Sliding Down the Sky

by Amanda Dick

  We were both a little compromised.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I may not believe in myself, but I believe in what I’m doing.”

  – Jimmy Page

  Callum

  I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. I hung out after the others left because I wanted more of her, and if I was honest with myself, it scared the hell out of me. I didn’t remember wanting anyone like I wanted her. I not only wanted to redeem myself in her eyes, I wanted to impress her. It was a slippery slope, but I was going to climb it, even in the face of the odds that I was sure had been stacked against me. The thought was terrifying.

  The bar had been busier than I’d ever seen it in its previous incarnation. It was shoulder to shoulder for hours. Sass was impressive, handling her customers with ease. No small feat considering she was doing it literally single-handedly. She used her left hand intermittently, although she clearly had no way of holding things with it. She did everything with her right hand, only using her left to steady things.

  Despite all that, she kept her head down and her manner professional. Except when I went up to get my round.

  That smile… Jesus, that smile.

  It was that smile that told me she’d forgiven me for the ass I’d made of myself at the diner. It was that smile that had me hanging around long after everyone else had gone home, eager for some private time with her. It was that smile that gave me hope.

  “I’m no expert,” I said, as she ran a cloth over the bar. “But I’d say tonight was a raging success, as far as opening nights go.”

  She glanced up briefly, as she worked her way down to the cash register in the middle of the bar with her cloth.

  “I think so, too. Leo’s over the moon.”

  “I bet he is. The band were great – if it’s gonna be like this every Friday night I’ll definitely be here, and I bet the majority of the people here tonight will be too. Hope you guys are ready for that?”

  “I’d like to think we are.”

  The band members were sitting around on the stage, their instruments all packed into cases, having a quiet drink. She came back to my end of the bar and dropped the cloth, then filled a glass with ice and topped it up with Coke.

  “I thought you’d need something stronger,” I said, spotting my opening. “You should be celebrating. Can I buy you a real drink?”

  She shook her head, and maybe it was the lighting, but it looked like she was blushing.

  “Thanks, but I don’t drink.”

  I stared at her, sure I’d heard wrong.

  “God, look at your face,” she chuckled.

  It was the first time I’d heard her laugh, and it wasn’t what I expected. It was deep, throaty and low. Not in the least bit girly or superficial. It was real, and I liked it. I smiled in spite of myself, and suddenly the mood seemed a hundred times lighter.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just that –“

  “I work in a bar and I don’t drink. Yeah, I know. I see the irony, believe me.”

  Just then, someone started playing guitar. I looked over towards the band, and one of the guys was sitting on the edge of the stage, playing something vaguely familiar. Leo had pulled a chair up and was sitting talking to them. He’d lost some of his earlier intensity, and looked relaxed and interested. Dare I say it, more comfortable. I remembered what Jack had said about the piano and his guitar collection. I guess music was his thing.

  “He’s a freakin’ genius,” I said, almost to myself. “Having live music will have people coming from miles around.”

  I looked back at Sass, but her attention was on the band and Leo.

  “I’m really proud of him,” she said.

  Maybe it was the booze, but right at that moment, she could’ve read me the phone book and I’d have hung onto each and every word.

  “He’s worked so hard to get this place up and running. He’s poured his heart and soul into it, and so has Gemma. If this place ends up being a raging success, it’ll be because they made it happen.”

  They were obviously a close family and I envied the hell out of that. Jack was the closest thing I had to a brother these days, and lately I couldn’t even talk to him without crossing my fingers behind my back.

  “You should give yourself some credit too. Sounds like it’s been a team effort.”

  She shook her head, and I could see she was uncomfortable with the praise.

  “I’m just the grunt,” she said, reaching for her Coke.

  We were interrupted by a guy coming to the bar, and she went off to serve him as I sat there and watched the band, who by this time seemed to have settled into an impromtu jam session. Leo was sitting next to them on the edge of the stage now, also with a guitar, playing something slow and soulful that I didn’t recognise. He was good. Really good. He was hunched over the guitar, concentrating, his eyes closed, blocking out his surroundings. I couldn’t play an instrument to save my life, but I recognised passion when I saw it. One of the guys in the band was playing bass next to him. It was a rolling, acoustic piece, but the impact was undeniable. They had me, and the handful of others who were still there, in the palm of their hands.

  “What are they playing?” I asked, as Sass finished serving and came back down my end of the bar.

  She glanced in their direction only briefly, leaning her hip against the bar and picking up her Coke again.

  “It’s a Paolo Nutini song,” she said. “It’s called Numpty.”

  I shook my head, clueless.

  “Never heard of him.”

  “He’s a Scottish singer/songwriter. He plays with a band called The Vipers. It’s a long story, but the short version is that one of the band members was in this other band with Leo, before The Vipers. They’re still friends, and they keep in contact.”

  Her expression was an odd mixture of sadness and pride.

  “What’s the long version of that story?” I asked, curious.

  She ducked her head, avoiding eye contact, and I took the hint. She didn’t want to talk about it.

