The Fear of Falling

by Amanda Cowen

  Ryan takes the opportunity to slide into an empty chair around the kitchen table, reach for the cereal box and pour himself a bowl.

  “Please, make yourself at home,” I say, sitting down on the chair next to him.

  He glances over at me. “Thor must have gotten in pretty late then, because I didn’t hear him come into the apartment. That’s not like you to put out on the first date.”

  “Pry much?”

  “Did you?” he asks, completely serious.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  He takes a bite of his cereal, chews and swallows before he asks, “Was it small?”

  I bite on my lower lip and hide my smile when I look back at him. “Jesus, Ryan.”

  “I heard those Aussies don’t trim their bush. Must have been like finding a needle in a haystack.” His smile grows wider, and the dimple on his chin makes a spectacular appearance.

  “He gave me a good-night kiss. That’s all, okay?”

  “Okay.” He takes another bite of cereal.

  “We had a couple of drinks at the bar. Great conversation, and then he dropped me off,” I tell him. “He’s a true gentleman, unlike someone I know.”

  Ryan laughs, mildly amused by my dig against him. He leans back in his chair, studying me. “He’s made it pretty clear he’s into you,” he says after a few seconds of silence, a frown on his face.

  “Can you blame him?” I ask, smiling. “I’m awesome.”

  “Liam’s a nice guy and everything…” My chest squeezes at the earnest vulnerability in his expression. I swallow down what feels like a bowling ball in my throat before he continues, “But do you really want to get involved with some guy who tends bar for a living?”

  “He’s a teacher.”

  “On paper, maybe.” Ryan’s eyes show his irritation. “But in reality, he’s just an imported bartender.”

  I tilt my head to one side and frown at him. “Do you have a problem with me and Liam?”

  “You just got out of a relationship with Ginger Jon,” he deadpans. “Don’t you think you’re moving lightning-fast with Thor?”

  “Everybody rebounds.”

  Ryan doesn’t answer at first, and takes another few bites of his cereal. His brows furrowed as he obviously thinks hard about what he’s going to say next.

  “Okay, honestly…” he pauses and runs a hand down his face. “I don’t think Liam is good enough for you. There. I said it.” He leans forward, placing his face so close to mine I can smell mint toothpaste on his breath.

  I search his eyes for a few painful beats, not expecting to see his vulnerability. It catches me off-guard. “I can determine that on my own.” I lean away from him, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

  “Oh, really.” He looks amused now.

  “I don’t need your blessing.” I stand up and walk over to the coffee pot for another cup. “I appreciate you looking out for me, but I’m going to do what I want, just like you always do what you want.”

  He abruptly stands up, strides over to me, and leans against the counter, staring down at me. His sandy hair falls onto his forehead. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Come on,” I nervously laugh. “You dating Alodie? She’s honestly the worst.”

  “She’s your friend,” he says.

  “Oh, she’s my friend now?” I raise an eyebrow. “The other day, you told me we just worked together.”

  He studies me for what seemed like a long and quiet moment. “Come on, she means well.”

  I know it shouldn’t irritate me whenever he says this, but it does. So I retaliate with my best impression of Alodie to prove my point. “Ryan! Lotion! Ryan! Vodka water! Ryan! Selfie with me!” My voice is super high-pitched, and I’m flailing my arms like a diva.

  He lets out a hearty laugh and crosses his arms in front of his chest, studying me further. “Jealousy looks good on you,” he winks. “I kind of like it.”

  “Please,” I say as I eye him back. “I am not jealous of Alodie.”

  Ryan nods, and absentmindedly runs a hand through his hair. When I turn away from him to wash a few dirty dishes in the sink, he returns to the kitchen table and finishes his cereal. Once I’m done tidying up, I turn off the faucet and dry my hands. I turn to see Ryan watching me.

  “What are your plans for the day?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say. “What about you?”

  He shrugs. “Zero plans on my end.”

