Falling

by Rebecca Swartz

  Her dog Kyle, now a handsome fellow in his prime at seven years old, rises from the floor beside her bed where he always sleeps and comes to rest his chin on the pillow next to her cheek. She rolls over to caress his head and rub his ears, feeling herself get drowsy again, until a sudden thought stills her hand: What if her dream self wasn’t searching for a happier ending, but a more effective one? The thought confuses her, for she has no idea where it came from, or what to do with it. At sixteen, she is introspective and not averse to turning her eye inward for self-study. But it is the middle of the night and sleep pulls at her once more.

  Promising to take a closer look at the idea in the light of day, she gives Kyle’s forehead a final rub and pulls the covers up to her chin. When she sleeps again, she dreams the same dream again. And when she awakes the next morning, the only thing she can remember of it is the sound of laughter. Hers.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As I walked back to my room, I briefly considered my decision to order the beer. Five years ago that would have been a bad idea, a very bad idea. Five years ago a couple of extra beers would not have been nearly enough. But a lot had happened since I’d lost practically everything, my career, my home, my girlfriend, my perspective, and, almost, my life. It’s true what they say: when you’re at rock bottom, the only way left to go is up. I had recovered what I could, as best I could over the course of a couple of years with the help of an excellent therapist, plus the support of a few very close friends. What I couldn’t recover, I understood I never would, and I let those things go. But I had been wounded, physically, emotionally, and mentally. And though I had healed from the outside and mostly from the inside, I was scarred, and tentative about reopening certain old wounds. As a result, I no longer drank heavily. Or rather, I no longer got shitfaced and blacked out because the world had become a scary place for a while and I couldn’t handle it. No, I knew my limit now and never exceeded it.

  As I neared the stairs to my room, the first drops of rain started to fall from clouds the color of gunmetal which hung with deliberate threat above me. The wind had picked up, and I hurried with it to my Jeep. I retrieved my messenger bag and dashed for the stairway. A flash of lightning painted my shadow on the door as I tried to shove the key in the lock. I almost dropped it when thunder cracked a scant two or three seconds later. Finally the key slid home. I threw the door open and practically leapt into the room, slamming the door behind me.

  I stood rooted to the floor for a few moments, and then gave a small, self-deprecating snort. I was not one of those people who loved storms, who felt energized by and exulted in nature’s sound and light show. No, if a storm was going to break, I needed to be indoors, or at the very least in a vehicle, though driving during a storm was the next worst thing to being outside in one. Buying a Jeep with a soft top was something I shook my head over now and again, but I really hadn’t had many choices at the time. And I did like driving it with the top down when the weather was not inclement.

  I made a half turn, dropped the key on the nearest tabletop, slipped the messenger bag onto the armchair next to me and hauled out my laptop, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. Remembering the beer I’d ordered, I quickly opened the door.

  The young woman who had served me in the lounge stood outside, looking flushed and excited, a huge grin on her face as the wind tossed her hair and random raindrops spattered her skin and clothes.

  “Here you go.” She thrust the two bottles of Heineken toward me.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking them from her. “Sorry to make you come out in this.”

  “Oh, no, it’s no problem,” she replied enthusiastically. “I love it, it’s great!”

  “Oh.” I made an effort to smile back politely. “Okay, well…good.”

  “Those will be charged to your room.” She indicated the two bottles with a quick nod.

  Just then another flash of lightning lit the sky, and she spun around and threw her head back as if to get a good look at it. I flinched away from the doorway, wanting nothing more than to slam it shut.

  A moment later she whirled back around, her eyes bright. “Isn’t it great?”

  Before I could even form a response, she turned and took off at a trot. I didn’t bother to watch her go. I firmly closed the door, placed one of the beers in the small fridge against the far wall and popped the top on the other. I pulled the drapes closed, plugged in the laptop, and sat cross-legged on the bed farthest from the window. I reached for the television remote, found CNN, and with the volume lowered for background noise, got to work on the documents I’d had in mind to go over.

  Some time later, three sharp raps on the door startled me. I had become completely immersed in the technicalities of my work. The wind dashed the rain against the window and thunder rumbled. The clock on my computer screen read 9:10 p.m. Who on earth would be coming to my room in this weather? Then I remembered the desk clerk. Damn, these people are dedicated.

  I shoved myself off the bed and headed for the door. Pulling it open, I saw someone wearing a dark, hooded rain-spattered poncho, who suddenly averted their face as a sharp gust of wind swept along the walkway. When it passed, my visitor turned face forward again, and the hood fell back.

  “Oh! My god!” My voice sounded faraway, shocked and small. I felt as if I was gaping, and I probably was.

  Kael’s eyes were narrowed, intent. The wind swirled her rain poncho, billowing it slightly about her. She stood not quite beneath the skimpy shelter of the overhang. Though covered by the garment, her body language was so clear, so familiar, it actually steadied me; she looked as if she might bolt at any moment. I caught a glimpse of her knapsack beneath the hem of the poncho. Bare shins above hiking books suggested she was still clad in shorts.

