Falling

by Katherine Cobb

  I closed my eyes. Who was I kidding? I was too young to make that work with my meager savings—and while still stuck in high school. But the sneaking out? That I could do. I sat back down on my bed and planned.

  The following night, I walked the short distance to Mary’s house for dinner. Since my allotted weekend night with Pete fell on Saturday—tomorrow—I made plans to see my friend instead.

  I plopped down on her bed. “Did you call him?”

  “You’re all set. You okay?”

  “I’m frustrated and angry. My parents are being total jerks.”

  “Part of their job description.”

  “Yours seem pretty cool. In fact, everyone else’s parents strike me as better than mine.”

  Mary shook her head and made a face. “Mine can be difficult, too. Yours are just in the limelight at the moment.”

  I scowled. “You can say that again.”

  “Let’s take a walk.”

  I puffed on one of Mary’s cigarettes, taking pleasure in inhaling the smoke. It would tick off my parents. Way worse, actually. “We’re meeting at midnight?”

  “Yup. Pete will meet you at the corner. I’ll catch up with you at Joaquin Miller Park with everyone else.”

  I enjoyed dinner at Mary’s and talking with her family. They didn’t ask inane questions or treat me like a child. We spent time in her room afterward but I didn’t linger, antsy for my master escape plan to be implemented.

  “I better get going, so I can make this look legit,” I said.

  I thanked Mary’s parents and my friend walked me to the door. “See you soon,” she singsonged. “And good luck.”

  I unwrapped a piece of grape bubble gum and tossed it into my mouth, chewing quickly to mask any remaining scent of nicotine on my breath, and trotted home.

  I murmured a greeting to my mom and dad, shuffling past them and into my bedroom. They were absorbed in some British show on public television, leaving me off the hook for forced conversation.

  I kicked off my sneakers and sat on the floor, putting on my headphones and flipping over the Van Halen II album on my turntable. I cranked it up, letting the sounds of Eddie Van Halen’s riffing guitar and David Lee Roth’s raspy vocals take me somewhere else. I flipped off the light and stretched out on my back, gazing out my window at the smattering of clouds drifting by a full moon.

  At 11:02 I climbed into bed dressed, pulled the covers up to my neck, and waited. My folks padded off to bed, and as they passed my bedroom, their muted voices mused I must be asleep. It smacked of the kind of self-satisfaction I figured parents got when something validated their behavior.

  Not this time, Mom and Dad.

  The numbers flipped on my digital clock, which I painfully inventoried one by one. Although a minute is sixty seconds no matter the circumstance, it sure seemed like more than an hour. At midnight I stealthed out of bed, slid on my sneakers and eased open the window, one inch at a time. An indiscreet screech rang out. I held my breath and waited for my father to come flying through my door, but he didn’t.

  I swung my leg out, followed by the rest of my body, and lowered myself until my feet found purchase on top of the first story window ledge. My heart thumped like a bass drum in a marching band. My hands grabbed the overgrown ivy vines and I used them to creep further down, willing it to hold. I maneuvered myself to hang from the window, and jumped the remaining distance to the ground, landing squarely in my backyard. I prayed reentry would be just as seamless.

  Making my way around the house to the street was a cinch. I waited a few counts and bolted to the sidewalk. I jogged to the corner and spotted Pete’s car. Relief slowly replaced the adrenaline. I hopped in and whooped.

  “If it isn’t the little jailbird,” he said.

  “Free at last!” I leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips, my breathing ragged from running.

  “Tsk, tsk, what am I going to do with you?”

  “Get me out of here, that’s what!”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  As he took off toward the hills, I rolled down the window and gulped big breaths of air, my long hair splaying out along the current.

  “Wah-hoooooooooooo!” I screamed into the darkness.

  Pete grinned.

  I slid next to him, resting my hand on his thigh, beaming. I’d succeeded! The proverbial good girl had done something bad, something defiant, something that would get me killed my by father if I got caught. I said a silent prayer as I cranked up Led Zeppelin on the radio.

