Close To Falling

by Paige P. Horne

“Okay,” I agree softly.

  “Okay?” he repeats as if he isn’t sure he has heard me right.

  “Yes.”

  Smiling, he looks around the room. “So, since that’s settled and we are now back to being friends and all, I’d say you need some help with this.”

  “Sure.” I wipe my hands over my thighs and stand. Grabbing the scissors and the bubble wrap, I hand them over to him while I pick up the art pieces and set them down on the couch. We talk and work at the same time, catching up on everything.

  “What have you been doing with yourself?” I ask.

  “I build furniture,” he tells me.

  “Furniture?”

  “Yeah, I have my own store downtown.”

  “Really?” I’m not trying to sound disbelieving, but I mean, River building furniture?

  “Yes, B, really.”

  “I’d like to see it sometime.”

  “Okay.” He looks around. “You’ve been busy with all of this?” he asks, changing the subject.

  “Yeah. When I got out of rehab, I enrolled in a local art college,” I tell him. “I guess I’ve always had the talent, but taking classes really gave me a better perspective of art and what all I could do with it.”

  “You’ve always been great at drawing. Your dad was, too, if I remember correctly?” He forms it into a question.

  “Yes,” I confirm. “He was an architect.”

  “Right.” He nods, grabbing the tape.

  I tell him more about school, the people I met there, graduation, and what I did when I was finished with it all. Sarah comes up, and I tell him how she and Landon were introduced. We talk about my therapist Ellie and her wife Sam. I notice him looking at me with wonder a few times, and I realize I haven’t shut up so he can tell me about his life.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, embarrassed. “I haven't even given you a chance to speak.”

  “Another time,” he says with hope in his voice. I nod and look over his face. He has changed so much, yet he is still the same River Dawson I’ve always cared for. I look at the clock on the far side wall. It’s getting late.

  “Well, I better head home. I need to get to work on some new pieces. I have another show coming up in a few months, and Sarah will have my ass if I’m not locked in my studio.” I look around the couch where I was seated, trying to remember where I put my pesky phone.

  “What are you looking for?” River asks.

  “My phone. I can’t ever keep up with the damn thing,” I reply as my eyes search around the room.

  “Well, you should."

  “Duh,” I say, bending down and looking under the couch. I lean back up and see he is watching me. His expression changes, and old-time feelings are written all over it, stirring something deep in my chest. River walks over to me, and I can’t move. I’m paralyzed and terrified. So terrified, I start to shake. He touches my hand, as his eyes look downward. His brows furrow, and when he looks up, I see pain.

  “This is so surreal, you know? You and I, in a room together, talking like we’ve seen each other every day for the last nine years.”

  “I know,” I say, looking down because his closeness makes me nervous and the look on his face hurts my heart.

  “Look at me, B.” I tilt my head up and let my eyes roam. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Maddie. I will never be able to,” he murmurs. “Sending you away… It changed me. You took a piece of me with you.” Tears fill my eyes because I felt the same way, and hearing those words lets me know I wasn’t alone. I hear a beeping sound, and I sniff as I look behind me.

  “That would be my phone,” I whisper, a little disappointed our moment is ruined by my stupid phone. I walk around him and make my way to the bar, remembering that’s where I put the damn thing. Lifting it, I look at the screen.

  I’m going to the gym in the morning, and then I’ll run by the gallery to grab the pieces. See you around ten?

  See you then.

  After I reply to Sarah,I look up at River. “I have to go.”

  “Yeah. Me, too,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. I give him an uneasy smile because things feel weird now. I grab the keys and make my way back around the bar. He walks to the door as I do, too, opening it and letting me walk out first. After locking it, I turn around, nearly bumping into him.

  “Oh, sorry,” I say, grabbing his chest and then quickly letting go. He looks amused at my clumsiness.

  “Can I give you a ride?” he asks, looking down at me. He is so close I can smell his cologne, and it makes my mouth water. It is late, and these heels don’t do well for walking a block.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “My truck is right over here,” he says. I follow him as he walks over and opens the door for me. I climb inside, and he shuts the door.

  “I literally live around the block,” I say as he gets in, too.

  “Okay, just point me in the right direction.”

  ***

  We pull up to my stoop, and I open the door. “Thanks for the ride, and for helping me back there,” I say, getting out.

  “Go to dinner with me,” River says out of nowhere.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m probably going to be working like crazy and then fall into a coma,” I say.

  “But you have to eat at some point.”

  I laugh. “Got me there.”

  “Come on. Friends eat together, right?”

  “Yeah,” I agree, looking down the street. “Where would you like to go?”

