If I Fall

by Anna Cruise

  “Hmm?”

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling. “I really do know this sucks right now. So thank you.”

  I nodded and headed off to my room, ready to collapse on my bed. I shut the door behind me and dove onto the bed, burying my head in the pillows. I would've stayed like that for a long time, except my phone was still buzzing in my pocket. I rolled over on my back and pulled it out.

  A missed call. And three texts. From Aidan.

  Call me.

  Where are you?

  You're pissed.

  I squeezed the phone in my hand, both pissed that I was finally hearing from him and glad that I was finally hearing from him. I wanted to be mad at him, but the fact was that I was more happy to hear from him.

  I hit redial and he picked up after one ring.

  “You're pissed,” he said.

  “Should I be?”

  “No,” he said. “I mean, yeah, probably. Physics sucked and Scotty and I checked the surf report and the waves were cranking. We bailed. And I totally forgot about meeting you after school. My bad completely. I'm so sorry.”

  He sounded sincere, but I was still irritated. “And you just now got home?”

  “No,” he explained. “I left my phone in Scotty's car and I had to go back and get it. I called you as soon as I got it and got in my car. And I cut the session short because I was out on the water when I realized I was an idiot.”

  “You are an idiot,” I said.

  “I know, Meg. I'm sorry. I'll sell my surfboard so it doesn't happen again.”

  I smiled, despite not wanting to. “Whatever.”

  “And my car. I'll sell that, too, so I can't leave school.”

  “Stop.”

  “But then I won't be able to pick you up or come get you. I'll have to take the bus and...”

  “Stop!” I said, laughing. “Enough. Just apologize.”

  “I'm sorry,” he said and I could tell he was smiling, too. “I really am. I'm an idiot.”

  “Yeah, you are,” I said, but he'd taken the edge off of my irritation.

  “You got home alright?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I'm sorry, Meg,” he said. “I miss you.”

  “Me too.”

  “Any chance you can get out tonight?”

  “Zero,” I answered, falling back into my pillows.

  “Well, let's plan on tomorrow then.”

  I sighed. “I can't. I'm going to my dad's.”

  “Oh,” he said. “I didn't know.”

  “Neither did I,” I said and explained to him the conversation with Sara over dinner.

  “Wow,” he said. “Bummer. Well, OK.”

  “I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't know that was going to happen. She totally caught me off-guard. And if I want to go on Friday, I don't think I have a choice.”

  “Right, right,” he said. “It's cool. Nothing you can do.”

  “I'm sorry,” I said again. “But we'll have Friday, right?”

  “For sure,” he said.

  We talked for a few more minutes, working out the details for Friday. He was going to pick me up outside Jada's at 5:45, then get me back before midnight. I'd missed seeing him that afternoon, but there was some consolation in knowing I'd get a few hours with him on Friday.

  If I made it through the night with my dad.

  TWENTY SEVEN

  “How was school?” my dad asked as we drove to his house.

  “Fine,” I said. “The same as usual.”

  He'd picked me up at five on the dot and I'd tried my best to prepare myself for his arrival, trying to fake some enthusiasm for the visit. But as soon as I'd gotten in his car, I could feel my resolve fading. I was having a hard time feeling anything other than apathy.

  “Your grades are OK?” he asked.

  “Good enough,” I said.

  “I know we haven't talked much about this, but have you thought at all about college?” he asked as we exited the freeway. “It's probably about time we start talking about that.”

  “I don't know,” I said because I really hadn't given it a single thought.

  “You know I'll pay for it, right?” he said, glancing at me. “Assuming you keep your grades up. You won't have to work or worry about money.”

  I knew how much importance he placed on college. He was the first one in his family to have graduated from college and he was proud of that. My mom hadn't gone, but she backed up his belief that college wasn't a choice—it was a foregone conclusion that I'd go. But we'd never talked about where or what I'd study or any of that stuff.

  “I know,” I said.

