The Upside of Falling Down

by Rebekah Crane

  CHAPTER 22

  “You did this on purpose,” I say. “You tricked me, and now I’m a casualty of your bad choices.”

  “I knew what I wanted, plain and simple.”

  We’re seated on a plane. I won’t look at the man next to me.

  “So it didn’t matter what you left behind. The girl you left behind. You sound like a spoiled asshole.”

  “I didn’t want her. She knew that. It never would have worked. I wanted you.” He grabs for my hand, his touch familiar. “That’s why I’m going back. To make it right.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, but . . . I’ll think of something.”

  “It’s too late for that. And you dragged me along for the ride. What did you think I would do when I found out? Did you think I’d actually stay with you?”

  “I didn’t want to lose you.”

  I yank my hand away. “I don’t want any part in this. I’m going back home the second we land.”

  My stomach drops, all of me drops in a moment of startling free fall.

  “Something isn’t right,” he says. “I smell fire.”

  “Nothing is right,” I say, more to myself. “I wish I’d never met you.”

  “You can’t get rid of me that easily. It doesn’t work that way.”

  We drop again, this time for longer, and when we settle, my head flies forward and hits the seat in front of me.

  “Are you OK?” he asks frantically. His hands cup my face, turning me toward him. Heat and pain sear through me. I should write his face into memory—etch it forever—his blond hair, his warm brown eyes, his hands that held mine for months. But I don’t want any of it. All I want is to forget him.

  “I can’t believe this is how it ends,” I say. “We’re broken before we ever hit the ground.”

  “If that’s the case, hold my hand,” he says. “At least, until the end.”

  He opens his palm to me. I don’t move toward him. Instead, my body lifts, like cresting over the highest roller coaster the moment before you fall toward the earth—that one second of weightlessness. But like everything else, it doesn’t last. The earth pulls you down. That is the nature of all things.

  I never find his hand.

  And we begin to fall . . .

  A scream rips loudly into my sleep and startles me awake. I sit up, my breath pinched and labored, my hand reaching out, grabbing for a person who isn’t there. Helpless. Like I’m swimming through darkness only to find more of nothing. Disoriented and sweating, I don’t know which way is up or down, which way to avoid a fall. It feels as though I’m locked in a corner of a room, and the floor will give out from under me. I’m pinned down, but frantic to escape.

  I pray for it to be over, for this feeling to go away, though I’m terrified it never will. I’ll be locked, chained to this forever. Nothing makes sense—the voices I hear—from people I can’t remember, even myself. It’s like hearing and feeling someone else’s emotions. I thought I was done with this, but it had only receded, hiding in the shadows, waiting for the wrong time to come back.

  Someone grabs me through the darkness. Hands wrap around my body. My heart slows down. This I know. This is real. I press my face into Kieran’s chest. The smell of him matches the smell of his sheets.

  “A nightmare,” I say, breathless. “It was just a nightmare.”

  I ball Kieran’s shirt in my fists. I want to erase this nightmare feeling from my mind and never remember it again. I pull Kieran’s face down toward mine, knowing the closer he is to me, the less space my ghosts have to haunt me. He’s my barrier, my distraction, right or wrong. I need him.

  I force my lips on his. It only takes a breath before Kieran lets me in, lets my tongue twist with his, my mouth starved for his attention. My hands grapple with his clothes and skin as I pull him down on the bed with me, letting the weight of his body ground me back in reality. Legs and arms tangle, and with each hurried breath, I feel further from my nightmare.

  My hands climb under Kieran’s shirt. I try to inch it off, but he moves, pulling me down on him. He can’t stop me now. We’re desperate for this. I know he feels it, too, and I won’t let him hold back, not anymore.

  I reach for the bottom of his shirt again.

  Kieran sits up on the bed, his breath fast. “Be absolutely sure, Bunny. We can’t take it back once it’s done.”

  The air in the bedroom is heavy and electric. Nothing bad lingers here. It’s all been pushed from sight and mind. Forgotten for better feelings.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then ask me to do it,” he says.

