All Men Fall

by C. M. Lally

  I quickly move the phone back to my ear, just in time to hear him say my name again, repeating it like a sad mantra, like he’s willing everything to be whole again. There’s a melancholy to the sound of my name. Is this what regret sounds like? I can hear him breathing, can almost feel him thinking. “I don’t know why I blew up like that,” he blurts out, and then nothing.

  He hung up. I look at the phone, and the timer confirms the call ended.

  That’s all I get? There wasn’t even an apology to accept or more words to ease my hurt. Well, fuck him. I thought I knew him, but this isn’t the man I know. What the fuck happened?

  I ease down in my seat and flip through some magazines that were stuffed into the chair-back pockets. Every page I flip is a reminder of Nick : all these fucking ads for flowers, a Hallmark movie about second-chance love, the upcoming AFC pre-season game schedules, and here’s a dog food ad…

  I slam the magazine shut, ripping the dog food page as I stuff it back down into the pocket. Fuuuuck! I feel the jerk of the plane backing out of its terminal space and then rolling forward towards the runway.

  Here we go. I reach down and turn my phone off.

  The plane ride is really peaceful. I could get used to private jet voyages—smooth as glass, especially on that landing. No kids kicking your seat or screaming. No strangers scooting past you to get to the bathroom. I love this mode of travel. Score one point for Team Hollywood.

  The plane door finally opens and I’m greeted by sweltering heat and dirty air. Score one point for Team Go Home. Yes, I’m officially in LA. There’s a Black Pearl Lincoln Navigator waiting for me, with a chauffeur holding a door open. I approach and he says, “Miss Moore, my name is Brent. I’ll be your driver for your time here in Los Angeles. It’s a pleasure to drive for you, ma’am.”

  I shake the hand that he extends towards me and give him one of my friendliest smiles. “Nice to meet you Brent. Where are we headed?” I ask with barely-contained enthusiasm. My spirits seem to have lifted when we broke through the clouds. Maybe I will enjoy this experience.

  “We’re going to get you settled into your house. The company has rented a house for everyone who’s come in for this project. So you won’t be alone, but you’ll have a room to yourself. I hope that’s fine with you.”

  “Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.” I won’t be alone, but I won’t be with Nick. I sit in the back seat and allow Brent to drive me away from my brain and thinking of him. I turn my phone on, only to have it give me a long drawn out buzzing to let me know I have several messages. I have a message from my Mom, wanting to know if I arrived safely, and I have two texts from Nick. I swipe through them to clear my screen, not even reading them. I’m not ready to deal with him. I want to enjoy my arrival in LA for the moment.

  We pull through a tall set of wrought-iron gates that seem to lift all the way up to the sky, and wind our way through a picture-perfect rose garden driveway. It’s the most beautiful entrance I’ve ever seen. Not one single bush is over-pruned; they’re perfect and majestic as they create an arch on a pergola over the paved drive at the front door.

  Brent, carrying my bag, escorts me into the house. He sets the bag down in the foyer and tells me that I’m the first to arrive so I can pick a room for myself, then leans closer and whispers that the third floor only has one bedroom and bath, if I want complete privacy. I nod and smile, grateful for the insight. He gives me his cell phone number and tells me to call him whenever I want to go anywhere.

  I carry my bag to the third floor and settle in, unpacking and putting my personal items in the attached bathroom. Then I stroll through the home, giving myself a private tour. I wind my way through beautifully decorated rooms until eventually I hear pots clanging and water running in a distant room. I follow the noises through several rooms to finally reach an expansive gourmet kitchen. A beautiful woman hums as she chops veggies. Her assistant, an equally beautiful lady that could be a younger version of the humming lady, is filling a stockpot full of water. She twirls around as I enter.

  “Hi! I’m Amy and this is my mother, Kate. We’ll be cooking for you while you’re here. Welcome to Los Angeles.”

  “Hi, Amy. Hi, Kate. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jenna Moore. Thank you for cooking for me, but you really don’t have to. I can cook for myself.”

