Fall From Love

by Heather London

  She comes to stand beside me and her face brightens. “Is it a song? Oh, my God, Holly, are you writing a song?”

  I can’t help laughing at her melodramatic optimism. “I’m trying, but it’s been a while, so I’m a little rusty.”

  She waves off my doubt and rolls her eyes. “Whatever, it’s going to be great like they all are. You better tell me before you sing it at open mic night. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

  My stomach turns at the thought of singing any of the words that are scribbled on the piece of paper beneath my hands. “That may be a while, so don’t hold your breath.” I glance over at her.

  “Baby steps.” She smiles gently and then disappears down the hall.

  I stare down at the paper in front of me. My pen taps in a rhythmic beat against the sheet as I read back over the lyrics I have written so far. They are okay, I guess, but not great. Oh, who am I kidding, it’s crap and they’re depressing as shit. Crumpling the piece of paper in my hand, I throw it in the trash and head to my bedroom to get ready for school.

  ❧

  I park on the west side of campus in the lot adjacent to the Journalism building. Campus feels different, weird. In the past few years, I don’t remember it being so cold when school started, but even as cold and empty as the campus feels, it’s still beautiful—maybe even more than I remember. The clean air, majestic mountains, and small town feel are actually the main reasons I chose the University of Colorado over any university in my home state of New York.

  During my senior year of high school, I had searched and applied to a few different colleges. Most of them were in the south or midwest. It was a part of the United States that was foreign to me so, even though it scared me and even though I wouldn’t know another soul, I pushed myself to give it a go. It wasn’t that I was running from anything in particular. For the most part, my family was great, a little smothering at times, but nothing to complain about. It was strange why I felt the internal pull inside me to get out of there... it was even more difficult to explain it to my mom who begged me for weeks before I left to change my mind.

  When I finally decided on the University of Colorado, I had no desire to stay in the dorms and decided to put an ad on the university’s website, hoping to find a roommate. Jenna replied a day later and, after meeting over coffee, something in my gut told me she was a good person.

  Three years later, I’m still thanking my lucky stars that I found her and she’s in my life.

  It was at the end of my freshman year when I’d met Adam. He was my first in a lot of things and I thought with all my heart that he would be my last. That’s probably why it hit me so hard when he died. I hadn’t planned my life without him in it. Someone so young and full of life couldn’t just be gone in the blink of an eye, could they? Death was for the elderly, those who have lived and experienced all they wanted from life, right?

  The plans I made for my future were always our plans. We had so many things we wanted to do after we graduated. We talked about the adventures that we wanted to share with each other. We talked about eventually getting married and having kids. Adam was all about living, pushing yourself, and doing as many crazy, stupid things as possible. So last spring, when he decided to sign up for the mountain rescue team, it didn’t surprise me in the least. I was actually more surprised that he hadn’t done it sooner.

  Back then, it always seemed like Adam and I would have time to do those wild and crazy things together. Like we could do anything we wanted and didn’t have to rush because we were only twenty-one and had our whole lives ahead of us. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that life doesn’t work that way—that just because you have dreams and make plans, it doesn’t mean that they will come true. I’ve learned that life doesn’t wait on you.

  ❧

  My nerves are on edge all morning, but I don’t realize just how bad until I look down and see my hand shaking as I put my keys in my purse. It’s hard to pinpoint the thing I’m most nervous about. It could be that I haven’t talked to any of my friends from school in months, or the fact that the smell and sight of the campus causes painful memories to resurface. There are many of my friends that had tried to call me right after the accident, but I’ve done a pretty good job of laying low and avoiding people… well, if that’s what you call holing up in your apartment and never leaving it.

  If it weren’t for Jenna, I would’ve never survived the summer. I really have no idea how she put up with me or how I am ever going to pay her back for all that she has done for me.

  Taking a deep breath, I make my way up the set of stairs, pull open the door and then it hits me.

  It’s amazing how a smell can bring you back. I shuffle my feet over a few steps to the left and lean my head back against the wall. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to push the memories out, but the last time I stood in this building comes rushing back to me... the last day Adam was alive.

  I was standing in the middle of the hall, talking to a girl from my study group, when strong, warm arms snaked around my waist. I didn’t even have to think about who it was; I would know those long, lean arms from anywhere.

  “Remember, don’t be late... eight p.m. and not a second later,” Adam whispered as he kissed my neck.

  “Holly,” a distant, yet familiar voice pulls me from my thoughts.

  When I open my eyes, I find myself staring into two large, sympathetic ones.

  “Hi, Becca.” I blink hard, trying to find my focus.

  “You okay?” she asks, reaching out for me, lightly touching my arm.

  I nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “So, what’s your first class?” she asks, clearly trying to distract me.

  “I don’t even know.” I shake my head as I fumble around in my purse and pull out my schedule.

  She sighs. “I’ve got Dr. Langford. I hear he gives killer tests.”

  My eyes scan across the page and relief passes over me. “Looks like we’ll be miserable together, then.” I smile timidly. Having Becca near me right now can only help distract my mind from unhappy thoughts... or at least I hope she will.

