Risk the Fall

by Steph Campbell

  “Ugh, my parents dragged my ass here. My dad plays golf with all of these assholes. Your dad worked with Mr. Taylor, right?”

  I nod. “This party is lame.”

  “Tell me about it, why do you think I’m hidden in here?”

  The room is lit only by a small desk lamp, and the dark, wood paneled walls and furnishings make it feel like a cave. I sort of love it in here. I curl up into the buttery leather of the chair.

  “Is that a real bearskin rug?” she asks.

  “I do believe so, someone better call PETA.”

  “Cute dress,” Shayna says.

  “You too.” My moss-green, one-shouldered crepe dress seemed like the perfect choice for tonight. But next to Shayna in her sophisticated v-neck bodice and crinkled silver lame skirt, I feel like the self-conscious twelve-year-old that I was when I first met her.

  I start to wonder if maybe that is why I have always had it out for her. Was it because I felt completely inadequate to begin with and Shayna’s seemingly perfect existence only exaggerated those feelings, making it that much worse?

  “What time is it?” I yawn.

  “I thought you’d never ask!” Shayna laughs and reaches into the pocket on the side of her recliner.

  “It’s Henn o’clock, on the dot, baby!” she says. She shakes a bottle of Hennessy Black back and forth.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Over there.” She motions to the small bar across the room. “You want?” she offers.

  “Nah, I’m good,” I say. The only substance or pill I had consumed since being home from the hospital was the tiny bit of rum in my cold-chocolate and a few Advil. Not that I’m going all straight-edge (please), but I’m not in a hurry to end up back in the ER.

  “Suit yourself.” She puts the dark bottle up to her glossy, cherry-red mouth and drinks directly from it. I wait for her to wince, but she doesn’t.

  “So, are you like, okay? I heard some stuff about…” Shayna asks, before taking another swig from the bottle.

  I start to pick at my Smitten with Mittens polished nails.

  “I’m fine,” I say. She raises her eyebrows, looking for more than I had offered. “I didn’t try to kill myself,” I qualify.

  “Well that’s good, because I’d tell you that you suck at that too.”

  A laugh escapes my lips before I can stop it.

  “Wait, what do you mean I suck at it too?” I ask, reaching for the bottle. A few sips won’t hurt anything, besides, I’m at a party with my parents, I’m not about to get sloppy. I tip the bottle back and am surprised by the smoothness of the cognac. It’s not like the crap that my mom keeps in the invisibility cloaks at all.

  “Let’s see, for starters, you fail at picking friends,” she says.

  “Hey, Syd is the bee’s knees,” I laugh.

  Shayna raises her brows. “I can’t believe that you just said that. And anyway, I wasn’t talking about Sydney.”

  “Tess? You’re friends with her too! Hell, you go to church with her!”

  Shayna wags her finger at me and shakes her head. “No, I just know how to play my part. Just like you. Remember, we aren’t so different, Quinn.”

  “Whatever. What else am I bad at, oh-wise-one?” I hand the bottle back to her. I can already feel the warm buzz creeping over me.

  “You’re terrible at math. I mean, like, seriously retarded,” she says.

  I cock my head to the side questioningly.

  She throws her hands up and shakes her head. “I’m an aid up in the office sixth period. Sometimes they let me input the grades.”

  “That seems really wrong that they let you do that,” I say. “But, wow, it’s really starting to feel like Christmas now, after this holly-jolly convo.” I think she’s done battering my self-esteem, but unfortunately, she isn’t.

  “Also, you totally fail at going after what you want.”

  “Huh?” I ask. Color me puzzled.

  “Like with this dude, Ben – who by the way, is total sex-on-a-stick-”

  I feel the heat fill my cheeks. “What about Ben?”

  “I really don’t know what is wrong with you. He is, like, smokin’, smart-boy, hottie of mass destruction. And those cardigan’s he wears all the time – just, yum,” she says.