  “It’s too long for this time of night,” she said. “Maybe another time.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I’d had a few beers, but I recognised a sore point when I hit one.

  Leo’s voice filled the room, and we both turned our attention to the stage, as did the rest of the bar. His voice was smooth, like a good whisky, full of body and soul, sliding through the notes with ease. He sang about responsibility and not being ready for it, which was weird because I saw how he was when his wife and daughter had come in earlier. He was clearly a family man. He and I were poles apart, yet I found myself identifying with the lyrics of the song so strongly, it momentarily removed me from my perch at the bar and took me somewhere else.

  When they finished, it was to a chorus of applause and loud encouragement. Admittedly, we’d all had a fair bit to drink by that stage, but that didn’t diminish the effect it had on me. If anything, it magnified it.

  Coming out of the spell the song had cast over me, I turned back to Sass, only to find she’d gone. Again.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Lose your dreams, and you might lose your mind.”

  – Mick Jagger

  Sass

  I wish I could say that I don’t know what came over me, but that would be a lie. It was my old nemesis jealousy, burning inside me, making me shake all over, barely allowing me to catch a breath. I don’t remember leaving the bar, but when I came back to myself, I was in the store room, close to hyper-ventilating.

  Five things… five things… five things…

  The walls began to close in on me and my heart felt like it was going to explode. My vision dimmed to the point where I could barely see anything, and a new wave of panic crashed through me. All I could hear was a buzzing that felt like it was coming from inside my brain, a thousand metronomes of misery that blocked everything else out.

  “Sass?”

  I looked up through the haze to see Leo standing in the doorway. I couldn�
�t remember sitting, or falling, but I was on the floor nonetheless. He sat down beside me and tried to draw me into his arms.

  “Don’t!” I croaked, pushing him away.

  I didn’t want to push him away. I wanted to pull him closer and hang onto him and not let him go, but that felt like cheating, like giving in. I had to control this. It was my problem, not his.

  “Breathe,” he said, and I caught the urgency in his voice, even through the buzzing that filled my head.

  I was holding my breath and I didn’t even realise it.

  I wondered fleetingly how long it would be before I passed out. Maybe passing out would be better.

  No!

  I finally took a breath, and I felt like I’d climbed a mountain.

  “Just breathe,” Leo said, rubbing my back.

  I did as I was told, and each shallow breath came a little easier. My vision returned to normal, and the thunder in my ears died down.

  “You’re okay.”

  I nodded, unable to find the words. He pulled me into a hug and I sank into him.

  “What brought it on this time?”

  A shudder went through me, taking my entire body hostage again, if only for a few seconds.

  “Talk to me,” he said firmly. “Talking about it helps, remember?”

  I disagreed. Talking about it killed me, but I also knew that in my current state, I couldn’t trust myself to make that kind of decision. I tried to reason with myself. Leo wouldn’t lie to me. If he said talking about it helped, then it must help. But where did I begin?

  I saw him sitting with the band, playing, and I knew that I would never do that again.

  Never.

  It was such a heavy word. It weighed so much, sometimes I thought it would suffocate me. It was final. It wasn’t a maybe or a possibly. It sucked out hope and replaced it with a hollow emptiness that gnawed at my chest.

  What was worse was the sense of failure that flooded into the vacuum. I promised myself I wasn’t going to do this to Leo. I promised myself I was going to help him for a change, instead of the other way around. He couldn’t do this without me and I owed him. He wasn’t asking me for much, just to be there and fulfil my end of the bargain, but at that moment it felt like he was asking for the world, and I couldn’t possibly deliver.

  I didn’t want him to stop playing because of me, but watching him tore me up inside. I could see how much he loved it, and I knew it was as much a part of him as it had been a part of me. He couldn’t separate himself from it, it wasn’t possible. It wasn’t something you chose to love, and it wasn’t something you could choose to let go of. It had to be taken from you, like it had been taken from me, although in my case I had taken it from myself. It was my own fault, and the sting of that loss was worse because of it.

  I was naked, standing in a cold new world, stripped of who I was and unable to do what I loved.

  “If this is too much for you, just tell me,” he said.

  I looked up at him, the numbness slowly ebbing out of me.

  “I’m serious, Sass. If this is too soon, I get it. I thought it would help, but now I don’t know. I just know that I needed to do something to –“

  He swallowed, hard, and there were tears in his eyes. I’d done that to him. I’d made him feel inadequate and desperate. Shame bloomed inside me, spreading its tentacles like poison. I couldn’t let him feel that way. I’d get my shit together. I had to.

  “No,” I said, pulling away slowly, my body still trembling. “It’s not too soon, and it’s not your fault, none of this is. It’s just me. I have to try harder.”

  It was the truth, and it hurt because I knew trying harder was going to take everything I had left, even though it wasn’t much. Maybe it wasn’t even enough.

  “We should get back out there,” I mumbled.

  Oh God – Callum!

  “Relax, it’s okay. I’ve already locked up.”