  By the time we pulled into the parking area at Joaquin Miller Park, a large assembly of friends had gathered, the party in full swing.

  “Paisano!” Jim thundered with affection.

  “Spaghetti girl!” Tez added.

  Cheers flew out in the night, welcoming me. I grabbed a brew from Steve’s outstretched hand and meandered around greeting my friends.

  “So the good girl’s gone rogue,” Reese teased.

  “About time,” Jaime said, snickering.

  “Cheers!” I thrusted my beer to the sky before drinking deeply. Boldly, I chugged it all. My friends went nuts, urging me on with their chants.

  I drank several beers in succession, feeling wild and free. I could do whatever I wanted. And this is where I wanted to be, surrounded by the cocoon of kindred spirits who loved, welcomed and supported me.

  Hours later, before the light of dawn, Pete dropped me off at the corner where it all began, kissed me with gusto and bid me luck.

  I crept to my house, thankful all was quiet and dark. I surreptitiously worked my way around the side and to the backyard. I stopped under my bedroom window and sized it up. My re-entry chore loomed, seeming higher than before.

  The hard part remained: getting back through the window without breaking a leg or being busted. Much easier done sober than in my drunken state. I thanked God for the blessings I’d received and asked for help with this last bit. With a breath, I began my ascent.

  Left foot, right foot. You can do this. Steady as she goes. I climbed halfway, and paused to catch my breath. This shit was hard. Focus, Trapani. I reached up and grasped a handful of ivy and pushed off with my foot. The vine snapped, breaking away from the house exterior and I faltered, holding on for my life with my other hand while suppressing a yelp. Leaf remnants fluttered to the ground and my heart pounded as I gulped air. That was a hella close call. I inched upward in tiny increments, no longer confident in the ivy or my abilities. I finally reached my bedroom ledge. I shimmied across the window jamb and eased back into my room, blessedly empty of tyrannical rulers.

  I undressed without making a sound and slid beneath the covers, slowly releasing a pent-up exhale. You did it! I crowed silently, smug satisfaction forming into a smile. Parents, schmarents. Push me, and this is what you get!

  29

  Sweet Sixteen

  Despite the firmly implanted restrictions on my life, the excitement mounted as my birthday approached. On March tenth, I would turn sixteen. My mother was making a big deal out of my “sweet sixteen,” yammering on about how special it was, a magical turning point from girlhood into womanhood. The number meant only one thing to me. I could finally get my driver’s license.

  That tiny rectangular laminated card equaled freedom. Not that I owned a car, but at least I could drive the family Volvo away from my oppressive household for periods of time. I could breathe for a change, even if I merely ran to the store to buy my mother some butter. Life at home had become stifling to the point I didn’t even want to be there.

  On the morning of the big day, my parents jostled me gently awake to wish me a happy birthday before they left for work. My mother asked me to stay home, mumbling something about a surprise. Relegated to jail, even on my own birthday. At least it was spring break, so I could lounge in bed as long as I wanted. I fell back asleep, enjoying the luxury.

  “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Anna. Happy birthday to you!” Mary sang through the phone
.

  I loved birthdays. “Thanks!”

  “What’s planned for the big day?”

  “Incarceration.”

  “What?”

  “My mom told me I have to stay home,” I said. “Something to do with a surprise.”

  “Surprises can be good.”

  “Yeah, but staying home blows. Not exactly my definition of fun.”

  “I can fix that. Jaime and I will come over, and we’ll have ourselves a little party.”

  “Really?” My mood brightened.

  “What do you mean, ‘really?’ It’s your birthday! Of course, we’ll come.”

  “You’re the best, Mary!”

  I hung up the phone, decidedly happier. I sprang from my bed, walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. While the water heated, I scrutinized my reflection in the mirror, wondering what had changed in the last year. My top half had filled out a tad more and my hips were curvier. Longer hair, but my face remained the same.

  “Happy birthday. You’re sixteen!” I pumped my fists into the air, jumped into the steaming shower and belted out “Don’t Bring Me Down” by ELO.

