Dare to Fall

by Estelle Maskame

  Mom sets the two empty bottles down on the counter at the other side of the sink, and then leans back over to grab a third bottle, twisting its cap off. “I didn’t realize what I’ve been doing all these years,” she admits. Still, she pauses with the opened bottle of wine in her hand for a few seconds before she forces herself to pour its contents out. “Neither of you said anything,” she murmurs, placing the empty bottle down. She leans back against the counter and looks at Dad and me. That strength in her eyes is quickly replaced with a flash of hurt. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  I exchange a glance with Dad, and he gives me a small nod, encouraging me to answer her. But I don’t have an answer. Not really. It was always easier not to say anything. I remain silent as I really try to think about the reason why I never said the words Jaden said last night, why I never told her that the wine wasn’t helping her, that it was unfair of her to send me out to buy it, that Grace wouldn’t want this for her.

  “Because you’re my mom,” I say, finally. This isn’t what I expected to wake up to, but I’m glad that it is. “I didn’t want to upset you, or argue with you, or make you feel even worse. And I guess we never wanted to admit that it was an actual problem.”

  Mom’s eyes mirror mine and she studies my expression, analyzing every single one of my features. Slowly, the corners of her eyes begin to crinkle with both pain and love all at the same time, and she nods as though in acceptance. She shifts her gaze to Dad. “And you?”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Dad begins, eyes locked on Mom, “because I understood. I couldn’t blame you.”

  The tiny smile Mom gives Dad is full of sadness, but then she turns back to the counter and scoops up the five empty bottles of wine into her arms. “No more drinking,” she announces with fragile determination. She moves across the kitchen and dumps the bottles by the back door. “I’d like a drink right now, but it looks like we don’t have any wine left in this house anymore,” she says. She walks over to Dad and places her hand on his shoulder, looking down at him. “I will try this on my own for now, but if it becomes too difficult, I will get help. Okay?”

  I hear the honking of Will’s Jeep out front, but I don’t care. Overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions, from pride to relief to joy, I dump my bag and my textbook down onto the table next to Dad and throw myself at Mom. Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her against me and hug her tight. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to hear her say these things until now. She buries her face into my hair and hugs me back even tighter as though she’s afraid to let go, and she whispers, “Sometimes I forget that I’m still lucky enough to be a mom.”

  During Physics, I find it impossible to concentrate. I try, I really do. But no matter how hard I try to focus my full attention on Mr. Acker as he discusses vectors, my mind always wonders elsewhere within a matter of seconds. I’m thinking about Mom, hoping she’s managing on her own. I’m also thinking about Jaden. I have yet to see him, but it’s only first period. I’m still angry, but now it feels like it’s more out of a sense of hurt pride. His truthful words were harsh but necessary, and they seem to have gotten the message across to Mom that she has been grieving the wrong way for four years now. But Jaden still did not have the right to talk to my mom the way he did. He didn’t have the right to get involved. It could have backfired. Luckily for him, it didn’t. So I forgive him, but not entirely.

  I glance sideways to Kailee at the desk next to me. Her elbow is propped up on the desk, her chin is rested in her hand, her face blank as she stares at nothing in particular. I reach for my notebook and tear off a small section of a page, popping the lid off my pen and scribbling down a quick message.

  Party at Will’s on the 15th. By the way, I’m sort of, kinda, maybe dating Jaden Hunter again. I’ll fill you in at lunch!

  I steal a glance up at Mr. Acker to double-check that he isn’t looking, and when he turns his back on the class to point to the screen, I lean over the aisle and set the piece of scrap paper down on Kailee’s desk. She jumps at the movement and her hand falls to her chest, suggesting that I’ve given her a heart attack. We exchange a grin and then she picks up the note, holding it up in front of her face and squinting at my seemingly illegible handwriting. Seconds pass before she fires her wide-eyed gaze back over to me. Her jaw hangs open.

  “I knew it!” she mouths, and I roll my eyes, biting back a smile. I can’t gush about Jaden to Holden and Will, and it would be too awkward to talk about Jaden with Dani, so I ought to fill Kailee and Jess in on all of my news from the past few weeks. There’s a lot to tell, and I want to tell it.