  “I’ll call you around six-thirty.”

  “Okay, let me give you my number.”

  “I’ve already got it.”

  “What? How?” I ask, but then realize. “Landon?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long have you had it?’ I question.

  “I’ve nearly called you a thousand times over the last few years, B.”

  “Wow, that long, huh?” I say, deadpan.

  “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know…”

  “It’s fine, River. I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I shut the door, not waiting for him to reply. Climbing the stairs, I slide my door open and head inside, thinking he has had my number all this time and didn’t try to reach out once. Not once. I toss my keys and phone onto the counter before walking to the bathroom. Removing my clothes, I slip into the shower and wash away the day.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  RIVER DAWSON

  The force of the door shutting tells me she is pissed. I get it. I would be, too, but what the hell was I supposed to say to her? I’m working a shit job, no better off than I was before prison? Fuck that. I wanted to be better when I talked to her again. I walk back down the stoop, grabbing a smoke from my pocket. At least I got her to agree to be friends. I laugh, fucking friends. This woman has no clue. Inside my truck, I grab my phone from my console, searching the name I’ve looked at more times than any other, but never called. I swipe left to leave a message.

  It’s River. Save my number.

  She doesn’t reply, probably already misplaced her phone again. I toss mine into the passenger seat and head home.

  ***

  After a restless night of sleep and a shower, I leave the house and head to the shop. Parking around back like always, I hear music and smell sawdust as I walk through the door. Rozz looks up from his work and turns the table saw off.

  “What’s up, man? How’d it go last night?”

  “Could have been worse. How’s the table coming for Mrs. Watson?”

  “Good. We’re on schedule.”

  “Cool. I’m going to go over a few orders I received yesterday,” I say as I make my way into the office. Sitting down, I move the mouse to wake the computer. I grab my pencil and tap it across the desk as I think about where to take Maddie. I mean, it’s just dinner with B, right? Just two old friends eating. Fuck, who I am kidding? I’m trying to get my girl back. I’ve got to make it nice. But Maddie would be happy with a six-pack and a
pizza. That’s old Maddie, though. I don’t know what the woman at the art gallery would want to do. I look back at my computer and see that Mrs. Watson put an order in for chairs. I’ll shoot her an email of the different design choices and then call her to make sure she gets it.

  After I hit Send, I look for her number on the bottom of the invoice and dial it. She answers on the third ring.

  “Mrs. Watson, this is River Dawson.”

  “Oh, hello, son,” she says.

  “I’m just calling to tell you I’ve received your order, and I’ve emailed you four different design choices to choose from.”

  “Okay, I’ll take a look and let you know by Friday.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, and then I get an idea. “Mrs. Watson?”

  “Yes?” she asks.

  “If Mr. Watson were to take you somewhere on a date, where do you think he would choose?”

  “Do you have a date?” I can tell she is excited, and I can’t help but grin at the woman old enough to be my grandmother.

  “Yes, Mrs. Watson, I believe I do.”

  “Do you know her well?”

  “I used to when I was younger, but time separated us for a while.”

  “Oh, dear, that doesn’t matter. A woman may grow up, but there is still a girl inside waiting for a chance to come out. Take her somewhere that reminds her of that. Those are the best kinds of memories, and you’ll be the one she is sharing them with.”

  “Okay, thank you,” I respond, giving her words some thought.

  “You’re welcome. I’ll call Friday.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply and hang up. I lean back in my chair and look up at the ceiling. We used to go to the beach all the time. Maybe she’d like a picnic there. I could replace the beer with wine and pack the thing we ate the most as kids—barbecue. I shoot Landon a text to see if Sarah knows what kind of wine Maddie likes, and afterward I sit up and go through the rest of my orders. Now that I have a plan, I can get some work in before this evening.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The wind from the ocean lifts my hair as I get out of River’s truck, and I smile.

  “I haven’t been down here in so long,” I tell him as I make my way around the truck.

  “Good,” he says, grabbing the basket from the back. He walks past me and takes my hand, not even thinking, I believe. I casually let go and rub my face.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry, B. I didn’t even think about it,” he says, running a hand over his head.

  “It’s not a big deal.” But now things are a tad awkward. “What did you bring to eat?” I ask, looking down at the basket in his hand and trying to lighten the mood. He looks over at me.

  “Every restaurant in the city went through my mind, but none seemed right. None seemed like us. So I thought about where we used to spend a lot of our time growing up, and the beach was it. And then I thought we’d have barbecue,” he says, setting the basket down and grabbing a folded blanket out of it. I grip the edges and help him lay it down before we sit on top and he unpacks the basket. We dig into the shredded barbecue after he removes the small buns. I’m wondering what we will drink until he pulls out a bottle of my favorite wine and uncorks it. I try not to smile, because I know he had to have called Landon. I didn’t drink wine back then.

