Break My Fall (No Limits)

by Cameron, J. T.

  “I’m fine.” He looked down at his chest and then back up at me. “Obviously. I escaped without so much as a scratch.”

  Our gazes locked and we stared at each other briefly. I examined his eyes for any shiftiness or other signs of deceit, but found nothing. He was giving me no reason to doubt him, and it also instantly occurred to me that this would be a pretty easy thing to check out. A few minutes on Google would confirm his story, cast doubt on it, or prove him an outright liar. But that was something I’d do later, if at all. For now, all I had was Drew sitting across from me, recounting the terrifying event.

  Drew was flying from Chicago to Charlottesville, Virginia. He was from Northbrook, Illinois, and he’d gone home for the holidays and was returning to the University of Virginia, where he was a junior.

  One of the engines experienced a catastrophic failure and needed to make an emergency landing at the Indianapolis International Airport.

  “We didn’t quite make it to the runway. We crashed in the woods less than a mile away. When the plane hit, it cracked open right in the middle. I’ll never forget the sudden sunlight streaming into the plane, and then almost immediately it was blocked out by smoke.”

  I found myself holding my breath as he spoke. It was the most horrifying thing I’d ever heard, and I was amazed when he told me there were only two fatalities.

  “Luckily,” he said, “with the plane cracked open, all the smoke had a way to get out. But I didn’t. Lots of us were trapped in there for almost an hour before we were rescued. In a way, it was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He grabbed another taco and bit it in half.

  I felt my face twist into a look of disbelief. “What? Did I hear that right?”

  He chewed, then took a sip of his drink. “While I was stuck in there, I decided I never wanted to be confined again. Not in the wreckage of an airplane, and not in any aspect of my life. It changed me. Opened my eyes to what matters and what doesn’t. People are always talking about what the meaning of life is. Well, I found the answer.”

  I laughed in disbelief. Here was this guy saying he had figured out the meaning of life. It was the most absurd thing I’d ever heard anyone say. “Really? And what’s the meaning of life?” I couldn’t wait to hear the answer. He was turning out to be quite entertaining.

  He shook his head slowly as he picked up a stray piece of fish that had fallen out of his taco. “It’s an easy answer.” He looked around the room, extended his arms, and with a sweeping gesture he said, “This is the meaning of life.” Then he popped the piece of fish into his mouth and chewed while smiling.

  My glass was on the table and I was leaning over slightly, with the straw in my mouth. I released it from my lips and straightened up in my seat. “This restaurant is the meaning of life?”

  “Yep.”

  “And what kind of drugs are you on that make you say that?”

  “Right now,” he said, “this restaurant is the meaning of life. You’re the meaning of life. The crumbs on this plate are the meaning of life. The sound of this storm…that’s the meaning of life.”

  “I think I better go.” I started to slide off my seat. I wasn’t really going anywhere. I was actually intrigued by the bizarre comments coming out of him, and I felt like toying with him. I stopped moving when he spoke.

  “What I mean is, life is nothing more than what’s around you at any time, and what you choose your life to be.”

  It sounded impossible, and I wasn’t buying it. I hadn’t been given the choice a few months ago to turn my life upside down. That decision was made by someone else.

  He seemed to pick up my skepticism right away. “Did you go to college? Or are you still going?”

  “I’m still going.” I didn’t hesitate with my answer, despite the fact that the thought of returning to school made my stomach sink.

  “What are you studying?”

  “Marine biology.”

  He said, “And you’ve always wanted to be a marine biologist, right?”

  I nodded. As long as I could remember, I’d always wanted to live my life close to the ocean and, if at all possible, make a living doing so.

  Just as Drew zeroed in on something about me and made me more interested in what he was saying, the waitress stopped by the table. Drew pulled his wallet out of his pocket, got his bank card out and handed it to her.

  The waitress said she’d be right back and when she was gone, Drew said, “And what if it doesn’t work out?”

  “Why wouldn’t it?”

  His eyes widened. “A million reasons. Take your pick.”

  I didn’t like this. I had enough to sort through in my life without having to listen to pessimism from a virtual stranger. “It’ll work out.”

  “Maybe it will.” He took a sip of his drink. “All I’m saying is…things change. Things you have no control over. That’s life. But you can control how you react to them, and that’s the meaning of life. You live how you want to live. Right after the crash, people were urging me to get counseling and figure out what was wrong with me. So I saw a shrink a few times, but skipped my fourth appointment and never went back. There was nothing wrong with me. I dropped out of school, started taking odd jobs when and where I wanted, and basically did whatever I felt like whenever I felt like it.”

  “And you moved to the beach.”

  He nodded.

  “You’re a beach bum who doesn’t surf.”

  He smiled, then the waitress came back, and as Drew added the tip and signed the slip, he continued his story.

