Crashing Down

by Samantha Conley

  “Oh lordy, maybe I should have taken my heart pills,” she mutters as the shirtless man draws closer. “I’d like to lick the sweat off that man,” she states fanning her face causing me to spray tea all over the porch.

  “They didn’t make men like that when I was in my younger days. I’m not sure how I would have resisted.”

  “Ummm,” I’m not sure how to respond to her ramblings. When he reaches the next house down, I recognize that the runner is Zane. His dark hair slicked back with sweat, his muscled torso on full display, glistening in the morning light. His black athletic shorts are molded to his thighs. His sunglasses hide his eyes as he focuses on the sidewalk in front of him.

  “Come to momma,” Lillie whispers loudly and my eyes bug out of my head. She must have noticed my reaction and reassures me. “Don’t worry, dear. He has those ear thingamabobs in his ears. He can’t hear me.” She focuses on him until he fades into the distance. “Now then, what has you out this early in the morning?” When I don’t immediately answer, she continues. “Don’t be shy, dear. Tell Lillie what has you in such a tizzy.”

  “I’m falling for this guy and it’s irrational. We’re from two different worlds.”

  “Love is never rational. What seems to be the problem?”

  “Brett, he’s famous and surrounded by beautiful women who want to be with him. And he cheated on his fiancée,” I rush out.

  “I see. What bothers you the most?”

  “The cheating. I don’t understand how you can do that if you supposedly love the one you’re with.”

  “Men are wired differently. Not that it justifies anything. Hormones drive them.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  “Love is the point. Without it, the world is a cold dark place. And not all men cheat. You can’t paint them all with the same brush. How did you find out he cheated? I don’t see him admitting it out of the blue.”

  “His ex, Kristen, is my friend.”

  “That complicates things,” she replies, tapping her thin finger on the arm of the chair.

  “I moved here recently. We work in the same pediatric clinic and she’s one of the first friends I’ve made.”

  “And you worry how she’ll feel about you dating him?”

  “Yes. As soon as I found out they had a previous relationship, I told her we went on a date. I didn’t know they had a history until then.”

  “You were being upfront with her. That’s good. Secrets are difficult to keep and hurtful. How did she take it?”

  “She seemed to be fine, but she’s the one that told me why it ended.”

  “Have you spoken with him about it? Is there a chance she was being less than truthful? Perhaps harboring an old flame?”

  “No, she’s happily married. When I went to talk to her, he was there.”

  “He was there?” she asks, one gray brow arched over her watery brown eye.

  “He’s friends with her husband. He was with him.” I defend.

  “I see,” she responds taking another sip. The neighbor next door closes his front door with a slam as he leaves, drawing our attention. He places his travel mug on top of the car before climbing in. He’s backing out of the driveway before I can signal him, the cup upending, spilling coffee down the side of the car before falling to the asphalt with a clang. He breaks with a screech banging his hands on the steering wheel, muffled yells filtering out of the car.

  Someone’s having a worse morning than me. Bless his heart.

  “Newborn baby. They’re not getting much sleep these days,” Lille remarks as he pulls away, slower than I would have expected.

  “Poor guy probably needed that coffee then,” I laugh out.

  “Your beau is friends with his ex-fiancée’s husband?”

  “They grew up together.”

  “So, if she is married to her ex-fiancé’s friend, why would she have an issue with you dating her ex?”

  “She didn’t seem to have a problem with it when we spoke. She seemed to defend what he did.”

  “That’s rather unusual. One would think she would warn you away from him since you’re friends.”

  “I never thought of it that way.”

  “I’ve always been a believer in fate. Maybe it was destiny that their relationship ended so you could find each other.”

  “I’m not sure if I can get over the cheating thing.”

  “You must decide that. If you give this young man a chance, you can’t bring up something from his past that had absolutely nothing to do with you. It wasn’t your relationship, it was theirs. He doesn’t deserve to pay for sins that weren’t committed against you.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Communication, honesty, loyalty, and trust are key, my dear. Let him know your fears and doubts. If we didn’t give each other second chances, we would all be single.”

  My phone vibrates in the band on my arm signaling that I should finish up my run-in time to get ready for work. “Thank you, Mrs. Lillie but I’ve got to get back or I’ll be late for work.”

  “You’re welcome, dear. Anytime you need to bend my ear, you come on back,” she states with a smile as I hurry down the steps toward home. Leaving me with a lot of thinking to do.

  I pull into the driveway later that afternoon, drained after a long day of uncooperative kids, temper tantrums and lack of sleep. Weary I walk up the sidewalk into the house, the hot sun draining what energy I have left. All I want to do is sink into a tub full of water and drink a glass of wine. The door closes behind me with a thud as I toe off one of my sneakers and kick it to the side. I’m in the middle of removing the other one when the doorbell rings. A quick look through the peephole reveals Brett waiting on the other side. Even just a glance sends my heart racing. Opening the door, his face is solemn when he looks down at me. It doesn’t look like he got any sleep last night with his bloodshot eyes and bags underneath.

