Sliding Down the Sky

by Amanda Dick

  “Morning,” he said, in that annoying way that morning people, like him, have of getting under the skin of non-morning people, like me.

  “You’re up early,” I said, semi-accusingly.

  I could see the peace and quiet I was longing for disappear in a cloud of smoke. Luckily, he had a freshly-brewed pot of coffee to make up for it, so I found it in my heart to forgive him.

  “Gemma’s turn to sleep late,” he said, pouring me a coffee as I slid into a chair at the table. “Thought I’d get some coffee into me before Aria wakes up.”

  I rested my left arm in my lap, for his benefit, not mine. At least the coffee was strong, and hot. Gemma tended to make her coffee a little weaker than I would’ve liked, not that I’d have told her that. I wasn’t a complete monster, not even in the mornings.

  Leo slid into the chair across the table from me, bringing his full mug with him.

  “So,” he said carefully. “Tell me about last night.”

  I gave him the hardest stare I could muster, which must’ve been pretty good because he sat back in his chair and took a sip of coffee, suitably chastised.

  “You know the drill,” I said, reiterating in case he thought he was being funny. “No chit-chat over morning coffee.”

  This elicited a small smile, but he nodded in agreement anyway.

  “Fair enough. I can wait.”

  That lasted about four and a half minutes, give or take. He got up, went into the kitchen and made toast, which he brought back for the both of us, setting it in the middle of the table.

  I reached for a piece, nibbling on it.

  “Well?” he asked, grabbing a piece of toast and tucking into it enthusiastically. “Last night? Callum? What happened?”

  “It’s weird, you know that right?” I said, between mouthfuls.

  “What’s weird?”

  “Having this conversation with you.”

  “Why is it weird?”

  “You’re my brother!”

  “So?” he frowned. “Just because we’ve never talked about this stuff doesn’t make it weird – just different.”

  I took another bite, chewing slowly. Different. Maybe I should’ve had that tattooed on my forehead, instead of the mystery that was on my right arm.

  “You’re thinking. That’s a bad sign.”

  “Ha-ha. You’re hilarious, especially first thing in the morning.”

  “No, I mean it,” he said, ignoring my blatant sarcasm. “You think too much. Pretty sure I’ve told you that before. So what happened last night?”

  I took a sip of my coffee and stared at what was left of the toast in my hand, suddenly losing my appetite.

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I don’t know what happened. It was fine, then it wasn’t, then it was… then we kissed, and… I don’t know anymore.”

  He had the good sense not to tease me. I think he must’ve been able to see that I was already precariously balanced.

  “Do you like him?”

  That was half the problem. I nodded, like a schoolgirl, but hopefully with a bit more decorum.

  “And he obviously likes you… “

  I nodded again, a bit more reluctantly. He frowned, setting his coffee cup down on the table and refilling it from the pot in the middle.

  “So, at the risk of sounding like an idiot, why the long face?”

  I shrugged, leaning back in my chair.

  “I don’t know. I just keep wondering… why me, y’know? And what the hell am I supposed to do now?”

  He gave me the look, the one Dad had patented. The look that said ‘Yes, I understand where you’re coming from, but your thinking is fundamentally flawed.’

  I wasn’t waiting for the follow-up lecture.

  “I mean, I’ve never done this proper relationship thing before. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. And he… he’s just not what I expected – at all. He’s… I think there’s something wrong with him. He doesn’t seem at all phased by this.”

  I lifted my left arm for emphasis, the long sleeve of my robe hanging over the end of my stump, as if illustrating the problem. I let it fall into my lap again.

  “Which is weird, because everyone else is. I mean it should bother him, right? It should make him pause at the very least – that’s normal – but he just doesn’t seem to care. And then… he’s got this depth, this whole other side to him that completely blew me away last night, and now I don’t really know… anything, to be completely honest. I don’t know anything. About anything.”

  I took a sharp breath in, then let it out slowly. I sounded like a madwoman. Maybe I needed to go back on the meds.

  “Did any of that make any sense?” I pleaded.

  To his credit, Leo kept his cool, even in the face of my tirade, which had left me feeling hot and bothered.

  “Some of it,” he said slowly.

  “And? Any advice? Because I’m way out of my league here.”

  “Advice? I didn’t hear any questions.”

  I shot him a filthy look, but he smiled and that made me feel like even more like a complete moron.

  “I just… I feel completely lost. I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said in a small voice, fixing my gaze on my coffee cup.

  I also felt sick. Completely sick and completely lost. That pretty much summed me up.

  “You’re scared.”

  I looked up at him. How did he do that? Delve in, read between the lines? Was I that transparent?

  “And that’s normal. That happens when you really like someone.”

  “But, I –“

  “You can’t plan this stuff. It just happens. The best thing you can do is just go with it, let it happen, see where it takes you. Take each day as it comes.”

  I shook my head.

  “I can’t. I have to know what’s going to happen – I have to plan, it’s the only way I can deal with everything.”

  “Well, then you’re shit out of luck because that’s not gonna happen here. You can’t plan how well you’re going to get on with someone, you can’t plan a connection like that. You can’t know ahead of time whether you’re gonna fall in love, or not fall in love – depending.”