  “Hey,” she said. Over the tumult of wind and rain, it was as if she’d shouted. I jerked my eyes back up.

  Her pale blue eyes bored into mine, and I guessed she was waiting for me to say something. But I stood there completely immobile, for the space of about five seconds, unable to react in any way, unsure of the ramifications of anything I might say or do. All I could think was why was she here?

  Five seconds, it seemed, was far too long for Kael’s patience; her chin dropped, the skin around her mouth and eyes tightened the tiniest bit, and she subtly redistributed her weight.

  I realized, between one second and the next, that I didn’t want her to go. All evening I had ached for her presence. Maybe, possibly, she had ached for mine. Perhaps that was the reason she was here. The simplicity of it both thrilled and relieved me; my desire for this girl was not purely sexual. And if I didn’t stop her from bolting, an opportunity for something I hadn’t quite grasped yet, something intangible, would be lost.

  “Hey,” I said, pitching my voice to match hers.

  She stiffened, and then another gust of wind swept down the walkway, smacked wetly against her. Her only reaction was to raise her chin in a vaguely challenging manner. She continued to eye me warily, but this time I saw a shade of hope tinge her look.

  “Come in,” I said, with a warmth that was completely unfeigned. I stepped back and opened the door wider. “Please.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  She has been homeschooled for five years. Given the option by her aunt, either to be homeschooled or to attend a new middle school, she does not even consider the latter; the public school system holds no appeal. She is an avid student, and concentrates on her studies with the single-mindedness that defines her; her grades reflect this. She has also been active outside of their home: she attends the library for computer courses, joins a local soccer league, and enrolls in kickboxing lessons. She excels at all of these things, a couple of which, finally, provide an outlet for some of the anger that still resides within.

  On the cusp of her seventeenth birthday, she is deemed ready to take her final exams. She has also fulfilled all of the requirements of her probation. Since she was tried as a juvenile, her record will be expunged at seventeen
. All traces of her crime, of what she suffered and went through as a child, will disappear. No one in her circle, least of all herself, believes it to be so cut and dried.

  She is no longer required to attend therapy sessions. If she’d had to continue, she might very well have done so. But just when she was getting better at opening up, at sharing her thoughts, feelings, and perceptions, she makes a discovery. Her computer classes have opened up a new world to her, the world of the Internet, where any questions she has, questions she might not be able to ask of anyone else, are answered via Google. She asks more questions, gets more answers. What she learns, she does not intend to share with anyone, nor will she alert anyone. What she learns plants the seed of an idea that both shocks and thrills her, one she cannot act on yet. Maybe in a few years. Maybe, if the anger she has never quite learned how to release completely stays smoldering inside her. Then, maybe, she can find an outlet for it. Maybe.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing here.” Kael had turned to face me. Her poncho was dripping onto the carpet, her hair was unruly, and there were heightening splotches of color on her cheekbones.

  I slipped my hands into my pockets and gave a tiny headshake. “No. Not at all,” I told her. “It’s pretty obvious you’re stalking me.”

  She blinked. The color on her cheeks became a hectic red; she dropped her eyes and chin. “I guess, yeah, it kind of looks that way,” she murmured.

  “How did you manage to find me here?” I was as curious about the method, as I was about the motive.

  “Oh!” She looked up quickly. “That was—well, I mean, I saw you drive past. I’d crossed the highway to the service station to get something to eat and I was on my way up to the overpass again when you went by. I got to the top and I could see perfectly. And then I saw which room you went to and—”

  She stopped abruptly, pressing her lips together.

  “So you were watching me the entire time?” Mildly amused at the thought, I raised an eyebrow in gentle inquiry.

  “It wasn’t that long, only a few minutes,” she said, her voice soft. “After that, I went back to trying to get a ride. And then it started to rain. And still no one was stopping. So eventually I took shelter beneath the overpass, and just…waited.”

  “For what?”

  She made a sound, a laugh I suppose, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t even know.”

  For some reason, this made complete sense to me, and I nodded.

  “The longer I waited, the more I thought the storm could go on all night.” She seemed to focus more fully on me. “And you were so close. And between one moment and the next, I just…started walking here.” She paused. “I don’t even remember deciding on it,” she added, sounding vaguely perplexed.

  For a handful of moments we just stood there and looked at each other. The thought that crossed my mind, the question I wanted to ask, was, Why are you here? The question I did ask, tentatively, was, “Did you…want to stay a while?”

  She stood very still for about three seconds, and then she nodded.

  I tried to ignore the shock of pleasure that washed over me. “All right then,” I said. The room had two armchairs with a small hexagonal table between them; I hadn’t planned on entertaining company, but at least there was the proper furniture to do so. I cleared my throat and indicated the seating area. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  She took in the room with a glance and shot me a quick grin. “What’s with the beds?”

  “The beds?” I craned my neck around, confused, and realized that without their coverings the beds looked oddly naked. “Oh!” My voice had climbed a couple of octaves and I willed it back down to normal. “Nothing. It’s…preference. Personal preference.”