  “Really? This is so awesome! It’s going to be so great. We have so much to catch up on. It’ll be just like old times.”

  I inhale deeply, trying to take in her fast talking, perky voice. Just like old times. “Yeah, it will be great.”

  The first day of class isn’t too bad. Most of my professors seem really nice, except for Dr. Langford. Though I’m only in his presence for a couple of hours, his reputation for being a stickler on attendance and giving really hard tests precedes him. The most encouraging part of my day is that I’m able to avoid all the depressing questions I have feared and dreaded.

  I cut across the courtyard and make my way back to my car, eager to get home. When I pull out my phone, I see two missed calls and two text messages. Both missed calls are from my mom. I switch screens and see that one of the texts is from her as well.

  Mom: Call me, please. We haven’t talked in a while. Can’t believe you’re a senior in college! How did my baby grow up so quick?

  My heart aches and I tell myself not to let another day go by before I call her, but deep down, I know that I probably will. It has been difficult to talk to my mom lately. Every time I talk to her she has a pitied tone in her voice that reminds me of when I was sick as a child, or when I was in elementary school and had a bad day at school. It’s still difficult for my mom to get over the fact that I’m a twenty-one-year-old woman and not five-years-old anymore.

  My mom flew in and stayed with me for a week right after the accident. She begged me, I don’t know how many times, to come home and spend the summer in New York, saying that I needed to be around family at a time like this. For some reason, though, I wanted to stay home—my home in Colorado—my home with Jenna. Over the last few years, Jenna has become my best friend, my sister; she is family to me. Still, guilt fills me and I type a message back to my mom.

  Me: I’ll call you soon, promis
e.

  The other text is from Jenna and, the moment I read it, I’m unable to stop the grin from spreading across my face, loving how well she knows just what I need at this moment.

  Jenna: Dinner at the casa. We r celebrating our senior year with a couple bottles of wine!

  I exhale a long breath and text her back.

  Me: Sounds perfect. Do you want me to pick up something or are we ordering in?

  Neither one of us are great cooks, but we are both really good at ordering take out. Not a minute passes before my phone chimes again.

  Jenna: I’m cooking... and shut it. It will be better this time. You’ll eat it and you’ll love it, or you’ll lie and tell me u do.

  I laugh and slide the phone back into my purse. The heaviness that has occupied my chest over the last few months is still with me, but for the first time in a long time, it feels a little lighter. It feels like I am going to be okay—that everything is going to be okay.

  ❧

  After we’re done with dinner, we open a second bottle of wine. It has been a long time since we both have loosened up and had so much fun together; I’m only now realizing how much I miss it.

  “Seriously, Jenna, that was some amazing food,” I say, filling her wine glass back up and then mine.

  “It was pretty good, huh?” she agrees, clearly impressed with herself. “Okay.” She clears her throat and raises her glass for her second toast of the night. “Here’s to our senior year, may it be full of epic memories.”

  Our glasses clink and I chuckle, feeling the effects from the first bottle of wine hit me like a ton of bricks.

  “What’s so funny?” Jenna narrows her hazy gaze, or tries to, and that’s when I know she’s tipsy.

  “Let’s see, your first toast was for us to have as much wicked fun as possible this year, and now it’s epic memories? Epic? Wicked? ” I laugh and repeat her choice of words. “I don’t know; I’ve just never heard you say those things before.” Between her excellent cooking skills and some new vocabulary, I wonder what other new things I’ve missed about my best friend over the past few months.

  A goofy smile stretches across her face. “Yeah, I actually hate those words. It’s just something I picked up from Josh. I’ve told him to stop saying them because it makes him sound stupid and immature and here I am saying them, too.”

  As soon as she finishes talking, she curses under her breath and her eyes grow wide.

  “Who’s Josh?” I ask.

  “Shit, Holly. I didn’t mean to bring him up. It’s this stupid wine and we’ve been having such a good time. It just slipped,” she rambles, meets my gaze, and an anxious look appears on her face.

  I raise an eyebrow, wondering what she’s freaking out about. “Jenna, relax… All you did was mention a guy’s name.”

  “You’re right.” She laughs nervously and rolls her eyes. “It’s stupid.”

  “So who’s Josh?” It’s obvious that she wants to drop the subject which just makes me more curious.

  “Um…” She hesitates for a minute, licking her lips. “He’s just some guy I’ve been talking to.”

  “What?! And you kept this from me!?” My voice is louder than usual and I know it must be from the wine.

  Her face falls. “Well, I just didn’t want to bring up a guy in front of you. I know you’re still dealing, you know, with your own stuff. I may be a bitch, but I’m not a cold hearted one.”

  I fall back in my seat. My heart stings when I realize what just happened. My best friend just admitted that she has been intentionally keeping things from me—important things. I used to be the first person she ran to when a new guy entered her life.

  “How long have you been talking to him?”

  She takes another sip of wine and swallows hard before responding. “A few months.”

  “Jenna! That’s the longest you ever stuck with one guy.”

  “Damn, Holly, stop yelling.” Her hand flies to her head and she begins to rub circles around her right temple. “All of your yelling is giving me a headache.”

