Catch My Fall

by Wright, Michaela

  “What up, sexy?”

  I gasped at the sight of him. Evan stood on the doorstep in a black pea coat, navy blue scarf and a pair of, I could only assume, five thousand dollar leather shoes. He had a bottle of dessert wine in his hand and his collar up against the light flurries of snow that had started coming down. I launched myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing his ear. He locked his wrists behind my back and squeezed.

  Behind me I could hear my mother preening at the sight of him as well. She hadn’t seen him in at least ten years, so I could understand her being a little star struck to have him back at the house. Evan came in and kissed my mother on the cheek and let me take his coat. Before I could steal him away to the kitchen for asinine conversation, the doorbell rang again, and the Hodges family filtered in with Caroline sending Bethany running to the chairside cabinet where my grandmother kept coloring books and crayons. My mother once suggested turning it into a magazine cabinet, but I refused. Even if only used one day a year, it stayed as Grammy left it.

  I gathered coats and took orders for coffee. I quickly introduced Evan to Caroline and Jason, who realized the developer of their favorite game was in the room. This led to Mr. Hodges swooping in for a long talk on investments. That was before the Merle-Witts arrived, leaving their daughter Chloe with Bethany at the cabinet of coloring books and insisting they follow me into the kitchen to help retrieve desserts. I sent them into the living room with the pecan and last minute blueberry pie I’d whipped up.

  They were off in the living room when I heard further entries, the stomping of feet on the porch and the tell-tale giggling of young teenage girls betrayed the arrivals of the Fallons.

  I grabbed the ice cream out of the freezer and retrieved the Swedish Apple from the oven. There was a cool draft coming from the front door as I hit the living room. I stalled halfway down the hallway.

  Stellan held the door for his parents as he leaned down to kiss my mother on the cheek. He slipped his ski cap off to show his recently buzzed hair was growing out, and unzipped his jacket. He noticed me then and smiled, then raised his eyebrows appreciatively at what I had in my hands. It took every ounce of will I had to take a step forward.

  He met me at the table, reached for the Casserole dish in my hands to help me, but when I relinquished it, he hunched down and tip toed a few feet toward my office as though to hunker down with the whole pie by himself. I knew him well, he would if I let him. He flashed me a big grin before returning the pie to the dessert table, and I did my best to stifle some strange burble of longing.

  What was I, fourteen?

  No, but I’d missed him. I’d missed the shit out of him.

  I fled back into the kitchen, giving a quick hello to Linda and Lennart. I’d used the excuse of checking the coffee, but really I just couldn’t be near Stellan. He made my heart race.

  God, how would I get through today?

  I heard a few more stomping feet and the guilt of being a bad host began to set in. I grabbed the last of the dessert plates and brought them to the table. Jackie was there with her cannolis, setting them beside the big fruit display of chocolate dipped strawberries and melons that the Merle-Witts provided. I felt a presence at my shoulder as Stellan leaned toward my ear.

  “So that’s what lesbians eat?”

  I snorted.

  Evan appeared on my right. “Among other things. Know what I’m sayin? Knoohohooow what I’m sayin?”

  Stellan and Evan bumped fists as I turned to smack them. I was grateful to have them both rather than attempt a Stellan encounter solo. Evan was wearing a blue button down shirt with a fresh wine spot just below his collar. I kept Evan’s gaze, working up the courage to meet Stellan’s and not betray how miniscule I felt. The clank of plates drew them both away with a low groan of “Foooood.”

  “Anyone want tea or milk or coffee?” I asked the room, receiving a few orders in response. I sauntered off into the kitchen happy for the open space.

  There was nothing quite like a gathering in an old house like this. The sound of conversation and laughter and silverware hitting plates – it was one of those moments when people who might otherwise never speak to one another suddenly have endless amounts to talk about. I loved seeing Mr. Hodges talking to Lennart, or Caroline and Terry Merle-Witt (the short-haired, wire rim glasses wearing lesbian with salt and pepper hair) sharing tales of Chloe’s adoption from Korea and Bethany’s 36 hour birth.

