To Fall for You

by R. J. Groves

  “Happy birthday, Daddy.”

  “Renée’s not home yet,” the man sighed, moving his hand along the back of his neck.

  I observed the tall, handsome man standing before me. His reddish-brown hair was different today – straight, which could only mean that he straightens it. I guess, with hair as curly as theirs, he would need to so that he wouldn’t look like a child. His eyes were so much like his sister’s, a dark emerald green framed with long, light brown eyelashes. My gaze went from his face to his build. He was a good head-height taller than me and had a body that was slim and noticeably fit. Unlike Renée’s fair skin, his skin was slightly tanned, yet looked so much smoother. I longed to reach out and feel how smooth it was.

  Snap out of it, I lectured myself. He’s your friend’s brother!

  I pulled myself back to reality; he was still leaning against the doorframe, his hand still behind his neck.

  “Do you know when she’ll be home?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  “Mum and Dad have gone to pick her up, she should be home within the next twenty minutes or so,” he replied, glancing at the clock in the hallway.

  “Oh, all right,” I said.

  I could go back home for a while, do some homework…

  “You can wait inside for her,” he said. “If you want.”

  Or I could stay here.

  “Come inside,” he said, moving away from the door just enough for me to walk through.

  The rain had eased, leaving only large masses of clouds behind. It would be nice to go home and relax, but I didn’t think I would be able to find enough energy to walk there and back again – not after the day I’ve had. Besides, I already went home to change after visiting the cemetery. This huge, warm house seemed very enticing. I walked through the door, observing everything that filled the spacious rooms.

  “You have a really nice house,” I said quietly as he closed the door.

  “Yeah, we do, thanks to all the effort my parents put into it,” he said, leading the way to a light kitchen with brown furniture. He walked over to the silver fridge on the other side of the clean bench. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Water, thank you,” I said, seating myself down at the dining table.

  I compared this house to my own. The spotless, perfect rooms were a complete contrast to the chaotic rooms of my own house. The dining table itself was spotless. A beautiful vase of fresh flowers in the centre and two tall candles on either side of it were the only objects on the beautiful, dark wooden table. I remembered our table back at home. It was also a dark wooden table, but had a small vase with artificial flowers placed somewhere around the centre of it and all kinds of papers stacked in unorganised piles, leaving two small spaces where my mother and myself would sometimes eat. Of course, our rooms at home were neat. Not overly neat, but neat enough to live in, certainly not a pigsty.

  The young, handsome man brought a big glass of cold water and ice to where I was sitting and placed it on a nice coaster that he had brought with him. He gathered his own glass of water and a coaster and joined me at the dining table.

  “Sorry, I never got to introduce myself to you,” he said. “I’m Fayne, Renée’s older brother. As you have probably figured out.”

  I couldn’t resist a laugh. I listened to see if anyone else was home. I could hear some music coming from upstairs, but I could only hear the movements of two people – myself and Fayne.

  “I’m Emma,” I replied, thinking about how unusual, how different, I felt now to how I would normally feel in any situation like this.

  Usually, I would feel slightly nervous if I was sitting alone in a massive house with an attractive guy that I had only just met. I didn’t feel like that, though – not now. I felt comfortable and safe. It may have just been because he was so polite and the house was so clean, or maybe because he was Renée’s brother. I didn’t know why it felt different, but I didn’t particularly want to know, either.

  “Do you and Renée have any other siblings?” I asked, going through the basic questions you ask when you first meet someone.

  “It’s just us,” he replied, rotating his glass in his hand. “What about you?”

  “Just me and my mum,” I replied, staring at the tall candle in front of me.

  His eyes widened.

  “Where’s your dad?” he asked curiously.

  Seeing my face, he looked back down at his glass.

  “I’m sorry. That was a bit rude of me,” he apologised.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I replied. “My dad died two years ago.”

  He looked up to my face again, our eyes connecting for a moment.

  “I’m so sorry to hear about that,” he said. “How did he…” He hesitated before finishing his question. “Die?”

  I took a big breath, remembering again what happened to him. It was only this afternoon that I’d gone to the cemetery for the first time since the funeral to see my father’s grave and to talk to him. And now I was going to tell a stranger what happened.

  “He was coming to pick me up from a party,” I started, tears welling up in my eyes. “A drunk driver ran a red light and collided with his car. He died before the ambulance got there.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, obviously at a loss for words.

  “It’s fine.” I shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know it wasn’t. It’s just that–” he took a big breath. “I know what it feels like to lose a family member.”

  How could he know what it feels like? The heartbreak, the pain you go through knowing that the person you love was not going to be returning to your home that night, that your family was going to be one member less and that, on the same day for every year after their death, you would remember them and you would miss them more than ever before. How could he know this feeling? He has his family with him.

  “How do you know what it feels like?” I asked abruptly. Perhaps too abruptly.

  He looked taken aback, shocked, hurt.