  I roll my eyes at her dramatic tone. “Sorry, I just found out that my best friend has been talking to a guy for months and didn’t tell me,” I say, trying to keep my voice at a decent volume. “Doesn’t that break the code of best friends somehow? Our code?”

  When we were freshman we made a pact to always be there for each other, no matter what—or who—came between us. If I’m being honest, I totally botched that pact on my end, something I feel really bad about.

  She sighs and swirls around her wine. Both of us watch it go round and round in her glass, not able to meet each other’s eyes. Of course I understand why this topic is a sensitive subject, but it still hurts that she’s keeping something like this from me.

  “I wanted to tell you, Holly... believe me, but I wanted to give you some time to heal a little more first,” she says finally.

  I feel a tug at my heart. “And I love you for that, but you’re not getting off that easy. I want to hear all about him. He must be important to you if he’s lasted this long.” I look up and meet her gaze.

  “He is important,” she says and a slow smile creeps across her lips. It’s like a switch is turned on and love potion is freaking oozing out of her. “Well,” she begins, “his name is Josh Abbott and he’s a student at CU. We met a few months ago at Sterling’s—”

  “Wait,” I interrupt her. “Is that the guy you were hanging all over the other night?”

  “I was not!” she fires back, but the smile spreading across her face tells me that I’m right.

  “He’s cute.” I smile.

  “Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” She sighs. “And not just that, but he’s sweet and fun and smart. And, oh, my God, he loves to cook. On our first few dates he didn’t take me out, he actually cooked for me at his house. No one has ever cooked for me! And now, he’s teaching me to cook. Sure, he says stupid things like epic and wicked, but he’s…” Her voice trails off when she realizes that she’s been gushing. “Oh God, sorry. I shouldn’t be going on and on.”

  “Don’t stop. I want details.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” she asks, her face dripping with pity.

  “Yes,” I say, giving her a pointed look. “Now, don’t make me kick your ass. Continue telling me all about your cute, amazing boyfriend, who loves to cook, says stupid things like epic and wicked, and that you’ve been hiding from me for months.”

  She gives me a playful scowl and then takes a deep breath as she eases back into her chair. I lean back and get comfortable, too; listening as she gushes about the guy she’s been crushing on. It’s really crazy because I’ve never seen her so wrapped up in a guy like this before. Usually, she’s with a guy for a couple weeks, he ends up annoying her, she dumps him and then moves on to the next guy. It pains me to know that she’s had to keep all this bottled up for so long.

  Once she finishes, I can’t help shaking my head and laughing. “Wow, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

  She sighs and closes her eyes. “Yeah, I think I do.”

  My heart feels warm, knowing that she is happy and has found someone. “Well, I can’t wait to meet him.”

  Her eyes pop open and she swallows deeply as a worried look crosses her face.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  She takes another sip of her wine and bites her bottom lip, hesitating. “There’s something I have to tell you about him.” She pauses and exhales loudly, refusing to meet my eyes. “Something that I don’t think you’re gonna like.”

  “Okay,” I draw out the word. My mind is moving a mile a minute, trying to figure out what could possibly be so bad. What would cause her to be so nervous?

  “Jenna, come on, tell me.” The look on her face is killing me.

  She takes in a large breath. “He’s… um… he volunteers on the mountain… he’s part of the rescue team.” The last few words that come out of her mouth are barely above a whisper, but I hear them loud and clear.

  My sto
mach twists and instinctively my arms wrap themselves around my midsection as I squeeze down. It’s something I’ve done over the last few months in order to stop the pain from spreading throughout my body. It never really works, of course, but it’s just become a habit now. A few seconds pass and I release the hold on my stomach, finally feeling like I can breathe again. It’s sad to know that just a few words can still cause such horrible pain.

  “I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Jenna shakes her head and stares down at the table.

  “Hey,” I say, swallowing the lump that’s rising in my throat. “It’s—it’s fine.”

  “Really? ‘Cause you don’t look fine. You look...” her voice trails off.

  “Really, Jenna. It’s okay.”

  “You sure? ‘Cause I won’t talk about him if it’s gonna hurt you or if you need more time.”

  “Jenna.” My voice is firm and I try my hardest to stretch my lips and form something resembling a smile. “Do you hear yourself? You’re willing to never talk about your boyfriend in front of me because he’s part of the rescue team. Don’t be silly. I’m not that fragile.”

  Deep down I know that I probably am, and every time that she mentions him from now on I’ll think of Adam, but I’m not about to tell Jenna that. I owe her so much and she deserves this. She deserves to meet someone and fall in love. She deserves to be happy.

  “Well, there’s one more thing. I guess I’ll just get it all out now.” She takes in another deep breathe.

  I relax a little, knowing nothing she says can be as bad as what she just told me.

  “He’s friends with Carter,” she finally blurts out.

  Okay, so I was wrong. Things could get worse.

  “Best friends,” she adds.

  Okay, way worse.

  “And they’re roommates.”

  Shit.

  I close my eyes. Why? Why does her boyfriend have to be best friends with a guy that I can’t breathe around? The guy that, with just one look at his face, one word from his lips, makes all the memories I’ve tried to forget come rushing back.