How I Fall

by Anne Eliot

  I was so embarrassed about how my CP storm had crippled me, that it took me some time to focus and hear how Cam’s mom closed in on me and was saying stuff like, “Well, just look at you, young lady. Do you think you’ve landed a big fish here, Miss Ellen Foster? How dare you all try to trick me last night. You must think I’m a complete fool. You most of all, Ellen Foster!”

  “I don’t,” I said. “I’m sorry…”

  Then Laura piped in, “I’m also sorry, Mrs. Campbell. It wasn’t meant to hurt your feelings. We’re all really sorry.”

  “I’m not in the business of having teen make-out parties in my basement! You all made a fool of me.”

  “We’re out of here, Mom. You’re making a fool out of yourself.”

  “Camden Campbell you better not leave this house. You are grounded. Grounded! How dare you lie to me! Trick me the four of you!”

  Cam, pulling me away from his mom said, “You just misunderstood. No one tried to trick you, and you saw us in the basement with your own eyes. We were all fully clothed and all was innocent. Nothing happened down there. We watched a movie that’s all. Now we’re going to do our photography project. You can ground me after the schoolwork is done. Okay?”

  Mrs. Campbell flipped out then shouting, “Don’t get too comfortable in my Cam’s arms, you sneaky little gold digger, because I’m about to make a long phone call to your mother! When Camden’s father gets home this evening, your—relationship—whatever it is or was, is over! Including the photography project so you better get it all done and over with today! If I see you near this house ever again, I’ll call the police. It’s why we’re in a gated community! To keep garbage and mooches off our streets. Understood?”

  That’s when Cam was actually dragging me toward the back porch because his mom was screaming in my face at that point, “And Ellen Foster, if you value your mother’s job and what pays your bills and keeps you living this luxury lifestyle with Mr. Nash as your private physical therapist, you’d better mark my words!”

  Then, Patrick started shouting at Mrs. Campbell, as did Laura and Camden—but I tuned all of it out. I could hardly stand at that point, even with Cam holding me up. How dare she threaten my mom! My mom—the nicest, most amazing person in the world and who’s had to pick up that horrible woman’s towels and washcloths for years—and all for me! Then a whole ton of terrible words that ended with: “Do you hear me, Cam? You have lost your mind with this ridiculous idea. OVER MY DEAD BODY will you date that Ellen Foster girl!”

  But I’m pretty sure she meant over my dead body, because murder is the last expression I saw crossing her face before Cam and Patrick got me to the golf cart and I closed my eyes against her horrible glare. I’ve never seen such hatred on a person’s face.

  I’d literally died.

  From the shocked and horribly sad look on Laura’s face, she’d also died. I wonder if there is such a thing as people being considered trailer trash in Ireland as well, or if that’s just one of those horrible Canada-USA vocabulary words?

  As for Patrick, I can only thank God for Laura, because while Cam was worrying over me, she’d somehow launched herself onto Patrick’s back just when Cam’s mom said those terrible last words to us. Everyone in our whole town knows Patrick lives in the trailer park. A really nice but very real trailer park. It’s the one the Golf Club Estates tries to convince our township to ‘clean up or shut down’ every single year so they can add in another nine holes onto their course.

  Laura had been whispering something in Patrick’s ears. Something good, and right, and enough to calm him down enough that he didn’t turn back and throw rocks at he windows or something.

  When all this settles, I’m going to have to ask Laura what she said to the guy because it must have been something amazing to keep his focus. No one calls Patrick trailer trash and gets away with it. No one!

  As Cam reaches the parking lot that leads to the sandy path down to the willow grove, he stops driving and turns toward me.

  “Say something to me. Please…something that’s positive?” He shakes his head. “If there is anything positive at all left to say at this point?” His beautiful face clouds heavy with doubt and sadness. A crease so deep above the bridge of his nose I’ve never seen before appears and those navy-gray eyes are glistening with apologies I do not—will not—let him make.

  “There is something. Something extremely positive in all of this.” I pull off my glove and press the crease in his forehead away and smooth my hand against his cheek. He leans into my hand and I see tears glistening at the edges of his eyes.

  “What is it, then?”

  “You aren’t at all like either of your parents.”

  It works to clear the breath I think he’s been holding, and he barks out a cynical but very sad laugh. Then he whispers, “No. I’m not like them at all—or—I strive not to be but…I don’t know. Ellen. I have their same temper. I lose it sometimes. I don’t know…I’m so…so…I’m so—”

  “No.” I move my hand over his mouth. “No! Don’t say anything bad about yourself. If you think you’re about to say the words ‘I’m sorry’ to me, I’m going to be the one losing it!”

  His brows go way up as I continue, “The only direction I want this conversation to go is if you meant to carry on and say again how you are still very much in love with me? And that you think everything is going to work out and be fine. Is that where you were going?”

  He nods, and I feel his lips twisting to a small smile behind my hand.

  “Okay then. Good.” I tighten my hand over his mouth. “Because that’s what we need to focus on right now. What we say to each other. Not what others just said, and not what people are going to say about us later. We can’t let anyone else—or anyone else’s words—enter into our heads. Do you agree?” I breathe out, moving my hand from his mouth when he nods. “So…I guess, my second positive here is that you said you loved me, right?”

