What it Takes to Fall

by Ellis, C. R.

  I went to sleep last night wondering if it was possible to be falling for Bryce this soon, if maybe those three little words that had been at the tip of my tongue were always meant only for Bryce. Now I wanted to exorcise the words from my vocabulary and the entire feeling from my heart.

  “El? You sure you don’t want to go to the hotel first? Before we see her?” Sophia asked, squeezing my hand from the seat next to me.

  I still wasn’t over the fact that she’d immediately forgiven me after I told her everything. She pulled me into a hug and let me cry on her shoulder for a solid ten minutes after I woke her up. We’ve come a long way in the last two months. She said she wasn’t even sure if she would’ve wanted to meet our mother five years ago, anyway, which made sense; high school was rough for Sophia.

  I nodded and squeezed her hand in return. “I’m sure. I need to do this before I talk myself out of it.”

  For the last few minutes of the ride, I typed a dozen different texts to Bryce, but I deleted them all without sending a single one. Nothing felt right. Every time I thought I knew what I wanted to say I’d go right back to second guessing everything.

  “I think you need to forgive him, Elliot,” Sophia said, bumping my shoulder and nodding at my phone. “He’s been in your corner for as long as I can remember. Bryce is one of the good ones, and he fucking loves you. There’s no way he would’ve let things play out the way they did back then if he had known in advance how much it would affect you.”

  “It’s not black and white, Soph. If he loves me, why did it take him two months to tell me about what he did? Why wait until right after we’ve slept together?”

  “That’s exactly my point, El; it’s not black and white. Bryce was living in shades of gray. Between y’all’s history, Peyton, and him working on the inn and venue, the deck was already stacked against you two. And it’s worth mentioning that, on top of all that, there’s no way Bryce’s heart isn’t scarred from Peyton’s mother. You said she just vanished without a word, and Bryce had to handle her fucking him over like that and becoming a dad? I don’t care how much he trusts you, there’s no way a little part of him hasn’t worried you’d do the same thing. My guess is that he was scared of losing you, and for more than one reason.”

  I swiveled around to give her a side-eye.

  “How did this happen? I’m supposed to be the wise sister who offers wisdom and life lessons. You’re supposed to need my advice, not the other way around.”

  She shrugged and gave me a smile. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that like you’re surprised I’m actually capable of such insight. I’m not a kid anymore, you know. Plus, as far as relationships go, what I lack in real life experience, I make up for in romance bookworm knowledge.” She dug a paperback out of her purse and shook it, making us both chuckle. “And I’ll always need my big sister’s advice, El. Don’t think you’re off the hook for sisterly wisdom down the road.”

  Before I could reply, the car came to a stop and Milo turned to us from the front seat, his blue-gray eyes bouncing between Sophia and me. “Ready?”

  Sophia and I glanced at each other and smiled before turning to Milo.

  “We’re ready.”

  Chapter 23

  Elliot

  Stepping out of the SUV and into the chilly fall air, I pulled my jacket a little tighter around me and surveyed my surroundings. This is my mother’s neighborhood—my mother’s house. Surreal didn’t seem like a strong enough word to describe what I felt. I was seconds from meeting the woman who gave me life.

  Trees sporting a kaleidoscope of red and orange and yellow leaves lined the street. A group of rowdy kids played kickball in the cul-de-sac a few lots down. The houses were all Victorian-style with fancy woodwork and bright pops of color. Each residence on the block looked like a super-sized version of a dollhouse.

  I threaded my arm through Sophia’s and tugged her up the sidewalk, taking in Helen’s house in its three-story entirety. A beautiful stained glass bay window caught my eye first, the blue and green hues highlighting the matching trim along the gabled roof. Something about the house just felt…inviting. Which was the last thing I had expected to feel about anything Helen-related.

  Realizing the reason I was so drawn to the house, I froze. “Soph…”

  “I know,” she agreed with a nod. “It’s so much like the manor.”