  “No,” I said stubbornly, sitting forward to make sure he really heard me. “You don’t understand. I can’t do that. I can’t just be impulsive anymore – that’s when it all turns to shit for me. I have to think ahead, plan things out.”

  “You can’t plan love. It just happens. All you can do is hang on for the ride.”

  I stared at him dumbly, but he just shrugged.

  “There are no rules, no guidelines, no gameplan. You just have to take it as it comes. You have to wing it, Sass, you can’t do it any other way. You just have to stand on the edge of that cliff and jump.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “The past is a stepping stone, not a millstone.”

  – Robert Plant

  Callum

  Once again, the weirdness factor was high. There I was sitting around outside, at Tom’s house, with old friends and new. It was like I’d found a rip in the space/time continuum. I looked one way, and there was Ally and Jack, talking animatedly to Gemma. I looked the other way, and Sass and Leo stood at the barbeque. I looked straight ahead and Aria was sitting on Gemma’s lap, watching all of us.

  I wondered what Tom would make of it. Part of me still imagined he might be in the kitchen, marinating his famous steaks. Just out of sight, but not far away. It was kind of comforting. All the talk last night of my Dad made me miss Tom even more. He was the father I wished I’d had. I didn’t even feel guilty about it anymore. If nurture really did win over nature, maybe I had a shot at being a decent human being. If not, I was royally screwed.

  I took another swig of beer and my gaze wandered back to Sass, who had her back to me. She had barely said two words to me since we arrived. In fact, she looked like she was avoiding me, which was not a good sign. I thought everything was okay between us last night. We kissed – and she didn’t h
old back, not after the first time. So what was going on? I could see that a little one-on-one was needed to clear the air, only she seemed to be stuck to Leo like glue so I’d clearly have to wait my turn.

  I finished my beer and got up to get another.

  “Anyone want another drink?” I asked, on my way to the kitchen.

  A chorus of ‘no’s followed me through the door. I grabbed another beer from the fridge, and as I stood there debating my next move, Leo appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Hey,” he said, going straight for the fridge. “Everything alright?”

  I wanted to say no, that his sister was giving me a wide berth for no apparent reason, but I managed to keep a lid on it.

  “Fine. You need another beer?”

  “No, I’m good thanks. Just need to grab the onions.”

  He closed the fridge door and stood there, a bowl of sliced onions in his hand.

  “She told me about last night,” he said tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure he should be saying anything.

  I nodded, not really sure what she might’ve told him, but playing it cool just in case. I braced myself for the speech – the ‘stay away from her’ speech. I’d been expecting it. It was only natural. I knew how close they were and I knew a little of what she’d been through. If the situation had been reversed, I’d be giving it myself. Hell, I’d given a version of it to Jack when he came back for Tom’s funeral, even though that seemed like a lifetime ago now.

  “Did she?” I hedged, taking a sip of beer to fortify myself.

  “Don’t worry,” he smiled, throwing me off. “I’m not gonna come over all heavy or anything. That’s not really my style.”

  Well, that was a surprise. Although knowing Leo as I did, it shouldn’t have have been. He seemed to have the patience of a Buddhist monk, which was the main difference between us.

  “I’m just gonna say this one thing, then that’s it – what happens next is between the two of you,” he said, the smile disappearing.

  I nodded, waiting.

  “Go easy on her.”

  I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. If that was me, I’d have said that he should watch his back, because if he hurt her, I was gonna bury him so deep, even Google wouldn’t be able to find him. It must’ve been written all over my face.

  “You were expecting more? Maybe a threat or something? I get it. It’s tempting, I won’t lie. She’s been through a lot of shit this past year, and she’s still going through it. Maybe she’ll be going through it for a long time to come, there’s no way of knowing. So just so you know, I’m trusting you. It’s a leap of faith. You treat her well, even if it doesn’t work out between you, and we won’t have a problem.”

  I nodded again.

  “You have my word,” I said, painfully aware that meant nothing to anybody but me. “I like her, man. I like her a lot. I don’t want to hurt her.”

  It was his turn to nod, and I could feel him mentally weighing my words, trying to decide whether or not I was telling the truth.

  “Good,” he said finally. “Then we’ll leave it at that. You think you could see your way clear to giving me a hand with the barbeque?”

  “Sure.”

  My heart was still racing as I followed him back outside.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “We have a choice every day, between fear and love.”

  – Melissa Etheridge

  Sass

  I avoided the meat, instead loading my plate with easy-to-eat salads and bread, which was more than enough of a meal considering my stomach had been churning all day. I waited for someone to make a comment but no one did, although I saw Leo throw me a confused glance. I stared back at him, mentally explaining about the meat-cutting minefield. I think he got it, certainly enough to not embarrass me and say anything aloud.

  We sat around outside, eating and talking, as the sun finally began to set. Callum stayed close to me, but we kept any conversation polite and to a minimum. I could tell he was confused. We needed to talk, but finding the right time and the right words wasn’t easy, especially not with everyone watching us so closely.

