The Fall in Love Checklist

by Sarah Ready

  She shakes her head warily.

  “That you have the perfect husband. The most perfect Steve who dances with you in the kitchen and loves you just as you are and wants to take you on a second honeymoon. You don’t have to risk anything, because everything is perfect for you. Life must be easy for you, Matilda, knowing your husband will always be there.”

  “That’s enough, Dany,” says Sylvie. Her tone is stern.

  I ignore her. “You’re always so happy. You think everything is so romantic. How nice. Matilda and her perfect love life. It’s not the chemo making me nauseous. It’s you. You and Steve.”

  “Be quiet,” says Gerry.

  “Don’t tell me what to do. Admit it. She can’t say anything because there’s no risk in loving a paragon like Steve. And he must be, to stay with a wife who only wears cat T-shirts. Am I right?”

  Matilda has her head down. She won’t look at me.

  Suddenly, I feel awful. Sick to my stomach.

  “Apologize, dear,” says Sylvie.

  I look up and see her censure. My heart feels small and cold. “You, Sylvie, are a fraud, too. You act like a sweet grandma, always knitting presents for grandbabies. But you never go and see them, and they never come see you. Maybe it’s because they don’t like you. Because in real life you’re awful.”

  “Rude,” says Cleo. “Don’t make me get up and whoop you.”

  I laugh. “Can’t. We’re all penned down with IVs. You say you found love with yourself, but then, why is it you look so sour and unhappy all the time?”

  The room has gone silent. They’re all watching me like I’ve completely lost it. I don’t care. I turn to Gerry.

  She starts in, “You’re being horrid. Also, if you get married in Hawaii to that slug, I will fly there and make hell—”

  “Oh, right, because you travel around the world on great adventures. How’d that work out with David? It didn’t, right? Because he’s not real. And if he were, he didn’t sail away to make a fortune. He sailed away to get away from you. Which is why he never ever came back.”

  I stop talking. And that’s when I realize how it feels after a bomb has been detonated. There’s the explosion, the wreckage, and the silence when everyone’s ears are bleeding and they can’t believe what happened.

  It feels like that.

  I want to rip this IV out of me. I need to get away. I have to get away.

  “I think next time you’re here, dear, you’ll feel sorry for what you’ve said,” says Sylvie.

  I shake my head. I close my heart to them.

  “I only have one more treatment. Maybe that’s why you don’t want to see me get married in Hawaii. Because just like Jack, none of you want me to move on. You’d rather I be stuck in a cancer chair like you than move on and be happy,” I say, adding one last bomb to the wreckage.

  Matilda sniffs and wipes at her eyes. She looks at me, her face pale.

  Matilda speaks. “One thing. It’s important for me to say. Life isn’t always easy. Not for anyone. But I’d rather be happy than bitter. I’d rather laugh than cry. And yes, I’d rather dance through life, with Steve or without him, than do anything else. That’s all.”

  Nothing more is said.

  37

  Jack

  * * *

  I’ve been in a foul mood for days. Dany’s avoiding me. Sissy’s in a funk. I don’t know how to fix any of this. And that wedding date in Hawaii looms like a descending blade at the butcher’s block. Has she told him yes yet?

  But why? Why would she?

  There’s a knock at the door.

  I answer it and nearly shut it again.

  “I’d like a word,” says Shawn.

  “Dany’s not here,” I say.

  “I know. She’s at chemo. Look, I came to speak with you.”

  Why? I hold the door open and lead Shawn to the library. It’s still under construction, but I don’t want him in my living room and I sure as hell don’t want him in the kitchen where I have so many memories with Dany.

  He sits on a low wooden bench. I stay standing.

  “Shoot,” I say.

  Shawn stands up. He paces the length of the library, his wingtips clicking on the floor. Finally, he stops in front of me.

  “I don’t know what you have with Daniella,” he says. He gives me a searching look. I don’t let my face give anything away.

