The Fallback

by Dietz, Mariah

  She quietly squeals. “When are you seeing him again?”

  “Tomorrow we’re going to the White Sox game.”

  “I have a dress you should wear.” She knifes off the bed.

  “I’ll wait here for you,” I call after her.

  She returns within moments, holding a black dress. “You should try it on. It might be too loose on you.”

  I shake my head. “Did you hear where we’re going? I can’t wear that to a baseball game.”

  “What about after? Trust me. You need to wear this.”

  Begrudgingly, I stand and take the dress from her before stripping down to my underwear. “He also makes really, really good coffee. Like, amazing coffee. I’m pretty sure I would sleep with him again even if he had been horrible and selfish just so I could get more coffee.”

  “And instead you’re glowing like the sun.”

  “I feel bigger than the sun. Like a red giant.”

  “I’m going to remind you of this next time you start doubting things.”

  I pull the dress over my head. “I don’t think you’ll need to.” I shimmy so the fabric slides down over my hips.

  “I hope so.” She steps up behind me, zipping the dress. “You look gorgeous.” She claps. “Fifty bucks says you don’t make it back home tomorrow night. You should just pack an overnight bag now.”

  * * *

  Felicity, in all her infinite glory, was right about Sunday, and it didn’t require the black dress, either. And while my best friend was thrilled to know Levi and I were dating, Jerry made a run for being even happier when we stopped by after the game, Levi’s arm around my waist.

  The week passed like time had been reinvented: faster and constantly brimming with hope and excuses to scoot out of the office early or for a break so I could meet Levi. And somehow the week stretches into two before I even realize it. I’ve peeled myself from Levi’s bed with the intention to get some extra work done at Felicity’s, hoping to fit in some family time as well because though I don’t miss eating dinner at my desk, I do miss the little humans who call my best friend Mom.

  “Hey!” Felicity calls as I step into the house.

  I look between her and Dan, who greet me at the door. Dan’s holding a full glass of red wine and a guilty smile.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Felicity’s smile becomes a grimace. “I hate when you read me like that.” She waves a hand. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. Are you hungry? We poured you some wine. You should have wine.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask, moving my attention to Dan. He doesn’t often participate in Felicity’s escapades of hounding me for information. I wonder if they’re preparing to ask me to move out so they can turn the space into a nursery?

  “We got something in the mail today,” Dan says.

  I swing my gaze to Felicity, confusion sitting heavy on my brow. “What?”

  She lifts a lilac envelope in the air. I stare at it, possibilities dancing off of what I instinctually know is tucked into the wide rectangle. I grab the glass of wine from Dan and the envelope from Felicity and head into the kitchen. I take a long pull from the glass before setting it down. On the reverse side of the envelope is Felicity and Dan’s name and their address printed in large cursive letters, and in the left corner sits “Mr. and the future Mrs. Gabe Jennings.”

  I reach for my wine again, finishing half the glass. “You can go, you know,” I say, keeping my back to them.

  “No!” Felicity cries, prompting me to face her. “We have zero interest in attending that bastard’s wedding.”

  I smile, appreciating how fiercely she loves me. “I know, but you don’t have to hate him because he is with someone else.”

  “It’s only been a few months!” she cries. “You’ve just begun dating someone, and he’s sending wedding invitations?” Her eyes are rounded with anger. “I can’t believe he had the audacity to send one of them to us!”

  “Dan and Gabe are friends. You are, too,” I remind her.

  “Not anymore.” She looks at Dan. “Right?”

  Dan’s forehead creases with surprise at her obvious anger. “Right. Definitely not friends.” He shakes his head.

  “I’m serious,” she warns.

  Dan raises his hands. “You won’t see me talking to him.”

  I sigh. “You guys hung out all the time. It would be ridiculous for me to expect you to break off your relationship with him just because I have.”

  Dan’s shoulders seem to sag, but Felicity’s grow tight. “He’s dead to us.” She shakes her head. “He could call me while his apartment was burning to the ground, and I wouldn’t go help him.”

  I drop my chin. “Yes, you would. And I’d want you to. You guys don’t have to go to the wedding or be his friend, but I don’t want you to harbor any ill feelings toward him. Don’t waste your time and energy on him or our breakup, because I am over it. Over him.”

  Felicity’s shoulders fall. “I still hate him.”

  “I’m kind of starting to hate him,” I admit. “But I’m also kind of glad. If he hadn’t ended things, I likely never would have, and then I’d be in a relationship with someone who wasn’t in love with me.”

  Felicity looks between Dan and me. “You’re taking this entirely too well.”

  “Would you prefer I scream and stomp?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “Sort of.”

  A grin parts my lips. “I’m fine. Really.”

  She nods slowly, but her gaze travels over me as though searching for a break in my confidence, a break that began the second I saw the stupid envelope and that tore apart like TNT had been inserted and lit when I saw the sender’s name. The same one I’m desperately working to suppress with a smile and a calm voice.

  “Levi actually fed me.” I down the rest of my wine in one gulp. “I think I might take that trip this weekend. You know, the one to Tennessee?”

  “Books…” Felicity begins.

