Falling Away

by Allie Little

  “I knew it! I knew something was going on with you two,” she says triumphantly.

  “There isn’t anything going on, Em. I wish you guys would stop jumping to conclusions. And anyway,” I add, “I’ve started seeing someone else.”

  Emily’s eyebrows spike with interest. “What? You dark horse! Who is he?”

  I laugh at the dark horse comment. “His name’s Jack,” I offer contritely.

  “More ...”

  I roll my eyes. “He’s a ferry captain.”

  “And ...”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “And I really like him. He’s sweet, and gorgeous, and romantic ...” The mere mention of Jack and romance steals a shiver through my belly, flipping it over in my core. And I have a ridiculous grin plastered across my face that I just can’t shake off.

  Emily laughs at me. “A-ha! That’s more like it. You’re gone, aren’t you? Completely and utterly gone.”

  Completely and utterly gone? I guess I am.

  “So when do I get to meet him?” Emily presses, smirking.

  I knew this would come next. I roll my eyes at her again. “Well as a matter of fact, he’s picking me up tonight.”

  “What? From here?”

  I nod. “Yes. From here.”

  “Ooh,” she says, clapping her hands in triple time. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  Knowing that Riley will be here too, I think I can.

  ***

  I hardly see Riley all day, which is a good thing. And we’re not that busy so he keeps to himself. Which is another good thing. Because I can hang out here with Emily and avoid him.

  Avoid.

  Escape.

  Evade.

  Dodge.

  Frankly it’s just easier. My shift finishes at six, but at five fifty-five he corners me when I cart a load of glasses into the kitchen. He presses up roughly behind me, hangs that familiar arm loosely across my shoulders. And the heat of him burns.

  He whispers into my ear, asking for candour. “So tell me. What’s he got that I don’t? I’m truly interested.”

  Annoyance sparks from somewhere deep inside. I swivel to face him and he’s intimately close. I pull his arm off my shoulder but he replaces it, grinning. He runs a thumb across my cheekbone.

  I pull his hand away. “What is with you, Riley? I thought you were my friend. That you were going to be nice. Because I can tell you right now. This is not nice.”

  His face drops, along with his arm. I push him away. I need to get out of here. Away from him. His insinuations and his pressure. I push past, heading for the door.

  “Hey, wait. Fuck, I’m sorry Sam.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Really sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

  I turn around. “Yeah? Well stop being a jerk. I’ve had it. You’re hot and then you’re cold. You’re nice and then you’re an asshole. You drink to get wasted but other times you seem like you’ve got your shit together. I just can’t work you out.” I’m enraged, the fury rising through me like a building storm. “Just leave me alone, Riley.”

  He looks at me, wounded. I can see the hurt in his eyes but for once I don’t care. And when I turn to stalk from the room, Jack is standing in the doorway. Blocking my way. Watching.

  Shit.

  “What the hell is going on?” he demands, all casual and barefoot. “You okay?” he asks.

  “Totally fine,” I say, quelling my rage. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Cool with me,” answers Jack, shooting Riley a don’t fuck with me stare as he steps almost menacingly into the room.

  Riley straightens up, stands taller. They eyeball each other momentarily, making my heart thud a little louder.

  Jack seizes my hand and guides me from the kitchen. I grab my bag as we exit the café, Emily giving us a disappointed wave as we leave.

  Jack doesn’t say anything, all the way to the wharf. It’s not like he’s angry, more like he’s bothered. Disturbed even. I’m unsettled and anxious. I don’t know how long he was standing there. How much he saw. Or what he thought. Finally, he speaks.

  “Is that guy always like that?”

  I look up at him and his eyes are deeply vexed. “Like what?”

  “Hassling you. That’s harassment you know. You don’t have to put up with it.”

  I exhale, the tension flowing from my lungs. “He’s not always like that. He’s okay most of the time.”

  “You don’t have to hide it. I’m not going to beat him up or anything. Although the thought did cross my mind,” he laughs bitterly.

  I squeeze his hand. “Honestly Jack, he’s fine. I can handle him.”

