Falling

by Katherine Cobb

  Steve worked part-time at the salon stocking shelves and doing maintenance chores. To my chagrin, he showed up for work just as the stylist finished winding my hair in rollers. Mortified, I hid behind a fashion magazine and pretended to read.

  Steve popped up by my ear. “Nah, nah, nah, curlers in your hair…” he sang like the popular television commercial.

  I glared. “Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be? Like cleaning toilets or something?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else at this moment.” He grinned, dazzling me with his smile. Razor stubble peppered his upper lip.

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  When he laughed, I couldn’t help joining in.

  “What are you and that ugly boyfriend of yours doing tonight?”

  “Didn’t you hear? Party at Mary’s. Come early and you can have dinner. We’re making spaghetti.”

  Steve winked. “Sounds good, hot stuff.”

  The hair stylist returned and took out the rollers, which pulled sadistically at my hair. She blow-dried, styled and fussed for over an hour. The entire process took just shy of an eternity, but when she turned me around to face the mirror, I gaped, speechless.

  The haircut changed my appearance so radically, I almost didn’t recognize myself. My straight and fine hair now had waves and waves of body. I couldn’t stop touching it. It transformed me.

  Steve let out a long slow whistle behind me. “Damn girl, you look fine! Forget the party. What do you say we just go back to my place?”

  I laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  “I’m hoping!” He kept staring. “Seriously, you look great.”

  I stared in the mirror, unable to tear my eyes away. “Thanks. It’s really different, isn’t it?”

  “Pete’s not going to be able to take his eyes off you.”

  My friends went so berserk over my new hairstyle, it embarrassed me. And just like Steve predicted, I caught Pete staring at me throughout the night.

  “Stop it! Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Part of me wanted to disappear from so much attention.

  “Because you’re beautiful,” he said. “Come here.”

  I sat on his lap and we kissed.

  He motioned with his eyes, one of our silent ways of communicating when he didn’t want other people to hear what we were saying.

  I wasn’t quite getting it. “What?” I whispered.

  He dramatized the action this time, adding, “Want to go downstairs?”

  I smiled wide as understanding prevailed. We traipsed down to the lower level and found an empty bedroom. Locking the door, we ditched our beers and lay down in the dark. His lips claimed mine, and our tongues danced slowly together.

  “You really are beautiful,” he said.

  I kissed him in response. We shed our clothes and made love, touching each other with gentle tenderness and moving in unison, just the way I liked.

  “Where have you two been?” Reese wisecracked when we rejoined our friends an hour later.

  “Steve threw up everywhere,” Jaime said. “Mary is freaking out. She’s trying to clean it up, but he didn’t make it to the bathroom, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, God. Where is he?” I asked.

  “Passed out. In her parent’s bedroom.”

  “Oh no!”

  Mary joined us, her expression grim. “Can you guys get him out of there?”

  “What do you want us to do, carry him into the front yard?” Reese said.

  “Is he okay?” I said.

  “He’s asleep, but what if he wakes up and blows chunks all over their bedroom? You should see what he did to the hallway. It’s hella uncool for him to be in there.”

  “Just leave him be. I’m sure he’ll sleep it off.” Poor guy. “What’s he been drinking anyway?”

  “Just beer,” Reese said. “The lightweight.”

  “He’s blaming the spaghetti, which is totally bogus,” Jaime added, rolling her eyes. She’s the one who made the sauce.

  We convinced Mary to let Steve stay crashed before going back to playing quarters. Reese made a coke run, and we snorted everything in an hour. He went back for more, and we dove in again, the rush of adrenaline and energy making us feel we could conquer any feat: scale Mount Everest, ski the perfect line down Squaw Valley’s KT-22 or swim the Pacific Ocean from the San Francisco Bay to Catalina Island. I loved the surge of power cocaine provided, and it ran circles around pot or alcohol, which always made me feel drowsy or out of it.