  My hands push his shirt up, feeling the warm skin beneath. I peel it from his body without hurry, every inch consumed. I toss the shirt to the side of the bed.

  “Your turn,” I say. Kieran eyes me from lips to waist, but he doesn’t move. His chest rises and falls. “This is me asking you.”

  The devious grin that I love so much returns to Kieran’s face. “Well . . . if you insist.” He grabs the bottom of my shirt, slowly pushing it higher and exposing my stomach. My heart races, but not out of nerves. Kieran pauses halfway up, as if he’s drinking in the moment as much as I did.

  The higher he moves, the more exposed I become. But I’m not afraid. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.

  Too soon, Kieran rids me of my shirt. His eyes travel the length of my body, but even then, he doesn’t move first. Inch by inch, slowly, I close the gap between us, until I see a scar on his shoulder that I haven’t noticed before. My fingers trace it. Kieran looks down at my hands on his skin.

  “What’s that from?” I ask.

  “Spelunking.”

  I move in closer and whisper in his ear. “So you have been spelunking.”

  Kieran nods into my neck, his breath on my skin. I find another scar on his side, along his ribs, and let my fingers drift down to his chest.

  “And this one?” I whisper in his ear.

  “Rock climbing.” Kieran’s mouth is warm on my hair.

  There’s one on his back, and I let my fingers dance along the raised skin.

  “Running with the bulls in Spain.” His words are barely audible.

  My hands travel down to the top of his jeans, my fingers edging their way beneath the fabric as Kieran sighs softly in my ear.

  “Any other scars I can’t see?” I unbutton the top of his pants.

  “Bunny . . . ,” he says in my ear. “I’m trying to be good.”

  I kiss the base of his neck, my lips following the line of his collarbone. Then I pull back and look in his eyes, my mouth inches away from his. “Can we have some fun instead?”

  A spark lights in his eyes that turns my whole body electric. “Since you asked so nicely . . .”

  The rest of the night is spent lost in a sea of sheets. We come up for air only to lose ourselves again beneath the surface. My dream disappears into the mist outside the window, hanging over Dublin Bay, the mist and my dream eventually making their way out to sea.

  CHAPTER 23

  The sun starts to rise, and Kieran lies next to me, asleep. The tension is gone. His breath comes naturally, the pull and push even. Peaceful. Watching him sleep, I realize how far we’ve come. For weeks, he was up before me, never letting me see him vulnerable. Always working. Always moving. Always helping. I realize now that he was avoiding me, but slowly that’s changed.

  I place my hand on his chest, needing to be convinced he won’t disappear. Even after the elation of the night, fear creeps its way into my heart—the familiar feeling that life can’t be trusted to work out as we think it will. I curl next to Kieran and push the feeling away—I’m used to it by now—and find a restful sleep.

  Sunshine pours in the windows of the apartment when I wake up later. My clothes are strewn about the room, and delirium still fogs my brain. A memory of Kieran’s lips traveling up my spine sends a wave of euphoria through me. I could wake up like this every day.

  I feel around the bed but can’
t find Kieran. Grabbing his shirt from the floor, I put it on and go to stand at the gigantic windows. The fear he’ll disappear isn’t there today. It seems nothing could ruin the ecstasy I feel this morning.

  Below, the water in the canal sparkles. People walk the streets. The city is laid out in front of me, all the way to the coast.

  I made it to Dublin . . . and it’s only the beginning.

  I watch the people below, walking with purpose, leading their lives. For weeks, I’ve been waiting for my life to start again, and now it’s here. I’ve made my choice, and it feels good. Better than good. It feels complete.

  A clock radio sits on the nightstand. I press it on, and a song comes through the speakers—an up-tempo pop beat with more bass than guitar. It matches the feeling inside of me right now. Alive. Vibrant. The day seems brighter than usual. The only clouds linger far off to the west. I feel like I’m floating. Like all that’s around me is new. The air. The sunshine. Me.

  When you’re floating, it’s impossible to fall.