  He looks at me, ensuring I mean it. “Well, you certainly gave him a serve. I liked what I saw. At least you know how to stand up for yourself.” He pauses. “I was going to teach you a few karate moves. I’m a black belt.”

  “Really?”

  He laughs. “Nah, not really. Don’t know a single move.”

  He stops suddenly and pulls me into an embrace so tight I can hear his heartbeat. Immediately it all melts away. The crap, the tension. My shitful day. And I realise how much I need this. Need him. And not just sometimes. All of the time.

  “But you have to tell me though, if you can’t handle him. If he gets too much for you.” He runs a hand over my hair, grabbing a handful of it and holding me tighter against him.

  I pull back and poke him in the ribs. “And what’ll you do? Punch his teeth in?” I joke.

  He laughs with eyes that tell a different story. “Well if he tries anything like that again, I just might try.”

  “Yeah, right,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  But the scary thing is, I think he means it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sam? It’s your mother. Where are you? You’re never at home, and your father and I...well, we worry. You haven’t been home since yesterday and a little bit of courtesy would go a very long way. Especially since your father’s not well. You don’t want to be contributing to his ill-health, do you? Because at the moment you are ...

  She has that tone. The one with capacity to drill me for guilt. I click off the voicemail, ignoring her gnarly message. I’ve only been away for one night, and as for the blame trip? I won’t subside into self-reproach on her account.

  The phone rings. I throw it to the end of Jack’s bed and let it ring out. Jack left for work hours ago, so I recline into the glittering sunshine. Reflecting from the river, it pours over me like a warm bath to settle my galloping annoyance. I won’t let her crush me into compliance.

  My phone whistles loudly and I jump, startled. Dialling voicemail, I am most relieved to hear Ben’s voice.

  Hey, Sis. Where are you? Mum rang. She’s on the warpath and sounds like she’s gonna send out a search party for you. I’m coming up tonight, but could you please call her? She doesn’t know where you are. Just let her know you’re ok. I’ll see you later on.

  He ends the call, the line hanging open with thick dead air. I roll off the bed. With an overwhelming desire to speak with Dad, I dress quickly. Even if she’s there, I need answers. Using all my brutish strength, I heave Jack’s glass doors closed when I leave.

  ***

  “Where’ve you been, Sam? Your mother’s out of her mind.” Dad berates me from the kitchen bench, his arms resting on the cold white stone.

  “Where is she?” I ask, looking around for any tell-tale signs.

  “Gone searching for you.” Dad’s breathless and pale, effortfully drawing oxygen from the river-blown room. And he looks drawn.

  “Are you okay, Dad?”

  He raises eyes that appear full. Of emotion, distance, sadness, regret. Brimming with disorder and muddied turmoil. “I’m fine, love. Just exhausted.” He gives a little cough, and a brief silence hangs like a tangible barrier between us. There’s obviously so much more that he’s just not willing to tell.

  “You don’t look fine. Maybe you should see the doctor again?”

  He sighs deeply. “I
have, love. And it’s nothing to worry about. Leave that to your mother. She does enough of that for all of us.” He forges a weak smile, and he’s so different now. Like he’s lost himself. Lost the will to find himself. And it’s odd.

  I study his face which becomes solemn. “You know you can tell me anything, Dad. Even if Mum doesn’t want you to. She won’t tell me what’s wrong and you won’t either. And it makes the worry worse. The doctor must have told you something, so tell me what it is.” The strength with which my words come surprises me. But I hold to them. Hold. Because I need to know.

  Dad exhales, seemingly in defeat. And the interval offers him autonomy, if he’s brave enough to take it. He shrugs lower into his chair, slumping his shoulders. “All right then. I guess it can’t hurt for you to be in the loop. I’ve been wanting to tell you. And your brother, too. But I didn’t want you to worry.” He stops for a moment, as if considering his words and what he should say. How much. Or how little. He takes a deep breath. “It’s my heart, Sam. It’s gone into overdrive but we’re trying to rein it back in.”

  My brow creases. “Overdrive? What are you talking about?”