  “Hey,” I breathe out.

  “Hey,” he parrots back one arm braced on the door frame, the other hanging by his side, a pink book gripped in his hand.

  “Do you want to come in?” I move to make room for him, but he doesn’t take a step.

  “Not now, Skylar. I wanted to bring this to you,” he lifts the book in my direction. “I know that you have no reason to believe what I’ve said but maybe this will clear it up. You’re the only one besides me that has seen this book. I marked the important parts, but you can read the whole thing. I haven’t.” He thrusts the book at me and I clasp it to my chest. His hand wraps around the back of my neck and he kisses me until the breath leaves my lungs and I’m lightheaded. “When you want to talk, I’ll be here.” With that he turns, striding to his truck. The loud engine revs before he pulls away from the curb, leaving me standing speechless in the sunlight.

  I place the book on the table in front of the couch while I change clothes and pour a glass of wine. Curling up on the couch, I tuck my feet under me, taking a sip as apprehension fills. That pink book with the broken spine could hold all the answers. But do I need those answers? Shouldn’t I give him the benefit of the doubt? Instead of grabbing the book, I pick up the remote and turn on an episode of NCIS, drool over Mark Harmon and tune out the rest of the world.

  Two episodes later and a glass of wine, a knock sounds at my door. Maybe he came back? I hurry to the door but instead of Brett standing there, it’s Zane holding a pizza box.

  “I’ve come bearing gifts,” he says as he gives me a small deprecating smile, his eyes apologetic.

  “How can I refuse? Come in.” I lead him into the room before dropping onto the couch. He places the box in front of us, inching the book out of the way.

  “Sky,” he begins.

  “I’m not in the mood for you to talk shit about Brett, Zane,” I state draining the last of my wine.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. I was way out of line the other night.”

  “Damn right you were.”

  “You’re my friend, Sky. I want to look out of
you.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, eyes pleading for understanding as he looks at me.

  “And I appreciate that. Your friendship means a lot, but you can’t think you’re going to tell me who I can and can’t see. You’re not my father.”

  “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “It’s still my decision.”

  “You don’t know that guy.”

  “And you do?”

  “More than you do. I was around when all the shit went down. He drinks too much, and he’s gone through women like tissues.”

  “And you think he can’t change?”

  “Men like that don’t change,” he barks out on a laugh.

  “Okay, what the hell is going on, Zane? This is more than you looking out for me. What did he do that pissed you off?”

  “More like who. Piper. My girlfriend.” He deflates against the couch at the admission.

  “Brett slept with your girlfriend?” I ask, confused. Damn will this shit never end?

  “Yes. No,” he rubs a hand over his face before leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’d had a fight."

  “Zane,” I begin. "What happened?"

  “My friends had been giving me a tough time that day. All of them are single, hitting the bars on the weekend, taking home a different girl. They’d been ragging on me hard about being tied down to one chick. All the bullshit about sowing our oats. I bought into it all. I was a fucking idiot.”

  "Jesus, Zane, what did you do?"

  “I told Piper that I wanted to take a break, find out what was out there. We were too young,” he mumbles.

  “I guess she didn’t take it well,” I surmise.

  “That’s an understatement. She screamed at me. Told me I was stupid and that my friends would make me lose everything. I stormed out and went to the bar with the guys.”

  “Oh, Zane. You didn’t,” I groan with disappointment.

  “Yeah, I did. Went home with one that night and the next," his voice drips with shame. "The second night, I guess Piper’s sister took her out to cheer her up, and she saw me. God, the look in her eyes. I’ll never forget the way she looked at me. Like I ripped her heart out and stomped on it.”

  “Do I even want to know what you were doing when she saw you?”

  “Probably not.”

  “You were an idiot.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know. By the time I, ugh, disengaged, she was gone. I went to her apartment to apologize and tell her that it was all a mistake, but she wasn’t there. I waited outside for over an hour before I left.” He stares down at his hands before continuing. “I came back the next morning. It was still early, the sun barely lighting the sky. I backed into a space facing the building. I was trying to work out what I would say, how I was going to get her to forgive me and take me back when he walked out the door,” he spits out.

  “And you’re mad at him about that.”

  “Fuck yeah I’m mad,” he yells launching himself off the couch to pace. “We would have got back together if it wasn’t for him.”

  “Zane, think about what you’re saying. Did he know Piper was your girlfriend?”

  “No,” he bites out through clenched teeth.