  I turn up the music and sway my hips to the beat. When the song picks up pace, I do the same, bouncing on my toes and hopping around the room like a bubble that won’t pop. My arms soar through the air, riding an invisible wave. My head swings back and forth, messing up my hair worse than it already is. The music wails as I dance ecstatically. Shaking myself loose. Feeling the floor beneath me, my heart beating in my chest, my skin tingly.

  This is bliss.

  This is happiness.

  This is feeling alive.

  This is freedom.

  “Is that a popular dance move in America?” Kieran’s voice behind me. I turn around hastily, hair in my face, shocked, out of breath. “Don’t stop. I was enjoying the show immensely. Particularly the costume.”

  I grab the bottom of Kieran’s shirt and pull it down over my legs.

  He walks over to me, holding a hot cup of tea.

  “You’re not getting bashful on me now, are you?” He glances at the bed, a naughty grin on his face. “I think we’re past that point, Bunny.”

  And I think to myself: Thank God. Last night was real. It happened. I cannot, will not, forget it.

  “Good morning, Bunny.” Kieran kisses me on the cheek and hands me the cup.

  This is better than good.

  “So what should we do today?” I ask, my eyes connecting with Kieran’s and then hinting, not so subtly, toward the bed.

  But he steps back, shaking his head. “You need to see Dublin.”

  I move closer. “We have time.”

  “The weather is supposed to turn this afternoon, so we need to get a move on.”

  I close the gap between us. “You’ll be my tour guide?”

  He shrugs. “I thought I’d just put you on a Hop-On, Hop-Off bus for the day while I get drunk at the pub.”

  “So maybe you do have a drinking problem after all.” His eyes look unburdened, more alive than ever. “Hop-On, Hop-Off. Is that a bunny joke?”

  I stand on my tiptoes, my lips aching for Kieran’s, but he pulls back, a grin on his face like he knows he’s torturing me.

  “Tea. Shower.” Kieran backs out of the room. “We have things to see before the rain comes.”

  When he’s out of the room, I do one more wild dance move, shaking my hair in my face more and stifling a yelp in my throat. This feeling . . . this makes living through death worth it. I flop down on the messy bed, feeling the rumpled sheets under me, pressing my face into the pillow. A howl of glee explodes from my lips as I smell Kieran all around me. His sheets and shirt cover me. I never want this to end.

  But when I catch sight of my notebook sticking out of the back pocket of my jeans on the floor, my elation freezes.

  The thought of telling my dad that I won’t be going home with him, that I can’t, that my life is here now, scratches away a piece of my contentment. The longer I wait to tell him, the worse it will be. I’ve played multiple scenarios in my head—one where he slowly comes to know me as Jane, one where he visits and eventually begins to love me for who I am, not who I was. Whether he can do this is his choice. I didn’t ask to be someone I’m not, and I won’t do that to him. But my life belongs somewhere else now.

  I press my nose to Kieran’s shirt. Explaining what I’ve done—my past, my lies—won’t be easy, but I can’t focus on that right now. I came to Dublin to set Kieran free. Jane’s freedom can wait.

  It seems that every time I think I know where life will take me, I’m reminded that I really know nothing. People surprise you. Nature surprises you. Life surprises you.

  After a short drive outside of the city, Kieran pulls up to Dublin’s Weston Airport. Small planes are parked on the runway.

  “It’s a private airport,” Kieran says as we pull in through the gates. “My father uses it when he brings his plane over from London.”

  “You have a plane?” I try to keep my voice even.

  Kieran lets out a light laugh. “He owns a plane. I borrow the smaller planes here to log practice hours.” He must see the surprise on my face, because he says, “Just because I can’t actually be a pilot doesn’t mean I don’t pretend sometimes. Perks of being a rich kid. Flying planes is an acceptable hobby.”

  “Along with wrestling tigers.” I try to appear calm, though my insides are jumping.

  “And spelunking.” Kieran winks at me.

  “So when you said you were going to show me Dublin . . .”

  “Don’t worry, Bunny, you’ll see Dublin today,” Kieran says. “You’ll just get a bird’s-eye view.”

