The Fear of Falling

by Amanda Cowen

  “Are you okay?” he whispers.

  No, I’m not okay. How could we think there wouldn’t be any consequences to our actions? What the hell was I thinking? I’ve ruined our friendship by letting him see me differently because I agreed to fuck him, no strings attached. I compose myself before calmly saying, “I’m fine. Now please, let go of me.”

  I glance down at his hand, still on my elbow. He frowns and releases his grip, then takes a step back.

  I simply turn away from both of them, keeping my eyes straight ahead, and walking through the doorway, slamming the door behind me.

  Chapter 17

  The next morning, I wake up on the sofa downstairs, pack my belongings, and ask Maisie to have Jayce switch flights with me. Everyone booked their flights separately but on the same return flight, except for Maisie and Jayce. They booked their flights before everyone else, and selected a different return flight. Last night, I felt reasonably certain I could handle my jumbled feelings on my own. But after a night spent sleepless, staring at the ceiling and freaking out, I realized I needed to talk to someone. Maisie convinced Jayce to switch tickets with me. Without saying goodbye to anyone – including Ryan - I slipped out of the beach house before noon with Maisie, and got into a cab and went to the airport.

  I flop down onto the aisle seat beside Maisie. I want to talk to her about everything, but I’m worried she’ll think I’m crazy. Or worse, she’ll say exactly what I don’t want to hear – I should be with Ryan. It’s a scary thought to talk about him and my feelings out loud. It just makes everything so… real. His words hurt me: We made a mistake. It won’t happen again. Their finality catch me off-guard, and still ring freshly in my ears.

  “Okay, seriously. You keep on looking at me like you are dying to say something,” Maisie says. “Just say it already.”

  I swallow hard to find my voice and look at her. “Obviously, I want to talk about what happened, but I’m worried I’m going to get emotional. And I really don’t want to get emotional because that would mean I’m emotional over Ryan, which is absolutely crazy. It’s Ryan.”

  “Exactly. You guys are best friends. You can’t let a little casual sex ruin that.” Her voice goes up a few decibels higher than normal, and drips with sarcasm.

  “I’m so humiliated. Like, what did I think was going to happen? We’d actually be together? Like boyfriend and girlfriend?” I nervously chuckle. “You better not have told Jayce,” I warn her.

  She raises an eyebrow. “Jesus, Ella. Are you in love with Ryan?”

  “Uh, no. I only stupidly slept with him over and over again because I’m stupid.”

  “I wouldn’t call you and Ryan sleeping together stupid,” she pauses, thoughtful. “I think he’s in love with you.”

  “No one is in love with anybody. Did you not hear what he said? We’re not together, we will never be together, we made a mistake and it won’t happen again. I’m not sure how much clearer he needed to be.”

  “Yeah, but until I caught you red-handed, you still kept hooking up with each other. It couldn’t have been that big of a mistake.”

  “It's like this. I’ve slept with my best friend, but I'm trying to be cool about the whole thing. He said we made a mistake, and he’s right, we did. We were obviously both suffering from spring-break fever and that unrealistic outlook on life only a vacation can give you,” I take a deep breath, unable to control my emotions on the matter. I look over and meet her eyes, my eyes immediately welling up. “I just feel so… so… stupid.”

  “Oh, Ella, come here. You’re not stupid.” She leans over and hugs me while I cry onto her shoulder. I can’t hold back anymore.

  One mental breakdown later, and the flight attendant comes by, asking if we’d like a beverage. Maisie asks for two waters and opts for pretzels over cookies.

  When I finally pull myself together, she whispers, “I’m sorry I was so blunt with you and Ryan, but I think it needed to be said. You know I love the idea of you two together, but I was just trying to make you both see how things could get messy if you didn’t define your status… I thought Ryan would finally step up and admit it was more than just sex. I’m sorry it backfired. But I have to ask… when you were with him, was it more than just sex for you? Did you find yourself wanting something more with him?”