  He nods again, pulling in a long, shaky breath.

  “So. Fine.” I swallow. “I didn’t say it last night but I—love you.”

  “You do?” He’s blinking all funny and the way he’s looking at me is making my head swirl with butterflies.

  I nod. “A lot more than I ever wanted to tell you, that’s for sure.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I suck at telling people my feelings—and so I was going to wait on that info-dump. But since you didn’t wait I won’t wait.”

  “Wow. And…yes-so-happy-right-now!”

  “Don’t sound so excited.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. Here we are with the world crashing around us, both of us in love, with zero experience on how to handle it and I feel horribly, terribly vulnerable.”

  “I don’t know how I can feel so happy, sad, scared and amazingly great at the same exact time, but I do.” He glances up to the sky as if he’s actually asking God that question, then he looks back down at me and smiles until every single eye crinkle has reappeared. “Do you feel the same?”

  I answer in a whisper, speaking more to myself than him. “I guess. Like butterflies mixed with being a hardly able to breathe feeling. Is that what you mean?”

  He nods, his voice growing all hoarse as he says, “But it will stick, right? With parents and gossip and the piles of bull we’re about to shovel, swear to me it’s going to stick. Because Ellen, if it doesn’t. If you change your mind…it’s going to bring me so low, I’ll never be able to get back up again without it—without you.”

  I try to laugh it off. “Please. You’re talking to the girl who falls down all the time. What about me? I’ll sink even further. Which is why it’s going to stick! It’s already stuck way back at that bonfire, or don’t you think I would be begging you to take me home right now?”

  My heart catches in my throat because
Cam loses his smile suddenly. “You should be begging me to take you home. It’s going to get so ugly, Ellen.” His eyes grow wide and he’s shaking his head. “Let’s be realistic. My dad…football. Just so ugly. I should take you home and never ever speak to you again.”

  I try to joke. “Or ever kiss me again? Could you handle that?”

  He taps my bottom lip with a gentle pinkie. “No.”

  “Listen. I’m only going to say this once. You aren’t afraid of me and my CP so I’m not going to be afraid of your parents. Why do you keep suggesting I run?”

  “Because…I’m terrified of hurting you.”

  “Well…that goes for me, too. But since I’ve never been in love before we can’t just map it all out, right? We can only focus on one second at a time, work hard during that second not to hurt each other, and believe all the rest will work out. Can you do that? I’m a very patient person.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to be. Because even if your dad’s response to us going out is thousands of times worse than your mom’s was about me—”

  “Oh it will be.”

  I nod, having already accepted things with his dad are going to be worse. “And even if my mom forbids me to see you after the crazy stories your mom is probably telling her over the phone right now about the swinging-basement foursome we just had!” I wink, trying to get us both out of this dark mood and it works. He laughs a little.

  “Will she? Forbid us to see each other?”

  I shrug. “Yeah. Probably. And Nash will want to kill you until I explain everything.”

  “Great.” He grimaces. “Are you sure you want to do all of this? Ellen…what if I’m just not worth it?”

  “It’s already been worth it,” I say, pointing at the frozen trees. “You’re the only friend I’ve ever had that understands things like why iced-trees are so awesome.”

  “Boyfriend. Not just a friend.”

  I blush. “Fine. Boyfriend.”

  “It’s going to work out. It is. Parents are just people—people with hearts—they’re going to understand. And if they don’t, what in the world can they do about it? They can’t make us un-love each other, right?”

  “Right. Never that. Never.”

  His expression is so relieved I lean forward and kiss those beautiful lips. He sighs against me and I know without a doubt that this is right, and that everything is going to be fine.

  My cell phone starts dinging in my pocket like it’s about to blow up. I pull it out and glance at it. “Nash calling. And my mom on text.” I raise my brows. “And Miss Brown is trying to FB message me! Wow.”

  Cam’s phone goes off even worse. He pulls it out and says, “My dad must be back in town. And Mom’s set a new text record.” His brows also go up. “Crap. Looks like Coach got my number from Mom, as well.”

  “Turn all phones to vibrate. We aren’t letting them ruin the rest of this day. We’ve waited too long for it.” I silence my phone so I can look at him with false confidence even though my heart feels like it’s stopping and starting. “On the good side, we won’t have to have any more ‘big reveal’ conversations.” I smile. “Because all the roads are going to be too iced over for the next few hours, none of those people will be able to get down here to the grove.” I frown, looking behind me as Patrick and Laura finally catch up. “Except your mom…she wouldn’t come down here, would she?”

  Cam smiles. “My mom has already said all she needs to say. She won’t come down here. That woman prefers fighting in the dark. She’ll wait for my father and if they both agree on how things should go—which is incredibly rare—they will stage a massive grounding event when I get home. This could mean it will be difficult to communicate with you for awhile.”

  I shake my head. “Again. I’m patient. I’m not worried about it. We both need to simply hold steady.”

  “I’m glad one of us believes.”