  En route to the bathroom, I overheard Reese and Jaime fighting—it seemed all they did was fight or screw—but perked up at the mention of my name. She accused Reese of liking me, busting him on staring at me throughout the evening. After more muffled conversation, she told him to go fuck himself. I strained to hear, and my stomach churned at being the focus. He meekly defended himself, mumbling something about my new haircut. He pleaded with Jaime, groveling about how much he loved her. I glanced about, hoping our friends couldn’t hear their squabble.

  As I left the bathroom, Steve stumbled out of the bedroom, his hair mussed and clothing disheveled after being comatose for a few hours. He shrugged but smiled, clearly embarrassed. We walked to the kitchen where the guys started in on him about not holding his liquor and being a pussy. He grinned as if expecting nothing less.

  Pete’s eyes met mine, and he tapped his watch. I had ten minutes before my curfew expired. Still flying high, I asked around for a joint, anything to help me come down and avoid suffering through another sleepless night. I came up empty—and time and options had run out.

  I said my goodbyes, tainted with envy and misgiving, and jogged the few blocks home. I crawled into bed, tossing and turning as I ruminated about Reese and Jaime’s fight and the upcoming prom. Hundreds of thoughts careened through my wired brain, miles away from Zs or even rest. Before long, the sun broke the horizon and the birds greeted the new day with their squawks and songs while vapid ruminations continued to plague me. I prayed for even one hour of shuteye instead of this strung-out, tedious limbo.

  §§

  Prom night arrived. I took care with my appearance, paying special attention to styling my new hairdo and wearing eye shadow, mascara, blush and lipgloss. After donning my emerald floor-length gown with rhinestone accents and matching jewelry, I was pleased with the sparkling and pretty reflection staring back at me.

  I waited in my room until my father called for me, making an entrance. My breath caught at the sight of Pete. His classic black and white tuxedo only enhanced his good looks. We checked each other out, stupid grins on our faces.

  Pete kissed my cheek and whispered a compliment in my ear as he slid a corsage with delicate miniature white rosebuds along my wrist. In turn, I pinned a matching boutonniere to his lapel. My parents made us pose for several photos. My boyfriend even managed an unstrained smile.

  The other couples arrived at my house as prearranged, and we posed for more pictures. The guys looked sharp in their different tuxedos, while the colorful cascading dresses only enhanced the beauty of the girls.

  We convoyed to The Rusty Scupper, a classy waterfront restaurant in Jack London Square where we enjoyed a delicious and expensive meal, almost an unwritten prerequisite for prom. I ate my favorite entree on the menu—prime rib—plus had chocolate mousse for dessert. Afterward, we drove to the swanky hotel overlooking Lake Merritt designated for our special occasion.

  I craned my neck as we entered the ballroom, decorated to reflect our voted-on theme of An Enchanted Evening. Silver stars hung from the ceiling, and the walls resembled a garden. Round tables and chairs surrounded the dance area centered in the room. In one corner, a photographer took pictures of couples with a backdrop of cheesy flower arrangements. In another, a DJ took requests.

  Perhaps I was a bit naive, but I wanted it to be an enchanted evening. All dressed up with the man I loved, I longed for him to sweep me off my feet and dance the night away, especially since my l
ast formal turned into such a disaster. I could still picture it clearly in my mind—Alec picking me up in his hot car, followed by feeling pushed into drinking cheap wine and smoking pot, which in turn made me sick, which sent us back to the car, so I could get my bearings and…

  I shook myself back to the present. You’re with Pete now. Tonight will be different.

  Alas, my night was hardly Cinderella’s Ball. I loved to get down, but my boyfriend hated it, and I watched as couple after couple left their tables to gyrate on the inescapable floor taking center stage. It depressed me, casting a glaring light on how we differed.

  Pete finally asked me to dance when a slow song played, but as soon as it ended, he wanted to leave. At first, I thought he meant the dance floor, but to my horror, he meant prom. We’d only been there an hour. Reese also pestered Jaime to bail. Their master plan involved going back to Reese’s house, getting high and hanging out.