  “Maybe we could poke around a little,” he said, turning in to the parking lot and pulling in to his numbered space. “Next time you come over. We can get online and see what's out there.”

  I couldn't imagine anything that sounded less fun, but I promised Sara I would try. “Alright.”

  We got out and I walked slowly up the walk behind him. I knew who was waiting for us inside.

  Cheri opened the door before we reached it and smiled first at my dad, then at me. “Hi, Meg.”

  “Hi.”

  We walked past her, my dad stopping briefly to kiss her on the cheek. My stomach lurched. I stood in the living room, awkwardly, as Cheri closed the door and my dad continued into the kitchen.

  Cheri clasped her hands together. “I made a vegetarian pizza. Mushrooms, olives, tomatoes. That sound OK?”

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  “You wanna help me set the table?”

  “OK.”

  I followed her into the kitchen and my dad was gone, probably back in the bedroom, changing his clothes. Cheri handed me three plates and some silverware and I walked them over to a wooden, country-style table in the dining room. I stood there, looking at it for a moment, feeling guilty.

  “I'm sorry about the table,” I said, staring at the replacement.

  Cheri came over with napkins and glasses. “It's a table. Not the end of the world. We'll live.”

  It wasn't the response I was expecting. I was thinking she'd say something about the cost or when the glass table would be back. But she acted like she didn't care and that disarmed me.

  “I didn't tell your dad the pizza is vegetarian,” she said, shooting a smile at me. “He's gonna be mad that I didn't at least make some with meat.”

  “You could've,” I said, setting the plates down. “I could've just picked it off.”

  She shook her head. “No, he'll be fine. Some vegetables will do him good. He doesn't need to eat like a caveman all the time.”

  She was being nice. And it didn't seem forced. It seemed genuine. I wasn't ready for that. It was harder to be angry with her if she wasn't going to be a total bitch.

  My dad came back, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, and we sat down at the table. Cheri set the pizza on the table and dished it up and my dad did ask where the meat one was. Cheri looked at me and I smiled when she dissolved into giggles. He looked confused, but pleased that we were sharing a joke at his expense.

  We made it through the meal with light conversation and nothing seemed forced or out of place. I was quiet, but not a hermit. It wasn't awful.

  After dinner, we watched TV. They asked me simple questions about school and my friends. We talked about movies. We avoided any discussion of my mother. I'm not sure exactly what I'd imagined it would be like, but it wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. I only looked at the black hutch once, and not because I wanted what was inside. Instead, I felt a small stab of guilt that I'd raided it the last time I'd visited. That I'd felt like I'd needed it to get through the night.

  “Everything OK?” Cheri asked.

  It took me a minute to realize she was talking to me. “Oh. Yeah.”

  And it wasn't a lie. Everything was OK. As much as I hated to admit it, Cheri was nice. She was funny and as beautiful as she was, she was neither dumb nor stuck up. She seemed normal. The way she joked with my dad, smiling and laughing with him
was something I'd never seen him do with my mother. It was weird, but he looked happy.

  Around nine o'clock, my dad stretched, glanced at the clock and said “Probably need to be getting you home. I told your aunt we wouldn't keep you all night.”

  “OK,” I said, not as ready to go as I thought I might be.

  “And I have a super early meeting tomorrow,” he said. “So I was going to have Cheri take you back. If that's alright with you.”

  Other than setting the table, I hadn't been alone with her. We'd gotten along fine, but that was with him there. My stomach tightened. Having dinner and hanging out with my dad around had been fine. Pleasant, even. But I didn't know what it would like to be alone with her. I didn't know if I wanted to find out. But he wasn't giving me much of a choice. He was putting me on the spot and if I said no, it would be my fault.

  “Yeah, that's fine,” I said.

  He nodded and smiled. “Good. Thank you.” He kissed my cheek and gave me a hug. “I'll call you over the weekend and we'll see about getting you over here next week?”