  He continues, “Look. I’m asking you to let her go. We had a hard go of it. But she loves me, and I love her. As a man, I’m telling you I made a mistake. I’d like you to step aside so that Daniella and I can go back to the way things were.”

  He stops talking. I consider him. He’s in another designer suit. His hair is perfect. His shoes are shiny. He looks like the perfect match to the woman Dany was. She would fit him perfectly in her pink cardigan, pearls, and pencil skirts.

  I imagine them having a family together. Spotlessly clean kids in khaki pants and polo shirts. Is that what she wants?

  Shawn watches me closely. “She had a crisis. Her mother says she did a few crazy things to get through it. But now it’s over and I’d like her to move on,” says Shawn.

  There’s only one question I need an answer to.

  “Did she say yes?” I ask.

  “She will,” he says. Confident. “Look, Daniella and I want the same things. I’m asking you, man to man, step back. She needs to move past this.” He looks around the room, it’s dirty and covered in sawdust. His face pinches into a frown. His nose narrow. “You can’t give her what she needs.”

  Although he’s talking about the state of my home, maybe my finances, he hits the nail on the head. Dany needs a family. A man who can tell her he loves her.

  “You’re right,” I say.

  He smiles and puts out his hand to shake.

  I don’t take it.

  I may not be the man she needs, but that’s her decision to make, not Shawn’s.

  “But the Dany I know is fully capable of making her own decisions.”

  His face screws up and he drops his hand.

  “I thought it might come to this,” he says.

  “Alright,” I say. I’d like to escort him to the door.

  “I hear you’re interested in developing the Creston property,” he says.

  I don’t like his tone. Or the fact that he has that information.

  I remain silent.

  He smiles and nods. “If you keep on your current course with Daniella, I will make the project die a long, drawn-out death. Then I will make sure you never win a development bid in this city again.”

  “I’d like you to leave,” I say. Cold rage is burning through me.

  “Look, Jones. You’re not good for her. I am. Trust me, I’ll do anything to clear the way for her well-being.”

  He smiles a shark smile and shows himself out.

  The door bangs behind him.

  “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out,” says a voice from the living room.

  I turn and see Sissy standing in the hall.

  “What did you hear?” I ask.

  “Oh, only just a little…basically everything. Male posturing, douchebag tactics, business blackmail.” She ticks the items off on her fingers.

  She smiles at me and flops down on the couch.

  “What happened with Dany?” she asks.

  I shrug and sit next to her. “Dany makes her own choices,” I say.

  “Seriously, bro. It’s like you’re a women’s liberty champion. Proud of you.” She punches me on the arm.

  I roll my eyes and lean my head back on the couch.

  Moroseness settles over me. Sissy leaves.

  After a while, I fall asleep.

  None of it matters. Dany will be on her way to Hawaii in less than two weeks.

  I wake to my phone vibrating in my pocket. It’s after eleven at night.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Really, Jones? Sending a girl to do a man’s job?”

  “Who is this?” I ask.


  There’s a long, drawn-out sigh on the other end. “I caught your sister breaking and entering. I’m going to call the police and have her arrested unless you show in ten minutes.”

  My sleep-fogged brain is not catching up. “Who the hell is this? Where’s Sissy?” I ask.

  “It’s Shawn Boreman. Remember? We spoke earlier today. Sissy, your brother is not the most intellectually astute.”

  I hear an angry response in the background.

  “You have ten minutes to come to Boreman Group Headquarters on Second Avenue, or I’m calling the police.”

  “I’ll be there.” I’m wide awake now.

  I drive over the speed limit, rushing to downtown. What has Sissy done? I clench the steering wheel. God only knows, the little con artist.

  I pull into a parallel parking spot and then rush to the office building. The lights are on. I see Shawn at a desk. He buzzes me in.

  I yank open the door.

  “Where is she?” I ask. I don’t know if I’m angrier at Shawn or Sissy.

  Shawn points. Sissy sits in an office chair. She scowls at Shawn.