  “Oh, no! We won’t hear of it. We love doing it. Now tell us, do you have any specific diet that you follow or any allergies?”

  “No. I’ll eat anything you put in front of me.”

  “Well, that’s great news. Go on and enjoy the rest of the house. Dinner will be served at 5:30 pm.”

  I leave through the double French doors and find an infinity pool in the courtyard. It overlooks the valley, and I can see into downtown with its various towering skyscrapers. I can also see the thick haze that surrounds downtown LA. It clings to the buildings and won’t let the sunshine burn it off. It detracts from the view, so I settle for ignoring it.

  I look at my watch and find that it’s just after 3:30 pm, so I work my way back to the house and enter through the side door to go put my bathing suit on. I haven’t gotten to swim in forever.

  I settle down into the warm water and stretch my shoulders out before I take off, swimming long laps. I push my body through the water as my thoughts wander back to Nick. I flip over when I hit the wall and push off again, gliding and then powering through to the distant wall, stopping to catch my breath, gulping huge chunks of air into my lungs. My shoulders ache, and it’s apparent that I have forgotten how to time my breathing and my strokes.

  Damn it. The last time I was breathless was with Nick. Now I feel a suffocating loss.

  But I refuse to be treated that way. My Dad has never raised his voice to my Mom. You don’t raise your voice to the people you love. Nick obviously doesn’t love me.

  But he consumes my mind from waking to bed. I see him in everything I do. I want to take care of him and Zeus. I want to be surrounded by him. Do I love him? This ache in my stomach and chest tells me yes. I don’t want to walk away from him, and I don’t want him to leave either.

  Other men always left me before we got to these feelings. But I’ve never pursued their dreams for myself, either. Is this why it’s so hard? I left him, and I left suddenly.

  Damn. I don’t want this. I just want to be simple me with simple him living our simple life. The ones who laugh, love, and dance together.

  It’s not a weakness that I don’t want stardom. It’s not shyness or a fear of failure. It’s me wanting to hold something so precious to myself, because it makes me stronger. Singing makes me stronger. He makes me vibrant.

  Stop it, Jenna. These are thoughts for another time. He needs to apologize first. Make him come to you. Right now, I need to find food since my stomach is growling loudly.

  I clean up and make my way down to dinner. I’m still a solo being in this house. The chef and daughter serve my meal, but leave me to eat in silence. I pull open my phone to call my Mom and see that I’ve missed a new text and a call from Nick. I also have one message.

  He needs to stew a little. Maybe absence will make his heart grow fonder, like they say. I swipe through them, clearing my screen, and call my mother to catch up with her about the flight and housing arrangements here.

  Chapter 18

  Nick

  Damn it. Why did I just let her storm into that house mad? Why did I not open up my fucking mouth and talk to her? I can communicate a string of plays to nine men in less than two seconds for a Championship title, but I can’t explain in five minutes how I thought she was hurt and I was sick with worry. What the fuck?

  I was so happy to see her walking down the street unharmed and beautiful, with the sun highlighting her blue eyes. She takes my breath away—and obviously my brain. Why did I yell at her? She did nothing wrong but call me, not answer a few return calls, and walk my dog before her life began. There’s no crime or suspicion in that.

  I grab my phone and dial her number. I ca
n tell when she pushes me to her voicemail, because I know it takes exactly twelve rings before her greeting comes on. This was only three rings.

  Her voice flows through my body like honey, and I get lost for a moment. Finally, the beep stirs me back to reality and all I can say is her name, and that doesn’t even sound real. I panic. I didn’t think this through.

  I don’t want to just sling an I’m sorry at her and not explain what I was feeling. My Mom always said, “Make sure your apologies are true and genuine. Admit to what you did wrong so that the person knows what you are sorry for.” She always made me apologize to my sister and her in this manner. It should be mechanical at this point, but I don’t want it to be. I really am sorry, so all I can do is hang up. I need to write this down, because I don’t like flying by the seat of my pants on important matters.