  My throat is beyond dry. Every time I swallow, it hurts. I manage to muster one word. “Grand.”

  We park and get out of the car, Kieran leading the way to a small plane parked on the runway. As my peripheral vision blurs, the sharp nature of this punishment becomes all too real. This is penance for all my lies. I can’t blame Kieran. He doesn’t know what happened to me. Dishonesty has repercussions, and this is just one in what I am sure will be a long line of them. The alternative—telling the truth—would bring everything to an end.

  I stretch out my shaking hands. “Kieran . . .”

  He turns to me, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, Bunny?”

  I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. My gaze drops to my shoes, the ones Stephen gave me weeks ago. I’ve walked as someone else for so long. How do I peel back the layers when, at the core, there’s nothing but a life I don’t remember?

  Kieran steps closer to me. He brings his hand to my chin and lifts my face toward his. When his lips press to mine, I can feel the hunger in him, and at the same time, his restraint, only letting himself go so far. If it’s my responsibility to move closer, so be it. I’ll take it on gladly.

  Kieran eventually brings his lips to my ear and whispers, “Is that what you needed, Bunny?”

  Yes. And more.

  “Tell me it’s going to be OK,” I say.

  His nose comes to rest on mine. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?”

  I nod, hypnotically. Kieran grabs my hand and pulls me toward the airplane. Any confession I had in mind leaves with the wind.

  “You’re more likely to die in a car accident on the way to the airport than in a plane crash,” Kieran says casually.

  I’m not sure what the likelihood is of being in another plane crash, but I was hoping I wouldn’t have to find out. The luck of the Irish clearly isn’t on my side today.

  We sit in the cockpit. The plane is only big enough for the two of us. Kieran messes with knobs and buttons as I sit with my hands knotted in my lap, trying to breathe through the anxiety. Kieran speaks into a radio, talking to someone on the other end, letting him know we’re preparing for takeoff. Then he turns to me. “I used to be desperately afraid of flying,” he says.

  I blink slowly, my eyes starting to speckle with stars. “How did you get over it?”

  “My father bought a plane and forced me to fly.” Kieran laughs to himself. “The pilot could see how scar
ed I was, so he took me into the cockpit and showed me how everything works. Planes are built to fly. He said, ‘A plane would rather be in the air than on the ground.’ It made sense to me then.”

  “Then why do they crash sometimes?”

  Kieran says, gently, “Because no one and nothing is perfect. Mistakes happen, but I won’t make any today. OK?”

  I nod tightly, and Kieran turns the ignition. The engine grumbles loudly as it starts, making me jump in my seat.

  Kieran pushes the throttle forward, and the plane begins to taxi toward the runway. I close my eyes and try to settle my beating heart, but I can’t seem to calm down. I’m two seconds from jumping out of the plane and confessing all my sins when Kieran places a hand on my thigh.

  I open my eyes to find him looking at me intently.

  “I’ve checked and double-checked everything. Now, we’re going to move fast down the runway because I need the plane to be at a certain speed to get off the ground. Then we’re going to lift off into the air and ascend until we’re at five hundred feet.” He speaks to me the way he did when he taught me how to surf. Direct. Strong. Knowledgeable. His tone comforts me. “That’s when you’ll hear me retract the flaps. It’s going to make a noise, but don’t worry. Once we’re at a thousand feet, we’ll level off. I have to pull back on the engine. You’ll hear it slow down. It’s just me reducing the power.”

  “And then what?” I say.

  “And then we just fly.”

  I sit back. The runway stretches in front of us.

  Past the fear is freedom, I say to myself. At this point, there’s no choice. “Just do it.”

  “Right.” Kieran presses the throttle forward, and the engine gets louder. We begin to move. “Remember to take off, you need speed.”

  The plane gains momentum down the runway.

  “Once I hit seventy-five miles per hour, we’re OK to lift off. Right now we’re at fifty . . . sixty . . .” I make fists with my hands and press them into my sides. I try to regulate my breathing, but it’s inconsistent and choppy. “Sixty-five . . . seventy . . . We’re almost there, Bunny. Are you ready?”