  I lift a hand to stop her, and surprisingly, she obliges. “I’m not sad. I’m just…” I take a deep breath, searching for the explanation of what I am feeling. “I just need some time.”

  I set my glass on the table and turn back to the foyer before jogging up the stairs to my room. Inside, I throw open my closet doors and grab a small suitcase that I quickly fill with clothes, my previous obligations for work and family time gone in a mess of jealousy and hurt that reason and practicality battle with me to ignore.

  “Why don’t I go with you?” Felicity says, standing in the doorway. “We can make it a girls’ weekend. Get our nails done. Find all the crazy landmarks, like dinosaur footprints and the biggest ball of yarn.”

  I shake my head. “I need to do this one alone.”

  “Why?”

  Her question has me stopping my pursuit to shove my computer into my bag. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the look I know I’ll find on my best friend’s face, the one that says she’s feeling sorry for me and wants to hug me. That look is a death sentence right now because it’s guaranteed to make all the blocks come tumbling down.

  “Because I haven’t made a blog post in four days. I have over a hundred emails that I need to respond to for it and another couple of dozen from work, and right now I just need to be alone.”

  “Why don’t you at least wait until morning? It’s dark. Traffic is going to be a nightmare since it’s Friday…”

  “I’m going away from the city. Traffic will be a breeze.”

  “Do you even know where you’re going?”

  “Felicity!” I cry, irritation seeping into the boiling concoction of betrayal and jealousy, tempering my sadness. “Please, stop. I need to go.”

  We stare at one another for a prolonged moment, the air stagnant as we both wait for the other to bend. That’s the problem with having a best friend for twenty-five years—they know how hard they can push you, sometimes when you’re not even aware.

  “Are you guys ready for movie night?” Gemma bounds into the r
oom, clutching a movie case to her chest. Like her mother, Gemma can read a room, sense the emotions and feelings that ricochet faster than words. She eyes my suitcase and then me. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m taking a quick trip. Just for a couple of nights. I’ll be back by Sunday.”

  “Where are you going?” she asks again.

  “To Tennessee.”

  “Why?”

  I suck in the air that’s been weighted with words and emotions. “For my blog.”

  Gemma looks to her mom, searching for validity.

  Felicity swallows. “Aunt Books is writing an article on taking a weekend trip out to Tennessee.”

  This appeases Gemma. “I love you,” she says, coming over to me and hugging my leg. “I hope your trip goes superfast and you come home early.”

  I crouch down to hug her closer. “I love you, too. Unconditionally.”

  She tilts her head, her lips pursed. “Now you’re just making up words.”

  I laugh, tucking Gemma under my chin and kissing the top of her head. “But for the record, I still love you more.”

  She shakes her small head, her strawberry-scented shampoo tickling my nose. “No, but if we can go get doughnuts soon, I’ll pretend like you win.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to say no, but you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “The ones from Levi?” Hope makes her young voice rise.

  The sound of his name rocks the dagger protruding from my chest. Felicity dips her chin, her lips following suit, her obvious pity even more painful.

  “Sure. Maybe we can even talk him into making the pineapple ones again.”

  “Yes!” she cries, her disappointment forgotten.

  I smile as she disappears, calling out to Theo about the promise of more sugary sweets.

  “You’ll let me know when you get to Tennessee?” Felicity says, leaning against the doorway, her words loosely posed as a question.

  “I will. I promise.”

  “And a couple of updates over the weekend so I know some crazy mountain man didn’t haul you off to some remote cabin in the woods?”

  “I’ll even send you photographic evidence.”

  “And you won’t go jumping out of a plane or anything reckless without me, right? I mean, stupid is as stupid does, and I’m the is and you’re the does.”

  Laughter swallows my growing need to cry.

  “I understand you wanting to get away, but if you want, we could just hole up in the house and order pizza and watch movies. Dan can take the kids to his parents’, and we can just hide. I’ll hide with you.”

  I breathe in deeply through my nose, the image she’s just painted taking residence over the thought of finding a bed-and-breakfast in nowhere Tennessee like I’ve been imagining. “Next weekend? I really just…” I sigh, looking to my best friend for an explanation of what emotions are controlling me.

  “You just need a little space. I get it.”

  “It’s not from you.”

  She shakes her head, but the doubt is clear in her eyes. “I know.”

  I unplug my phone charger from the wall and stuff it into my bag. “I’ll text you in case you fall asleep.”

  “If you need me, I’ll come. Anywhere. Anytime.”

  “I know.” I grab my bags and walk toward her, noting the pity has transcended into worry. “I promise I’ll be safe.”

  She nods, hugging me tightly.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I kiss the tops of Gemma’s and Theo’s heads and grab a couple of granola bars before swiping the lavender envelope off the table and heading outside. Cicadas and crickets are beginning to chirp, creating a peaceful melody for my turbulent mind.

  Once my bags are stowed and my seat belt is in place, I head south. Miles pass as the sky falls low on the horizon. I’ve had to change the radio three times already, the old stations becoming static as I cross invisible boundaries.