  “I had another sister, a younger one,” he said, staring at the now-empty glass still between his hands, his eyes looking glassy. “She had a rare case of leukaemia. None of us matched well enough to be donors for her and we couldn’t find another one in time. She was three when she died, but we loved her so much all the same. I may not know what it’s like to lose someone who you have grown up with for all of your life, but I do know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

  I regretted what I thought before, how he wouldn’t know what it’s like. Somehow, I thought that maybe he knew what it was like more than I did. He saw his sister coming closer to death with every minute – he knew that she was dying, and he couldn’t do anything to save her.

  I was speechless. I had no idea what I should say to him. I looked into his glassy green eyes, wishing I could have had just a moment longer alone with him before we heard the front door click open and the three sets of footsteps walking slowly down the hall in the direction of the immaculate kitchen.

  Chapter 9

  Too much to take in.

  “It feels so good to finally be home.” Renée’s weak voice was relaxed. “The white walls were starting to have their effect on me. I can’t believe I still want to be a nurse.”

  I smiled at this thought. With my hatred of hospitals, I knew that I could never be a nurse, or a doctor, or anything to do with a hospital. I admired Renée for her determination and her unchanging mind, her bravery to return to a place that had changed her life. I knew that it was something that I could never do.

  I looked around me, observing everything my eyes happened to glance at. Everything in Renée’s room looked like a home version of Made Brave. It made sense, though, since it was where she worked. Her room was very clean, just like the kitchen. Sitting on the black, comfortable chair next to Renée’s white bed, surrounded by no colours other than shades of black and white, made me feel like I was in an old-fashioned black-and-white movie. My gaze drifted from the furnitu
re and Renée’s belongings and rested on the cream walls, excluded from being a part of the theme of this room. I smiled. Not everything was included.

  I slowly returned my gaze to Renée’s pale face.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked her.

  She looked at me for a moment before replying.

  “I still can’t do much,” she replied. “But I feel better than before.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I said, smiling at her.

  She smiled in return. The gesture soon disappeared, replaced by a slight frown of disappointment when she noticed that something – someone – was missing.

  “Where’s Aimee?” she asked. “Why didn’t she come with you?”

  I sighed. I knew that I would have to answer this question sometime in my visit to Renée. I just hoped that it wouldn’t be so soon.

  “James was having a party,” I explained. “She wanted to go.”

  “Oh. Why didn’t you go?” she asked quietly, thoughtfully.

  “Renée, I promised you that I would come and visit. I never break my promises,” I answered.

  The smile returned to her face.

  “Emma, don’t worry about me. I’m fine. You have somewhere to be.” She sounded almost excited.

  I stared blankly at her, unable to think of having to be anywhere other than here.

  “Where?” I blinked, confused even more at Renée’s laughing.

  “The party, silly,” she replied. “Go enjoy yourself. Go. Now.”

  I blinked again. I promised I would visit her. I couldn’t break that promise. But I suppose I had visited her. I came to see how she was and talked to her for a while. I did what I promised I would do.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  I was happy, knowing that I was still getting to go to the party that I would have missed. I heard a frail laugh.

  “Emma, I don’t control you,” Renée said. “I don’t need to give you permission to do anything. Thank you for visiting me. I can’t wait to hear about the party.”

  Her smile was big and radiant against her thin, pale face. I rose to my feet, smiling at her before walking through the door. I bounced down the stairs and walked into the kitchen, following the sounds I knew would lead me to Renée’s family. Both of her parents and Fayne were sitting down at the kitchen table. The three of them paused their conversation and looked up at me.

  “Emma,” Mrs. Clarkey said, smiling. “Do you need something?”

  “No, thank you. I just came to say goodbye,” I replied, standing motionless, unable to think of what I should tell them.

  “So soon? Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” she asked.

  I couldn’t simply tell them that I was leaving to go to a party – I didn’t know what their views on parties were. My mum didn’t seem to care about the parties, but Renée’s family is closer than mine. It didn’t take a genius to work that out.

  “I can’t stay. Sorry,” I replied. “I have to get home.”

  She briefly looked disappointed before a smile spread across her face.

  “Well, then, thank you for coming, Emma,” she said. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

  “Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Clarkey. Fayne,” I said, smiling as I said the last name.

  I turned out of the kitchen into the hallway and headed towards the big front door. I had almost reached the door when someone stopped me.

  “Emma.”

  I turned at the sound of the masculine voice. Fayne rushed over to me, grabbing his phone, wallet and keys off the bench on his way. He paused in front of me.

  “Do you need a lift?” he asked.

  I was aware of how close he was standing. I could smell his masculine scent, his cologne, a mixture that was uniquely him. I couldn’t tell why his closeness made my mind go blank.

  “Oh, no,” I sighed, scrambling to keep at least some thoughts clear. “I don’t want you to go out of your way.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he laughed. “I need to go out anyway. Come on – I’ll take you home.”