  I hummed as I dressed, shimmying into my favorite pair of jeans and a black halter-top. I left my feet bare, It’s not like I was going anywhere.

  Mary and Jaime arrived just as I finished eating a sandwich.

  “Happy birthday!” Jaime lugged a bag in one hand and hugged me with the other.

  Mary followed with a hearty embrace and more birthday wishes.

  Jaime unloaded her bag on the kitchen counter: a bottle of light rum, a squeeze bottle in the shape of a lime and three bags of frozen strawberries. “Ready for a daiquiri? My gift to you.”

  I grinned. “Hell yeah!”

  “We could get drunk and play Monopoly,” Mary said.

  “Great idea!”

  Jaime went to work blending daiquiris, but needed ice. I fetched a tray from the freezer, and when I pulled on the frozen metal handle to release the cubes, two skittered across the linoleum floor. Once I took care of that, I left to unearth the board game from the recesses of the basement.

  The three of us sat down at the breakfast table, drinks in hand. I opened Mary’s present, a sturdy silver choker with small turquoise stones mixed with orangey-red beads. I loved it at first sight. I sipped my daiquiri, marveling at how well the strawberries masked the rum, and we shared a toast.

  A few hours later, the three of us abandoned our half-played game of Monopoly, too wasted to care about properties, free parking or what may be on the Community Chest cards. Jaime obliterated us (what a slumlord she turned out to be) to the point that Mary and I never could have recovered.

  We turned on the radio and danced with abandon, getting the brilliant idea to take it outside. We ran into the street, startling drivers as they passed and laughing so hard, we almost threw up.

  Starving, we raided the refrigerator and slowly came down from our buzz.

  In late afternoon, Jaime and Mary left. As I waved goodbye, a truck pulled up, and a man holding an expansive bouquet of white roses approached.

  “Special delivery for Anna Trapani,” he said.

  “That’s me.”

  “Important day?”

  “It’s my birthday. I’m sixteen.”

  “A very happy one to you, miss.”

  “Thanks,” I said, accepting the blooms and inhaling their scent as I brought them inside. I fished out the note.

  Dear Anna,

  Happiest birthday wishes on your sweet sixteen!

  We love you,

  Mom and Dad

  My overriding resentment for my parents weakened at the gesture. I’d never been sent flowers before.

  I glanced at the clock. Speaking of parents, they’d be home soon, and I still needed to erase any signs of partying. I sprinted into the kitchen and put things away, haphazardly washing and drying the glasses and wiping down the countertops. I checked my appearance in the hall mirror: disheveled. I combed my hair, downed a glass of water and popped in a piece of gum.

  My parents returned, none the wiser. I chatted with them more than I had in months and gushed about the flowers. As my mom prepared supper, Pete arrived, allowed over for the special occasion.

  Dinner was pleasant, the mood festive and buoyant, and the conversation actually flowed, with my father refraining from lecturing either of us about future plans.

  My mother brought out my favorite dessert: chocolate layer cake with chocolate icing and M&Ms on top—glowing with sixteen lit candles. I blew them out, made a wish and enjoyed a large slice, heaven on a plate.

  I opened my presents. My parents gave me three new outfits plus a hundred dollars. Anthony left me two rock albums I wanted, and Pete scored us tickets to The Who concert the following weekend. Talk about a totally rad birthday haul!

  Pete and I took a walk after dinner. He gave me a letter, asking me to read it in private before I went to sleep that night. We talked, kissed and hugged until it was time to part.

  I couldn’t complain about the day. My birthday had been nearly flawless. As I snuggled under the covers, I pulled out Pete’s letter with anticipation.

  Anna,

  How do I love thee? Let me count sixteen ways.

  1) You tolerate my behavior even though I get a little childish at times.

  2) You are always willing to forgive and forget, and I understand it can be hard when your boyfriend is stubborn.

  3) You are always loving and understanding when I have a problem that needs solving.

