When We Fall

by Peter Giglio

  A tense edge in her voice, Aubrey said, “What if your son had been bleeding out, Mrs. Brendel?”

  “Well, he wasn’t,” Ben’s mom retorted. “It would have been evident if—”

  “Everything happened so fast,” Aubrey said. “I relied on the first-aid training I received last summer when I worked as a lifeguard. I needed something fast to tie around his arm, because I thought he was going to bleed to death! Would you have preferred if I’d used my panties?”

  Ben, afraid Aubrey and his mother would soon be entangled in a shouting match, lowered his head and poured a glass of Coke.

  “But Aubrey,” his mom said, clearly fighting to keep her tone even and rational, “anyone driving past could have seen you. A young lady doesn’t—”

  “We were in the back alley,” Aubrey countered, “not in the middle of Glenstone Avenue, and my arm was across my chest most of—”

  “Well, it’s just not something I want my thirteen-year-old son exposed to.”

  “I didn’t see anything, Mom,” Ben offered weakly, still standing at the counter, hesitant to return to the table.

  But his mother seemed to ignore him. “You can understand that, can’t you?” she asked Aubrey.

  Aubrey snickered. “Let me ask you this, Mrs. Brendel—did you breast-feed Ben when he was a baby?”

  “C’mon,” Roy said, his mouth turned in a rare expression of disapproval. “That’s not appropriate, Aub.”

  Ben’s mother spread her arms wide like a televangelist, holding them up as if in supplication. “I just think that—”

  “You have to admit,” Ben’s father said, now clearly playing peacekeeper, “Aubrey thought fast, and she was only looking out for Ben.”

  Arms falling at her side, Ben’s mother turned to Aubrey and said, “I’m sorry, dear. I’m just a sensitive old mama bear trying to protect her cub. Can you forgive me?”

  “Of course,” Aubrey said dryly.

  But, much to Ben’s chagrin, his mother couldn’t leave well enough alone. “I just wish that my boy had more friends his own age.”

  Ben, halfway to the table, stopped in his tracks.

  Roy said, “I, for one, am glad Aubrey and Ben are spending more time together.”

  “Oh?” Ben’s mother said, her eyebrows rising.

  “Sure,” Roy said. “It beats the hell out of the crowd she’s been running with.”

  “Dad,” Aubrey shouted.

  “Well, it’s true,” he said. He turned to Ben’s mother. “Think of it this way, we’re both parents of only children, right? Well, I think it’s great that my daughter and your son can be like family to each other. Ever since I lost Elizabeth, you folks have been good to us…even if you are Democrats.”

  Everyone laughed, and the tension in the room, save for the dour expression that lingered on Aubrey’s face, seemed to fade.

  Ben slinked back to his seat and took a bite of pizza. Roy put an arm around Ben and leaned across the table, clasping his father’s shoulder. “I see us all as family,” he said. “I hope and pray that the rest of you folks see it that way, too.”

  Everyone nodded agreement, and the conversation went back to politics and weather and baseball and local gossip; in other words, back to normal.

  * * *

  After dinner, Aubrey asked if Ben could go for ice cream, and his mother had no problem with that, as long as her son was home by ten. Ben thanked his mother with a kiss on the cheek, bringing a smile to her face. He was alone with her in the kitchen for a moment.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “It wasn’t your fault I got hurt.”

  “No, not that. I’m just sorry for acting so nutty lately.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. I know it’s just ’cause you love me.”

  “I do. I really do. Just promise me you’ll be good, and that you won’t grow up too fast.”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  When Ben returned to the dining room, Aubrey stood up, swinging her purse over her shoulder, and Roy, who was still saying his good-byes, slid the back door open and exited the house. A few seconds later, Ben followed Aubrey outside. The sun, hanging low on the horizon, was still radiant, though the sky had taken on the deeper cast of evening. The air was thick with mosquitos that Ben and Aubrey both shooed and slapped away, walking toward the driveway of her house.