  “Shayna, I get it, he’s amazing.”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. What I was getting to was that I always thought that you were so damn tough. I mean, I can’t think of anyone else who has dared to hook up with one of my boyfriends. But after hanging out the other night, I get that all of that toughness, is a total act.”

  Two nails are now polish-less. Sigh.

  “It is so obvs that you’re miserable without this guy, so why don’t you just go get him back?”

  “It’s not that simple,” I say. “I really screwed up.” I reach for the black bottle that Shayna is cradling, but she jerks it away.

  “Uh-uh, you’re done.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, please. Cry me a river, Quinn. We all screw up. You don’t have to be such a damn martyr for the miserable. You can let people in. You can at least try to be happy.”

  “Yeah, you’re one to talk, Shayna.” I make another swipe for the bottle, catching her off guard, and gulp it down before she can grab the bottle back.

  “Hey, I found someone that I actually cared about. I let down my guard. It just turned out that he liked someone else more than me.”

  I flinch. “Heath?”

  She raises her eyebrows and nods.

  “I didn’t know,” I say.

  She grabs the bottle back and takes a long pull from it.

  “It’s fine, whatever.” I can’t tell if she really means it or not.

  “Ben wants you, and you want him so much that it is seriously nearing pathetic. So go and make it right. It’s Christmas for Christ’s sake.”

  I snort with laughter. Putting the Christ back in Christmas.

  “Seriously, go.” She shoo’s me away.

  “I don’t even have my car,” I say. “I came with my parents and my brothers.”

  “Brothers, as in plural? Is Carter here, too?” Shayna asks, perking up.

  I nod.

  “Well, I’d take you in my car, but I guess I shouldn’t be driving right now. Find Carter, he can drive my car.”

  “And go where?”

  “This isn’t algebra. I know even you can wrap your mind around this one, Quinn.”

  Where the hell are my car keys? I have been tearing apart the house for the last hour and still haven’t found them. If I don’t get my hands on them soon, I’m going to miss my flight. And if I miss Christmas with my mom, she’s going to lose her shit.

  My family is in Kentucky for the holidays. I’m supposed to be meeting them there – if I ever find my damn keys.

  For a second, I think I hear a knock at the door, but it’s probably just the unrelenting rain. If it actually was a knock, I ignore it anyway. I should have been out of here an hour ago. I haven’t even left the house today, how could I have so completely lost my keys?!

  Mom and Dad left earlier in the week. The only reason they agreed to let me take a flight out tonight rather than with them was because I swore I’d be working on college applications while they were gone. I actually did, finally narrowing down my choice of schools, and sending through all the submissions. Still, the real reason I wanted to stay behind, is that the idea of spending all that time with Caroline felt awkward to me. I knew she’d be a part of everything that my family would be doing. Don’t get me wrong, I do still care about her, but things were pretty uncomfortable when I last saw her earlier in the year.

  Shit, I think it was a knock. I abandon my search and head for the door.

  When I throw open the door without looking through the peep-hole, I expect to find a last minute Fed Ex delivery or something.

  My stomach drops, I’m not prepared for Quinn.

  I can’t read Ben’s expression, he’s completely pokerfaced. Does that
mean he’s pissed? Is he worried about what his parents are going to think of my showing up this late on Christmas Eve of all nights? I’ll bet his mom hasn’t missed seeing my face at all. Will she make me leave? He opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it again.

  Shit, why did I let Shayna of all people talk me into this? She isn’t the one standing on the porch in the pouring rain. She’s all cozy in her warm Honda Fit. Crammed nice and close to my brother who she flirted with incessantly the entire way over here. Carter didn’t seem to mind at all. I suddenly regret telling them to go back to the party without waiting here for me.

  Ben is just staring at me. Blankly.

  He hasn’t even invited me in out of this rain.

  Any mild buzz that I may have had going at the party dissipates.

  I open my mouth to say something to Quinn, but my shock won’t let me form the words. I hadn’t thought about her as much as I used to. Ever since Sydney called and told me that she was home from the hospital, I have tried to force myself to move on. I’d been able to forget about her long enough, to forget why I need to – because she didn’t want me in her life.