  4) You are faithful, loyal and trustworthy.

  5) You have the most beautiful hair in this whole entire world. It’s just so pretty the way it falls down around your gorgeous face.

  6) Your eyes are one of your best features.

  7) Your nose is the type you would expect to find only on the most beautiful of women (and by the way, you fall into that category).

  8) Your lips are soft and warm—the kind very guy would like his girlfriend to have and every girl would envy.

  9) Your smile is definitely one in a trillion. It’s just so big and full, perfect for kissing.

  10) Your neck is so soft and kissable. It is one of your ‘hot spots.’ You also get hickeys very easily, and it’s fun watching you come to school with a turtleneck and scarf on trying to hide the little devils.

  11) Oh yeah, I forgot your ears. How could I forget them? You should not cover them up with your hair because it would be easier for me to get to them and get you all squirmy.

  12) This next topic is more general. I love your back, how it’s soft and smooth with all its curves and grooves.

  13) Now onto your biggest subject: your butt! Oh, your beautiful full, round, squeezable pudgy buns. It is one of your sexiest features.

  14) Moving around to your front, your stomach, the flat area right below your breasts. That perfectly proportioned, ticklish part of you that can turn you on (if you know how to do it).

  15) Now for your strongest subject, your feet (ha ha), those pretty things that are so ticklish. And those cute little toes just knock my socks off.

  16) Now for the two biggies. Well, I think we can skip those two points; they speak for themselves. Besides, I don’t have enough room for all the compliments needed to cover those subjects. They are your most beautiful parts and there is no room for improvement.

  Okay, I’ll cut the corny stuff now and get down to some serious romantic-type writing. I only counted sixteen reasons why I love you, but that is nowhere near as many as I could put down if I wrote all of my true feelings. I guess you know by now that you are my only love. I could not live without you for more than twenty-four hours at the very most. You can tell that by the number of times I have called you since we met. I’m damn glad you live close and I don’t have to make toll calls because I would run up a large bill.

  Happy birthday!

  I love you,

  Pete

  Tears ran down my cheeks and spilled onto my comfor
ter. I smiled, clutching the letter to my chest. This was by far the best gift ever.

  The following day, my mom drove me downtown to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get my driver’s license. I aced the written exam, but the gentleman administering the driving portion had beady eyes, a huge belly and reeked faintly of onions. He kept clearing phlegm from his throat and breaking my concentration.

  Even though my nerves got the best of me during my driving test, in the end, I passed! With my brand new California license, I became a bona fide driver, and I couldn’t wait to drive anywhere and everywhere.

  My parents had other ideas. That evening, they outlined when I could use the car and how long I could be out, and drilled into me what to do in case the car broke down or God forbid, I got into an accident. I don’t know what they worried about. I was responsible. I would be totally fine.

  30

  Prom

  Junior Prom was just around the corner, but I doubted Pete would want to go. He hated those kinds of things, which is why we skipped the Homecoming Dance. The only formal event he didn’t complain about was the annual soccer banquet, probably because trophies were involved and as the starting goalkeeper, he expected to win Best Defensive.

  That’s why when Pete asked me formally, I didn’t believe him at first. I got on board super quick though, before he could change his mind, throwing my arms around him in response. I assumed his mother had pushed him into it, but so what? I really wanted to go. Junior Prom came around once in a lifetime and I wanted it to be a special evening. The romantic in me liked the idea of dressing in a long, flowing gown and dancing with Pete on a dimly lit floor.

  Within a few weeks, our prom plans evolved to include dinner with Reese and Jaime, Steve and Lindsey, and Jim and his date, Alicia, before we caravanned to the dance.

  My mother took me dress shopping, an activity we suffered through. We had the opposite taste in clothes, so everything she held up as a possibility struck me as hideous, and everything I liked made her purse her lips in disapproval. Nothing flattered my physique or coloring, and I was close to giving up when I found a sleeveless emerald gown. On the way home, my mom dropped me off at Curl Me Crazy to get my first permanent wave.