  I set the coffee and tea pots on the table and scanned to find everyone eating, some on the couch or in chairs, others standing. I followed familiar voices to find Jackie and Kevin had snuck into the dining room with Stellan and Evan.

  Stellan looked up to see me and groaned his appreciation. Evan nodded and grumbled in agreement as I sat down.

  “You going to have some?” Jackie asked. I noticed both Evan and Stellan’s piled up plates were both void of cannolis, one of which Jackie now pushed toward me on her plate.

  I shook my head. “I’m waiting for a little while.”

  Kevin tapped his fork to his plate. “This Apple Pie is phenomenal, Faye. I’ve never had this kind before.”

  I beamed at him. “It’s Swedish.”

  “Which makes it exceptional,” Stellan said with a mouthful.

  I snorted. “Yes, which makes it exceptional.”

  “Would you mind my taking a slice to my parents? We head there after this.”

  Stellan grunted like a caveman and hammered his fist on the table.

  Kevin gave me a sheepish look. “Just a small slice?”

  “Hush up, Stell. There’s plenty for you to take home.”

  He grunted again, glared at Kevin who smiled back, then returned to his plate. Evan quickly punctuated the moment by grabbing the can of whipped cream on the table and spraying it directly into his mouth. Stellan gestured for Evan to hit him next, but I jumped up from the table and took the can away before they could continue.

  The conversation picked up, and I left them to it, giving a quick run through the living room to make sure everyone was fed, hydrated and comfortable. There I ended up settling in for a good talk with Jill Merle-Witt about the age of my house and the architecture of the neighborhood.

  A moment later, Mr. Hodges was telling me how nice it was to see me around again.

  Finally Linda wanted me to know how impressed she was with my sketches. She’d always thought I was so very talented, she said.

  It was a lovely thing to hear, but not the easiest. I can’t say I am at my best when someone showers me with praise. I turn into a bit of a gargoyle – frozen in some awkward facial expression.

  Conversation has a way of passing time – well, good conversation. The first group to head out was Caroline and Jason, taking Bethany home before the munchkin got too tired. Then Jackie and Kevin followed with a plate full of pie and a glaring Stellan watching them out the door. I expected Evan to head out, but he assured me he had no intention of spending more time with his family than was absolutely necessary. He was soon sitting with my mother on the couch drinking wine, listening to her acclaim for the same Bertrand Fuller she’d been so happy to regale me with earlier.

  I started my rounds of the living room, taking empty plates and drink cups to the kitchen. As I walked down the hallway, I found someone following close behind – Stellan, with a pile of plates himself. We silently filled the dishwasher and piled the excess into the sink, his arm brushing mine a few times. Believe me, I was well aware of each time. Finally, the last round was done, and I said farewell to the Fallons as their teenage daughter and her friends wordlessly lead the way out the door.

  I gathered the last few mugs and brought them into the kitchen to find Stellan standing at the sink, the sleeves of his red flannel shirt rolled up, and the water running. He was washing dishes.

  That bastard.

  I put my hand on his arm. “Stell, let me do that.”

  He shook his head. “You did the co
oking, woman. Relax a bit.”

  I stood at his side a moment, knowing that further protest could result in him grunting at me, spraying the sink hose at me, or worse, he’d once picked me up and relocated me to another part of the house when I argued, though that was before I’d gained twenty pounds.

  I futzed around, organizing and wiping down the counters, piling the dirty dishes neatly by the sink for him, and tucking leftovers in the fridge. We worked in silence, but I was trying not to dwell on that. Still, it became more apparent now that the sink was off.

  I couldn’t take it.

  “So how are you?”

  Nicely done, Faye. As smooth as it comes.

  “Pretty good. A little depressed though,” he said.

  I was honestly startled by this declaration. “No, why?”