  I shift my gaze from Kailee’s surprised excitement to Will. He’s busy listening to Mr. Acker and taking notes, and I’m just about to toss my eraser at him when the bell rings out. The abruptness of it startles me and I close my books, getting to my feet.

  Almost immediately, Kailee steps in front of me. There’s a shine to her eyes as she tells me, “I always wondered if you guys would ever get back together!”

  I laugh and push my chair in. “We’re not really together,” I admit with a small shrug. It almost feels strange talking about Jaden and me so casually like this again after so long. I used to talk about Jaden all the time, most likely to the point where I would frustrate people, but I couldn’t help myself back then. “I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”

  “Okay. I gotta tell Jess,” Kailee says, then grits her teeth and releases a small squeal under her breath. I can always count on Kailee to get excited for me. “See you at lunch, Kenzie!”

  She heads for the door, following the rest of the class out into the bustling hallways, throwing me a tiny wave before she disappears. A smile has taken over my lips and it won’t let go. Seeing Kailee so excited has massively boosted my mood. Rather than being full of dread and anger, I’m feeling hopeful. Hopeful that Mom will be okay, hopeful that Jaden and me will be just fine.

  “I don’t have all day, you know,” Will remarks playfully, grabbing my attention. He’s standing by his desk, textbook against his chest, his hair in his eyes as he waits for me. The class has emptied out, and we’re the only two people left besides one other guy who is chatting to Mr. Acker.

  “Sorry,” I apologize. He looks at me with suspicion, and all I can tell him is, “I’m a little distracted today.”

  “Yeah, I can tell,” he says. Side by side, we make for the door and join the flow of students in the hallways, forced to raise our voices. “What’s up?”

  “Uh, nothing really,” I lie. Such an understatement. But Will doesn’t know about Mom’s growing alcohol consumption, so I know I can’t tell him about what happened last night with Jaden. That’s why I quickly change the subject. “Jaden and Dani are coming to your party, by the way,” I inform him. I keep half of my attention on Will and the other half focused on keeping an eye out for Jaden. I’m nervous about seeing him again.

  “Really? Dani said she’d come?” Will asks, surprised. He looks pleased when I nod. “That’s cool. I thought she’d say no. Holden’s invited some of the guys from the team, so it’s shaping up to be a good crowd.”

  We split up in different directions then. Will heads off to his next class, and I make for my locker. I don’t have much time left to get to class, so I quickly switch my textbooks around and then steal a glance at myself in the tiny mirror on the back of my locker door. My heart completely stops when the reflection shows Jaden behind me. I spin around to face him, my hair whipping around my shoulders.

  “Kenz,” Jaden murmurs, stepping closer to me. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes wide with guilt, his forehead creased with worry. His hair is flat today and he’s wearing a black hoodie again, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack. He’s squeezing so tightly, his knuckles are paling, and he looks at me in apologetic desperation.

  “Don’t,” I tell him. I slam my locker shut, and the bell echoes throughout the school building once more. I’m late for class, and there are only a few other stragglers that remain in the
halls.

  “Kenz, I’m sorry,” Jaden tries again, reaching for my hand. He shakes his head fast and I’ve never seen him look so anxious before. With his fingers still grasping my hand, he continues, “I didn’t mean to say what I did. I couldn’t stop myself, and I was wrong, but it just . . . came out. I guess I thought it might help.”

  I pull my hand free from his and place it flat against his chest, forcing him to stop. In the silence that forms, I look straight back into his eyes, recognizing the same guilt that I saw in them last night. It’s sincere, and I’m glad he feels guilty. He should. However, my anger is gone. After several seconds have passed, I finally say, “Thank you.”

  Confusion crosses Jaden’s eyes. He stares back at me, head tilted to one side, puzzled over my reply. I don’t think it was the one he was expecting. “What?”

