Falling: A Love Story

by lesley,allyn

  I cover the snort that falls easily from my lips. “When’s the last time you came in here ‘bright and early?’” I air-quote him because what he’s just stated is ridiculous. “That’s been my job now for the last four years, since you gave me the Mechanic Department to run.” The man doesn’t roll out of bed until 11AM, and most days, I’ve already handled everything by the time I answer all his questions during our daily phone check-ins.

  My gaze flits around the table at my family as they each weigh in on this revelation.

  “You’re too young,” EC, the oldest twin by five seconds, declares.

  “I’m fifty-four, son.”

  “Can’t you wait another year or so?” JC, ever the optimist, wonders. “I mean, so we don’t fuc—um, I mean muck up your legacy.”

  “I’m glad you cleaned that up, Jackson Charles Sterling.” Ma levels him with a direct stare and points a finger his way. He reddens instantly before slouching down. She’s been using that same tactic for forever. You’d think it would no longer work because we’re all men. “And, that’d never happen. None of our sons will mess up your father’s legacy,” she says, playing her usual peacemaker role.

  “My family wouldn’t mess up. Never,” Chuck agrees, beaming at us.

  Biologically, I have nothing in common with the Sterlings, yet they’re the closest thing to a family I’ve had since MeMaw. Our journey to get here is kind of how my birthday began today: unusual. Right before my eyes, the conference room fades away, and I’m transported back to 2003.

  I’d been sitting on my ass for what felt like forever.

  “Does anyone have any questions?”

  I didn’t give a shit about whatever the hell the lady was talking about.

  “Mrs. Sterling, over here,” someone shouted, but I was too lost in my head to care about the conversation around me.

  I’d been in this hellhole called Blair Residential Center going on eight years. I was the center’s proud one-man member of the ‘leave me the fuck alone’ club, and at that particular moment, I’d have preferred to dig my eyes balls out with a dull knife or, at the very least, take my cranky ass back to my lumpy bed than listen to whatever nonsense this teacher was yapping on about.

  When I first went to the care of New York City’s Administration of Children’s Services (ACS) as a fresh-faced seven-year-old, a lot of staff had patted me on the head and told me I’d be adopted sooner than later. No one did. After a while, it was clear no one wanted a skinny white kid with issues like I had. I bounced around from one crappy apartment complex to the next with different foster families all over the Bronx until I’d had enough. The last foster parent was a bloodsucker who robbed ACS blind and treated me and the five other foster kids like shit. I wanted out of that jailhouse, so I acted up and broke things at her place on purpose. ACS sent me to Blair when they couldn’t place me with a new family.

  Now, at almost sixteen years old, I knew finding a family wasn’t in the cards for me. Nor did I want one. Fuck family.

  “Do you need help?” I heard a soft voice before a flowery scent floated over to me. Both made my head turn.

  Bending over another student in the back was the volunteer teacher. Above her head, the January snow stuck to the leafless tree branches, reminding me that I was in the fucking boonies, where I couldn’t hop on a bus or train as I liked. For someone who’d lived all his life in the Bronx, this place was a nightmare. Instead of the loud sounds of trucks passing by, beeping taxi horns, and random people shouting, all I heard now were crickets and silence. Death to a city boy like myself.

  “You got it. Yes!” the teacher squealed.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Sterling.” I didn’t recognize the voice, but whoever it was sounded happy.

  Last time I sounded like that kid was November 11, 1994, before MeMaw went and did what she did. A week later, ACS stepped into my life with a promise of finding me a family. All they’ve done was teach me how to use ‘fuck’ correctly and shoved pills my way to get me to talk.

  “Okay, if you’re all done with the page you’re on, please move to the next.”

  I heard footsteps, and realized the teacher was near me, but I kept my head down.

  “How about you and I work together?”

  My lips remained sealed. I hadn’t said a word to anyone in over nine years, and I wasn’t planning on saying shit ever again. Everyone thought I was slow, but I didn’t care. I had nothing to say, so fuck ‘em.

  “How about it? Do you want to work together?” She stooped, and I saw wisps of her brown hair.