  Traffic has thinned, and Levi’s called three times. I haven’t answered yet. I’m not sure what to say or how to explain my current mood. I’m considering where I should stop for the night, if I should maybe stop when I reach the Tipton Till Plain, which is the central part of the state. While considering this trip, I’d always thought I’d leave early, enjoying the nine-hour drive rather than seeing just the little bit my headlights are capable of showing. A loud popping sound is followed by a fast clicking, and then my car is pulling to the left, and a light on my dash appears.

  “No!” I cry. “No. No. No.”

  I pull over and close my eyes, leaning my forehead against the steering wheel. I swear at this moment, this day, at Gabe, and for this ridiculous idea to take a trip. Then I take a deep breath. “You’ve got this,” I tell myself. “It’s just a tire. People change tires every day.” I take another deep breath and sit back in my seat, trying to recall what I’ve been taught in yoga about breathing and seeking peace. It works for about a half second before I become anxious to get the hell off this road that looks like a scene off an old movie with a scarecrow that comes to life and kills people.

  I search for directions on my phone because my time since driver’s ed has been too long and I’ve never changed a tire before.

  “A jack,” I read aloud. “Do I own a jack?” I throw my head back again, wishing I’d packed wine or chocolate or something I could curl up in the back with and wait until morning or test the theory of the scarecrow, but I didn’t, and knowing Felicity, she’s likely tracking where I should be and is waiting for me to update her.

  It’s dark out, and though it’s been warming up, the combination of fear and lack of sun have me shivering. I move my bags from the trunk to my back seat, jumping and looking over my shoulder each time I hear a sound.

  “You’re about to turn thirty. Get a hold of yourself, Brooke.”

  My attempt at a pep talk does nothing though, and when I hear something that sounds far too much like a coyote howling, I jump in my car and lock the doors. I lean back in my seat and do what I’ve always done when I need help—I call Felicity.

  “I have a flat tire, and I’ve never changed a flat tire,” I tell her as soon as she answers.

  “How’d you get a flat tire?”

  “Better question—how do I repair a flat tire?”

  “Okay. Did you look up a tutorial or something?”

  “I did.”

  “Did it make sense?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I heard a wild animal and got back into my car.”

  “Do you want me to come get you? Where are you?”

  “Not very far.”

  “Why don’t I come get you?”

  “Because I need to do this. I just need you to kick me in the ass and tell me to do it.”

  “This whole idea was stupid. I should never have told you about Gabe getting married. I mean, it doesn’t even matter. Who cares if he’s getting married? I don’t. You don’t. You have Levi. Fuck Gabe.”

  “Why did I call you?”

  “Because you needed me to kick you in the ass and tell you to go out there and fix your flat tire so you can get back home. Going was a terrible idea. It was late; you didn’t know where you were going. Sometimes, you drive me absolutely crazy. So, I am going to need you to put me on speakerphone and go out there and find that damn jack.”

  I do as she says and go back outside, leaving my door open to help provide light as I switch on the flashlight app on my phone. “Remind me to put flashlights, wine, and chocolate in my car when I get back, will you?”

  “Packing you a stash now.”

  “Is Dan home?”

  “He’s out at poker tonight, but you could call him. He’d meet you out there.”

  “I don’t need him to drive out here. I was just going to video-chat him so he could walk me through this.”

  “Why don’t I just come and get you? The kids can sleep in the car.”

  “It’s okay. Trust me. I need to do this more than I needed to get away.”

  She sighs deeply,
her patience receding by the second. “Okay. Call Dan, and if you don’t get a hold of him, call me back, and I’ll come and get you.”

  “Don’t wake up the kids. Everything is going to be fine.”

  The other end is silent.

  “Felicity?”

  “What?” she snaps.

  “I’m the one who does stupid; you only think it. So, stop thinking about it, and go binge something on TV, and I’ll call you as soon as I get this fixed.”

  “You’re infuriating.”

  “I’ll call you soon.” I hang up before she can argue and set to work looking for the jack.

  I feel empowered and relieved when I find the hard pieces of metal stuffed next to the spare tire. I pull it out and crouch low on the ground, working to balance the light from my phone on the contraption, thoughts of calling Dan are memory.

  “Don’t kill me, car, okay?” I say quietly before placing the handle into the jack. It doesn’t slide in smoothly like the video had shown; instead, it requires me to wiggle and rotate it as I try to shove it into place. “Come on,” I growl. The words are like a spell, and the handle slides in with enough momentum my knuckles crash against the roughly paved road. I pull back instantly, but the damage is already done, my hands burning and stinging as I stand. I fold my hands into my shirt as I dance around in place for several moments.

  Tears burn the back of my nose. Failure and betrayal as raw and fresh as the cuts on my hands. My phone begins ringing, and I go to answer Felicity’s call only to discover it’s Levi instead.

  I swallow and swipe to ignore the call. I can’t talk to him right now. Not like this.

  My phone lights up, ringing again within a second, Levi’s name across my phone with a new call. Frustration has me itching to hit that red X to decline his call again, but guilt and something deep in my chest that feels as foreign as it does familiar makes it impossible. I stare at the screen until his call goes to voice mail. I walk to the driver’s side and slide back into my seat, closing and locking my door. My fingers burn and ache to bend, and the pain in my chest is even greater.