  “You said exactly what we’ve wanted to say for a while now,” I admit, dropping my hand from his chest and shifting my gaze to the floor. “We just didn’t have the guts to admit it, let alone say it, and it hit Mom right where it needed to. So thank you.” I glance back up at the boy in front of me, knowing that it would have been impossible to remain angry at him. He’s too caring, too loving. I know his intentions were good. He just went about it the wrong way. “Jaden,” I say firmly, my tone solemn, “don’t ever do anything like that again, though.”

  “Never,” he says quickly. “Never.” He exhales loudly in relief, his broad shoulders sinking as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his body. He’s full of warmth and he holds me tightly, and I feel safe and secure in his arms. Burying my face into the crook of his neck, I inhale his scent, and against my ear, Jaden whispers, “I thought I’d really messed up.” He squeezes me tight and then releases his hold on me, taking a step back. His features have softened again and he slides his bag off his shoulder and fumbles around inside it. “Since you’re not a flowers type of girl,” he murmurs. Glancing back up, he gives me a smile and pulls out a small cardboard box from his bag. He hands it to me, brushing his fingers over mine.

  “What’s this?” I ask, holding it between my hands and studying it.

  “Not flowers,” Jaden answers with a laugh. He nods to the box. “Open it.”

  I do as he asks, pulling open the folds of the box. When I look down at what’s inside, I laugh out loud in the hallway. There’s a pile of Hershey’s chocolate bars, and it seems Jaden really does listen to every word I say. He’s smiling sheepishly at his sweet gesture, slightly embarrassed.

  “This is way better than flowers,” I tell him. And, because I’m late for class anyway, I step forward and press my lips to the corner of his mouth, leaving a lingering kiss there. “Thank you.”

  “It’s no problem,” Jaden says. He zips his bag up and slides it back onto one shoulder, stealing a glance at the watch on his wrist. “Looks like I’m taking advantage again of the fact that I don’t get yelled at for being late. I should get to class.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Meeting my eyes, he reaches up and presses the pad of his thumb to the edge of my jaw. His gentle smile is forever warm and sincere. “See you later, Kenz,” he says, and he turns and walks away, drifting off down the hallway along with the final remaining stragglers.

  There’s a giddy smile on my face as I turn back to my locker and open it up all over again, sliding the box inside. Jaden really is sweet in the most attractive way possible. He’s endearing and strong, charming and flirtatious. I get everything in one with Jaden, and it’s the absolute perfect mixture.

  “Kenzie,” someone hisses, and I instantly recognize the voice as Holden’s. I crane my neck to the right and see Holden sneaking up next to me. We’ve been on good terms the past few days and he has said nothing more on the whole Jaden matter; however, it doesn’t seem to have lasted. Now, his expression is cold and he stares down at me, giving a pointed glance in the direction that Jaden has just walked off in. “What was that?”

  “I’m late, Holden,” I tell him, rolling my eyes at the question. He knows what the answer is: I was talking to Jaden, I was hugging Jaden, I was kissing Jaden, because I like Jaden. I’ve told him this already, so I don’t know why he almost looks surprised, and I’m not prepared to discuss it all over again. “I need to get to Spanish, and I’m pretty sure you’ve got a class to get to, too.”

  “Tell me one thing, Kenzie,” Holden blurts out quickly, grabbing my elbow so that I can’t push past him. He looks down at me with those dark eyes of his. The expression within them is different, something that I’ve never quite seen before, and I find myself trying to decode it as I look back up at him. Quietly, he finally asks, “Are you serious about Jaden Hunter?”

  I pull my elbow free from his grasp and push my locker shut, sending an echo bouncing throughout the hall. “Yes, Holden,” I answer with confidence, looking him straight in the eye. “I am.”

  A flash of fear tears across his face and his eyes crinkle at their corners, his frown growing more prominent. He looks down to the ground, shaking his head slowly. “Oh, Kenzie,” he whispers under his breath. “I really, really wish you hadn’t said that.”

  27

  I’m sprawled out across the living room floor, lying flat on my stomach, staring aimlessly at my AP Statistics homework in front of me. I have the night off work, so I’m using it to my full advantage by catching up on all of the homework I’ve let stack up over the past week. I’m not quite focused, however, mostly because I keep glancing up at the TV and over to Mom.