  But now, she’s standing here, on my porch in a killer dress, holding her black heels in her hand in the pouring rain, on Christmas Eve. All the forgetting stuff just went to shit.

  She bites her bottom lip and her eyes dart around. Her soaked, espresso hair is stuck to the sides of her face, and her eye makeup looks like black ink dripping off of her cheeks. But she still looks like an angel to me. Jesus, what is the matter with me?

  “I’m sorry, come in,” I finally say. I fling the door wide open and back up out of the way.

  “Thanks,” she says. Her voice is apprehensive. She folds her arms across her chest, shivering in the thin material of her dress.

  “Can I get you something? You look like you’re freezing.” I still don’t know what she’s doing here, or how long she plans to stay.

  “No, no, I’m okay.” Several minutes pass. We stand two feet away from each other in total silence.

  I glance at my watch.

  Quinn clears her throat. “You have somewhere to be, don’t you?” she asks, motioning to my watch. I’d hoped she didn’t see me checking the time.

  “Sort of,” I say.

  She nods softly. “Okay, well, we’ll talk later.” She takes a step toward the door, her shoulders are slumped. She doesn’t look like the Quinn that I fell in love with at all. She looks broken, defeated.

  “Quinn, what are you doing here?” I can’t just let her leave, and Operation Kill-Ben-on-Baby Jesus’-Birthday is going to be underway soon anyway, just as soon as my mom realizes that I missed my flight.

  “I just—” she starts.

  My cell phone ringing interrupts her. It’s still set to the same ring tone she put on it seven months ago. I see her lips curl into a tiny smile. I glance at the Caller ID. Shit, it’s my mom.

  “Give me just a second,” I say. She nods. I walk to the sliding glass door and stare outside with my back to Quinn. As close as we used to be, it now feels odd to be in the same room as her. Every other time she has been in my house, I could barely keep my hands off of her, and now we’re here – alone, apart from the all-consuming awkwardness.

  “Hello?” I answer. I expect my mom’s disgruntled, Southern-twang. But instead, I get Linney’s sweet drawl.

  “Benny? Your mom wanted me to check to make sure you got to the airport all right. I told her that you were a big boy, and she didn’t need to worry, but you know your mom—”

  I pinch the space in between my eyes. “I missed the plane, Linney. I’m not going to be able to get there tonight.”

  There is a gasp, followed by silence before Linney promises to try to smooth things over with my mom for me.

  When I hang up with Caroline and turn to face Quinn, her mouth forms a tight line.

  “Where are your parents?” she asks.

  I hesitate, knowing it is going to sound like something that it’s not. “They’re in Kentucky.”

  “And you’re supposed to be there, too?”

  I nod.

  She unzips her purse and pulls out her phone. “Well, don’t let me keep you.” She’s already at the door with her guard way up as usual. “I’m sorry for just dropping by like this. I’ll just wait outside for my brother to get here.”

  Part of me aches to touch her now that she’s so close. But the other part, the logical part, wants to coat myself in Teflon, because I know that her being here, no matter what her reasons are, is going to seriously fuck with my world. My heart has been in this insane limbo for so long. I’ve been unable to shake her, and at the same time, I’m not sure that I even want to.

  “Wait, Quinn, don’t leave.” I reach out and run my hand over hers. The simple touch sends a shock through my body, something powerful that I have missed so much. “Just come and sit down.”

  She follows me to the sofa, but even after I sit, she stands beside it.

  “I just—” she begins.

  “Sit,” I say. Quinn finally gives in and collapses into the deep micro-fiber cushion. “Are you doing okay?” I ask. How could you take those pills? Do you have any idea how scared I was that you were gone for good? My head is screaming all the things that I want to ask, but I don’t.

  “Look, I know Sydney told you how I overdid it a little, but I’m fine. That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Why are you here, then?”

