Crashing Down

by Samantha Conley

  “Hey, little man. Did you miss me?” In response, I get a slobbery kiss on the cheek. “I missed you too. Please come in,” I direct to Brian and Mrs. Lexington.

  Brian should be a master poker player, his face is unreadable as he carries in a large manila envelope. After taking a seat, Colby propped in my lap, I ask, “What’s the verdict?”

  “I haven’t opened it yet. I thought it would be best if I revealed the results with both of you present,” Brian replies as he fidgets with the edge of the paper.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “Please, Mr. Jefferies. Don’t keep us in suspense.”

  The room is silent as he undoes the clasp and removes the white papers from within. He scans the document, not one change in his facial expression except for a slight widening of his eyes. A thousand butterflies have taken flight in my stomach as I wait for him to tell me how my life will change.

  “Congratulations, Dad, it’s official.”

  2

  Brett

  “You sure it won’t be an inconvenience?” I juggle to keep the phone held between my cheek and shoulder while pouring the jarred spaghetti sauce over the macaroni noodles. Colby, strapped into his white high chair, bangs his little fists on the plastic tray in anticipation.

  “Of course, sweetheart. You know how I love to have get togethers at our house,” Derek’s mom, Vi, says into the phone. “And you have piqued my curiosity with the secret you’re wanting to tell everyone. Are you sure you don’t want to let me in on the secret?” she teases but I can hear the curiosity she tries to hide.

  “I want to tell the story once, Vi,” I sigh, resigned.

  “Oh honey, is it that bad?” Concern bleeds into her voice. I can’t keep the smile from my face when I look at Colby as he chews his fist. He will be lucky to have Vi as a pseudo grandmother. Vi and her husband, Jay, took me into their home after the car accident killed my parents during my sophomore year in high school. With my world crashing down around my ears, they treated me like one of their own.

  ‘No, it’s not bad. Not bad at all. It’s just a surprise. A life changing one,” I glance again at my son and he smiles at me around his hand, his eyes alight.

  ‘Well don’t you worry none. I’ll take care of everything. You bring yourself and whatever else you need to for this surprise. I’ll tell you though I will be wracking my brain trying to figure this one out. We’ll see you Saturday.” Vi says her goodbyes and hangs up the phone right as Colby cries out once. That’s my biggest obstacle trying to decipher the sounds of my son.

  ‘You hungry, Colby? Don’t worry it’ll only be a few more minutes before the noodles are ready.” Mrs. Lexington told me it was one of his favorite things to eat even if it was ‘cheap, imitation food not worthy of a growing child.’ Healthy and nutritious it may not be but if it makes him happy and this transition a little smoother I’m on board with cheap noodles and sauce.

  Half an hour later, he’s covered from head to torso in the red sauce along with the tray and a good portion of the floor. I’m not sure if more made it into his mouth or on the outside but he’s nodding off in his chair from his carb coma.

  “Come on, little man, let’s get you bathed and ready for bed,” I cajole removing the plastic tray as he looks up at me with sleepy dark eyes. Carrying him up the stairs to his bathroom has me covered with the sticky sauce and I’ll need a bath as much as him before it’s over. I have learned that bath time is a favorite for Colby as I lay down several layers of towels around the tub while it fills. Colby grunts out little noises as he tries to pull his shirt off with no success. His diaper is another story. He can have it whipped off in two point three seconds.

  “Col, wait a second, bud, and let me help,” I order reaching over and lifting the blue shirt over his dark head. Before I can even lay it in the hamper he scurries over to the tub and tries to climb in. With a little help, he splashes in the warm water.

  ‘Try to keep it in the tub, little man.” His answer is to smack both hands down in the water and laugh when I get splashed. I reach over and turn off the water before the level gets too high and grab the washcloth to scrub his face. It’s his least favorite part of bath time and he slips away to the far end of the tub to thwart my attempts of removing the gunk from his face. My long arms snatch him easily and pull him back to the center as he grunts.