  “This is nice,” I tell him as I look out at the water and eat my food. I take a sip of my wine and savor its sweet flavor. After we chat about nothing important, River puts the food up and I lie back on the blanket and look at the sky. I watch as the sun slowly sinks, changing the colors from royal blues and hot pinks to dark gray. It disappears completely, and the moon takes its place along with bright stars. River pulls out a lantern. “You thought of everything,” I say.

  “Well, I didn’t want us to be down here in the dark.” He lies down beside me. I look over at him and turn over on my side. Reaching my hand up, I rub his short hair.

  “When did you cut all of your hair off?”

  “A while back,” he says. His face is covered in a soft glow from the lantern, and his short hair is soft against my palm.

  “I like it.” I move my hand away and rest my face on the arm. “How did you get into the furniture business?”

  “You’re full of questions.” He smiles. I shrug.

  “I feel like we missed out on so many years together. Plus, I talked your head off last night about my life. I want to hear about yours.”

  “My buddy, Rozz, and I worked in the wood shop together my second year in prison, and when I got out, we kept in touch. I got some shit job, but I saved up everything I could and bought the shop. When Rozz got out, he came to work for me.”

  “Wow,” I reply. What else am I supposed to say?

  “Who knew I’d be making furniture?” he says, kind of laughing.

  “I always knew you’d be great, River,” I say with no smile on my face because I want him to know I mean it. “What did you do in prison?” I ask a moment later.

  “You don’t want to know all of that.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked,” I reply. He rolls over on his side, too, and his eyes roam.

  “You’re still so pretty, B,” he says, and I see he is changing the subject. I don’t reply, just stare back at this man I’ve known since he was a boy. He has grown up in front of me, always beautiful, but now he is breathtaking. His eyes change, and he doesn’t blink. I swallow. He leans in, but I look down.

  “River,” I say quietly. “Just friends, remember?” I look up at him. He turns his head out toward the water. The mood shifts, and I look back down at the blanket because I don’t like the disappointment on his face. How did we get here? How did we get to this awkwardness and tiptoeing around each other? Things used to be so much easier between us. So much more natural.

  “I better get you home. It’s getting late.”

  “Okay,” I reply, a little disappointed because I like spending time with him. Of course, I’d ruin a good moment, but I can’t go there with him again. Time is meant to move forward, not backward. We both stand and pack up the blanket.

  ***

  The ride back is quiet, and I feel shitty. He pulls up to the sidewalk, and I turn to look at him.

  “I really had a good time. Thank you,” I say, grabbing the door handle.

  “Sure, B.” He gives me a half-smile as he jumps out of the truck, and I do the same. He walks me up the stoop, and I grab my keys out of my purse. They jingle in my hand as I try to unlock the door. I’m nervous now, and I don’t know why. I turn to look at him as he slides his hands into his pockets. His lips are in a straight line, telling me he is not sure of what to do either.

  “I’ll see you later?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He bends down and kisses my forehead before he walks back to his truck. I watch him with my hand on the doorknob. “Go inside, B,” he says, and I do.

  ***

  The weeks pass by with me working in the studio constantly, trying to get ready for another art show. If I’m not cooped up in there, I’m spending time with River or being forced to go to art galleries. I’m actually being forced to go to one right now, and I’m ill about it, because Sarah has called a thousand times on her way over here telling me to hurry up and get ready. I haven’t got a thing to wear.

  “I’m wearing jeans!” I yell to her from my bedroom.

  “Wear whatever you like!” she hollers back.

  “Fine!” I say, ramming one foot into my pants leg. I do the same with the other and jump to pull them up. I huff, blowing my hair out of my face. “Why do I have to go to this again?” I ask, walking into the kitchen.

  “Because you need to be seen, Maddie. You have to make appearances to these kinds of things.”

  “I have two pieces I’m in the middle of, and I need to be working.”

  “Maddie, after this, you and your creative mind can come home and stay locked up in there for days for all I care.”

  “Well, I’m drinking,” I tell her.

  “You’re a grown woman.
Drink if you like.”

  “You’re drinking, too.” I hold out a beer for her to take.

  “Fine. I need one anyway, having to deal with your ass,” she replies, twisting the top off.

  “Good,” I say, taking a sip.

  ***

  I’m totally underdressed, but who cares. I make my rounds, talk with a few people, and wish I were somewhere else. I grab my phone out of my back pocket and search for River’s name.