  “I’m not a beach bum. Well, maybe sometimes I bum around on the beach. I try to enjoy life every day. Everyone’s always running around, frantically trying to finish school and land a great job with awesome benefits so they can afford a nice three-bedroom home where they can raise a family…it’s all bullshit, Leah. All of it. I mean, if someone’s really dedicated to their career, I respect that. And if someone’s goal in life is to have a family and raise a few kids, great, go ahead, I respect that, too. But you know what? I bet a lot of people do those things because they think that’s what they’re supposed to do. And as soon as they convince themselves that they only want what’s expected of them—what someone else decides is good for them—then what kind of life is that? That’s not living; that’s just surviving. I already survived something. Now I just live.”

  I thought about what he’d just said, trying to find a way to disagree with it. But I couldn’t. There had to be a flaw in it somewhere, though.

  Drew tucked the receipt under the pen clip and placed it on the edge of the table. Then he looked at me.

  I’m normally not one to pry into someone’s life, but he had pretty much invited it by revealing all that he had, so I pried. “Don’t you have to work to survive? Or, I mean, to live?”

  “I work for myself.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll show you sometime.”

  I finished off the last of my tea, taking a piece of ice into my mouth. Sometimes I crunch ice when I’m nervous. I wasn’t nervous with Drew anymore, though. I think I was just doing it out of habit. “Oh, so mysterious.”

  “Something like that.” He was serious.

  All of this was only making me more and more curious about him, and I have to admit there was a part of me that resented myself for it.

  I said, “Sounds like you’ve really thought all this through.”

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  “But what does any of that have to do with me?”

  He picked up his hat and held it over the empty plate, wringing it out. There wasn’t very much water in it, just enough to make a little puddle on the plate. He put the hat on, pulled it down just enough to where I could still see his eyes. He finally answered, and it wasn’t what I expected at all.

  “You’re the first girl I’ve ever seen surfing around here. I mean really surfing, not just messing around. That interested me. That’s why I talked to you those times. Because you
were different. Like me. You’re a risk-taker, but something’s holding you back. Something happened to you. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you mostly keep to yourself. That’s why you have those walls up.”

  I felt my eyes narrowing in anger. I didn’t like this at all. Everything he was saying was true. And it pissed me off. I slid off the seat and stood. “I have to go.”

  I started walking toward the door and I had just picked up my surfboard when he said, “Leah, wait. I’m sorry.”

  I turned around.

  He got up and moved toward me. “It’s raining like crazy, it’s still windy. At least let me drive you home.”

  I looked out the window and saw that it was still quite blustery. Walking home with this surfboard wouldn’t have been much fun. And it was only a short distance, which meant I wouldn’t have to put up with him for long. I pushed the door open and started to walk out. “Okay. But stop psychoanalyzing me.”

  He held the door open for me. “Done.”

  Chapter Four

  I hadn’t planned on saying much beyond giving him directions to where I was staying, but after seeing what he drove, I couldn’t help myself. “Are you sure this thing will make it?”

  “Absolutely,” he said.

  I had never seen a truck like this in real life, only in the movies and on TV, and only when the setting was the 1950s.

  Once we were seated, he said, “This is a classic.” He turned the key and the engine roared to life.

  Good. A loud engine meant no conversation.

  As we pulled down Ocean Boulevard, I was concentrating on how hard the rain was hitting the windshield and how Drew had been right—it would have been terrible walking home in this weather.

  I started to tell him to turn left at the stop sign, but he was already making the turn, rounding the corner without stopping.

  He looked over at me. “Don’t worry. I made sure there were no cops around.”

  I watched him out of the corner of my eye, baffled by his peculiar behavior.

  We were pulling up to the street where I lived and before I could say anything, Drew made that turn as well.

  “You know where I live,” I said flatly, growing a little concerned. Was he some kind of stalker? Had he followed me home after one of our previous encounters?

  “I do,” he said, and slowed down to turn into the driveway, passing the main house and going all the way down the long driveway to the carriage house I rented. He stopped the car and said, “My grandparents live here. They’re your landlords.”

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  Drew chuckled. “Sorry.”

  “It’s really not funny.”

  The smile dropped from his face. “You’re right. I need to check on them anyway. Come in with me.”

  “How long have you known that I live here?”

  “Since you moved in. I’m not here a lot, but I make sure to check on them a couple times a week. This is my grandfather’s truck, by the way. I just use it sometimes. Usually, I’m on my bike.”

  I looked through the windshield, up at my little apartment. I thought back to the day on the beach when he said he knew I was new in town and when I asked how he knew, he said he had an ability to spot new people. “This is how you knew I wasn’t from here.”

  He released his seatbelt. “Yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you just say so then?”

  He opened the door and started to swing his legs out. “I like to keep things interesting.”

  I didn’t say anything. Instead, my thoughts went to wondering how I hadn’t seen him around here, and realized it wasn’t that strange. The carriage house was near the back of the Russells’ property, the two separated by an expanse of lawn occupied by a few palm trees and one giant weeping willow. I came and went as I pleased. Mrs. Russell never came to my little apartment and I had only been inside their house a few times. So it made sense that I’d never seen him.

  The storm seemed to be letting up, and it was just before nightfall so I was looking forward to a shower and relaxing for the rest of the night. The power hadn’t gone out, which meant I’d have Wi-Fi, and that meant I had a date with Netflix.

  I supposed a little diversion into the Russells’ home wouldn’t be so bad. They had always been nice to me, and I figured it would be polite to check on them with Drew.