  “I have atrial fibrillation. So if it doesn’t slow down ...” he breaks off.

  “What do you mean, if it doesn’t slow down?” He can’t be sick because it isn’t in the forecast. Dad needs relaxation. That’s all. He works too hard. And maybe he needs time. Away from her.

  I need him to talk. For my sake. For my heart to slow. To resume some regularity. “So, you’re okay though, right? I mean, what does all this mean?”

  He looks at me kindly. “It means it’s just a blip in the road, Sam. That’s all.”

  A blip in the road? Major downplay, Dad.

  And then he talks, and I don’t do anything more than sit here and listen. I feel like I’ve snuck onto a freight train, hitching a clandestine ride through the hours of darkness. I hide in the carriage behind the engine, and all I feel is a repetitious clack-clacking of wheels on the tracks, propelling us forward. All of us.

  Afterwards he smiles like a weight’s been lifted. Like he’s been freed from incarceration, witnessing sky for the very first time. Finally the truth is revealed, and even though it’s harsh, at least it’s real.

  I place my hand on his arm.

  ***

  The breeze shifts. All I can hear is the rolling surf and an eagle cawing. And Dad’s words in my head, replaying. The sea is an undulating blue, but I don’t notice. I can’t notice. At times my ears play tricks on me and I think he’s here. But it’s just his voice like the wind, blowing through my head.

  They’re trying to prevent a stroke. And heart failure. He’s taking Clexane and a monitor’s veiled beneath his clothes. He’s breathless and fatigued, but with monitoring he’ll be fine. Or so he says. If I could swim to the horizon I would, even through coiling waves and with aching arms I’d do it. Go all the way there, and then keep going. Because just as tomorrow never comes, you never quite reach that elusive horizon. So then I’ll run.

  Ben’s here. He paddles out through hard cutting breakers and props beside me. I only need to look at his face to see that he knows.

  “So, what d'ya reckon?” he asks, gliding belly-down over a rolling peak.

  I shrug, looking at him. “I don’t think it’s good.”

  He nods, twisting his mouth from the corner like he’s expecting the worst. The worst kind of news.

  “Does Mum know we know?” I ask him.

  Ben nods, slowly. “Yep.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “And ... ?”

  “And she’s not happy.”

  “I don’t get why it matters,” I say. But I do, because it’s who she is.

  “Yeah, you do.”

  I snigger bitterly, remembering all the times I’ve been hurt. Too many to count. The times she’s tolerated me like a bitter pill. The way she retreats from life, from me, curling into a lifeless ball in the dark. How many times have I needed her? Needed her to be my mother and she hasn’t been anywhere in my line of sight. Not even close.

  The waves draw up in transparent peaks and we roll across the top. They’ve softened, not so hard cut now, and the water’s so clear I see sunlight patterning the pale sandy bottom. We don’t speak, but we don’t have to. I know what’s hiding in his thoughts because it lurks in mine too.

  We paddle hard for a wave that peels to the left, curling to whitewash further down the break. It’s a freaky four-footer and gives me a trouncing, victoriously tipping me forward and thrashing me like a foaming front-loader. But jeez, as my head hits the sand, for once that feels good.

  Ben’s laughing like a hyena when I surface with my leg rope dragging at me like an annoying child.

  “Whatever,” I say, pulling my board back toward me. I throw myself on and paddle past, wondering if I’ve grazed my forehead.

  “Too funny. You just got seriously pounded.”

  I shake my head, grinning.

  ***

  With my demons now on the loose I head in to the beach. Towelling off, I watch Ben in the water. That stupid whistle from my Samsung jolts me to attention, and I notice a text from Jack.

  Hey beautiful. Matt’s invited us to a party tonight. You wanna go? Nelson Bay. We can take the boat.

  I catalogue my thoughts. Ben’s here. Dad’s sick. Mum’s pissed off. Yeah, I want to go.

  Definitely

  Life’s too short. Literally.

  When Ben’s out I ask him too.

  He thinks momentarily, and I can tell he’s tempted. “No, I better stay home. It probably wouldn’t go down too well.”

  “You’re worried about that?”