  “And you broke up with her before she slept with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s not the reason you broke up. I don’t see how you can hold him responsible. Maybe it’s just easier for you to blame him instead of admitting whose fault it really is.”

  “I still don’t like the guy," he grumbles.

  “I’m not asking you too.” I smile. “Now sit down and eat this pizza before it gets cold.”

  “You got something to drink? I have beer in my fridge.”

  “There are a couple of cans of coke in the refrigerator.” He returns with two cans, popping the top before handing me one.

  “I am sorry, Skylar, for acting like an ass.”

  “That’s what friends are for right? To act like an ass occasionally.” He smiles while lifting the top of the white box, knocking the pink book to the floor.

  “What’s this? A diary?” he asks, picking it up. “Yours?”

  “No, it’s not mine. Brett brought it by.”

  “I wouldn’t have figured him for a pink diary type of guy.” He tosses it back on the table.

  “It’s not his.”

  “Why did he bring you someone else’s diary?” His brow furrows with confusion.

  “It’s a long story.” I breathe out, leaning back against the cushions.

  “I’m all ears,” he states before taking a bite of pizza.

  Over the next hour, I tell Zane the whole sordid story while he munches away.

  “You need to read the diary,” he advises, picking it up and handing it to me. “If the answers are in there, you need to know.” He leans down, pecking me on the hair before taking the empty box to the kitchen. “If you need me, call.”

  13

  Skylar

  My hand trembles when I pick it up. The cover is worn smooth in places where someone has clutched it in their hand. I turn back the cover to find childish writing stating this belongs to Mandy. Why would he give me a diary of a little girl? A small piece of white paper protrudes from the top of the book. I flip to the page and find the writing of a more mature person, the swoops, and swirls a study in femininity. Settling back against the cushions, I read but I start a few pages before the one he marked.

  Dear Diary,

  I never thought I’d write in this book again. I’m too old for this but I have no one else to talk to. We buried my parents today. I’m not sure what to do. The house is silent. My mother is no longer laughing. I miss her so much. It hurts to breathe. I’m going to live with Grandmother and it’s going suck. She’s such a stick in the mud, worried about me being all prim and proper. She sent me up here to pack a bag before someone else comes in to close the house. I’m not sure what that means. I don’t have to go back to school until next week, but I miss my friends.

  Poor girl. I couldn’t imagine losing both parents at the same time. I skip forward a few pages as the next page is just more teenage angst.

  Dear Diary,

  I made a new friend today, Candy. She said they kicked her out her of her last boarding school and she had to come here. She seems cool. She smokes, and she snuck a flask of whiskey into the school. She wants to hang out this weekend. I can’t wait. Everyone else at school avoids me or whispers about me in the halls. Grandmother doesn’t let me have any fun. It’s all study, study, study with her. I miss mom, even dad sometimes. Why did they have to die?

  The stain of a teardrop mars the bottom of the paper and my heart breaks for her. Page after page, revolve around her new friend Mandy. I know that she can’t see it, but Candy wasn’t a good influence. Getting drunk on the weekends and smoking pot. Sneaking out when her Grandmother grounded her when her grades dropped. The girl is screaming for help, but no one is listening. Things get progressively worse when Mandy turns eighteen and can access her trust fund. Candy convinces Mandy that they should take a road trip and follow their favorite band, the Silver Tongued Devils, on their current tour. The drinking and drug use become worse the further they get from home. But unlike other young girls, these two had unlimited funding. No cheap motels, they were staying in high-end hotels. Even though they couldn’t legally drink, they could get large amounts of alcohol. Drugs were easy to come by too. They graduated from smoking weed to ecstasy and cocaine. And according to Mandy, Candy’s obsession with the lead singer grew exponentially. Each time he turned her down the meaner and more dangerous Candy became. She brought home “unsavory” people according to Mandy and had drug parties and orgies. When Mandy balked, Candy cajoled her into participating. Drugs numbed Mandy against the pain of losing her parents. I finally arrive at the page that Brett had marked.

  Dear Diary,

  Candy says tonight is the night that Brett won’t turn her down. I have a tough time believing that. He’s shot her dow
n 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 probably 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 entry is ominous. Just reading about Candy in Mandy’s own words scares me. I can only imagine how Mandy felt living it. My hand shakes as I turn the page, unsure if I want to know the truth of that night.

  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 able to get it up 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.

  Tears fall from my cheeks. Oh my God. A sob breaks free. Brett said he remembered nothing from that night. I can’t imagine how he felt reading this, knowing what those two did to him. I have to see him. I grab my bag, slip on my flip-flops and run to my car. With the ignition on, I put the car in reverse before I remember that I don’t know where he lives. I pull my phone out of my bag, scrolling until I find Kristen’s number. With each ring of the phone, my hand tightens on the steering wheel.