  He pulls his vibrating phone from his pocket, and hovers his finger over the answer button, internally debating on whether or not to pick up.

  “Looks like you are thinking pretty hard there. Don’t strain your brain.”

  He glances up at me and sighs. He dismisses the call, and tucks his phone back into his pocket.

  “My dad has been a real thorn in my side lately,” he says. “I can’t deal with him right now.” He gets up from his chair and I follow him into the living room. He flops down on the couch and I sit down next to him, our thighs pressed together.

  “Is he still angry about your summer-of-fun in Australia?” I ask carefully. Ryan tells me a lot of things, but he can be closed off when it comes to his relationship with his dad. I’ve only met Ryan’s dad a handful of times. He’s not a very affectionate man, nor does he smile. He’s all business, and he expects a lot from Ryan.

  “He’s worried I want to bail on law school,” he frowns. “He’s obsessed with me getting into Yale, like there is no other fucking law school in America.”

  I know his dad drilled into Ryan’s head that Yale is where he is expected to be post-graduation, but I never understood why. So this time, I boldly ask. “What’s so special about Yale, anyway?”

  “My grandfather went to Yale. My father went to Yale. My older brother Reggie went to Yale. And they will all tell you it’s the best law school in the country. An Owen family tradition,” he scoffs. “How could I possibly take over his law firm without a Yale law degree?” His voice drips with sarcasm.

  It’s sort of strange to see this version of Ryan: tense, distraught, and sporting a five o’clock shadow because he was so riddled with worry, he rushed over here without putting himself together. Clearly, I’m not the only one on his mind this morning.

  “Sometimes, I have no idea what I want anymore,” he sighs. “Do I really want to end up like my father? Working long hours, cranky as fuck, and schmoozing on a golf course with a bunch of corporate hounds?”

  “That doesn’t really sound like you.”

  He blinks at me, surprised for a moment, before he grins.

  “I know. It doesn’t,” he says, easing up a bit. “That’s what I try to tell him, and Reggie and even Alodie, but no one gets it.” He pauses, his eyes warm with sincerity when they find mine. “Except you. You get it, always.” He sighs and leans his head against the back of the couch.

  “You should do whatever makes you happy.” I shift on the couch, crossing my bare legs. “If going to Yale for some prestigious law degree isn’t for you, then don’t do it.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “I think it is.”

  “Why don’t you come with me?” he asks.

  I feel something in my chest tighten. Ryan is obviously panicked about his future and not thinking clearly. We’ve never really talked about what will happen after we graduate, but there is no way he is seriously asking me to move with him to Connecticut. He doesn’t mean that, does he? I’m sure he’s just grasping at straws right now in his state of peril.

  I laugh off his absurd suggestion. “Move with you to Connecticut? And do what? Sip cocktails at a country club all day long?” I pause, scanning his face. Again, I can’t read the expression on it. “I already applied for an internship with Disney in their Animation department. Maybe you should just say fuck Connecticut and come with me to Burbank. You could attend UCLA and get a law degree.”

  He blinks a few times, taken aback. “When were you planning on telling me that you applied for a Dis
ney internship?”

  “I just told you,” I say. Without realizing it, I place my hand on his knee and squeeze it. “Look, I’m not telling you what to do with your future. All I’m saying is maybe you need to think long and hard about what you really want to do, not what your dad expects you to do. You can still go to law school. Not every lawyer is like your father. Get a law degree, but make a conscious effort to not be like him. Once you graduate, you could take on pro bono cases for battered women or something like that to humanize your practice a bit.” Ryan glances down at my hand before his brown eyes find mine. “Use your law degree for the greater good,” I add.

  “Connecticut is really far from California,” he murmurs.

  “Airplanes are an excellent method of transportation,” I assure him.