  I wipe a few tears from my eyes. “What? Me? Want a real relationship? Of course not.” I sit up and lean back onto my seat. “We’ll be lucky if we can somehow manage to salvage whatever friendship we even have left and make it to the end of our senior year.”

  She studies me. “Please do not freak out after I tell you this.”

  “What?”

  “You’re an artistic genius, and one of the coolest people I know. But you are so dense when it comes to love.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You have this invisible wall protecting you from giving yourself to someone completely. And I know your parents’ divorce has somehow jaded you from believing there is someone out there who isn’t going hurt and leave you. And God, don’t even get me started on Ryan… he’s so busy denying he has feelings for you, he bores himself with bimbos only to turn to you when he needs real companionship.”

  I take a sip from my water glass, and I feel the wheels in my head spinning from everything Maisie just told me. Her words completely terrify me.

  “Ugh. I made a real mess of things. Why did I have to sleep with Ryan? Why couldn’t I just do the normal thing and sleep with Liam? I am a disaster.”

  “I’m guessing you slept with Ryan because deep down, you actually like him as more than a friend.”

  “God, that sounds so juvenile,” I wince.

  “Well, do you?”

  I shake my head. “No,” I bite down on my bottom lip. “At least I didn’t think I did.”

  One of Maisie’s eyebrows go up. “Do you really think you two can slip back to normal, like nothing happened?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m banking on.”

  “Ella, that’s probably not—”

  “I’m sorry, I really can’t talk about this anymore,” I tell her, because honestly, I can’t. Someone must be sucking all the oxygen from this aircraft; I can’t breathe. “I think I just need to close my eyes and take a nap. And when I wake up, we both need to forget we ever had this conversation.”

  She eyes me skeptically. “I think you’re making a huge mistake.”

  My breath catches in my throat. “I’m clearly an expert at making mistakes. Why not add another to the list?”

  The following weekend, as I lay in bed, I am thinking about Ryan too much, and differently. He hasn’t called or texted or showed up at my apartment like he normally would. I’ve been purposely avoiding him, too; I needed space and clarity to think. The week has been tough without reaching out to him. We’ve never gone twenty-four hours without some form of contact, never mind an entire week.

  It’s like I’m detoxing.

  And somehow, I’ve survived. I tell myself I just need a few more days of space from Ryan before he’s out of my system for good. Once that happens, I can move on with my life and try to salvage what’s left of our friendship, if anything.

  I do my best to stay busy at the apartment with school work, painting, and hanging out with Maisie. But during the times I’m left alone, I feel myself reaching for my cell phone, wanting to send him a quick text or call.

  But I also can’t just randomly reach out to him. Things are different now, and I need to take precautions before I see him again.

  First, I will no longer be left alone with him. The two of us lost all the privileges of one-on-one time when I stupidly slept with him – repeatedly. He’s too convincing, too smooth, and too good-looking to be left alone with unsupervised. Second: no more fantasizing about him, ever. That means no more reliving our sexual encounters, no more fantasizing about new ones with him, and no more picturing him naked or any of my body parts coming in contact with any of his.

  So
far, I am confident I can stick to my plan. And I can and will forgive him for being an epic douchebag in front of Maisie. I also can and will let go of my humiliation and move on.

  “Hey, you got mail.” Maisie’s voice comes from my bedroom doorway. The early-morning sun filters through my windows, illuminating her perky presence. She’s fully decked out in active wear and her face is a little sweaty, which tells me she’s already gone for a morning run.

  I stretch my arms across my pillows before sitting up on my bed. “From who?”

  “Someone back home. The return address is from Oregon.” She walks over to my bedside and hands me a large teal envelope addressed to Miss Ella Jones and Guest. My heart lodges in my throat, and I slowly pry open the envelope. I glance down at a sparkly invitation to my father’s wedding.

  I’ve been dreading getting this invitation, mostly because I can’t stand Heidi and her spoiled-rotten daughters, but mainly because I’m scared of the impact his upcoming nuptials will have on my mother. I’m worried about her in her fragile state of depression, and worry this could only push her into a dark hole.

  “What? What is it?” Maisie sits down on the edge of my bed.