  I send her a text instead that simply says, “I hope you landed safely? Have a great time.”

  I wish I had worked less and spent more time with her this past week; I would know what was going on. But with these crazy forest fires and the California drought, I can’t neglect my business. I’m one of the few landscapers in the area that offer forest fire maintenance plans based on the laws, so they aren’t fined. Most people do it themselves when maintaining their property, but some people can’t. It’s too cumbersome with their expansive acreage, or their jobs don’t allow the time, or they lack the equipment. Most are elderly and have lived on their land for generations, while their families have moved away. Most have no one to turn to. They pay me to protect their land and possessions as best I can.

  I send Jenna another quick text: “Show them how great you are.”

  That sounds stupid and not what I wanted to say at all, but I hit send too quickly. I wish texting was like email and I could hit delete quickly. Damn instantaneous delivery. Why am I being encouraging when I should be apologizing? Now I understand why most women think men are idiots.

  I feed Zeus and get him situated for the afternoon, then sit and stare at the blue note cards taped to my dining room mirror, flipping through the ones within my reach to summon some inspiration. But it doesn’t come. Fuck, I’ve wasted a very long hour thinking of what to say for one phone call.

  She’s probably already forgotten about me, is probably letting the Hollywood glitz and glamour push me out of her mind. I pour myself some Bulleit Bourbon, and settle in to bring her back to me. C’mon words. Pour forth.

  My phone rings and I jump to get it, but see that Aran is calling. Perfect fucking timing, sis. “What?” I growl.

  “Well, what the fuck pissed you off today?” she fearlessly growls back. Aran has never been one to back down from a fight.

  “Nothing. What do you need?” I huff at her, trying to contain my irritation.

  “I need nothing. I just wanted to see if you wanted to come over for dinner and have another go ’round with me and Dad, but in this mood, you can just make yourself something and wallow in your own misery.”

  “No. I’m not in the mood for anyone else making me feel like shit today, but thanks for the offer.”

  “Okay. I’m listening. What happened?”

  “Jenna went to LA to meet up with some music producer and didn’t tell me until she was packed and returning my dog to me. I blew up at her. She left pissed, and won’t return my calls or texts.”

  “Can you blame her? Why would you blow up? This sounds like a great thing for her career.”

  “It is a good thing. I blew up because I missed her call, and then I couldn’t get hold of her for several hours. I was fine at first, but then I had the horrible thought that her asshole boyfriend had come back and hurt her, you know. I thought he had beaten her—or worse, killed her—and I couldn’t get to her. I panicked and went to her house. I was so happy to see her unhurt, but the situation got out of control and I didn’t say the right things. My panic turned to frustration, and then anger, that brought out some mean and nasty temper tantrum in me. Hell, I didn’t even apologize. I just let her run past me crying, and I left. I have to fix this, but she won’t respond to my calls or texts, and now I’m lost.”

  “What did you say when you called her?”

  “Nothing. I couldn’t think of what to say. All I could get out was her name. I hung up. But I’ve sent her two texts. I told her to have a great time and to show them how great she is. Stupid, I know.”

  “Well, it’s definitely great that you sent those messages. They’re so warm and heartfelt. You know what you need to do, right?”

  “No. I’m sitting here drinking and overthinking, as usual. Help me. I need some female POV, sis.”

  “Oh, no. Hell no! I want no part of this. If it doesn’t work, I’ll feel really bad. Just be honest and sincere. Tell her what you’re sorry for, and then tell her how you feel.”

  “Tell her how I feel? What are you talking about?”

  “You like this girl, right? Or do you love her?”

  “I know I like her, but love her? I know I don’t want her to be very far away from me. She makes me feel like a man at the top of a conquered mountain. I can handle anything. She’s so little, but brave enough to lift up a broken man.”

  “You’re not broken, and it sounds to me like it’s love. I’m just putting it out there for you to overthink on. I’ll let you get back to your thoughts. Let me know how it goes.”