  Eventually, they succeeded in bending us to their will. We let the event photographer take the formal pictures our parents requested and split.

  Inwardly I fumed at Pete’s selfishness, and I stood waist-deep in disappointment. We could hang out at Reese’s anytime, but there would never be another Junior Prom. Worse, Pete and I didn’t ride with Reese and Jaime initially so we were forced to ride in the bed of Reese’s grungy truck (a loaner from his dad since his Mustang was in the shop). A part of my dress snagged on something as I fumbled my way in the dark. At least the bed was covered with a cap, preventing my hair from being blown into a frizzy mess.

  After a bumpy ride, we arrived at Reese’s house. His dad and girlfriend were still out—maybe having their own enchanted evening—and we followed Reese upstairs to his bedroom, where he closed the door.

  He flicked on his turntable and music filled the room. Pete lit a joint, calling it “the most unbelievable Thai stick he’d ever smoked,” and passed it around.

  Reese opened a bottle of champagne, which he poured into four water glasses. “May we get what we want, but never what we deserve.”

  This was it. My prom. Sitting on the floor of Reese’s bedroom, my gown ripped and wrinkling with every passing minute, drinking and getting high.

  Reese turned out the lights and told us to make ourselves at home. Great.

  Jaime’s soft moans and the sloshing of the waterbed knocking into the baseboard transmitted that she and Reese were having sex. Right in the same room as us! Gross. Even Reese’s expensive speakers couldn’t drown that out.

  Pete chuckled and whispered, “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.” He leaned over, kissed my neck and began fondling me through my dress. Inwardly I recoiled, revolted by the idea of having sex in the same room as our friends. He kept pushing, murmuring I should relax as the music blared, lyrics burning into my brain.

  I hear you crying in the night, So stop putting up a fight

  I’m knocking on your door baby, and where I’ll take you is outta sight

  A tear slid down my cheek as Pete hiked my dress up and tugged off my underwear. Rough strands of tacky shag carpeting scratched my backside. He hovered over me for a second before entering me.

  Ain’t no pain because I need you, and you want to see it through

  I need all your loving, and won’t stop until you say I do

  I desperately needed Pete’s love, but this resembled cheap, seedy sex in some rundown Oakland motel. My arms robotically encircled his back as I tried to obliterate the noises coming from the bed. They only got louder. Why was Jaime moaning so loud? Wasn’t she self-conscious, or was I some kind of super square?

  Stop thinking so hard honey, and open yourself up to me

  You can run but you can’t hide, cause I’m here to make you see

  Everything turned murky. My head reeled. In the dark, I couldn’t make out Pete’s features clearly. I focused on his face, but the stereo components offered the only light in the room, and his eyes recessed into shadows, taking on a menacing quality. He smiled down at me, his lips curling into a cruel grin. I shut my eyes tightly as sweat blanketed my body. Pete’s mouth crashed down on mine, stifling my urge to scream.

  I’m the only one for you and you know it to be true

  So let me take you to the top baby, and stop acting so blue

  I kept my eyes closed, willing everything to cease: Pete (or whoever he was), the haunting music, Reese and Jaime’s groans, and the terrible panicky feeling consuming me. Please, God, get me out of here.

  31

  Easy Come, Easy Go

  I felt like myself the day after prom. Not in terms of my normal innate sense of happiness—I hated how my not-so-enchanted-evening went—but physically, I went from creeped out to chilled out. I guess pot and champagne didn’t mix well and I swore to steer clear of the combination in the future.

  The heaviness in my heart wasn’t as easy to fix. I couldn’t ignore chinks in my knight’s armor, and particles of doubt wriggled their way into my mind.

  Despite my despondency, I agreed to meet Pete and our friends at The Pyramid that afternoon, one of our hangouts in Joaquin Miller Park. The intention, as always, was to barbecue since the site contained picnic tables and a grill, but often the only thing we had to cook was beer.