  The house we’d grown up in was coated in warmer colors, but the styles were eerily similar. It made me wonder if that’s why Helen chose this house, this neighborhood.

  Milo ascended the porch steps first and shot us a questioning glance before he reached for the door. We both nodded, and he rapped his fist against it three times before stepping aside.

  It only took a few seconds for the door to swing open, and then…

  She was there.

  I could barely believe my eyes, could barely breathe.

  Standing two feet in front of me, clad in an expensive Adrianna Papell sheath dress, was the woman I’d never expected to see again.

  Before Sophia showed me Helen's picture on Facebook, I’d had only my blurry mental images of a woman half my mother's current age. The two might as well have been completely different people—the Helen in my childhood and the one standing before me; the Helen from my memories didn’t even seem to exist anymore.

  She was about my height but looked like an older version of Sophia—straight, dark hair brushing her shoulders, high cheekbones, small button nose, long lashes framing her dark eyes. A nervous smile pulled at the corners of her lips.

  When Sophia and I failed to speak after a few seconds, Milo stepped around us and offered his hand.

  “Hi, I’m Milo. The best friend.”

  “Helen,” she replied, shaking hands with him.

  “And these two are…uh…well, I guess you already know who they are,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. His face flushed red. “Gee, I’m really glad I didn’t make things more awkward.”

  The three of us let out soft laughs, and Helen nodded.

  “Of course. Please, come in,” she offered, pulling the door open to gesture us inside.

  I squeezed Milo’s forearm and gave him a smile of appreciation while we filed in behind her.

  The house’s interior was a continuation of typical Victorian-style features—high ceilings, an ornate staircase, fancy woodwork throughout, and a floor-plan that flowed seamlessly from room to room. The impersonal artwork along the walls and beige color scheme were nothing like my—our—childhood home, but there was no mistaking the similarities the two shared in style.

  “Can I get anyone some coffee? Tea? Water?” she asked, absently picking at a loose thread on her dress.

  Huh. We might not share a lot physically, but we’ve got at least some habits in common.

  We all went with coffee, and a couple minutes later, she returned with a tray and four steaming cups.

  “You’ve got a beautiful home,” Sophia said, letting her eyes wander around the room for the zillionth time.

  Helen set her coffee down, her red-stained lips lifting as she followed Sophia’s gaze. “Thank you. We knew as soon as we walked in that it was the one.”

  We? My eyes flew to her hand, searching for a ring, then to the walls, searching for signs of a family. I zeroed in on a cluster of photos on the mantle, but there were no children in them, only Helen and a tall, balding man with glasses.

  She must’ve followed my gaze because she stood up and grabbed one of the photos off the mantle.

  “My husband. Alvin,” she said, handing me the frame.

  Sophia leaned over and studied the photo with me. They were on a cruise ship, laughing and clinking cocktail glasses together. They looked blissfully happy together.

  Which shouldn’t have angered me, but it did.

  I shoved the frame into Sophia’s lap and scooted away. “I’m sorry. I can’t do the whole awkward ‘get to know each other’ grace period. I have to know. Why? You’ve obviously got a
wonderful life, and you’re obviously not the same person you were twenty years ago. What happened five years ago? Why didn’t you want to meet me?”

  “El,” Sophia warned, cutting her eyes at me.

  “No, she’s right,” Helen interjected. “She’s waited long enough for an explanation. You both deserve to know.” She paused and twisted her hands together in her lap, pulling in a deep breath through her nose. “Elliot, Sophia, I want you to know how sorry I am. I know those words don’t even scratch the surface of what you both deserve from me, but I’m offering them anyway. Not for forgiveness, and not because I think it will fix anything, but because it’s the truth. I’m so sorry for everything.”

  I sat perfectly still, absorbing the words I never thought I’d hear from a woman I never thought I’d see again. For a few seconds, I tried to pinpoint how I felt about her apology. My brain kept hurling clichés: talk is cheap; actions speak louder than words; don’t believe everything you’re told.