  Looking up, I noticed her blue eyes. She stared at me, maybe expecting me to say something. I shifted around in the seat and gave in, nodding.

  “First, let’s open up this book.” She tapped on the cover, flipping it open. “You don’t say much do you?” she asked as she pulled out a chair and sat in front of me. “I’m Mrs. Sterling, but how about you call me Anna?”

  I saw her hand dangling there, waiting for me to shake it. I really didn’t want to, but I heard MeMaw in my head, nagging me to always be respectful. I wasn’t going to touch her fingers; instead, I cracked a tiny smile at her. I didn’t get why she was looking like she just hit the lotto.

  “Are you going to tell me your name?”

  My lips turned down.

  “Dyllan can’t talk,” a chatterbox near me said. “I heard his father cut his tongue out and—”

  “That’ll be enough of that. Why don’t you go back to your workbook?” Her tone told him to back off.

  I stewed silently in my anger. I would be repaying him for his “kindness” later on. But he did shut the fuck up and disappeared after that.

  “So, your name’s Dyllan?”

  I looked at her like she was crazy, because I knew she just heard the other kid mention my name. She gave me a little laugh that reached her eyes and somehow made me less cranky. After that, time went by fast, and she talked while I doodled in the margin instead of the work on the page.

  “Oh, my word, Dyllan.” She almost touched my hand, but I pulled away real quick. Even though she looked sad, she said, “This is great. Who is it?”

  She was nice and all, and hadn’t bugged me to talk, but I wasn’t going to tell her shit about me.

  “Dyllan...”

  I looked down, not believing what was on the paper. The sketch was of the most fucked up person I knew: my mother. Fucking Jessica Parker glared back at me, looking sad, distant, and higher than a motherfucking kite.

  A bell rang.

  “Well, that’s my cue, Dyllan.” She stood to leave. “It was real nice meeting you. Next week, I’ll have something special, just for us to do together.”

  I wasn’t going to hold my breath about her promise. Promises made to me by grown-ups got broken. Always.

  As I nodded my good-bye that Saturday, I had no idea my life was about to change. She kept her promise, and went a step beyond that one.

  “Dyllan, snap out of it, bro.” EC claps his hands.

  I blink a couple of times, coming back to the present as four pairs of blue eyes, in varying shades, look at me questioningly.

  “Son, did you hear me?”

  It looks like they’ve all been in some kind of discussion without me. “Refresh my memory, Chuck.”

  His eyes look hopeful but determined. “I said Sterling’s Auto Center belongs to you.”

  Say what now? Like a dummy, I repeat that shit. “Say what now?” I rise to my feet.

  “Dyllan...”

  I see his lips moving, but I can’t understand a word coming from his mouth. I back away from the table. “What about them?” I look in the direction of my brothers, who gaze back at me like I’ve said something stupid. “They’re older.” By a year but no one acknowledges that fact.

  “I don’t want to be in charge of shit,” JC all but shouts before yelping when Ma smacks the back of his head.

  “Watch that language,” she warns.

  “It’s still true,” JC says loud and cle
ar.

  “Well, I don’t want it either,” EC, Chuck’s namesake and the one I was sure would back me, says. Then I remember how fucking contrary my brother can be.

  I take another step away from the crazy people sitting around the table. Right now, the sane and rational family I’ve been a part of for the last nine years is nowhere to be found. “No.” A nervous chuckle leaves my lips; it’s all rushed and hasty. “No, thank you. I don’t want any handouts. You give that job to your sons!” I walk away quickly, heart pounding, slamming the door behind me.

  I need a cigarette. I feel my top pocket, and it’s flat. Shit. Of course, it is; I quit a while back, proving some shit to Chuck like a fucking fool. Damn it!

  I said I want you to take over Sterling Auto Center. I still can’t believe that man. That he asked that of me... of me.

  “Dyllan Sterling!”

  I don’t answer. I keep walking toward the back of the building.

  “I know you hear me,” Ma yells at my back as her heels click on the cement pavement, directly behind me.

