking know. I ignored it.

  Her hand shot out and she put it on my head, rubbing my hair. “You’re a good boy, Bishop. I’m grateful my daughter has you.”

  Oh brother. I shook her hand off. “Yeah.”

  “No,” she said fiercely. “You are not going to brush that aside. Ava thinks so and now so do I. Which is why I can’t let you leave here and sleep in your car one more night. I’ve had to keep myself from going out there every night until I snapped.”

  My head shot up. “How do you know that?”

  “Ava told me.”

  “Ava knows? She’s not supposed to know anything about it.” Just great.

  “So, it’s okay for you to worry about her but it’s not okay for her to worry about you?”

  “Yes. Exactly.” I got up, ready to leave, to escape the unavoidable shame of being a homeless loser that my parents never wanted and no one since.

  No one since Ava.

  But her mother’s hand settled on mine and she did this thing where I walked and dragged her after me, her slippers sliding on the tiled floor of the kitchen. The entire exchange looked ridiculous, like some sitcom. I didn’t want to be rude and shrug her off.

  “You are not leaving. You can sleep in the basement, until then you can sleep on the couch.”

  I slid out of her touch. “Look. I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I’m not moving in here.”

  “Why not?”

  I blinked at her. “Why not? What do you mean why not?”

  Her lips twitched. “Yeah, give me one good reason you shouldn’t move in here.”

  I felt backed into a corner. I thought she was the one who was supposed to know why. Not me. “I’ll… uh… have sex with her. Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Would you really disrespect me and Ava like that? Take her virginity in the same house I already forbade that from happening in? Not to mention sully her first time?”

  I. Was. Going. To. Puke. “Stop.”

  “See,” she said, gloating. “Name another reason?”

  I couldn’t. Because as much as it seemed like a bad idea, it also seemed like a good one. I couldn’t keep sleeping in my car. For one, I wasn’t sleeping. For another, having Ava a few steps away would undoubtedly absolve me of my need. I could satiate it by just looking at her. “Why are you doing this? I thought you hated me.”

  “I never hated you.” She said it like she was outraged. “You’re a boy. A handsome boy. A boy my daughter likes. Those are all bad things to me. Plus, you looked me in the eyes and told me the truth about myself. That was hard to hear but I think it helped.”

  I could hardly look at her. “Really?”

  “Really.” She shoved my shoulder. “Go get your things, please. I’ll get some blankets and an extra pillow.”

  I stood there, unable to move.

  “Bishop,” she said sternly. “Go.” She pointed outside. “Now.”

  I grumbled under my breath and did what she said, gathering my pathetic belongings into my gear bag and backpack. I came in with my armload as she was making up the couch.

  “Put your things down and go finish eating.” She nodded at the kitchen. “We still have to talk.”

  Already, she was ordering me around. Like… like some kind of mother. I scratched my head and did what she said. It seemed easier.

  “Rule time. No hanky panky. We’ve established that. No drugs, no parties, and no alcohol. And I’m thinking of reinstating a curfew around here. It’s time to put this house back together. Ten on school nights. Midnight on the weekend. Break curfew and you’ll be grounded.”

  I blinked at her.

  “Oh, and Ava told me that you’re a good hockey player, which means grades probably mean a lot to you. They used to mean a lot to my daughter. That means report cards are something I’ll need to start seeing. Is there anyone at all who looks out for you?”

  I blinked at her again, trying to understand her intentions. I’d never had anyone give me rules. They seemed silly, but she didn’t think they were. “My coach?”

  “Give me his number. Him and I need to talk structure. Colleges looking at you is a huge deal. You do know that, right?”

  I nodded numbly, shoving pizza into my mouth. I was so confused my brain stopped working.

  “Do you need anything? Like shaving cream?” She reached over and drug her knuckles along my jaw, scraping over my stubble I needed to shave off. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow after work. You’re still suspended, right?”

  The pizza hit my stomach like a lump. “Yes.”

  She sighed. “I still think that was unfair, for the record, and really sweet that you defended Ava.”

  Was it a Mackson thing? To talk and talk? I reached for another piece of pizza to find my plate empty. Crap.

  “Get more. This is your kitchen now, too.”

  My stomach twisted. I wasn’t used to any of this.

  “Do you have any questions?” she asked.

  I took out two more slices and turned to her, unable to hold it in anymore. “Thank you.” I hated the stupid sting in my eyes. “It’s been, kind of, crappy lately.”

  She smiled softly. “You’re welcome. No questions?”

  “No. I’ll figure the rest out.”

  “Good. I’m going to go to bed now. See you at breakfast?”

  “Uh, sure. Breakfast.”

  She laughed for some reason, shaking her head as she left for the stairs.

  The moment she was gone, I let out a huge confused breath, staring around Ava’s house in a new light. What if she didn’t want me here? What then? I’d sleep there tonight and regroup in the morning. I finished up and then got my toothbrush out of my bag, using the bathroom down the hall. I changed into a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt, happy I didn’t have to sleep in my jeans one more night, or sleep sitting up, for that matter.