  I followed Drew to their house. He knocked and a moment later, his grandmother opened the door. “Have you been out in this storm?”

  “I was earlier, but things got a little rough,” he said, stepping into the house and kissing her on the cheek.

  Mrs. Russell put her hand on my shoulder and looked at Drew. “I see you’ve met Leah.”

  Drew nodded.

  I smiled, wondering why she hadn’t mentioned anything about having a grandson who lived nearby. As chatty as she’d been each time I’d been around her, I was surprised it hadn’t come up. She probably had her reasons. Maybe I’d find out at some point.

  “Would you two like some soup?” she asked, her eyes moving from Drew’s face to mine.

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I think I’m going to get cleaned up and stay in for the night.”

  “Are you sure?” Mrs. Russell looked a little disappointed. “I made plenty of clam chowder and it would be a shame if it went to waste.”

  “Maybe if you have some leftover tomorrow,” Drew said.

  Mrs. Russell looked at her grandson. “Clam chowder’s no good the next day, sweetie,” she said. “But I won’t force it on you.”

  “Thanks.” Drew peered down the hallway. “I guess you guys are doing okay. I was just stopping by to make sure.”

  “We’re fine,” Mrs. Russell said.

  “And Grandpa?”

  She frowned. “Sleeping, as usual. I tried to get him to play cards earlier, but he wasn’t having any of it. When he gets grumpy, I’m glad all he wants to do is sleep.”

  I didn’t know very much about Mr. Russell, other than the fact that he had Alzheimer’s, a fact Mrs. Russell had shared with me when I moved in. I’d assumed she was her husband’s one and only caretaker. Now I realized Drew was also involved in caring for him.

  Drew hugged his grandmother again. “I’m going to head home. If you need anything, call me.”

  “Thanks for stopping by,” she said. “You, too, Leah. I appreciate it.”

  We stepped out onto the porch. Drew looked up at the sky. “Looks like the storm’s finally dying down. We dodged a bullet again.”

  Mrs. Russell looked at him. “Drew, she’s from Florida. She knows all about tropical storms and hurricanes.” She looked at me. “Heck, that’s reason enough not to go back, I reckon.”

  . . . . .

  Weather had nothing to do with my reason for leaving Florida. As I took a shower, I kept thinking about his grandmother’s words. I had my reason for not going back, and I didn’t need another one not to return to Tampa. At least not for a while, anyway, and certainly not one as mundane as the weather.

  My reason for leaving was simple: Humiliation. I had to get away from the embarrassment and shame for a few months. In fact, I decided I couldn’t stay anywhere in the Tampa area, and finally settled on the fact that the only answer was to get the hell out of the entire state of Florida.

  It was the end of my junior year at USF when it all happened. I had known Kevin Blake since we were freshmen, but we didn’t start dating until second semester of our sophomore year.

  I wasn’t completely inexperienced with all sexual acts when we started dating, but I was a virgin, and that changed during spring break that year. We had been going out for a few months, but I knew I already loved him, so he was my first. I, on the other hand, wasn’t his first, but I never thought much of it.

  Like me, Kevin had grown up in and around the Tampa area, so we spent a lot of time together that first summer, and also during Christmas break of our junior year.

  By the second semester of our junior year, I was sure he was The One. I could picture us
married, with a couple of kids, probably still living around Tampa or at least somewhere close to the beach, because I couldn’t imagine not being near the water. I had my surfing, and I was also majoring in marine biology while Kevin was studying to be an oceanographic engineer. His dream was to work for an oil company, designing safer and more environmentally-friendly ocean rigs, so even our career goals meshed well.

  We had a fairly big group of mutual friends. Many of them were couples like us who we’d hang out with—parties, movies, long days on the beach, just about everything you’d imagine college students doing.

  His parents were wonderful to me, and mine really liked him. Even my dad, who was so protective of me while I was in high school that I thought he would invent some kind of electric force-field he could place around me when I moved in to the dorm to start my college career. Don’t get me wrong; my dad wasn’t the mean kind of protective, it was actually sweet in his own way, and by Christmas break of our junior year, he actually treated Kevin like the son-in-law everyone thought he would someday be.

  If this all sounds too perfect to you, trust me, you’re right. It was way too perfect. So perfect, in fact, that if I hadn’t been so smitten with Kevin, if I hadn’t been so naïve, if I had been more skeptical in any way at all, I would have seen the crash-and-burn ending coming. But I liked the optimistic, trusting girl I was with Kevin, and that trust was why it was so shocking.

  While devastating to me, it wasn’t a rare occurrence. Kevin cheated.

  I found out through some friends, then confronted Kevin, who denied it at first, but finally admitted it.

  I asked him who he wanted to be with, me or her, and his response was direct and blunt: “I’m not sure.”

  So I made it easy for him and informed him that he didn’t need to make a decision; I was removing myself from consideration. Thanks, but no thanks.

  Having gone through that, I couldn’t have imagined anything worse, which is why the second hit was like a tsunami, demolishing all that was familiar, washing away everything I had. Or thought I had.