  “Sorry about my dad,” she said.

  “I like your dad.”

  “Of course you do, everyone likes Roy Rose. But he comes on too strong sometimes.”

  “Ah, he’s a pussycat compared to my mom.”

  Aubrey laughed. “You’ve got me there, I’m afraid.”

  As they crossed the alley, Ben glanced back at the area were he’d been injured. Other than the thin strip he’d moved, the grass and weeds were still high. For a moment, the last light of day glinted on the broken glass littered along the roadside, and Ben’s mind flashed back to Ryan Barnes, holding out the strand of freshly developed film, the hideous gash in his head now pulsating in Ben’s mind—undulating like the lips of a mouth fighting for air.

  He stopped in the middle of the alley, his mind back in the developing room.

  Help me, the wound on Ryan’s head seemed to say. Only you can help me!

  A horn honked, jerking Ben back out of the dark vision. He swiveled his head and saw the round headlights of a car, and a shirtless guy in his twenties craned his head out the window. “Get out of the road, kid,” he shouted.

  Ben waved an apology and scampered to Aubrey on her side of the alley. The car, a Monte Carlo from the early ’70s, sped past with another hectoring blast from the horn, the exhaust coughing blue, pungent fumes into the humid Missouri night.

  Aubrey shook her head. “Ground control to Major Tom! What the hell was that about?”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “I worry that I can’t turn my back on you for a second, Bronson.”

  Following her toward the car, he said, “Bronson?”

  “Yeah, like Charles Bronson, ’cause you seem to have a death wish.”

  She opened the driver’s-side door and slid into the leather bucket seat as Ben rounded the car. Reaching across to his side, she popped open his lock, then revved the engine as Ben got in. The equalizer lights on her stereo danced along with the haunting strains of an electronic song he’d never heard—the strange sounds of sinister breathing and air traffic control commands, followed by a hypnotic dance beat that bent and swayed in the most unusual manner.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “The B-side of the new Depeche Mode single.”

  She turned up the volume as David Gahan’s unmistakable voice graced the track: “Death is everywhere…” Then she bobbed her head in time with the music. “You like it?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “This sure isn’t ‘People are People.’”

  “They’re changing their sound, Ben; these are dark times.” She shifted the car into reverse and sped out of the driveway.

  “There are flies on the windscreen,” Gahan sang, “there are lambs for the slaughter.”

  Ben closed his eyes and let the music wash over him. And, though delighted for Aubrey’s company, he couldn’t get the image of Ryan Barnes out of his mind.

  “What’s the A-side like?” he asked.

  “Happy, sappy pop trash,” she said. “You’d hate it.”

  As much as Ben didn’t want to disagree with Aubrey about anything, he wished she would flip the cassette single over.

  * * *

  In the small Dairy Queen dining area, Ben placed his Peanut Buster Parfait at an empty booth and sat down. Taking a nibble from her Dilly Bar, Aubrey slid in across from him.

  “Something’s bothering you,” she said.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “It’s written all over your face.”

  He held up his wounded wrist. “Not exactly the happiest day of my life.”

  “Is that all?” Her piercing stare told him she wasn’t
buying it.

  He shrugged his shoulders and went back to eating ice cream. “I don’t know, is something bothering you?”

  She stared blankly through the tinted glass beside her and seemed to forget about her ice cream, which dripped down her hand. “Guys can be such jerks,” she muttered.

  “I’m sorry,” Ben said.

  She turned to face him. “Not you.” She placed a warm hand over his. “Not you.” Then she pulled her hand away and went back to staring outside.

  “I had a funny dream,” he said. “A bad dream, when I fell asleep at the hospital.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He shook his head. “I’d rather not. Not right now.”

  “Yeah, I guess I know the feeling.”

  “Hey,” he said, trying to shift the conversation to something positive, “are you still planning to bring those movies over on Tuesday?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, if it’s not too much trouble, can you get Psycho and The Birds instead, if they have them.”

  “But you were so excited for James Bond yesterday.”