  I don’t stop moving until I’m by the one spot on our ten-acre property where I think the clearest. The position of the July sun that shines brightly above tells me it’s a little before noon. In front of me is an empty shell of a building that once was Chuck’s pride and joy.

  “The first Sterling’s Auto Center.” Ma stands beside me.

  “Yeah,” I breathe out. The structure is less than one thousand square feet, and is more like a shack compared to the newer workspaces on our enlarged grounds.

  “Why do you come out here?”

  “To think, clear my head.” I gaze at the red stucco façade that dates the building about forty years. The old sign still hangs majestically above the entrance. Clarity strikes me as nostalgia about the structure resurfaces. This building is somewhat like me when I met the Sterlings. It’s small in size with an undefined purpose yet a lot potential. “Some of us have a different beginning than where we end.” I think back on my own start in life. Rocky. Unpredictable. Turmoil-filled followed by a blink-of-an-eye respite with MeMaw to have it all wiped clean. The Sterlings saved me.

  “You know he was so proud of this place when it opened back in ’86 after the twins were born.”

  Chuck’s said as much to me in private but I let Ma go on, somewhat drowning out the rest of her words when I walk toward the building with its chipped paint due to years of being battered by the Bronx’s winters. My fingers touch the front door, trailing over the doorjamb, and finally, turning the handle so Ma can walk inside before me. Stepping over the threshold, I see the tight space that once held a reception desk and acted as a waiting area. Now, nothing but bare concrete walls is all that’s here. Ma has a wistful look on her face, as if she’s in another time. The silence is killing me. I broach the subject like the man Chuck raised. “Ma, what do you want?”

  She spins around to face me. Her smile is just as beautiful as when I first met her, even with her being fifty-seven years old. “You know what I want.”

  Her tone and words force deeper frown lines onto my face. “No.”

  Leaning back on the dusty desk, with no regard for her expensive outfit, she asks, “And, why not? You’re the best choice.”

  “No, I’m not. This place should go to his kids. They deserve it. They went to college and all that shit...” I trail, regretting the slip of tongue with my curse word as she gives me a look. “Sorry,” I mumble.

  She accepts my apology with a nod, and then says, “You’re a good son. A great man, even though you hide it under a lot of other crap that you think I don’t know about.” I try my best to keep the surprise off my face even though I’ve always known that Ma and I share a connection that’s uncanny. “And, the best person to run this pile of rubble your father built.” Her approach toward me is subtle. “Heck, you’re already running it, Dyllan.” Ma envelopes me in her embrace, and my head drops to the crook of her neck since she’s only an inch shorter than me. I feel like the nine-year-old boy she met so many years ago. “Look at me, my son.” Her tone is melodic and the touch to my cheek is feather-light.

  “It’s just too much,” I tell her, picking my head up.

  “I may not have given birth to you like I did with your brothers, but Dyllan, you’re our son. Ours.”

  My eyes close, remembering the first day, right after my sixteenth birthday, when I came to my new home to live with the Sterlings. To think that day was only six months after I met Ma...

  Chapter Seven

  “Dyllan, I’m sorry we missed your birthday.”

  That was the first thing out of Anna’s mouth before she started the car and had begun driving away from Blair. But I didn’t get why she’d be sorry about a silly thing like my birthday. It wasn’t a big deal. The people at Blair got me a chocolate cake, even though I hated cake.

  “Do you accept my apology?”

  I nodded, knowing in my heart she hadn’t really missed anything special. It wasn’t like there was a party with gifts and singing and whatever else happened at those kinds of things.

  “Thanks, Dyllan.”

  Anna sounded like something heavy just came off her shoulders. Instead of looking her way, I focused on the vinyl above my head and the cloth material under my ass. I was so busy concentrating that by the time she spoke, I only caught the end of the bomb she’d dropped.

  “... your foster parents?” Anna adjusted her mirror and stared back at me.

  My palms got sweatier at her words. Foster parents? A loud noise that sounded like an incoming train rushed into my ears. All my case manager told me when I left Blair was that I’d be visiting a good home. I was surprised when Anna met me in the parking lot. No one had said shit about foster parents.