  She huffed through her nose, and I felt the heat rise in my face. She paid no attention, just placed her knapsack against the wall, bent and stripped off her rain poncho and hung it on one of the hooks near the door. She turned back, and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. Even in the poor light of the room, I could see she was flushed. She regarded me frankly, and her stance made me straighten my spine, push my shoulders back ever so slightly, and lower my chin. I breathed in carefully.

  “I can offer you a beer,” I said, with a half-shrug. “It’s all I have.”

  “A beer would be nice,” she said.

  I turned toward the fridge.

  “But I’m not really here to exchange social pleasantries.”

  I froze, and then pivoted back in her direction. I cocked my head. “‘Social pleasantries’?” I asked. “I don’t—”

  She came to me then, as smoothly and surely as a wave to a shore. I felt a shock of pleasure again as she slipped her arms around my waist. Her body was warm against mine, and as she laid her head on my shoulder, I put my own arms around her and pulled her closer. I rested my cheek lightly on her hair, very conscious of my heartbeat, and inhaled the scent of her, of wind, rain, and wildness.

  We stood that way for several moments, until she shifted, moving her hands to my hips; I leaned back, lowering my hands to her waist as she raised her head. The look on her face was expectant, her gaze direct, unwavering. I felt an incredible stillness within me, around me, as if the entire world was holding its breath. When I moved to kiss her, she lifted her mouth to mine, and an exquisite thrill raced through my core as we came together. I had the feel of her now, knew her textures and taste. I couldn’t help but want more, yet I knew any impatience would be my undoing.

  The kiss was long, slow, and deeply pleasurable. Between one heartbeat and the next, the tone changed, the landscape shifted, and I felt as if I were spiraling into her. Kael’s fingers gripped my hips; she pulled me to her, almost roughly. From the back of my throat came a hungry sound, wordless. She heard it, her grip tightened, and I surrendered to her own desire.

  I had no expectations. I only knew on some level that I must be careful with her, that I mustn’t push her. Allowing her the control I felt she needed was not a difficult thing. When she broke the kiss and looked at me with widened eyes, licked her lips and swallowed, I waited, trying desperately to convey my acquiescence. Her expression seemed to border on wonder; the next second, the light in her eyes sharpened with a clarity that fueled the fire already raging within me. When she moved to kiss me again, gently propelling me back to the bed behind me, the throb of sexual hunger that coursed through me was overwhelming. I gave in to it, lost myself to it, to her, as easily as a leaf caught in a capricious breeze.

  She was maddeningly gentle; tender and thoughtful, yet fiercely attentive to my every move, to every response. She undressed me slowly, with a level of enjoyment that surprised me, and undressed herself the same way, enhancing my own enjoyment. My eyes slipped over her pale, lean body, delicate clavicle, small breasts, narrow hips; I caressed her with my look. Her hands slipped over my flat belly, long-muscled legs, arms, shoulders. She learned my body through sight and touch and sound.

  She kissed me, her body hovering over me, not quite touching, and I could feel her heat. She raised her head. “I want you. Good god, I want you,” she said in a voice that took my breath away. She lowered her mouth to my breast, and I inhaled sharply and arched my back. Her fingers trailed soft as a whisper over my ribcage, her palm smoothed the internal ripples in my stomach, and then she parted me, and her touch caused me to moan out loud. As soon as I uttered the sound, I felt her teeth on my nipple as she bit down gently, and I cried out, as my hands went to her shoulders and gripped tightly.

  “Mmmm,” I heard, and then she entered me, and I made a sound that was suspiciously close to a whimper, and didn’t care.

  I’d never made love with any woman who was as gentle and thoughtful, so completely focused as Kael. I have no idea how much time passed before I was brought to breathless, extended completion. It seemed endless, torturous, mindlessly exhilarating. She seemed vastly satisfied with the result. When it came my turn, I was acutely aware that what had just
transpired, I must replicate. I traced my fingers over her, trailed my tongue along her lines, saw, listened, felt, tasted. I approached her in a way I’d never approached another woman, and she was wet and willing, but fragile and sensitive in a way that begged extreme care. When she finally came, my mouth on her, one hand on her hip, the other beneath her, holding her up, I understood her satisfaction.

  “Come here,” she said, in a voice so soft, so exposed, I moved carefully to cover her body with mine almost protectively.

  I looked into her eyes and she smiled, then put her hands to the back of my neck, brought my mouth to hers and kissed me.

  “Are you tired?” she asked.

  “No,” I replied, with a shake of my head.

  One corner of her mouth lifted, a half smile. She kissed me again, and then smoothly rolled me onto my back, straddling me effortlessly.

  “Neither am I,” she said, and lowered her mouth to my breast once more.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Amy?”

  I blinked my eyes open at the sound of her voice, so soft in my ear. I turned my head on the pillow to find her face only a few inches from mine, her pale eyes watching me intently.

  “Yeah? Hey.” I smiled, feeling drowsy and drained, but content. “Hi.”

  She lay on her side, propped on an elbow, cheek and chin resting in her palm. With my smile, she visibly relaxed, the look in her eyes, her features, her entire body. She smiled shyly, then pressed her lips to mine.