  “Yeah, I know, but Johnny was always trying to get me to watch Alfred Hitchcock movies. He said they’d help me.”

  “Those are both great,” she said.

  Ben was always struck by how well Aubrey knew movies. It was one of her most endearing traits, and damn rare for a popular girl. “So you’ll get them?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. The Birds, no problem, but I don’t know if you’re ready for the shower scene in Psycho, and I don’t want another tongue lashing from your mom. She might think I’m trying to put ideas in your head.”

  “Keep your top on and she won’t care. Hell, she let me watch The Thing and Alien. Those are both R rated, and a lot worse than an old black-and-white movie from the sixties. When I was home recovering from my wisdom teeth operation, she even rented Blade Runner for me. Guess she felt bad about not letting me see a Harrison Ford movie in the theater.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think your mom likes me very much. I think she’s afraid I’m going to corrupt her little angel or something.”

  “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Gonna corrupt me?”

  She grinned and lowered her head. “What do you mean by that?”

  Pinned by her intense stare, he looked away. “I don’t know what I mean. I’m just being silly.”

  “My God, you’re so bashful. Look at you; you’re as red as a cherry tomato.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No,” she said, “don’t apologize. It’s cute.”

  A moment of silence followed as they ate, Ben’s mind consumed by a whirlwind of mixed thoughts and emotions: Aubrey was warmth; Ryan—fear; and Johnny—he was in there, too—brought a cold, hollow feeling to the pit of Ben’s stomach, as hard to describe as it was painful.

  When he looked up at Aubrey, she smiled. “Still thinking about how I’m gonna corrupt you?” she asked.

  “I was wondering—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “No, forget about it.”

  “Don’t leave me in suspense. Out with it!”

  “You’re gonna think I’m stupid.”

  “You mean you’re not?”

  “Ha! Ha! Very funny.”

  “Ah, you know I’m only joking. C’mon, you can ask me anything. I’m not gonna think you’re stupid. In fact, you’re the smartest guy I know.” She drew an invisible X across her Ocean Pacific T-shirt with her finger. “Cross my heart.”

  “All right, as long as you promise not to laugh.”

  She nodded.

  “Do you believe a person can be haunted?”

  “What, like, by a ghost?”

  “I guess.”

  “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I mean, I sometimes pretend that I’m talking to my mother at night? I hardly even remember her face, I was so young when she died, but…I do talk to her.”

  Ben’s eyes went wide. “What does she say?”

  “She tells me not to worry so much, that everything’s gonna be all right. Nice things. Things I need to hear, even if it’s all just in my mind. Do you…do you talk to Johnny?”

  “Yes,” he said. Ryan Barnes, the reason for the question initially, was now pushed aside. Having this in common with Aubrey was far too important to ignore, and he suddenly felt much closer to her.

  “What does he say?” she asked.

  “He’s not very nice.”

  She frowned. “Do you remember him as a mean person?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Then don’t do that, Ben.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t dishonor his memory like that.”

  “I don’t mean to. I want him to say nice things, but…”

  “But you feel guilty about his death, don’t you?”

  “I…I don’t understand. There was nothing I could have done.”

  “You’re alive and he isn’t. That’s enough. Guilt isn’t logical.”

  He paused to consider her words, and it didn’t take him long to realize she was right. He smiled, not doing anything to stem the tears that trickled down his face. “Thanks. How did you get so smart?”

  “Don’t give me too much credit,” she said, “it’s always easier when you’re working through someone else’s shit.” Then she glanced at her watch and said, “Let’s get our butts moving. Your mom’s gonna be pissed if I don’t have you home soon.”

  * * *

  As Aubrey and Ben approached her car, a red Jeep, top down, barreled into the lot, blasting “Rock You like a Hurricane.” It didn’t take long for Ben to recognize the Jeep’s two occupants: Craig Winstead, Greenfield’s star quarterback, drove, and Max Tanner, Winstead’s faithful, pretty-boy lackey, rode shotgun. As the Jeep screeched to a halt, blocking Ben and Aubrey from the easy access to the Trans-Am, Max pulled himself up on the roll bar and threw his head back, letting loose an epic wolf howl, then he lifted a beer bottle—a green beer bottle—and took a long swig from it.