  I looked up at him, not sure I’d heard him correctly.

  “What?”

  “It’s been half an hour, Sass. Everyone’s gone, I saw to it myself.”

  No. No, it was just seconds – minutes, at the longest. I shook my head to free it from the cobwebs that cluttered up my brain.

  “It’s okay,” he said gently.

  It wasn’t okay. It was the opposite of okay. I’d done the one thing I’d promised myself I wouldn’t. Tears burned my eyes.

  “I’m sorry… “

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” he said, drawing me close again.

  I held on to him. Suddenly, I was exhausted.

  “I’ll try harder,” I whispered again. “I promise.”

  He pulled away, taking me by the shoulders and fixing me with that determined, steely gaze, the one that reminded me of Dad.

  “Jesus, will you please stop saying that?” he said. “You’re not super-human, and you’re not fooling anyone, least of all me. It’s gonna take time – you know that, right? But you’re getting there, and that’s the main thing. Tonight was tough, but you did it. You were awesome – you handled it. Take the victory, it’s yours, you deserve it.”

  I huffed out a breath, shaking my head. No I didn’t. The fact that I let a panic attack get the better of me proved that.

  “Hey,” he said, giving my shoulders a squeeze, drawing my attention back to him. “It’s a marathon, not a sprint, remember that. Think back to six months ago. See how far you’ve come. You can’t expect to just bounce back, you’ve got to give yourself time. Some things might seem impossible now, but just take a look at your boots.”

  We both looked down at my black, lace-up biker boots. My favourite boots in the world. The ones I’d recently started wearing again because I’d figured out how to lace them myself. I looked up at him, and he winked at me.

  “See? Not everything’s as impossible as you might think.”

  I nodded dumbly.

  “And it’s okay to ask for help, too. You’re not invincible. None of us are.”

  My heart raced. No, I wasn’t invincible. I was full of doubts and insecurity, with holes in my soul and pieces of myself missing. I was the opposite of invincible.

  “You’re tired,” he said, pulling me close again. “It was opening night – probably the busiest night we’ll ever have. It’ll get easier though, I promise. Everything’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  I wanted to believe him so badly it hurt.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “There are two ways you can go with pain: You can let it

  destroy you or you can use it as fuel to drive you.”

  – Taylor Swift

  Sass

  “I think Gemma should take your shift tonight.”

  I must’ve looked as deflated as I felt.

  “You need to get some rest, Sass.”

  Leo was right, but I still felt like I’d let him down. I couldn’t help it. They needed me to be more than just a live-in babysitter. I hated feeling so useless, like I couldn’t be trusted with anything important. It wasn’t just my disability, it was my mental state.

  I threw myself into proving to them, and myself, that I could do better. I made dinner for the first time in a long time. I hated being in the kitchen. I wasn’t a fan of cooking before, and was even less so now. I wanted to take my prosthesis off because I found it easier to work without it, but I knew how awkward that would make Leo feel. Instead, I perservered.

  Gemma had rigged up a chopping board especially for me, with nails poking out of it so I could hold things still while I chopped or peeled. It was a lifesaver. Even though things seemed to take so much longer, and I found my patience wearing thin at times, I stuck with it.

  I put half of the simple, but hopefully tasty, pasta into a container for Leo and Gemma to take into the bar and eat later, and saved the other half for Aria and I. It felt good, to do something helpful.

  Aria and I waved goodbye to them, then we sat down to watch some TV. Saturday night, and I was babysitting my neice. It was about as far from my fo
rmer life as it could get.

  After dinner, I bathed her, which was a lot easier than the dinner hurdle, because it was only Aria and I in the house and she didn’t care when I took my prosthesis off. When I settled her into bed, she chose a book and I lay down beside her to read it. Then I read another one. When she asked for a third book, I had to draw the line.

  “Remember our two book rule?” I reminded her.

  She sat up in bed and gave me her best doe-eyed look, but I wasn’t falling for it.

  “Please, Sassy?” she begged.

  “Sorry, Doodlebug. I’m beat and you need to sleep too. If your Mom finds out you were up this late, I’ll be in big trouble. Tell you what, how about you choose a book and we’ll make that book number one tomorrow night, okay? Just so we don’t forget.”

  She didn’t look totally convinced, but thankfully she climbed down off the bed and went to her bookshelf to choose another book. Her finger went along the titles as if she was looking for one in particular, and it made me smile. I’d seen Leo do the exact same thing. They were like two peas in a pod sometimes.

  “This one!” she announced, after scrutinising the cover for a few seconds.

  She handed it to me, and I put it on her nightstand.

  “Excellent choice. So that’s something to look forward to tomorrow night, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, smiling, and climbed into bed again. I tucked her in and kissed her goodnight, and she gave me a tight hug. Her hugs were always tight, like she was afraid if she didn’t hug me tightly enough I wouldn’t stay. My heart swelled.

  I turned her night-light on, turned the bedside lamp off, and left her to it.

  “Leave the door open!” she called, as I was about to close it.