  I pulled up in the Volvo, still enthralled with driving on my own, and parked next to the other cars.

  “Paisano, please tell me you brought some chow!” Jim yelled.

  “I have a bag of Doritos. Want some?”

  “You’re an angel. I’m starving! These losers were supposed to bring burgers but—”

  “All that’s here is Budweiser?”

  He feigned surprise. “How did you know?”

  I grabbed the chips and tossed them to Jim as I walked down to the picnic area. He plowed into the bag like he hadn’t seen food in weeks.

  “Slow down, Jimbo, or you’re going to choke,” I said.

  He stared at me, grinning, and his eyes widened. He pointed and said, “Oh, shit!”

  I swiveled around just in time to see the Volvo begin its slow decent down the slope toward us. My mouth dropped as I ran to the car, but didn’t get there until it crashed into a wooden barrier.

  I dropped to the ground in a squat, my head falling into my hands. My heart thumped with gusto then sank into the abyss of the unknown.

  Tears threatened, but I blinked them away and stood up to assess the damage. There was a huge dent in the front grille. I spotted the culprit: I had not fully depressed the emergency brake, and when I fetched the chips, it must have jiggled it loose further. The car was in neutral and without the brake fully engaged, it rolled. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  My friends gathered around the car. The guys burst out laughing.

  “Shut up, you assholes!” I shrieked. “Don’t you realize how much trouble I’m going to get in? My parents are going to have a cow!” Several cows.

  “Anna, come on, you have to admit, that was funny!” said Reese.

  “You won’t think so when I’m dead.”

  Pete put his arm around my shoulders. “Things could have been a lot worse. You’re lucky that rail stopped the car.”

  I grabbed my forehead and squeezed. “There’s still a dent. What if they say I can’t drive anymore? That will hella suck!”

  “Dorito?” Jim asked with a smile, offering me the bag.

  “This definitely calls for something stronger.” Not my wisest decision perhaps, but I was totally spazzing and needed to calm down.

  “Allow me,” Jim said. He twisted the top off a beer and handed it to me. He flicked the aluminum cap into the air using his thumb and middle finger and it sailed about thirty feet before falling into the chasm.

  “Nice one.” I couldn’t flick bottle caps to save my life, but everyone else had it down. They frequently competed to see whose could fly the farthest.

  “You, too.” He winked.

  I curled my lip at him in response. I would never live down this car business.

  Jaime pulled me off to the s
ide. “You alright?”

  “No. Yes. No.” I inhaled some air. “I might be dead later, once I get home.”

  “I’m talking about last night. Were you tripped out?”

  Oh, that. “My night didn’t exactly go as planned.”

  “You left in such a hurry, we thought you and Pete had a fight.”

  I shook my head. “Didn’t that weed make you feel strange?” Was it just me?

  “Nope. I got a nice buzz off it.”

  “Not me. It screwed with my head…in a bad way.”

  “Lightweight,” she said.

  “I guess so.” There was more to say, but I couldn’t find the words.

  “What are your parents going to say about the car? They won’t really kill you, right?”

  I bit my lip. “It’s not going to be good.” I finished my beer and opened another.

  “Ladies, we’re making a Giant Burger run,” Pete said. “You in?”

  Giant Burger served up big greasy hamburgers, salty thick fries, sodas and shakes. It was an armpit of a place, but the food rocked. Pete took my order and left to get the chow. In the meantime, I put away another couple of beers. Upon their return, I wolfed down my meal, hoping it would sober me up enough to face the music.

  “Explain to me again how this happened,” said my father, his dark eyes boring into mine.

  Even though the mood was tense and I’d screwed up, irritation welled up inside of me. I had explained it twice already. “The car was parked on a slight hill. I had it in neutral and thought I’d depressed the emergency brake at that time, but clearly, I did not engage the brake fully. Then I got back in the car to grab something from the passenger seat—”