  Craig took a drag from a cigarette, blue smoke serpents swirling around his head, then he cut the engine, killing The Scorpions. Ben feared—sensed—something bad was about to happen, but he couldn’t move.

  “Hey, Aub,” Craig said, grinning drunkenly. “You doing community service or something?”

  “’Course she is,” said Max. “Why else would she be hanging out with a dork?”

  Aubrey stood in silence, and the look on her face told Ben his fears were founded.

  “C’mon,” Craig said, “ditch the spaz and take a ride with us.”

  She shook her head and grabbed Ben’s hand, pulling him close to her. “Leave us alone,” she muttered.

  “I’m sorry,” Craig said snidely. He cupped a hand to his ear, then added, “Maybe I’ve taken too many blows on the football field and my hearing’s going to shit.”

  Aubrey shouted, her body shaking, “Leave us the fuck alone!”

  Max pointed his beer bottle at Ben. “That your new boyfriend, Rose?”

  Craig glanced at his friend, his wild grin still in full bloom. “Bitch really knows how to trade up, doesn’t she?”

  Max downed the rest of his beer in one swallow, then tossed the bottle on the ground. “Ah, fuck her, let’s get out of here.”

  Craig held a hand up to his friend, turning to face Aubrey. “Hold the phone, Tan-Man, let’s listen to the bitch tell me herself.”

  “I already told you to get the fuck out of here,” Aubrey snarled. Then she pointed in the direction of Glenstone Avenue. “Now!”

  Craig’s glare settled on Ben. “Hey, kid,” he said, “you eat her dirty pussy yet?” Looking up, he took another drag from his cigarette, then titled his head downward like a predatory animal, pinning Ben with his ice-blue stare. “Well, I just gotta ask, how’s my dick taste?”

  “Tastes small,” Ben said, his heart hammering in his chest. The words had fallen from his lips before he could take them back, an
d he braced for the worst, certain Craig would jump out of the Jeep and pummel his face into the asphalt.

  But that didn’t happen. Instead, Craig bellowed with laughter, and Max plopped off his perch, back into his seat. Hooking a thumb in Ben’s direction, Craig looked at Aubrey and said, “Your boy here’s a real comedian.”

  “Go,” she said.

  Craig spread his hands wide. “Last chance to get with a real man.”

  “Now,” she shouted.

  Nodding, Craig cranked the engine. The Scorpions screamed once more as the Jeep sped away. Aubrey wasted no time. She ran for her car, still holding Ben’s hand, yanking him along with her like a dog on a leash.

  * * *

  Ben and Aubrey didn’t talk on the way back. And, after she pulled the car into her driveway and shut off the engine, they both continued to sit in the darkness, neither of them speaking.

  Finally, she turned to him. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Well, it kind of was. Like my dad is fond of saying, don’t lie down with dogs if you don’t want fleas.” A tight smile cracked her face. “But I must say, Ben, you held your own there with that little comeback.”

  “Didn’t seem to faze Craig.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that. Craig’s the kinda guy who does a pretty good job of burying his true self deep. He’s all show with his big smile, but deep down he’s a little insecure boy, and—” She laughed. “He does have a small dick.”

  Ben laughed, too. Despite the tense episode outside the Dairy Queen, it had done two important things: taken his mind off his own problems and, he sensed, pushed him even closer to Aubrey.

  “Have you ever kissed a girl?” Aubrey asked.

  “No.”

  “Would you like to?”

  “You mean…kiss you?”

  “I don’t see any other girls around, do you?”

  Before he could respond, she leaned into him, put her hand against the back of his head, and kissed him. Then, after what seemed like a wonderful—and impossible—eternity, she released him and backed away, smiling.