  “Let’s get this part done and then you can play, okay?" I wheedle to get him to keep still for two minutes. One quick wipe down removes the sauce and I pick up the baby shampoo to wash his hair. The rubbing motion seems to put him in a trance as he relaxes against the side of the tub. A few more swipes and he’s clean and with renewed vigor, he realizes it’s time to play. I pull a few toys out from under the cabinet and let them fall into the water as he splashes in delight. After a few minutes, I pull him from the lukewarm water and wrap him a towel. This is now the best part of my day. I get him lotioned, diapered and dressed, we sit in the rocking chair and I read a book to him until his eyes drift closed, and he falls asleep in my arms. Rocking, I stare down at him in wonder I was part of his creation. I always believed my children would have Kristen as a mother but that doesn’t make me love him any less. He makes a little chuffing sound in his sleep and I know it’s time to relinquish him to his crib. Placing a tender kiss on his head I lay him down on the animal print sheet and whisper goodnight.

  After a quick shower, I flop on my bed and turn on the television, scrolling to an old episode of Ink Master. I remember that Colby’s grandmother had left some of his mother’s effects in a small box. Curiosity getting the better of me, I pull it off the closet shelf and rummage through the paper and pictures. One picture shows a strikingly beautiful brunette, smiling into the camera. She looks somewhat familiar, but I still can’t place her. Most of the photos were in high school or a little after. My hand hits something more substantial in the bottom of the box. A worn, pink covered book with the word diary scrolled across the front. Temptation rides me hard to read what’s written, but wouldn’t that be invading her privacy? I chuckle at myself for a moment. Privacy for a dead woman? That’s absurd. Plus, I need to know what secrets she’s laid out before my son reads it someday. The first few pages are just ramblings of her crush on the captain of the football team. Then the tone becomes more somber after the death of her parents. She even contemplates that the world would be better off without her in it. Poor girl. I know the feeling. It rode me hard after I lost my parents. Her world then seems to revolve around a new friend she has named Candace. She writes of her first times smoking pot and how horrible she felt while her friend laughed and told her it would get better. Page after page, reads like a bad lifetime movie. The young girl buried in her grief trying anything to make it go away. Skipping through a few pages the dates become closer to when Colby was conceived. Amanda writes of Candace’s growing infatuation with the lead singer of her favorite band almost to the point of obsession. When Amanda comes into her inheritance, she and Candace travel across the country to follow the band’s current tour. Both girls have money and getting VIP tickets and backstage passes are an easy commodity. Even while Amanda is enjoying the tour and seeing new cities, she grows more frustrated with Candace’s fixation with me. Each time I turned her down, Candace would become sullen and drank and used drugs heavily dragging Amanda along for the ride. By the sixth stop on the tour, Candace came up with a new plan to get my attention as she couldn’t deal with being told no. Candace, the spoiled little rich girl, used to getting whatever she wanted by any means necessary. The entry that garnered my attention the most was the date we played in Minneapolis.

  Dear Diary,

  Candace says tonight is the night that Brett won’t turn her down. I have a tough time believing that. He’s shot her down at every attempt. He must really love his girlfriend to keep telling her and the other girls no night after night. I’m not sure what she has up her sleeve but it’s not good. I’m sure I’ll just get blasted before it all goes down. Then I won’t care
one way or another. I’ll just be numb.

  The passage ends abruptly, and as I turn the page a picture falls out. The brunette is Amanda, but the innocence of her earlier pictures has faded into a sallow-skinned barely dressed woman with a similarly dressed blonde. It takes just a second for my brain to catch up.

  Son of a bitch.

  Mandy and Candy.

  I throw the book across the room in a rage, hands tangling in my hair. My son’s mother is Mandy? My head seems to want to explode with the new-found knowledge. Hatred pours into my veins. At them. At myself. At life in general. I stare up at the ceiling as the fan spins throwing shadows across the white paint. The book seems to call to me from where it landed on the plush carpet. Do I want to know what happened that night? Will the truth set me free? Is it even in there, the answers I seek?