  He starts to pull away. But I reach out, taking his hand in mine. He looks at me and smiles. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

  I nod magnanimously. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  He separates his hand from mine and gets comfortable on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table and taking the remote from the empty cushion on his left side. He gives me a knowing smirk. “Let’s Sunday Funday. We both have a free day.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “The usual,” he says. “Binge-watch Netflix until noon. Day drink on the patio. Lunch. Maybe some laser tag. I don’t know… we can see where the day takes us.”

  “That sounds like a pretty awesome day,” I smile. “I’m all in.”

  It occurs to me that Ryan has draped his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers comfortably grazing my shoulder. I look up to meet his gaze. He smirks again, so it hasn’t escaped his notice, either.

  “Honestly, Jonesy…” he sucks in a ragged breath. “Call me lame or whatever… But sometimes, I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

  Chapter 7

  I’m studying in the library on a Sunday. Why am I sitting in this dark and dingy library when I should be enjoying a beautiful fall day outside? Because I am studying my ass off for an Animation Theory and Techniques midterm and even the smallest distraction, including Maisie blending another one of her protein smoothies in the kitchen, could deter me.

  I get through two more chapters and make five additional pages of notes when I see Ryan walk into the building. He stalks over, examines me in my yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt, and then my text books and the extra large coffee on the table. He doesn’t even say anything. He just sits down on the seat across mine, rests his elbows on the table, and smiles.

  I make several observations in the next thirty seconds. First, he looks way too put together for someone who just finished lacrosse practice. His hair is perfectly styled and swept to the side. His face is clean-shaven; the dimple on his chin, extra noticeable. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt with a patterned blue tie with flecks of red, and a pair of very form-fitting navy trousers. Even his brown Oxford shoes are polished.

  Second, I can’t let him talk me into doing anything that doesn’t involve acing this midterm. The reality of my situation is I need to get the best grades possible to secure my dream internship at Disney. Ryan doesn’t understand the necessity of achieving stellar grades. Sure, he wants to get into law school, but regardless of his academic accomplishments, his father has enough money and power to pull strings. My mother lives from paycheck to paycheck. And even though my father helps me out a little financially, he pours all his hard-earned money into his middle-class life with his fiancée and her daughters.

  Third, and maybe the most important, I am supposed to meet Liam for dinner tonight, and I can’t bail on him again. I need to do as much studying as I can today so I can be free tonight. We’ve been trying to reconnect for a second date, but our schedules haven’t aligned.

  “What are you doing here?” I put down my pencil and hide my smile. “Or more importantly, why are you dressed like this? I thought you had lacrosse practice.”

  “I didn’t go.”

  “You decided to stop by the library and visit me instead. How sweet.”

  “Your brain needs a break,” he says, closing my textbook. “You are over studying for this midterm.”

  “Because I need a kickass grade.”

  “And you will get one,” he says.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t know that.”

  He tilts his head, studying me. “You haven’t stopped cramming all weekend. You are smart as hell, and annoyingly keen. You will be fine.” He flashes me one of his most charming grins. “How about you close your textbooks, go back to your apartment and put on something a little dressier than yoga pants? I’ll pick you up in front of your building in thirty minutes.”

  As if he thinks I could be so easily persuaded without giving me a reason why I’d agree to do such a thing. “How kind of you. But I think I’ll take a rain check.” I reopen my textbook before sipping my coffee. I give him my best ‘get lost’ look. “I can’t Sunday Funday with you this weekend, Ryan. Sorry.”

  “What if I told you I needed a serious favor?” He reaches for my cup and snakes it right out of my hand, taking a long pull of my coffee. Of course, most human beings would slap his hand away before he even put his lips to their drink, but I’ve grown comfortable sharing my things with Ryan. Drinks, food, and sometimes even toothpaste or deodorant are included on that list.

  I watch him swallow, his eyes twinkling in my direction goading me. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  “I kind of have this thing today…”

  “What thing?” I ask.

  He gives me the most beseeching look I’ve ever witnessed. “Like my Gam-Gam’s eightieth birthday party in Sacramento.”