  She’s sitting stiffly on the couch, chewing on her lower lip as she tries to concentrate on the episode of Scandal she’s watching. But I can tell her mind is elsewhere, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out where exactly. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since she announced her decision to cut out the wine, and already she appears lost and unsure of herself. I can see it in her eyes. She’s struggling.

  Setting my pen down on my notebook, I prop myself up onto one elbow and look up at her. “What are you thinking about?” I ask her quietly, my tone gentle.

  Her dark eyes flicker from the TV down to me. As she looks at me with a blank stare, it becomes clear that she is fighting a mental battle with herself. I can see it in her expression, in her frown, in her warm brown eyes. “Everything,” she admits. She interlocks her fingers and then releases them, only to repeat the action all over again. She’s more fidgety than usual, most likely because her mind won’t rest. There is no wine in her system to numb it.

  “Maybe you just need to find a new hobby,” I suggest with a hopeful smile. I push myself up completely and cross my legs on the floor, leaning back against the couch. I rack my brain for possible ideas, and blurt out the first ones that come to mind. “How about knitting? Scrapbooks? Drawing? You were arty in college, weren’t you? Why don’t you create something?” The tight smile that Mom gives me in reply does little to mask her frustration and desperation, so I quickly add, “Or you can do my homework, if you’d like?”

  That gets her to laugh, and she rolls her eyes and relaxes back against the couch, breaking out of her stiff posture. “Nice try,” she murmurs.

  Heaving a sigh, I push my homework to one side and get to my feet. If Mom is going to be successful with this, she’s going to need a new distraction. She’ll drive herself insane otherwise. I leave the room and head into the kitchen, pulling open drawers and fumbling around them in search of scrap paper. It’s just after 9PM, but the evening has felt long and the time has dragged, so I can only imagine that it feels much longer to Mom. She needs something to keep herself occupied, so I grab some old sheets of paper and a couple pencils, close the drawers and head back into the living room.

  “Draw something,” I tell Mom. I set the paper and pencils down on the couch next to her, giving her a nod of encouragement when she glances down at them. I’m not exactly sure where I’m going with this, but I press my palms flat on the arm of the couch and lean forward, looking at Mom from beneath my eyelashes. “None of this
is really about the drinking,” I state quietly. My words are slow and cautious as I continue. “It’s about Grace. It’s about accepting it, and if you don’t think you can, then maybe you should talk to someone who isn’t me or Dad. But first, there’s a habit you need to break, so please, draw something.”

  Mom frowns at the paper on the couch by her side. She picks up a pencil and holds it delicately between her fingertips, then glances back up at me. “When did you get so smart?”

  Smiling, I tell her, “My mom raised me.”

  At that exact moment, the doorbell rings out around the house with a bouncing echo. It’s followed by several loud knocks against the front door, and I exchange a glance with Mom. Neither of us is expecting anyone.

  “I’ll get it,” I tell her. Pushing myself back from the couch, I leave Mom with the scraps of paper and head down the hall toward the front door. It’s dark out, so it’s impossible to peer through the door’s glass panels to see who’s on the porch. I unlock the door and swing it open only by a few inches just to be safe and then peer around the frame.

  “Holden?”

  What is he doing here? Holden is the last person I expected to turn up on my porch unannounced like this. Even Will doesn’t just show up without warning, so I slowly edge the door open wider, wondering why he’s here. Holden is standing a few feet back from the door with his hands in the pockets of his football jacket and his chin tilted down to the ground. The small porch light above him flickers every few seconds, illuminating his shadowed face. He glances up at me, swallows, and asks, “Can we talk?”

  “If it involves you giving me an explanation for the way you acted this morning, then yes,” I answer, folding my arms across my chest and stepping to the side. “Come on in.”

  Head still down, hands still in his pockets, Holden slowly shuffles past me over the threshold and into the hall. He lingers by my side as I close the door and lock up again, but there’s tension radiating from him. I try to catch his eye, but he only continues to stare at the floor as he follows me down to the hall, back toward the living room.