  But my brain wasn’t the only organ in the fight for control. Talk is cheap, but there’s value in sincerity. Actions hold the power to hurt you, but words can heal.

  “I struggled to maintain sobriety during all of my twenties,” she continued, letting us off the hook for a response to her apology. “I was haunted by my failure as a parent, by the knowledge of what I’d put you both through. But then I moved to California and met a man who helped me get clean, stay sober, and even helped me get a job. We got married, and I felt like I was finally in a good enough place in my life that I could be a part of your lives. But I owed it to your grandparents to see them first, to prove to them that I deserved another chance. I knew things would be strained between us; I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome, but I was hoping they’d realize how far I’d come. Let’s just say they were…less than thrilled about me getting in contact with you, Elliot.”

  “They didn’t believe that you were sober?” I asked, though it came out as a statement.

  “No, they didn’t. At the time, I was devastated that they didn’t believe me. But I can’t say I blame them; the last time they saw me I stole your grandfather’s wallet. They assumed I had some kind of ulterior motive, so I offered to take a drug test, to do whatever it took. But then they started telling me about the…nightmares you had as a child, Elliot. About how, for months after I left, they’d find you curled up in a ball in your closet at night. About how you always needed to know where they were going and how long they’d be gone every time one of them left the house. About how you wouldn’t let Sophia out of your sight for weeks at first…”

  She trailed off and swiped away the tears that spilled onto her cheeks.

  Sophia scooted closer and squeezed my hand. You’re not alone in this, her warm grip promised.

  “They also told me that you were doing really well at the time,” she continued. “That night, I went back to the hotel and told my husband—now ex-husband—how it went with my parents. I started hyperventilating while telling him what they said, and then it escalated into a full-blown panic attack. I ended up spending the night in the ER. Given my condition at the time, he begged me not to go through with meeting you; he told me it would be best not to let my past ruin our future. Our family.”

  “Condition?” I asked, struggling to wrap my head around everything Helen was telling me. “What sort of condition?”

  Helen flinched, and I was struck by an unexpected jolt of sympathy for whatever it was I saw in her eyes.

  “I was…I was pregnant. Four months. Because of my age and a couple of other factors, it was considered a high-risk pregnancy. The doctors told me to avoid stress as much as possible. Between that and the onslaught of guilt I felt from hearing about your…struggles, Elliot…it was too much. I couldn’t risk my health or the baby’s, so I went back to California the next day.”

  A million questions and thoughts burst through my mind at once, and I couldn’t decide which to grab on to.

  How is it possible that I'm starting to understand why she did what she did? Nana and Pops wanted to talk to me about meeting her. Why didn’t I let them finish explaining? I have another sibling. What if she’s lying? There’s no way she’s not telling the truth right now. You can’t fake that kind of emotion. Why didn’t she come back or contact me again after the baby was born?

  “I don’t…I don’t know what to say. That’s…a lot.”

  When I finally brought my eyes back to Helen, she was still trying to control the tears. Her pain was palpable, and I had the strongest urge to offer her some kind of comfort. On some level, I still felt hurt, and a part of me would probably always struggle to understand some of the choices my mother made, but right now all I felt was sympathy.

  Sophia shifted on the couch before clearing her throat. “Why didn’t you try to get in contact with us after you had the baby?”

  “For the rest of my pregnancy, I struggled with depression. It was like my trip to Texas opened the floodgates of doubt in my mind. I’d already blown my shot at being a mother; what made me think I deserved another chance? I couldn’t come to terms with everything I’d done. The week before Michael’s due date, I knew something wasn’t right. He had stopped moving around, and I just knew. I went to the hospital and found out he was just…gone. They couldn’t explain it. For a year after…he passed, I was an empty shell. I hardly ate, I barely left my bed, I couldn’t even look at my husband. Eventually, I saw a therapist, and little by little, I came back to life. Things with my ex had fallen apart, but I wanted to live again. I knew I needed a fresh start to make that happen, so I moved here about two years ago, and then I met Alvin last year.” She leaned over to pick up the photo from the coffee table and smiled through her watery gaze. “He’s shown me that it’s okay to forgive myself and that my past mistakes only define me if I fail to grow from them.”