  “Gam-Gam is turning eighty?” Again, his pleading eyes scan my face. “And you didn’t know about this until today?”

  “I wasn’t planning on going,” he confesses, looking down at his lap. “But it’s a big one this year. She’d be upset if I didn’t attend.”

  I frown, frustrated with him for his lack of planning. I feel uneasy about him asking me to attend the party with him. I’ve traveled to Sacramento with Ryan many times before to visit his family or spend a weekend, but I’ve never attended an actual Owen family event.

  I absolutely don’t let him see I’m considering it. I want more details. I am poker-facing it like a champ. “I don’t know –”

  “Please, Jonesy,” he cuts me off, then pauses dramatically. “Don’t make me beg.”

  “What’s wrong with your girlfriend?” I ask. “It’s about time she met the family.”

  He laughs. “I don’t bring home girlfriends. You know this. It establishes an expectation.”

  I lean forward, elbows on the table. “Even though I think your Gam-Gam is awesome, I’m sure she won’t care if I’m there.”

  He blinks, then looks away. “Yes, she would. My Gam-Gam loves you. It’s always Ella this and Ella that – when are you bringing Ella back for a visit, blah, blah, blah.”

  My eyes go wide. I am calling bullshit. “Your Gam-Gam has never said any of that.”

  “She has so,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’ve just never told you because your head is already way too big,” he winks.

  “Why can’t you go by yourself?”

  “Remember when I told you my dad was on my case about Yale? He hasn’t let up. And between my mother’s submissive-housewife attitude, my sister’s bipolar disorder and my older brother’s successes, I just can’t fathom going alone right now to deal with all this pressure,” he sighs. “Please Ella. I would do it for you. You know I would.”

  I can’t believe he’s pulling the guilt card. Ryan would drop everything for me if I asked. Now I really can’t find it in my heart to say no. Perhaps I have over studied…

  “I really need you to come to Sacramento with me. Please. Don’t make me go alone to the Country Club to eat tea sandwiches and make small talk with my extended family.”

  I sigh. “Fine. But this better be an a
fternoon-only thing because I need to be back to San Francisco around dinnertime.”

  “For what?”

  “I have dinner plans with Liam.”

  He laughs dryly. “Break them.”

  “Ryan,” I say in a threatening tone. “I’m not coming unless you promise you’ll have me home no later than seven.”

  “Fine. I promise.”

  I get home in record time; the traffic-light gods were smiling upon me. I take a quick shower, and put on something dressier. I opt for a red sleeveless lace dress and nude-toned makeup, and curl my hair. I even have enough time to run down to the grocery store at the corner to grab a bouquet of flowers for Gam-Gam.

  Ryan texts me from the curb when he arrives. I meet him at his car and jump in.

  He lets out a low whistle. I look up to see Ryan smirking. His inspection gives me goosebumps all over my arms. “Nice dress. Your body is rocking.”

  “Thank you,” I follow his eyes, which were on my chest. I’m showing a little more cleavage than normal. “I thought I’d put my best foot forward for Gam-Gam, you know, since she likes me so much,” I add, buckling my seat belt.

  “I should have never told you how much she likes you,” he laughs as he maneuvers out of the spot and merges into traffic. “I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

  “I can’t help but feel triumphant,” I say with a cheeky grin. “She’s by far the best member of your family.”

  “Yeah,” he laughs. “She sure is.”

  An hour and a half quickly passes by. We blast Ryan’s favorite playlist and sing along to every song. He takes over playing the steering-wheel drums, and I play the air-guitar and mime a microphone on solo parts.

  When we drive into Sacramento, Ryan stops at a red light, dials down the music, and turns to me. “Shit. I forget how to get to the damn Country Club.”

  “I’ll Google Maps it,” I suggest. I pull my phone from my purse just as it beeps with a new text message from Liam.

  Looking forward to tonite! This restaurant is going to blow your socks off. And hopefully other things… if you’re lucky ;)