  Trepidation courses through me as I pad over and pick up the book. I sit on the edge of the bed and open it to the last page I read. Will I discover what occurred that night? What possessed me to cheat on Kristen?

  My hands shake as I turn to the next page. It’s dated two days after the previous entry.

  Dear Diary,

  I’m still fuzzy about what happened the other night. I don’t know where Candace scored the drugs, but I don’t think they were good. I’ve never felt this bad before. Some of the night is still a blur. She got her wish though. We rode in the limo to Brett’s hotel room and she had sex with him. I assume I did too with the soreness in between my legs. But I needed to know how she did it. When I confronted her today, the look in her eyes frightened me. I’ve never seen her look that way. She laughed and said she got one waitress to spike his drink with something she had scored with a guy outside. I’m freaked out. She drugged another person. And I helped. What kind of person does that make me? I would never intentionally hurt someone else. I don’t remember enough of the night to do anything. But what would I do? Tell on her? I would just be her accomplice. Does it count as rape? I mean he must have been raring to go if he had sex with us both. I can’t even think that way, the guilt would eat me alive. Maybe I was right before. The world would be a better place without me. Maybe next time she offers me the heroin, I’ll do it and just float away into oblivion. God help me. I don’t know what to do.

  Word after word makes my heart pound, as the realization that they drugged me that night sinks in. That I didn’t willingly take those two to my hotel room and have sex with them. I knew I would never cheat on Kristen, I loved her too much. I reach over and grab my phone intending to call her, my head screaming to clear my name, but stop short of pressing the call button.

  What the fuck am I doing? As if it will change anything after all this time? At this time of night, she's in bed with Derek. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth but the piercing pain that I used to feel in my chest has lessened to a pinch.

  Am I going to drop this bomb in her lap? What will that accomplish? Is she going to divorce Derek and jump into my arms? Hell no. I wouldn’t want that anyway. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that they are in love with each other and happy while I remain alone. A smile stretches my face when I think about the little boy sleeping down the hall. Not alone anymore.

  Too wired to sleep, I head down the stairs to the music room and pick up my guitar. I strum through a few verses of Get Through This by Art of Dying.

  Yes, we will get through this. Me and Colby against the world.

  3

  Skylar

  “Hey, Skylar! Wait a second! I’ll help you take those in,” a deep voice calls across the yard. I knew Zane was home but how in the world he knew I pulled up over the music blaring from his side of the duplex I’ll never know. At least we share the same taste in music. As I take a step back it seems like my shoes have melted to the ground. Sweat trickles down my back to dampen the waistband of my scrubs.

  I peek over the top of the paper grocery bag in my arms to see him sprinting towards me. Even though I know it won’t happen, I squinch my eyes closed and brace for impact. I swear there’s a squeak of rubber on the concrete when he slides to a stop. The load in my arms disappears as Zane tucks it next to his body.

  “You got any more or is this it?” he asks trying to see under the back hatch but he’s too tall to get a good look.

  “One more bag, a case of water and a bottle of laundry detergent. But you don’t need to carry them in, Zane. I can do it.”

  “My mother would kick my ass if she knew I was letting you drag in these bags. I’m sure they’re heavy for you.” He grins down at me. “Load me up.”

  I slide the water to the edge of the car before hoisting it up. A small, embarrassing grunt escapes my mouth before I can stop it. His answering laugh makes my cheeks burn.

  “If you can carry those I can get the rest. The other bag is light. Probably too light for you, muscle man.” In response he flexes his pectorals, and I’m rolling my eyes, I try not to drool. Thank goodness he’s wearing a shirt. He one arms the case of water and walks toward my door, his ass mesmerizing in his jeans.

  ‘You gonna open this door?” he calls over his shoulder.

  Shaken from my ogling, I grab the last bag and the green bottle before hurrying to the door. Juggling the bag, I pull the keys out of my pocket and unlock the door. The blast of cool air smacks me in the face from the unrelenting heat outside as goosebumps break out across my skin. Please let me be wearing my padded bra, I pray.