  “Someone tell me what’s going on,” I say.

  “Oh, so you really didn’t sanction this act?” asks Shawn.

  I fold my arms over my chest.

  “Sissy, tell me,” I say.

  She lifts her chin.

  “Tell him. Or I will,” says Shawn.

  “Fine. I broke in —”

  “You broke in?“

  “The alarm system was amateur. What do you expect?”

  I have no response to that. None.

  Shawn waves his hand in the air, gesturing for her to continue.

  “I lock picked the head office and went through the filing cabinets. I was looking for why the douchewad cares about the Creston property. Also, that whole thing has been shady from the beginning.”

  I look over at Shawn. He shrugs.

  “He’s in the second stage of approval for a boutique mall and a parking garage,” she says. Then she stands. “He wants to take you down because he doesn’t care about affordable housing. All he cares about is parking for his shopping malls.”

  I don’t like the condescending smirk on Shawn’s face. I keep a cool head.

  “What do you want?” I ask him.

  “Jack, did you hear me? He’s killing your project for a parking garage,” says Sissy.

  “I don’t want anything right now. Perhaps in the future. Please remove your sister from my place of business,” he says.

  It’s hard for me to contain my anger. He doesn’t want anything right now. How is he going to use this? Hold this over me?

  “Come on, Sissy,” I say.

  “But it’s bull,” says Sissy.

  “Let’s go,” I say.

  “But, Jack…”

  “Miss Sissy. If you prefer, I can call the police. I’m sure you’d enjoy your stay in juvenile detention. Or perhaps a military boarding school? Would your brother like that?” asks Shawn.

  I look over at Sissy. The second Shawn mentioned boarding school I sensed a change. Sissy sits poker straight and refuses to look at me.

  She knows, this is my opportunity to send her away. To not have to face the pain of opening myself to her.

  Sissy sniffs. She’s crying.

  Finally, she looks up at me.

  “I was trying to help you. I wanted you to have everything you wanted,” she says.

  “It’s alright,” I say.

  I recognize the truth. Dany was right. Sissy’s my family. She always will be. She’s more important than protecting myself. Sending her away will hurt her more than keeping her with me. This moment, where I can show Sissy that I care about her more than my own backside, it won’t come again.

  I lost my chance with Dany, but I’ve got a chance here with my sister, and I’m not going to let her down.

  “Come on, Sis,” I say.

  I walk over and hold out my hand.

  Her bottom lip trembles.

  “You’re not letting him call the police?” she asks.

  I scoff, “Are you kidding? Like I’d unleash you on military school. Can you imagine the fallout?”

  She looks at me in shock.

  “You’re stuck with me. No boarding school. We’re family,” I say.

  I grin as Sissy takes my hand.

  We walk out of the Boreman headquarters, shoulders back.

  “Don’t ever do anything like that again,” I say.

  “I won’t,” says Sissy. “Thanks, Jack. Love you, bro. Seriously.”

  My chest clenches.

  “I know.”

  38

  Dany

  * * *

  When I lie down the sky is ugly gray and full of rain clouds. I stay inside my bedroom, buried under a stack of heavy blankets. I don’t remember the food I ate or what I did. Three days later, when I come up from the dark funk I descended into, it’s still raining.

  I go to the bathroom and catch my reflection in the mirror.

  I stop and stare at myself. I don’t recognize me. There’s no Dany there. I touch the dark hollows under my eyes and the sharp, too-skinny jut of my cheekbones.

  I’ve lost Jack. I’ve lost my friends. And I realize Matilda was right. I’d never found me.

  I stare at the blank-eyed woman in the mirror. She terrifies me. Who would love her?

  A ringing chime sounds from the nightstand by my bed.

  It’s my phone.

  I walk to the table. The caller ID says Sylvie.

  I close my eyes and almost don’t answer. But on an impulse I do.

  “Hi Sylvie,” I say.

  “Dany, dear,” she says.