  He reached behind me and opened the door, his arm brushing against my back, and allowed me to go first. There was no hope for my thoughts now.

  The ride in the car was silent, but it wasn’t awkward. No, it was a comfortable silence. It was like sitting on the windowsill of a double-story building, feeling the air rush in through the window and capture your body, or like standing in the rain alone to clear your head. It was that kind of silence – the silence that you never wanted to lose.

  I was staring out the window, watching the beautiful houses and trees fly past us. I felt so comfortable in the car with him that I could have sworn that we hadn’t just met. Fayne was an amazing driver. He had complete control of the car, doing everything right. The ride was completely smooth and the comfort of his car made me feel the most relaxed I have ever felt in a vehicle of any kind. Another tree flew by.

  “Emma? Are you all right?” he asked.

  I blinked, looking over at the intense green eyes that occasionally glanced in my direction.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, confused.

  His brow creased.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Except that I was clearly talking to myself.”

  I shook my head. Everyone zones out at some stage. It was just very rare that I would and not notice someone talking to me. But then again, I have been doing that a fair bit lately.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I replied. “I just think too much.”

  We passed another tree.

  “You can never think too much,” he replied, laughing and glancing over at me again. “Unless, of course, you were in a life-and-death situation and you had a total of around two seconds to decide what to do.”

  I smiled. I barely even knew this man sitting next to me but, inside, I felt like I had known him for years. It could just be his nature, or it might be something else – something I hadn’t yet found.

  “So, as I was saying while you weren’t listening,” he started, still smiling. “I know what my mother talked to you about while Renée was in hospital.”

  I froze. Should I be worried about this? I knew that she may not have wanted me to tell Renée, but what about the rest of her family knowing? I didn’t know what I should say, so I nodded.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “She does that with every friend Renée manages to get. Might be why she never really had any.”

  I nodded again.

  “Left here,” I said, hearing the indicator on the car click as we drove smoothly around the corner.

  “I just wanted to say that I am happy she found you and Aimee,” he continued.

  I’ve heard that before, I thought. But this time was different.

  “I’m not going to give you a talk like my mum,” he continued. “I just want you to know that we don’t want you to feel sorry for Renée or feel obliged to be friends with her. How my mum told her little story must have made you feel like that. Don’t. Please, don’t. It will just make her feel worse about herself.”

  “Fayne, I don’t feel like that,” I gasped. “I’ll admit that I did a bit at first, but I am friends with her because I truly and honestly want to be friends with her.”

  So, this is why he wanted to drive me home.

  His smile broadened.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he replied.

  I looked over at him, observing him a bit more now. He looked more relaxed out of the house. My gaze returned to the trees and buildings outside this comfortable zone.

  “Emma,” he said.

  I looked over at him. His brow was creased again and he looked distracted beneath his messy fringe. There was silence again.

  “Yes?” I said, urging him to continue.

  He glanced at me again, smiling.

  “Oh, nothing,” he said. “I just like the sound of your name.”

  “You’re late, Surrey,” James teased as I walked into the backyard where the party was being held.

&nbs
p; After visiting Renée, having a deep conversation with her brother at their house and then another that was on its way to deep as he drove me home, I dressed myself in the clothes I bought from Made Brave, straightened my hair and applied a small amount of makeup. I really only ever wore makeup when I went to parties or functions. Otherwise, it was a waste of time and would just get ruined anyway.

  I left home after leaving a note on the bench telling my mum where I would be if she came home and wondered where I was. I would usually beat her home, but with parties at James’ place, especially on Friday nights, you could never tell when they would be finished.

  Ever since she returned from her business trip, it seemed that the extent of our communication was through short notes hurriedly scrawled and left on the bench. By the time she had been getting home from work, I was in bed. It’s as though we were existing around each other and in the same house, but either we weren’t seeing each other, or we were both too tired to talk long. It didn’t bother me much; I would rather put off delving into details about the goings-on in my life.

  I looked around the yard. James often had his parties outside. He had a nice big backyard, a large swimming pool, colourful lights flashing everywhere and speakers all around, blasting music that had everyone dancing. I finally managed to find the person I was looking for. Her long brown hair was up in a neat ponytail, her fringe covering her eyes, a clear cup of punch in her hand. She was talking to the same girls she’d gone up to after school. I walked over to where they stood.

  “Emma, I thought you weren’t coming,” Aimee said, surprised to see me.

  “Well I had some free time, so I thought I would come anyway,” I laughed.

  We stayed with the group of girls, talking, dancing, eating and drinking. The group varied in numbers. Other people would come and talk for a while, then leave. Those that were in the initial group left and came back with others. Eventually, our small group became the spot where everyone came to hang out. All through the party, I could see Kane. And all through the party, I wanted to leave. How could I be in the social group and he wouldn’t even talk to me anymore? How could he be so cruel?