  I toss the invitation onto her lap. “It’s my dad’s wedding invitation.”

  “Oh.” She glances down at it, frowning. “Are you going to go?”

  I let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to, but obviously I have to. It’s my dad.”

  “Are you going to tell your mom?” she cautiously asks.

  Just the thought of doing that makes my stomach turn. I’m so tired of being stuck in the middle, always feeling displaced, like I belong in neither of their lives anymore. It’s so utterly defeating.

  “Oh, God. I think I am going to be sick,” I tell Maisie, flopping my head back down onto my pillow.

  A heavy silence engulfs my bedroom. Maisie remains seated on the edge of my mattress for a few more seconds before speaking.

  “Okay. I’m worried about you. Seriously, when was the last time you showered?” she asks.

  “I don’t know…” I count back the days in my head. ”A few days ago, I guess.”

  Concern was clear in her eyes. “I know you are still upset over how things ended with Ryan… and now this thing with your dad isn’t helping, and the anxiety of dealing with your mom is weighing on your conscience. But I think you need to stop moping around and clean yourself up. You should really come to poker night. We are going to that new bar afterward…you know, it’s just about a block away from here… Royal Shots, I think it’s called—”

  “Will Ryan be there?”

  She shifts uncomfortably. “Yes, but—”

  “Then no, I’m not coming,” I simply say. “I’m not ready to face him.” Right now, he’s the last person I need to see.

  “Okay. Well, then how about me and you go out? Girls’ night,” she suggests.

  “I can’t,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. Not tonight.”

  Tears begin forming again, and I blink them back and turn away from Maisie. I know I am being unreasonable, and I know my current behavior is giving her an actual reason to worry. But I just feel so overwhelmed right now. A night out drinking my sorrows away isn’t going to fix anything.

  The day passes by the same way, except this time I take a shower. I laze around eating shitty food and binge-watching reality shows. My mom calls me around noon to check in. She sounds much better than she did the last time we spoke, giving me a strong sense of hope that her new medication and therapy appointments are working. One glance at my father’s wedding invitation though, and I know there is no way I could possibly tell her he is marrying her ex-best friend. After we say our goodbyes, I am overwhelmed once again with the thought of upsetting her, which makes me even more upset. I end up whipping my dad’s wedding invitation across the living room and hearing it fall somewhere on the floor.

  Maisie leaves around six o’clock for poker night, asking me one more time if I want to come out with them, to which I once again tell her no. I start my night off painting in the kitchen, listening to music, and ordering take-out. As the hours rolls on, I find myself in the living room watching lame horror movies, something me and Ryan would have done to help cheer me up. The cornier the movie, the better. My mind unwillingly drifts off to Ryan and how much I miss him, and maybe even how much I like him as more than a friend.

  This realization causes my chest to twist tightly and painfully.

  Was Maisie right? Do I have actual feelings for Ryan?

  Maybe I’ve gone mad. Or maybe my father’s bullshit wedding invitation made me realize I never want to be like him. I never want to be emotionally unavailable like he was with my mother and continues to be with his fiancée, and even with me. I want to be honest with my feelings, and I think I honestly have feelings for Ryan.

  He’s the only person I want to console me when I’m upset. He’s the only person I could ever imagine waking up to and falling asleep beside every night. I want to see him wear his ugly Yoda t-shirt, and I want to be the only person he challenges to a game of rock toss. And most importantly, I want him in my life, every single aspect of Ryan. Not just certain parts of him; all of him.

  I impulsively fix my hair and grab my jacket from a hook in the entryway, and slide it on. I need to tell him, now. I pull open the front door and run down two flights of stairs, determined to confess my feelings, to tell him he was wrong. What we did wasn’t a mistake, and I want it to happen again. Except this time, I want to be with him as more than friends, exclusively, no bullshit. My entire body is vibrating with courage. I am seriously going to do this; I am going to tell him how I feel.