  He gestured to the empty pie pan on the counter. “Because there’s no more Apple Pie for me to take home and eat for breakfast the rest of the weekend. That’s why.”

  I smiled. “Aaah, I thought you knew me better than that.”

  He leaned back against the sink as I snuck passed him. I opened the fridge and pulled out a half size casserole dish before turning like a model on The Price is Right so he could see his prize.

  His grinned from ear to ear. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

  “Nope! Feel special?”

  “Marry me,” he said, taking the pie and lowering his face so he could make inappropriate tongue movements towards it. I leaned against the counter across from him, the gentle murmur of conversation drifting in from the living room. He set the pie down and leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms. His flannel was open at the top, showing a gray tank top underneath, and his sleeves were still rolled up, displaying his forearms. God, he looked nice.

  I did my best not to noticeably look down in disdain at my own ragamuffin appearance.

  “So how have you been?” He asked.

  I shrugged. “Alright, I guess.”

  “Any word on the job front?”

  I shook my head. “No. How bout you? How’s the game coming?”

  “Stellar. Has Evan tried to buy you out yet?”

  I smiled. “Yes actually!”

  “What a prick.”

  I laughed, and there was a pause in the conversation. I searched for something to say. Silence had never been a problem with us before, but now it felt unbearable.

  He crossed his ankles and leaned back. “So, I hear you and Cole are talking again?”

  Fuck. You. Jackie.

  I swallowed. “Yeah.”

  He nodded. “How’s that working out?”

  “I don’t know, pretty good I guess.”

  “Really?”

  I paused. “Yeah?”

  He pursed his lips in an exaggerated frown. “Have you ever thought of putting yourself out there more?”

  I stared at him. “What? What does that mean?”

  “You know, like dating wise. Maybe try some dating web sites or some shit.”

  “Why on earth would I do that?”

  His hands flailed out in a gesture of mild exasperation. “To meet people, get out there and maybe find someone worth your while.”

  “Stellan -”

  “I’m just saying. I mean, are you giving Cole the time of day because you’re lonely and bored, or -”

  Because I can’t have you, I thought. I shook my head violently, as though I could shake the thought free. “Whatever reason I’m giving Cole the time of day is my business.” I paused. “And ‘putting myself out there’ isn’t going to do anything for me anyway.”

  “Sure it will.”

  I felt my volume rising. “What do you expect to happen? I put my chubby face up on some site and say, ‘Hey fellas, look no further! Desperate and sexually frustrated thirty something who needs to lose thirty pounds. Now, you’ll need to pay for everything because she has no job and therefore no money, AND she lives with mom, so when she does drop her panties, you get to have awkward sex in the childhood bedroom of her mother’s house.’ Seriously, I’m a fucking prize. I’m surprised they’re not banging down my door, right fucking now.”

  Stellan stared at me a moment, mouth open. “Is that really how you see yourself?”

  “That’s how anyone else would see me.”

  “Bull shit.”

  I fought to keep my eyes as wide as I could, knowing that if I blinked, tears might roll down. “It’s true. I’m painfully aware of it, Stell. Fucking painfully aware of it.”

  Stellan shifted his arms and set his jaw. “You know how I feel about that prick -”

  “Yeah, everybody else feels the same fucking way, but it’s my decision.”

  His lip twitched in a half snarl. “Of course it is. But you deserve better.”

  “Yeah, hard to believe when ‘better’ doesn’t want me!”

  Jesus, Faye! Watch what you say right now! Watch what you fucking say!

  It was his turn to get louder. “That’s fucking bull shit.”

  “I’m a fucking mess, Stellan. Nobody wants this!”

  He moved so quickly, I didn’t have time to jump. I felt warmth and pressure at my sides, then at my chest as he closed the distance between us, locked his arms around me, and kissed me. He held me tight, gripping the fabric of my shirt and pulling me away from the counter.