  My heart raced as the trees lining the edge of the road zoomed by, and that’s when I saw it. A green sign with bold, white letters that spelled out: Welcome to the Bronx. There was nothing welcoming about the damn Bronx. Shit went haywire right after my parents’ move from Long Island to the damn Bronx, or so I’d remembered overhearing Jess tell MeMaw.

  My mother went bat-shit crazy when my father died and left her alone with a newborn to raise in the Bronx.

  MeMaw left me alone in the Bronx.

  There was nothing welcoming about the damn Bronx.

  Maybe the Bronx Zoo, or so I’d heard. MeMaw was to take me if I finally picked up my grades. But, none of that ever happened, because she upped and left me.

  I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and prayed that whatever was tickling my throat didn’t come out. Looking like a cry baby would suck right now. But, nothing helped. I was close to losing my fucking mind. Anna pulled into a driveway and glanced at me through her rearview mirror again.

  “Are you okay?” She didn’t say anything for a long time. “I-if you want to leave and go back, well, I can take you back to Blair.” When I chanced a look at Anna, I swore she was about to cry. “Do you want to go back, Dyllan?” For the life of me, I didn’t get why she looked like she was about to lose a diamond ring or something valuable.

  I shook my head side-to-side just to get her to shut up. Right away, I mapped out a plan. She seemed nice and all, but I wasn’t staying here. She turned off the car. Out the passenger window, I saw a tall man with low-cut, wavy, gray hair, and two blond teens. All three of them walked down the driveway toward the car. I sunk low on the seat.

  “If you’re not ready, I’ll tell them to go away. But, your family is just really excited to meet you. I’ve told them all how special you are.”

  Special? Me? I tried out the word in my head, repeating it... family. I had one of those once until I didn’t anymore. The door opened up all of a sudden, and three faces with longish chins and sharp jawlines met me.

  “Hi.” This came from the kid who looked too serious.

  “Hey.” This came from the other one, with dimples like Anna.

  “Back up, boys. Let’s give Dyllan a minute,” the gray-haired man said, wrapping his
hands around his sons’ necks.

  This was my family? I had nothing in common with these three chatty, smiling people.

  “It’s now or never.” I jumped at Anna’s voice. When I looked her way, she was twisted around in her seat and smiling so big that I didn’t have it in me to tell her to turn the car around.

  I’d do the weekend, and then I was going back to Blair. Yeah. Letting out a long breath, I stepped out of the little, dark green car. She was fast as lightening, because by the time both my feet hit the blacktop, Anna was standing next to the man.

  She pointed to one kid. “Dyllan, this is Jackson Charles—”

  “JC,” he was quick to butt in. Mr. Serious.

  Anna smiled. “And this is Ellwood Charles—”

  “Ma,” he whined, dimples peeking through his cheeks as he spoke. “It’s EC. Just plain ol’ EC, man. We’re twins, but I’m totally the older, cooler one than this freak here.” He hit his brother in the ribs.

  EC grinned from ear to ear, but I didn’t get the joke, because they were all freaks of nature in my eyes.

  When I was still quiet, Anna cleared her throat. “Boys, this is Dyllan.”

  “Don’t forget me,” the man said, moving from his sons and sticking his hand out. “I’m Chuck, the one in charge around here.”

  I looked at his hand like it was poisonous and grabbed onto the door handle behind me even tighter.

  “Yeah, right,” the twins said at the same time before busting out laughing and slapping their legs.

  I ducked my head, feeling like an outsider, the real freak now.

  “Want to play some hoops, Dyllan?” Chuck pointed to the moveable basketball behind him. “We can finally play a real round of two-on-two.”

  “Chuck looked so proud, and you were over there crying but pretending you weren’t,” I tell Ma, coming out of my memory.

  “I couldn’t help it. I just knew that day in July my family was completed. But I was so nervous you weren’t going to stay.”

  “I wasn’t,” I admit. When she lowers her head, hearing my truth for the first time, I feel like shit. “But, I’m glad I stuck around.” Ma puts her head on my chest. “I just didn’t feel like I fit in. You all looked so perfect.”