  “I owe you an apology.” She intertwines her fingers and her eyes dart around the room.

  I take a deep breath. “Quinn, you don’t have to do this, you don’t owe me anything.”

  “No, really. I mean, I’m so, sorry.” Her voice cracks with emotion.

  Her eyes start to glass over and I realize that I’ve never actually seen her cry. Seeing the tears form in the corners of her eyes tugs at my heart. I’m back to the summer night out on her deck, when I decided that all I wanted in the world was to take care of her, and to protect her from being hurt. But I failed, because no matter what I did, I couldn’t protect her from herself.

  “I screwed up, really bad. I mean with Mark—”

  I cringe when I hear his name on her lips. I hope she doesn’t notice.

  “And at Grant’s party, and god, with everything. I ruined everything,” she continues, looking everywhere but at me. “I know that I hurt you, and I know that me sitting here doesn’t erase all of that, but I just can’t stand the way things are between us anymore.”

  That’s all that I have been trying to make her see for months. I fumble over the words in my head, unable to come up with something adequate. Finally, I reach across the couch and pull a blanket off of the back. As I drape it over her shoulders, I see the goose bumps covering her tan skin.

  “It’s okay,” I say. I can’t express what her words mean to me. “We all do stupid things that we regret, Quinn. I’m not angry with you, I mean— I’ve given up on hoping that we’ll get back together…”

  “Really?” she asks.

  I nod, apprehensively.

  “Because I haven’t,” she says.

  Ben’s brows pinch together, and his posture goes rigid.

  He clears his throat. “So, what are you saying?”

  I pull the blanket that he has just given me tightly around my shoulders and glance around nervously. There are three stockings hung on the fireplace, each one sweetly monogrammed with a name that shimmers in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. A string of garland with neatly red bows leads up the stairs and the air smells strongly of cinnamon, most likely from the basket of pinecones sitting in the corner of the room. The inside of Ben’s house looks like an old-fashioned Christmas card. One that I don’t belong in with my constant mayhem.

  “Never mind, it was stupid of me to come.”

  He flicks his gaze upward and shakes his head. “No, you aren’t going to do this again. You can’t say something like that and then just leave. For once, stop trying
to be so damn tough. You don’t have to control every situation, Quinn.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and shakes me gently. “Tell me what’s going on. You push people away before they can have the chance to leave. But what else do I have to do to prove to you that I’m not going anywhere? I’m right here.”

  A chill shoots down the length of my body, just when I was out on the deck with Carter the other night. This is what it was supposed to be all about, opening up and being real. Shit, this is hard. For once, I force myself to look up from my hands.

  “I miss you, Ben,” I say meekly. “I miss you more than I thought could even be possible. I’ve tried to force myself to stay away from you, and to push you away because I know that I’m no good for you. And, for a while, it was easier to do than to let you in. You made me too vulnerable. You made me feel. But … God, I … I miss you,” I gush, unable to hold back any longer. His expression is unchanged.

  “I don’t expect things to just go back to how they were in the beginning.” I say, looking at his face for any sign of understanding from him, “I don’t expect you to forget about everything, I know that there is no forgetting. But I’m hoping that maybe we can move on. Somehow. I just want you in my life, Ben.”

  Just kiss me, I silently plead.

  But he doesn’t. Instead, he hoists himself off of the sofa and disappears down the dark hallway. I know that I deserve for him to walk away. I deserve to be sitting here alone, wondering what the hell he’s thinking.

  “I have something for you,” he says coming back into the room. “It’s not wrapped, because, well, I didn’t know if you’d ever be back.”

  Ben leans over the back of the sofa; his warm breath ruffles my now frizzy hair. My green dress is still wet and stuck to my skin, and my fingers are little shriveled prunes. I know that I must look like a total wreck, but I don’t care.

  “What’s this?” I ask. He hands me a thick, black fabric covered photo album.

  “Open it,” he says, nudging my hands. I am overwhelmed by the warm, fluttery, feeling that spreads throughout my entire body.