  Aria took it upon herself to change all that.

  She had been fascinated with Ally’s wheelchair all night. It took her a while, but she finally made her way over to her, standing beside her and handing her a paper napkin. It seemed to serve like a peace offering of sorts, or maybe a conversation starter. Either way, as soon as Ally took it from her, it opened the floodgates.

  Ally must’ve noticed her looking at her chair, and she handled it brilliantly.

  “You can touch it if you like,” she said with a smile. “It’s okay.”

  Aria didn’t wait for a written invitation. She touched the rim nearest her, then the wheel, running her fingers over the spokes as she got down on her knees.

  “What is it?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  “It’s called a wheelchair. Have you seen one before?”

  Aria shook her head.

  I saw Ally and Jack swap a quick glance, but I could tell Ally was comfortable with the line of questioning. Gemma looked like she was about to intervene, but I silenced her with a look. Aria was a smart kid, and Ally was handling it her way.

  “Like a pushchair?” Aria asked innocently.

  Ally nodded.

  “Yes, exactly like that.”

  Aria looked around at the rest of us, as if wondering where our wheelchairs were, and how come she’d never come across one before. Then she turned back to Ally and asked her favourite question.

  “Why?”

  To her immense credit, Ally didn’t miss a beat. I couldn’t imagine how much strength it would take to simplify something as life-changing as what she had been through for the mind of a three-year-old, and in front of a bunch of adults she hardly knew as well. I was in awe of her courage, but it made me feel like even more of a coward, and I consciously tucked my left arm into my side lest it should encourage some kind of sharing session that I was ill-prepared for. I felt Callum shift in his seat beside me, but I didn’t dare look at him.

  “Well, I had an accident a few years ago, and now my legs don’t work anymore. I use my wheelchair to get around.”

  Aria looked down at Ally’s legs, processing the information while we all held our breath. Then she nodded.

  “I have a ride?”

  Of course. She had to try on my prosthesis when I showed it to her, too. I guess, to her, it made sense that she try out Ally’s wheelchair.

  Ally held out her hand, smiling.

  “Sure. Climb on and I’ll take you for a spin.”

  Aria grinned as Jack helped her climb onto Ally’s lap, before they headed away from the table towards the kitchen. Aria sat in her lap, prim and proper, a huge grin on her face as if she were on a ride at the fair.

  Watching them together, I should’ve been inspired by her story and by her attitude, but instead all it made me feel was empty. I couldn’t imagine being that strong. She didn’t even really know us, and yet she seemed so relaxed about talking about her accident, the injury and her wheelchair. I couldn’t even listen to her without wanting to hide my prosthesis, I sure didn’t want to talk about the accident or wave my arm around like some kind of after-dinner entertainment. I felt sick just thinking about it.

  Desperate for an excuse to escape, I picked up my plate and headed inside. I slammed it on the kitchen counter and tried to breathe evenly, all the while talking myself down. I was jealous. That’s what it was. Jealous that she had the strength to own her injury, to face up to it, and I didn’t. What was I doing wrong? Why couldn’t that be me? Where on earth was I going to find strength like that?

  “Hey.”

  I didn’t even hear Callum follow me, but when I turned around he was standing in the doorway, watching me.

  “Hi.”

  I turned my back on him, picking up my plate and rinsing it in the sink.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  Such bullshit, bu
t what else was I going to say? Suddenly, the water turned hot and I dropped the plate with a muffled curse.

  “Shit,” he said, at my side in a flash. “Here, hold it here.”

  He turned the cold water on and shoved my hand under the stream. The relief was instant, although it didn’t help my mood. He was too close to me, his body blocking me from behind, his hand still holding mine under the water. I could smell him, his personal scent a peculiar mix of engine oil and cologne. It drove me wild, and also ripped me open.

  One minute, I wanted to cry. The next, I wanted him to kiss me. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “Promise me something,” he said huskily, his face so near mine.

  I didn’t want to promise him anything. My first instinct was to say that, but I fought it because I was curious.

  “Promise me you won’t lie to me anymore, no matter what,” he said, his other hand slipping between my arm and my body and settling on my hip. I could feel it burning through my jeans, right through to the skin. I had visions of last night, of how gentle his hands were. They fascinated me. Despite their size, and rugged outward appearance, they were tender, careful. I was beginning to think his hands were a metaphor for his personality.

  His breath fanned against my neck. I had no idea if he was doing it on purpose or not, but it made it nearly impossible to draw a steady breath.

  “When I ask you if you’re okay,” he continued, his breath igniting the fire inside me, the one I’d thought was long since dead. “Don’t lie to me and say you’re fine when you’re not. I might be a lot of things, but I’m not an idiot. Let’s make a pact, right now. Just the truth from here on in. Okay?”

  My heart thundered in my ears. Part of me wanted to fidget and pull away and get some space between us, because I’d almost convinced myself that’s what I needed. Space, room to breathe, to move, to think.

  Another part of me wanted him to kiss me, just like he had last night, because that’s what made me forget everything else. That’s what made me feel like a real person, like a whole person.