  I turned the lights off and lay down, staring at the roof where Ava’s room was until my eyes got tired.

  I hardly ever dreamed. I always thought my mind was hardwired not to. And if I did dream it was usually too realistic to glean anything from it. But I dreamed that night. It was snowing where we were. Blankets and blankets of snow fell down around us, and Ava was so cold she was shivering, and her lips were purple. She was wearing pajamas. A tank top and a pair of thin cotton shorts. Her cheeks were red, and her teeth knocked together. I stood beside her, wearing this huge black parka.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked. I had no memory of anything but her. I couldn’t even remember my name, but I knew Ava’s.

  “Falling!” she called back, looking around for something.

  “What do you mean, falling?”

  She grabbed my hand. “Let’s find a way to do it. Together,” she said fiercely.

  I followed her. I knew in my dream heart I’d follow her anywhere. “Do you want my coat?”

  She shoo
k her head, looking around; all I saw was snow. “No, you’ll be cold if I take it.”

  I snorted. “Take my coat.” I took it off to realize I had nothing on underneath but a pair of boxers.

  Ava didn’t notice or comment. She kept looking around as she put my coat on. Immediately, she stopped shivering and she smiled at me, this blinding smile that traveled over me and made me warm. “I think it’s over there.” She pointed in the distance.

  “Then let’s go.”

  We walked and walked, the snow falling down around us, until we got to the edge of a cliff. At the bottom were huge objects. A hockey stick, a house, a wedding ring, my jersey, peach perfume, and the hugest roasted chicken sandwich I’d ever seen. Stars fell from the sky and down into the mess of objects. Glittery clouds emanated from the bottom and dusted both our faces, smelling thickly of peaches and cinnamon.

  “This doesn’t happen over and over again.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Falling. It’s rare. When you meet the right person, you just fall. Will you fall with me, Bishop?”

  I grinned. “Is that sandwich mine?”

  She nodded. “They all are.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  We got a running start and catapulted over the edge.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Ava

  My hunger won out over the emptiness.

  I felt achy and sore when I peeled myself from my covers and got out of bed. Lightheaded, I swayed and stumbled down the stairs. I wanted to collapse into a heap of unwashed hair and clothes. My eyes felt too heavy and so did my heart.

  The house was quiet and empty. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and a box of cereal from the pantry, pouring it blindly into the bowl. Disks of artificially fruit-flavored sugar cascaded into the bowl. I watched them, in a trance that didn’t feel like a trance so much as a glitch.

  There was humming overhead and then feet on the stairs. I brought cereal to my mouth numbly. Chew, swallow, repeat.

  “Good morning.”

  I grumbled something similar back.

  Mom glided into the kitchen, hair styled like she used to wear it. Pulled back a little in the front and curled at the bottom. She was dressed for work and went straight for the tea kettle. As it boiled, she grabbed a bagel from the bag and popped it into the toaster. I narrowed my eyes at her. Why was she so chipper?

  She poured hot water into her thermos over the spearmint teabag she’d dropped inside, put cream cheese all over her bagel, and then turned to me. “Would you go and get my purse? I think I left it in the living room.”

  I glared at her. “Can’t you get it?”

  “No, but you will. Go, Ava.”

  I was too empty for this crap. I went into the living room and stopped short. There was a long body stretched out on the sofa snoring. His face was turned to the side, pressed into his pillow, and the sheer beauty of watching him sleep almost brought me to my knees.

  Mom walked by, purse on her shoulder. “Oops, I already had it. See you when I get home from work? You know, since you’re not going to school again. Could you at least get our new roommate settled?”

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Roommate? Did that mean that he was living here now? I ran at her, knocking her back as I hugged her. I wanted to say thank you in a million different languages, but words failed me, so I settled for a huge hug instead.

  She kissed the top of my head. “Please don’t go back to bed. Shower. Eat something more than cereal. And start working on your backlog. Henny dropped all your missing assignments off yesterday after school.”

  I nodded against her, the smell of spearmint wrapping around us.

  “And no makeup sex.” She jabbed her finger at me, making me roll my eyes on her way out the door.

  What was it about her and sex? Sheesh. Maybe she was the one who needed a talk. Bishop could barely stand me. I let that fact settle in, but it didn’t take away from my happiness of knowing he wasn’t starving by himself every night. I didn’t know what to do. Did I wake him, or let him sleep? I settled on the latter and tiptoed past him, even though I wanted to perch on the end of the sofa and watch him for hours.

  I didn’t know what to do with myself. I paced the kitchen, chewing on my fingernail. I didn’t know where his head was at and it frustrated me beyond belief. I sat down to finish my cereal, but it was soggy and gross, so I dumped it out. I was deep into my uncertainty when I heard a deep yawn in the living room.

  He was awake.