  “Thanks for the two cents worth, sis.”

  “You’re welcome. Love you. Bye.”

  Aran’s right. I just need to keep it simple and let it out, but what am I letting out? And how do you keep it simple when you have a million feelings fighting inside of you to be the one that comes out first? I pick up my phone and call her, and after a lifetime of rings it finally goes to voicemail, as I suspected it would.

  “Jenna, it’s Nick.” I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. God, please let her hear my words. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I never wanted to hurt you. I never want to hurt you again. I don’t know what we are to each other. We should have talked about it.” I pause and scrub my hands over my face praying for the next words quickly. “All I know is that you’ve had a string of men come in and out of your life, and I wanted to be the one that you chose to keep. I’ve watched you for so long at the bar that I feel closer to you than we actually are, I guess. When I couldn’t get hold of you and you didn’t return my calls right away, I thought Luke had come back and I honestly thought he had hurt you. I was worried sick that I hadn’t protected you from him, and I disappointed you. I had crazy thoughts float into my brain and all I knew was that I had to get to you. I raced around your house and couldn’t get inside to you.” I choke back a sob and clear my throat from this huge ball of tension that I can’t seem to swallow. “I thought you were dead.” My voice cracks on that last word and I clear my throat again. “I needed to bust inside and get to you, but then I saw you coming down the street, laughing with Zeus, and—God, Jenna.” I let out the longest sigh I think I’ve ever heard. This sounds so stupid. I’m rambling. “I don’t know. I was so happy just to see you unharmed and laughing, like you should always be. Out of nowhere, a rage filled me. I was mad that I worried for nothing. I wasn’t mad at you, but I took it out on you and I’m sorry. I realized I had no real connection to you, and that we hadn’t talked about us. I felt like nothing to you and I didn’t like it. I lost control, and I don’t like feeling that way either.” I don’t know what else to say so I let that thought hang in the air. I can’t see the numbers on my phone through the tears welling up in my eyes. One blink and I know they will pour down my face like fat raindrops. I rub at my eyes, wiping them away, and then I reach down to push the end button and hang up the call. I’ll call her back when I get my shit together.

  I need to clear my head, because my heart feels empty. I can’t stay here, because I keep seeing her lying on my couch, stretched out watching TV with Zeus on her lap. I need to stay busy. I drive over to work to catch up a little after this afternoon’s personal disaster. I real
ly needed to work today. I was supposed to go out to Coach Durban’s house and make sure it’s cleared. There’s a fire reported out in Vasco. It’s already burned through seventy-five acres with zero containment. According to Mrs. Durban’s message, it was about fifteen miles from her home. She’s the wife of my former high school football coach. He died two years ago from cancer. They never had any kids; instead, Coach had all of us and treated us as his children. I have to watch out for her. She’s up there in years, but as sound as someone in their fifties. She’s a spunky woman living out there all by herself. I’m afraid if really bad comes to worse, she won’t leave her property. I’ve got to head on out there.

  I call Aran to let her know where I’m going and to have her watch Zeus for me. I pack up my gear, grab some clothes, and call Mrs. Durban to let her know I’m on my way. I send a text to Jenna.

  “I don’t know what I need to say to get you to take my calls or respond to my messages. I miss you and it’s only been a few hours. The thought of you gone away from me forever is driving me crazy. I will give you space now. I’m leaving it up to you, Jenna. I hope you choose me.” At the bottom of the message I add in a link to the song “Let Me Love You” by DJ Snake & Justin Bieber. I hit Send.

  I mean it. I’m gonna leave it up to her.

  Chapter 19

  Nick

  It takes me two hours to get out to Vasco, in heavy traffic, battling evacuees and the actual firefighters. It looks like they’ve called in the National Guard to help. There are heavy equipment trucks, huge flatbed trucks, bulldozers, and fire trucks of various sizes clustered around the sides of the highway like some kids left their Matchbox cars laying around the living room. I can hear the buzzing of water planes flying overhead.