  Then she starts to cry.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Dany, we’ve been calling and texting. Where are you?”

  “I’m at home,” I say. Why is she so worked up? I look at my phone display. Sixteen missed calls. Twenty-three text messages.

  “Sweetheart,” she says.

  My skin runs cold. I don’t like the note in her voice.

  “No,” I say. I don’t want to hear whatever it is she has to say. I don’t need to know what the sixteen calls and twenty-three texts are about. I don’t want to know. “No.”

  “Sweetheart. It’s Matilda.”

  “No,” I cry. I fall to my knees. They crack against the wood floor. A low keening noise rises from my throat. “No.”

  “Dear, I’m sorry. Matilda’s dead.”

  I’m shaking my head back and forth. It’s not true. It’s not.

  “That’s not true,” I say. Matilda was getting better. She was going on a second honeymoon with Steve. She was.

  “I’m sorry,” says Sylvie.

  “No,” I say again.

  “She died in her sleep three nights ago.”

  That was after chemo. After all the things I said to her. All the horrible, ugly, awful things I said. That I can never take back. God, what did I say? What did I say to her? I let out another cry. Something inside me cracks. Like an egg smashed against the side of the bowl. A sob crashes out of me, ugly and pained.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” says Sylvie.

  “No,” I say again. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to.” I don’t know what I’m saying. It doesn’t make sense. I’m on my knees. Like I’m praying. I’d pray on my knees for months straight if I could go back in time. If I could just take it back. I want to take it back. What did I say? What did I say to her?

  “Her funeral is tomorrow. At the Grace Funeral Chapel. The service is at one. We’ll all be there.”

  My sob is muffled now.

  I’m lying on my side on the floor.

  “Matilda would want you to come,” says Sylvie.

  I swallow. My throat is raw and sore.

  I’m numb now. There’s no feeling left inside. It all fell out when I cracked open.

  What had I said to her? She died with my horrible words in her ears. I am an awful, horrible, awful person
.

  “Are you okay, dear? You’ll be there?”

  “Yes,” I say. I don’t know to which. Neither? Both?

  “Okay, then. See you tomorrow.”

  Sylvie disconnects. I keep the phone pressed to my ear, listening to the silence. The dead tone. Tears fall down my face, but I don’t feel them. I don’t feel anything.

  There’s a knock at my door. “Dany. Are you okay? I heard crying. Are you alright?”

  It’s Jack. He’s worried, I can tell, but I feel nothing.

  “Dany?”

  I squeeze my eyes tight and tears fall out. I can’t see him. All my masks are off, and I see who I am. It’s ugly. Scared, judgmental, prideful. I can’t…I don’t want him to see me.

  “Go away,” I call.

  “Do you need anything? Can I do anything?” His voice is worried and kind.

  I don’t deserve kind.

  “Please. Go away.”

  I listen. After minutes of silence he turns and walks away.

  I lie on the ground for the rest of the night. Not moving. Not sleeping. Not thinking. Alone. In the dark. Just. There.

  39

  Dany

  * * *

  My mother comes in the morning. Jack called her because he was worried. My mother cuddles me, showers me, dresses me and pops me into the back seat of the Jaguar. She gives Karl directions and in no time at all we’re at the funeral chapel.

  “Darling, you don’t have to go in,” she says.

  I haven’t spoken since she found me. I’ve only nodded yes or no. I’m afraid if I speak, either I’ll cry or more ugliness will come out.

  She reaches her hand to touch my face and I flinch back.

  “Right,” she says. “Well, at least we look fabulous. Never say I didn’t raise you to be a lady.”

  I’d like to say otherwise, but I don’t. She takes in my expression and sighs.

  “Darling. Please. Be happy. It’s always been my greatest desire. I want you to be happy.”

  I look down at my hands.

  Karl comes round and opens the back door. My mother climbs out and I follow. We’re in black from head to toe. Black silk funeral scarves and black hats. Black.