  By the time she finished, Sophia, Milo, and I were all fighting tears and reaching for the tissue box.

  For all of her faults, for all of her mistakes…she didn’t deserve to have her life ripped apart and her heart shattered into oblivion.

  I reached over and covered her hand with mine. “I’m so sorry…about Michael. I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been. I just…I’m sorry.” I squeezed my eyes shut to contain the tears, but they slipped out anyway. “But I’m glad you found someone like Alvin."

  “Thank you.” Helen squeezed my hand and gave me a smile. “He’s brought enough sunshine into my life to brighten all my rainy days.”

  My lips twitched at the familiar words. It was how Pops had always described Nana.

  “Excuse me,” Sophia cried, jumping up and jogging toward the door.

  “Soph!” I called, pushing up to follow her.

  “I’ll go, El. Let me,” Milo said, standing quickly.

  I gave him a nod, and he took off.

  A stiff silence fell over the two of us as I watched through the window and saw Milo catch up to my sister. She kept walking, so he slung his arm around her shoulders.

  I released a breath and slumped back into the couch when he pulled her into his body and she didn’t pull away. I trusted Milo to talk her through whatever she was feeling.

  “Do you have someone to brighten the rainy days, Elliot?” Helen asked, drawing my attention from the scene outside.

  “I do.” The words were automatic, summoned by the magic smile and blue-green eyes that filled my dreams. In one way or another, Bryce has always been the keeper of my sunshine. “But it’s kinda complicated.”

  “Most parts of life are.”

  “He has a daughter. She’s almost two.”

  Surprise lifted my mother’s dark brows, but it was quickly replaced by a cautious curiosity. “Ah. And that’s an issue for you?”

  “At first I thought it could be. I mean, not an issue. More like…a concern. I never gave much thought to having kids. I wasn’t sure if I had what it took to be the right kind of parent. I still don’t know. But…” I pushed off the couch and wandered toward t
he fireplace, admiring the other photos of Helen and Alvin. “I’m pretty sure I fell for Peyton the second he showed me her picture. She’s basically impossible not to love. I just, I don’t know; I always worried I’d be like…” I shrugged and let my sentence trail off without an ending because we both realized what it was.

  Awkward.

  “You were worried you’d be the kind of mother I was? Oh, Elliot, no. That’s not possible. I was a mess back then. I was barely sixteen when I had you, and eighteen when I had Sophia. The men, the drugs, the choices I made…that was all on me. You were never destined to repeat my mistakes, Elliot; that’s why I gave you to my parents.”

  I turned back toward her and nodded. “I know. I realize that now. I think it took coming here—meeting you—for me to fully understand and accept that, though.”

  “You’ve always been your own person. And, if you’re like anyone, it’s your grandmother. I see so much of her in you. I have to ask, though, what made them tell you about what happened?”

  “Uh, that’s actually the other part of what’s complicated with Bryce. Five years ago, he was just a friend, and I confided in him about meeting you. Long story short, he’s the one who told Nana and Pops about my plans. So, he’s the reason they tracked you down, and I only found out this morning that he’s sort of the reason things fell apart.”

  “Elliot, I think there’s been some confusion. I went to George and Millie myself. I’m the reason things fell apart.”

  “Oh, god. I owe him an explanation. I don’t even know where to begin or if it’ll fix the way we left things though. I went a little crazy on him.”

  Helen’s hand gripped my shoulder, and it wasn’t until I turned to put us face-to-face that I realized I’d started pacing across her living room. “If he’s truly the man you think he is, he’ll understand.”

  I nodded, pulling in a deep breath to steady my hammering pulse. “You’re right.”