  I poked my head around the corner of the kitchen, watching him. He sat up, his back to me. He ran a hand over his face and then through his hair. Ugh, his hair. Maybe I was that rudimentary. He looked so beautiful, face puffy and youthful from sleeping. I wanted to tackle him and kiss the love out of him. I knew it was in there. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so mad at me.

  He was wearing these blue gym shorts and a white t-shirt. He looked so comfortable and warm. I didn’t realize how cold and uncomfortable I was until I saw him. He turned around and gazed down the hall for the bathroom, but first, he looked at the ceiling. Right where my room was.

  My heart pattered.

  “I’m right here,” I whispered.

  He headed for the bathroom, still sleepy and not acclimated. He didn’t see me.

  The moment the bathroom door closed, I went into an all-out panic. I sat at the counter, and then thought I looked dumb sitting there without anything. So, then I grabbed a bagel, but it wasn’t cooked, so I shoved it back into the bag. I caught sight of myself in the toaster and screeched to a halt. I looked terrible! My hair was in disarray, my face was splotchy, and I looked so pale and unalive.

  My clothes were wrinkled and rumpled. Gray sweats and a black sweater. I calculated the amount of time I’d need to make it upstairs before he came out before it was too late. The bathroom door opened and then he was there, standing at the threshold to the kitchen, eyes latching onto mine the way they always did.

  At least he didn’t look mad anymore. His eyes were a lot of things, but mad wasn’t one of them. Tender, unsure, nervous, heated, and sad—Bishop was feeling the exact same things I was feeling.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, watching me the way I was watching him. Which normally wouldn’t bother me, but I looked like I’d had the flu for a month and finally emerged, decrepit and scaly.

  “Say something,” he begged.

  My mouth opened and closed like a fish. Nothing came out.

  “Can I say something, then?”

  I bobbed my head.

  “Can we sit down, or are you going to stand there like I caught you doing something the entire time?”

  I unfroze and moved to sit at the island counter. He sat beside me, turning on his stool to face me.

  “Are we ever going to get this right?” he asked softly, holding out his hand, palm side up.

  He wanted my hand. I gave it to him instantly and he softly wrapped his fingers with mine. The feel of his touch after so long without it made the sting in my eyes turn into a burn.

  “Ava, as much as I want to get it right, I want you more than the perfect answer. I have a feeling there isn’t one anyway. If there were, we’d be smiling right now instead of trying to figure out what to say.” He pulled on my hand, tugging me to my feet, and guided my body between his legs. He moved to clutch my face between his hands. “I was so mad, Avie; I’d never been so mad in my entire life.” He pressed his forehead to mine, unleashing the intense shade of his icy, dark blue eyes on me. “But looking into your eyes, I can’t remember why.”

  I almost closed them. I needed a second to gather my wits, but he kept stealing them, turning them to senseless, beautiful mush.

  “Why was I mad?” he whispered, his lips so close to mine. I could smell toothpaste on his breath as it fanned, warm and heavy, over my parted lips.

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t know. “I’m sorry,” I whispered back, meaning it so much
it hurt.

  His eyes grew fierce and his hold tighter. “Now I remember. This has nothing to do with jealousy or another girl. This has everything to do with you shutting me out after you promised to come to me. It has to do with the fact that you did nothing wrong and still apologize. It’s about you thinking you’re the problem, when you’re the solution to my entire life.”

  I couldn’t take it. I closed my eyes, leaning into him so close, our noses kissed. “Bishop.”

  “I’m sorry I let my anger get in the way of my promises to you. I’ll never do it again. You needed me and I needed you and I let our needs down. Do you accept my apology?” He pressed a kiss so gentle to my lips it felt like I would stop breathing if he didn’t give me more. “Please say yes. I can’t go another second without this.” He kissed me again, just as soft. “Without you.”

  I couldn’t apologize to him again; he didn’t want or need one from me. “Yes.”

  He groaned and pressed a kiss deeper this time, resurrecting my need in seconds. It was stronger than before and brighter. I put my hands on his shoulders and slid them up to twine in his hair. He tasted like mint and freshness as he slid his tongue over my bottom lip. I moaned into his kiss and he took advantage of my parted lips to enter me. His tongue, hot and silky, danced with mine. He kissed me deep and intense. It felt like there was no end. It was flames and heat and I was so sure we’d catch fire and melt all the snow outside.

  We’d end winter and live in a perpetual summer.

  I wasn’t sure how it happened, but we ended up on the couch. I was only aware that we moved because one second, I was standing against him and the next I was lying beneath him. He slid between my thighs and I could have stayed that way forever, his warm body weight pressing into mine, his lips kissing me with everything he didn’t know how to say.

  I understood then what my mother was afraid of.

  For moments like that when things were unplanned and so good and so beautiful, all I wanted to do was get as close to Bishop as I could. Closer, and closer, and closer…

  I had a lot to say to him, too. I told him how much I missed him with my lips, how even though I should be thinking about my mental health, I wasn’t sure there was anything wrong with me when he was around. I told him how good he felt, how good we felt together. That falling for him was the only smart thing I’d done, and I couldn’t remember another.