  Patrick grimaces. “We saw the kissing part. Does this mean you’re both okay?”

  Patrick’s scanning my face. “Do you know how many times your mom called my cell phone? There’s going to be a lot more yelling and chaos before people leave you alone with this. You know that, right?”

  I fake a confident smile. “Are you asking if I’m afraid of people staring and talking about me? I already faced down Bella-Jane and Paige in the bathroom last week. Cam’s mom was cake compared to those two.”

  “What?” Cam frowns. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because what they think isn’t important. We have to be on the same page about this. This is our lives. My life and Cam’s life and we’ve both said the ‘L’ word. And we both mean it. This is not rocket science here.”

  Cam smiles gently but his eyes look so worried my heart starts to ache. Patrick holds up his phone which appears to be buzzing as bad as mine and Cam’s were. “One of us needs to text someone back to calm your mom and Nash down or there’s going to be cop cars and helicopters and who knows what on the roads looking for us.”

  “Like what do you suggest?” I frown.

  He starts rapidly typing with his thumbs. “First, let’s tell your mom that Mrs. Campbell is insane and not to believe anything she says. Second, I’ll tell her that your iPhone is in use so you can’t reply. Third, I will add that she and Nash need to give Camden Campbell a chance and that I think he’s a really good guy for you.”

  “Genius. Do it Patrick,” I say.

  “You do? Thanks, dude. That means a lot coming from you.” Cam smiles and we clamber out of the golf cart.

  Patrick without pausing his thumbs adds, “I also said we are doing our homework project as planned, and that whatever needs discussing is not a crisis by any means, despite Mrs. Campbell’s crazy fit.” His thumbs fly faster. “I’m ending with something like…none of us did anything wrong and that we will see them all in a few hours or when the ice melts off, whichever comes first.”

  After Patrick pockets his phone, I sigh, finally feeling like I can breathe normally. Patrick’s right. None of us did anything wrong at all.

  Looking ahead, I see the sun breaking through the clouds and point. “Guys. Look…everyone…just look at the trees, would you?”

  “Perfectly amazing.” Laura sighs and spins under the frozen, flocked trees now glistening in the sun.

  I can’t help myself from taking photo after photo as we walk down into the grove.

  The ropes, though iced over and flocked with white crystals just like everything else are all still hanging! Everything—and I mean everything—down to the tiniest remaining leaf, branch and blade of grass is coated in clear ice or a dusting of powdered-sugar snow.

  “It’s perfect.” I’m smiling at Cam who’s also snapping photos with his iPhone like crazy.

  The sun’s risen just high enough that it’s creating some heat, so all of the clear ice and icicles have begun to glisten ultra clear which means it’s all about to drip and melt, but it’s also causing the air around every frozen thing to have mist! Everywhere I look, the light and the shadows seem soft like we’ve put photo filters for color and softness on our very eyes!

  The lake, of course, is not frozen at all, but the entire shoreline is coated in a thin sheet of gorgeous flocked ice crystals, as is the ground around the base of the trees, the bark and every bush and plant that still has fall leaves clinging to it. The world is outlined in bright white, with screaming bits of yellows and reds peeking through. The sand has come alive, a rainbow of black to dark grays mixed in with every shade of brown, all dotted with tiny ultra-white complex ice structures making mini peaks on each high spot of sand. All of this beauty stretches for as far as we can focus down the shore!

  The same goes for each and every pebble, as well as the driftwood and the rusted tops of the metal beach dividers jutting
out into the lake. The water that, with all of this contrast, seems extra blue and is very much alive with after-storm waves crashing in, adding sound all around us.

  If I had to draw how I wanted this day to look for the WOA contest photo shoot, I couldn’t draw it better than this. With this one quarter inch of iced magic we can’t go wrong.

  Cam, eyeing the sun, grabs a duffel bag full of our baskets, some blankets and tarps. Patrick’s already hauling the supplies we need to keep dry down to the trees.

  “Warm enough?” Cam asks.

  I nod. “This won’t last long.”

  “I know. I know.” As if he knows exactly what I want to do first, he holds out his arm and, totally without weirdness or awkwardness or the pride that always gets in my way, I grab onto it like it’s some sort of life line. I’m so excited, I don’t even care that he’s half-carrying me over the sand. I know we are on borrowed time. Today is not the day I want to remember that I have to do things slower. I want to remember it as the day my boyfriend and I took the most amazing photos together.

  He heads directly to the rope that holds the pulley closest to the lake. I love that we don’t even have to discuss what’s going to happen. Where he starts taking photos is exactly where I would start.

  I let the sadness and the worry of the morning fade away. Right now I don’t even know where to look. Which tree is more beautiful? Or is it the lake? Or…is it the reflection in Cam’s eyes looking up and wondering the same thing?

  My heart flips with absolute happiness. I send it out to the universe.

  *Prays: This. Is. All. Going. To. Work.*

  The rope closest to the lake is one of the three ropes where we’ve set up the clip strong enough to hold the extra weight and the extra large duct taped basket for the Nikon. This particular one is also the rope where the trees are going to have the highest sun exposure off the lake, meaning these branches will melt off first.