  I round the corner and push open the double doors, stepping outside onto the sidewalk in pursuit of the bar Maisie said they were going to, Royal Shots. The sky is dark and the air is cool. The streets are noisy and busy with traffic, but my rapidly beating heart thumps in my ears and drowns out everything else. I realize I must look like a mess: baggy sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, a pair of flip-flops on my feet, no makeup and messy hair. But I don’t care.

  Within minutes, I find myself pulling open the doors of Royal Shots. Pop music pumps through the speakers as I push through the swarm of people drinking and dancing to the music. My eyes dart everywhere, scanning the crowd for Ryan and my friends. A few people glance down at me skeptically, probably wondering what the hell I’m doing in a place like this on a Saturday night while dressed like a hobo.

  I catch a glimpse of Maisie, Jayce and Kale sitting at a table a few feet away. I take a deep and steadying breath, walking with purpose.

  Just as I round a corner, I bump into something warm and strong. I look up to see Ryan, pressed up against the bar. Alodie’s arms are wrapped around his neck, and she was standing tiptoed and leaning in for a kiss.

  All the blood drains from his face as soon as his eyes locked onto mine. Goosebumps rise along my skin. My breath catches in my throat as I stare at him. His face is scruffy, and he’s dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans and sneakers. His hair is tousled in a way that screams Alodie’s fingers have already been through it. A sharp jab of jealousy presses into my chest.

  “Jonesy, what are you doing here?” he asks, moving away from Alodie. She glances over at me, finally acknowledging my presence.

  “Hey Ella,” she says, her voice bubbly. She gives me a quick once-over. “Are you okay? Why are you dressed like that?” she asks.

  I swallow hard in an attempt to find my voice, and glare at her, confusion all over my face. What the fuck is happening? Are they back together?

  As if she hears my thoughts, she says, “Did Ryan not tell you? He texted me when you guys came back from spring break and we finally talked. Thank you so much for convincing him to give us a second chance.”

  What the—?

  Panic rushes through Ryan’s eyes. I clench my jaw and turn away, pushing through the crowd. I need to get out of here.

  I make my way quickly through the swarm of people, igno
ring him as he shouts out my name, until I’m outside and feel a strong hand on my forearm.

  “Ella, stop.”

  His voice sends a jolt through me.

  My heart feels like it exploded in my chest, and I can barely stand on two feet without feeling like I’m going to collapse into a pile of tears. But I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders.

  “What the hell do you want?” I shout at him, pulling my arm free from his grasp.

  He glances around, confused and uncomfortable. “I – I don’t know. You’re the one who showed up here looking like a hot mess, then stormed out like a lunatic.”

  “I wanted to talk to you. To tell you—” I stop myself, feeling my voice begin to shake. “I’m glad to see you here with her – clearly, you are over what happened between us, and you took my advice and got back together with Alodie, and that’s—” I pause, and gulp in another breath. “—that’s great. Good for you. I hope you are happy.”

  I turn to leave but he grabs my arm again.

  “Let. Go.”

  “Tell me why you came here,” he demands, his voice low.

  “What does it even matter?” I shout, tears welling up in my eyes.

  “You’re right. It doesn’t.” He exhales heavily and shakes his head. “You’re fucking unbelievable, Ella. You took off without as much as a goodbye. You’ve been purposely avoiding me. And I know it’s because you are still fucking around with Liam. So yeah, I guess there really is nothing left to say. But don’t storm into a bar and then run out on me when you’re the one acting like—” he pauses and rethinks his words. “Like a jealous ex-girlfriend.”

  Our argument begins attracting the attention of the people entering and exiting the bar.

  “Fuck you, Ryan,” I shout. “Maybe you should get your facts straight. I’ve been avoiding you because you are an asshole. Not because I am fucking around with Liam.” I am so angry, my entire body shakes. “And then because I don’t say goodbye to you, you go running back to Alodie?”

  He arrogantly laughs, almost mystified that I even have the audacity to question him. “What was I supposed to think? Liam’s been avoiding me, too. He sneaks out every night without saying anything. When he comes back, he’s all fucking smiles and shit. I’m not stupid, you know.”