  “Sure.”

  We said goodbye and I followed Cheri out to the parking lot and into her black BMW.

  “I know you probably would rather he drive you home,” she said, turning on the car. “I'm sorry.”

  “It's fine,” I said, pulling the seat belt across me.

  She nodded and backed out of the parking space. The radio hummed, some country station I would never listen to. I gazed out the window, at the shadowy canyons and the houses lit up on the hillsides.

  We were halfway home when Cheri said, “I'm not sure what to say here, Meg. This is all new to me, too.”

  I didn't say anything, just continued to stare out the window.

  “I'm not looking to be your mom or even your step-mom,” she said. “And I'm sure it feels like I'm being forced on you. In a lot of ways, I guess I am. But I would like you to know one thing.”

  I waited.

  “I would like to get to know you,” she said. “Not like in a pretend or fake kind of way. But it was nice having you at dinner tonight and talking with you. And, if you're OK with it, it would be great to have you spend more time with us. And not as a guest. I don't want you to feel like a guest. We aren't a hotel. It's your place, too.”

  It was the kind of thing that, if she'd said it to me a week earlier, I would've flown off the handle and said something nasty. And while I still wasn't comfortable with being around her, I hadn't had a bad night with her or my dad.

  “That would be alright,” I said.

  “And I don't mean always with me,” she said, switching lanes as we neared the exit. “I mean with your dad—sometimes without me. You guys need time together.”

  “I don't think he likes doing things without you,” I said.

  She smiled, but shook her head. “Trust me. You don't always need me hanging around. He's your dad. You need to spend time with him. My dad never spent time with me after he got remarried.”

  I looked at her. “Your parents were divorced?”

  She nodded. “Yep. I was a year younger than you. And I never saw him without her ever again. Never got to spend time with just him. And I hated that.” She paused for a moment. “So maybe I'm oversensitive to it. But you need time with just your dad. He's your parent. Not me. I'm just...me.”

  I didn't know whether she was trying to be nice to win me over or if she was being nice because she was actually nice. I'd gone into the night prepared to dislike her exactly the way I had before. But now? Now I was having trouble finding reasons why.

  Ten more minutes of silence and we were back in my driveway. The porch light flickered on as soon as we pulled up, a sign that Sara was waiting on us.

  Cheri hit the door unlock button as the car idled in the driveway. “Hopefully it's not too late.”

  “It's not,” I said. “And thanks. For dinner. And...just everything.”

  “You're welcome, Meg,” she said, smiling. “And thank you. For coming over. And for trying.” Her smile dimmed. “There's no rush here, either. Worst thing in the world is to force things. So let's do it on your schedule. OK?”

  I nodded. “OK.” I hesitated for a minute. “Maybe I can come over again next week. After the weekend.”

  “That would be great,” Cheri said. “Just let your dad know and we'll make it work.” She smiled. “Or you can call me, too. Whatever works. For you.”

  I said goodbye and got out of the car. She backed her car out of the drive, gave a little wave and drove off down the street.

  I stood there for a moment in the driveway, the porch light buzzing in the dark, a cool breeze blowing across the yard. I'd been prepared for the night to be another disaster, but it had turned into a pretty decent night. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't tense, I wasn't on edge and I wasn't pretending to be anything or anyone other than who I was.

  I was just me. And that felt good.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  I got dropped off at Jada's without a hitch.

  The school day had gone by fast and when I'd gotten home, I'd showered and spent too much time figuring out what to wear. I couldn't exactly look like I was going out when I was supposed to be spending the evening with Jada, but I still wanted to look good for Aidan. I settled on a pair of dark denim shorts and a black lace cami, adding just a little bit of make-up to my scrubbed face.

  I ate a quick dinner with Sara and tried to act normal. I recapped the night at my dad's for her—there hadn't been time to talk the night before when Cheri had dropped me off—and told her that I wasn't against going back. She seemed pleased with that.