  His kiss was soft, but his arms were strong. Every inch of him pressed into every inch of me as his kiss lightened, then returned with double the force. I shivered, reaching up to his shoulders, locking my fingers into the folds of his flannel. My body had melted the instant he touched, and I was holding onto him to stay upright as much as to pull him closer. He lightened his kiss again, and I whimpered as he slipped his tongue past my lips and darted it against mine. The response was involuntary, and I almost crumpled against him. I gripped him, pulled at him, and he reciprocated, the two of us shifting against the counter until I was almost lifted completely onto it. I moved my hands to his back, my mouth open, my tongue seeking his. He hoisted me onto the counter and slid his hand up my back, folding his fingers in my hair.

  “Have you guys seen my keys?”

  We parted instantly, Stellan turning for the fridge, his hand to his lips to hide a smile. Jackie stormed in from the dining room to find me sitting on the counter, my hair probably knotted at the back of my head, and I could feel the afterburn of his stubble against my chin.

  I swallowed, staring at her. She glanced at me, then at Stellan, then back at me.

  I shrank under her gaze.

  You’re a whore. You’re a whore. You’re a whore. You’re no better than Cole.

  “What’s going on in here?” She asked, her tone jovial and teasing, but I was up and heading down the hallway toward the stairs.

  I bounded up and away, up and free of what had just happened, away from the glaring reality of my fuck up.

  I turned to shut the door to my room.

  Stellan was there. “What’s wrong?”

  I growled. “Why now?”

  “What?”

  “I wanted you so bad! I practically threw myself at you.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “When?”

  My voice was shaking. “At Evan’s party! You pushed me away.”

  He shook his head. “You were drunk as a fucking skunk, Faye.”

  “I wasn’t that drunk!”

  “You were fucking steaming. What kind of man do you think I am?”

  I gasped for breath, trying to settle my voice as I spoke. “But now I’m not free anymore. Why did you have to do this now? Why couldn’t you want me before -”

  “What? I’ve always wanted you. And what do you mean you’re not free?”

  I put my hands to my face. I was an instant from weeping, openly bawling on the floor. I fought it, feeling my throat clench and burn. “I’m with Cole.”

  He shook his head like I’d slapped him. “So fucking what?! Break it off. He’s a cocksuc
king fuck bag!”

  “I can’t do that!”

  Stellan stood there, his face changing slowly. “Why not?”

  I searched for an answer. Why couldn’t I? Why couldn’t I simply tell the man who collapsed in my arms weeping at Paparazzi that he should go fuck himself? “I can’t just hop from one bed to the next -”

  His expression hardened. “Are you serious? Is that what you think this is?”

  We stared at each other. He held my gaze, and I trembled. Then he was gone, and his absence felt like drowning.

  I pressed my hand against the door, and softly pushed it shut.

  CHAPTER seventeen

  No one heard from me for days. Even my mother attempted to breach the sanctity of my room and was met with Troll-under-the-bridge worthy disdain.

  I couldn’t be in the world. I couldn’t be anywhere but under those covers with the shades drawn and that sticky grit at the corner of my eyes.

  I can honestly say, I don’t think I’ve cursed God more than I did on those three days. There was a lot of dramatic dropping to my knees and sobbing whilst silently repeating the words, “Why? Why?” over and over again. And to be honest, I wasn’t really sure where the wound was – why I hurt so badly. I replayed the moments of that Thanksgiving afternoon with alternate endings, replayed the whole month differently. Even Halloween was treated to a retelling by a snotty, sobbing raconteuse.

  The battery on my phone died that first afternoon, and I didn’t bother plugging it in until the morning of day three.

  What? I had wallowing to do. The newly charged battery resulted in a near extinction level event of my phone blowing the hell up. Every ringtone I had on the damn thing sounded off, one after another after another, cutting each other off like they were all stumbling to be heard; Cole, Meghan, Jackie, Evan, Mom, and yes - Stellan.