  “Just put it up on the counter,” I instruct before taking the detergent to the laundry room.

  “How was work today?” he asks before a loud crack sounds through the kitchen. With narrowed eyes, I look out the door to see him biting into an apple. One of the honey crisp apples I bought and have been craving.

  At my glare, he gives me a deprecating grin before mumbling out, “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I guess I can share,” I huff out but can’t help but smile at his little pout. “Just don’t eat them all.”

  “Who? Me?”

  “Yes, you. I’ve seen how much you eat. You’d have the whole bag gone before I even got one if I didn’t limit you.”

  “What ya doing for supper?”

  “Chicken, I think. Why? You want to stay and eat?” As his eyes light up, I see that the invitation is what he was angling for.

  “If you don’t mind. My cabinets are looking a little bare.”

  “What, mom hasn’t been by to check on her baby boy?” I tease.

  “Ha-ha. Funny.” He leans back against the counter, crossing his legs at the ankles before taking another bite, clear juice running down his chin. “But to answer your question, no she hasn’t. She’s coming by tomorrow,” he mumbles the last part as he wipes away the sticky liquid with the back of his hand.

  “Ugh, there are paper towels right behind you,“ I point out. “It’s me or take out right?”

  “We could do take out. Pizza sounds good. I’ve only had it once this week.”

  “It’s only Monday,” I remind him. “No, I’ll cook. I don’t want to do an extra half an hour on the treadmill for a slice of pizza.”

  “Can I help with anything?”

  “Just stay out of my way. Take a seat or you can find something to watch if you’d rather.” Prepping the chicken, rice, and vegetable for my grandmother’s famous chicken and rice, the room fills with the sounds of cheering and a loud announcer's voice booming that went deep into right field.

  As the chicken sizzles in the pan, he sidles up next to me.

  “That smells incredible.”

  ‘That’s because it's Granny Em’s famous chicken and rice. The ruler of the potluck tables back home.” Just talking about her warms my heart and I promise myself to call her later before she goes to bed.

  ‘I can’t wait to eat it.” He breathes in the delicate aroma of the spices. Piling his plate up high, he tucks into the food before doing his best hoover impression. My mouth drops open as he shovels the food in.

  “What?” he asks around a mouth full of f
ood.

  “Have you eaten today?”

  “Lunch earlier. Why?’

  “Because you’re shoving it in your mouth like you haven’t eaten in days.”

  “Sorry. Force of habit when you have four brothers. If the food was good, we had to guard our food, or the older ones would sneak bites off the plates of the younger ones when our parents weren’t looking.”

  “I’m not going to snatch your food, so slow down before you choke. I don’t know if I could do the Heimlich on someone as big as you.” He smiles before he resumes eating at a slower pace.

  “It’s fifty cent wing night tomorrow at the bar. You want to go?”

  “As tempting as that sounds, I have plans for tomorrow night.”

  “A date?” A dark look overcomes his face.

  “No. One of the nurse practitioners at the office invited me over for a girl’s night.”

  “Why don’t you sound more excited?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just hard being the odd one out. They’ve been friends for years and I met Kristen a couple of months ago. There will be all those inside jokes I won’t understand. It may be awkward.”

  “I think you’ll be fine. You mentioned Kristen. Her last name’s not Calloway is it?”

  “Yes, it is. I didn’t even think that she might be related. Are you?”

  “She’s married to my cousin, Derek. If it’s her and her friends, Mallory and Camryn, you’ll be just fine. I’ve never met nicer people in my life.”

  “That makes me feel better. Kris mentioned that one of them hasn’t been around as much, since she just had a baby.”

  “Camryn. She and Isaac have the cutest little girl,” he replies with a chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Sorry. It’s the thought of Isaac being a family man. He’s been such a manwhore since the band made it big.”

  “Band?”

  “You don’t know?’ he asks, mouth gaped open.