  “Midnight,” she said, when we pulled up to the curb in front of Jada's house. “Not a minute later.”

  “I'll be ready to go,” I said. “Promise.”

  She looked past me at the house. It was a single-story stucco-sided home, much like mine. A light was on in the living room and the garage was open, both of Jada's parents' cars parked inside. “And you guys are just gonna watch TV?”

  “Or a movie,” I said. “Or goof off.”

  “It's the goofing off that worries me,” Sara said, her eyes narrowed.

  I opened the door. “Please. We'll probably do our nails and talk the whole night.”

  Her features relaxed a bit. “That I'm fine with,” she said. “OK. Have fun. I'll be here at midnight.”

  “Got it,” I said. “Thanks.”

  I shut the door and for a moment, I had a flash of panic as she waited at the curb. I'd worked out in my head what I was going to do if she waited, but pulling it off for real was a different thing. I walked slowly up the sidewalk that led to the house, trying not to look like I was stalling. Halfway up, just when I thought she really wasn't going to pull away until she saw someone answer the door and me step inside, I heard the engine rev. I fought the urge to turn around and just stared straight ahead and kept walking. By the time I got to the front stoop, I finally felt comfortable turning around.

  My aunt was gone.

  My stomach flip-flopped as a I headed back down the walk and down to the corner, texting Aidan that I was there.

  Four minutes later, so was he.

  He smothered me in the car, leaning across the seat and kissing me. I tasted alcohol and weed and mint on his breath, and I took it all in, that familiar cocktail I'd come to associate with him. It felt like forever I'd seen him.

  We finally came up for air and he gave me a crooked smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “You made it.”

  “I told you I would.”

  “Well, I know it hasn't been easy.”

  I shrugged. “I got it covered.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Cocky now?”

  “No,” I said. “I've just got it covered for tonight.”

  “Better that than nothing,” he said, smiling at me, running his hand up my thigh. “You ready to go have some fun?”

  I was because it felt like forever since I'd had any fun.

/>   He drove the entire way there with his hand on my thigh, squeezing it every so often. I'd missed being touched. At a red light, I pushed his hand higher up and he leered at me across the seat.

  “I guess you missed me,” he said.

  I pressed his hand all the way up between my legs. “Yeah. I missed you.”

  He chuckled, shook his head and hit the gas as the light turned green. “I missed you, good girl.”

  He found a spot in an alley off Mission and, after maneuvering the car into the space, killed the engine. We got out and he grabbed my hand for the walk to the party. I could see the crowd before we actually got there, music and laughter drifting over the salty air, lights and shadows splashing across the alley. When we reached the house, it didn't seem like there was an empty inch of space available. People spilled out of the doorways and into the alley. We walked around the perimeter of the house, out toward the boardwalk on the bayside, and the backside was even more crowded. The patio was full, spitting people out onto the walk and over to the sand.

  I recognized faces as Aidan pulled me through the crowd, winding our way through the masses on the patio and into a kitchen at the back of the house. The island and counters looked like a bar, bottles and bottles of every imaginable kind of alcohol lined up. Aidan dropped my hand for a moment, then handed me a red plastic cup.

  “Rum,” he said, grinning. “I think its your favorite.”

  I took a long swallow, the alcohol burning its way down my throat and warming my entire body. He took my hand again and we shuffled our way through the house to a staircase.

  “Trying to find us some privacy,” he said, his mouth pressed next to my ear so I could hear him over the thumping bass of the stereo.

  I followed him up the stairs and into a crowded hallway. We negotiated the traffic and he started opening doors, frowning each time he opened one, then moving further down the hall. He opened the next to last door, hesitated, then pulled me inside.

  It was a small bedroom with two twin beds and the one on the right was already occupied by a guy and a girl I didn't recognize. Her hand was in his jeans and they were both making noises, soft moans and sharp intakes of breath. If they noticed us, they didn't show it.