  “Yeah, I’m worried. Dad’s sick and Mum’s annoyed. Someone has to play peace-keeper.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, piker. So who’s the loser now?”

  He gives a dramatic eye roll. “Since when do you like parties, anyhow?”

  “Since I need to get out of that house. Plus with Jack it’s different.”

  He nods, understanding.

  ***

  The night is dark, lit only by the lights on Jack’s boat. Seagulls follow our path, glowing with a pale purple fluorescence. The sky is freckled with stars, as if it too has been touched by the hand of sunshine.

  I pull my denim jacket closer against my body and snuggle into Jack. He always feels warm, even when it’s cold. He looks down at me and smiles, kisses the top of my head.

  “Lovebirds,” Matt jeers from behind. “What have you done to him, Sammy?”

  I laugh, not knowing what to say. Jack senses my discomfort and squeezes me closer. “Do you ever give up, mate?”

  “Mate, when it comes to you, I will never give up.”

  Jack just gives a shake of his head.

  I desperately want to get to this party. To lose myself in the drinking and dancing. For some reason her voice is playing on my mind. Over and over. She blames me for Dad being sick. Me? And now here I am again, wishing to be away. From her. And if the truth be known, from him too. Because looking at the paler, weaker version of my father isn’t easy.

  When we arrive at the party it’s in full swing. No awkward standing around making small talk with people I don’t know. And I blend in easily. No-one notices us arrive because there are so many people here. The fibro house looks more like a shack, with paint peeling from the fascia and old lounges reclining in the yard. Matt sees friends from work and abandons us to the music, thumping so loudly my feet shudder with the boards.

  “I’ll get you a drink,” Jack says, dragging me toward the makeshift bar to the rear of the garage.

  Jack grabs two beers from a garbage bin brim-full of ice, twisting off the lids in his bare hands. He hands one to me and it’s refreshingly cold.

  “Do you see anyone you know?” he asks, glancing around. He curls an arm around my waist and draws me into him.

  I lean closer. “Nuh–uh,” I say, draining the beer. I’m going to need another one. Or four.

  Ja
ck looks down, unable to hide his concern. “Are you okay? You seem kind of quiet and distracted tonight. Is something wrong? It’s not that guy from the café is it?”

  I shake my head, feeling emotional, like if he presses too hard I’ll crack at the seams. And if that happens, who knows what the flood gates will release. “No, it’s not him,” I say, wondering if I should say more or let it lie undisturbed beneath my cracking exterior.

  He draws back and looks right at me. “So what is it? Something’s wrong, I can see it in your eyes.”

  I exhale slowly. “It’s Dad. I found out today he’s not well. There’s something wrong with his heart. And I’m not sure it can be put right.”

  Jack frowns, looking slightly shocked. “Oh Sam,” he says, enclosing me in his arms. He presses a cheek against my hair and I lean into him. “I’m so sorry. How bad is it?”

  I shrug against his chest. “I really don’t know. I don’t think he’s being honest because he doesn’t look good. So he’s either playing it down or just plain lying.” I feel a tear course over my cheek and I brush it away.

  Jack notices and pulls back to check my face. “You want to get out of here?”

  “No, I’d like to enjoy myself. I need to forget about today.” I look into his face, illuminated by a tacky lava lamp in the corner. It glows orange then green, shooting bubbles to the surface. They pattern across his skin. I place my arms around his neck and kiss him fervently. He responds immediately, until reluctantly I break contact. I look up meaningfully into his eyes. “And then I want to go home – with you.”

  His eyes light, softening. “Whatever you want,” he murmurs, feathering kisses down my neck.

  My body sparks at his touch, lighting my desire. He feels it too, kissing me like there’s no-one else in the room. Which for us, there isn’t. I want to be drunk and I want him in private. Preferably now. I’m alive when I’m with him, like nothing else matters and I can forget. Of course things matter, but my attraction to Jack pales everything else into insignificance. It’s like my mind plays dirty games with me. Making me believe that everything’s fine and that Dad will be okay. That it’s just as he says, a blip in the road.