Continuum

by Susan Wu

  “It's okay, how could you know?” I look up at him and he looks positively crestfallen. I turn my head and clear my throat, “I fainted at school, cut my head open on a desk on my way down. My mom was meeting me at the hospital. There was a really bad storm. She was driving on the highway and a truck was stalled on the exit ramp. She didn't see it until the last minute and she tried to swerve and avoid it. Her car rolled over into a ditch. She died instantly.” My voice catches in my throat. I realize I have never said any of this out loud. Everyone in Everest Heights already knew what happened of course.

  “I am so sorry, Fallon.” His fingers run up and down the length of my spine and belatedly, I realize I’m trembling.

  “For a long time I didn't let myself believe she was dead. We had a closed casket funeral, so I never actually saw her body. I liked to imagine the casket was empty and that she had just gone away for a while, that she was away visiting my Grandma in Florida.”

  The story no one knew was what happened after my mom died. I pull away from Ethan’s embrace but grab his hand and walk him over to the pristine white couch. I angle my body toward his and sit close so that our knees are touching. Gingerly, I roll up the sleeves of my sweatshirt exposing my forearms. I start by removing my watch and then slide off each bracelet, dumping each piece one by one onto the coffee table. “It was a very dark, lonely time for me. I still blame myself for what happened to her.”

  Ethan looks at me, his eyes are slightly puzzled as he watches me with silent curiosity. Flipping my empty hands over, I stare at the twin scars running down the length of my wrists. “My father found me. I wasn’t expecting him to check up on me until the following week, but I guess he was worried about me. I spent the rest of the summer in an intensive therapy program in Florida. When I came back from treatment at the end of the summer, he had sold the old house and had all our belongings moved here. All her things are packed away in the attic. I always keep the other bedroom door closed because I can’t bear to see it empty. I... I just can’t see it like that. For a long time, I hoped that she was going to walk through the door and put everything in their proper place. That everything would to be as it once was.”

  He pulls my hands into his and presses each wrist against his lips to kiss each scar. Ethan ducks his head down until we are eye level. His blue eyes burn with sincerity and his voice is a quiet plea, “Fallon, you can’t continue to punish yourself. It wasn’t your fault, it was an accident.”

  He gently pulls me into his arms, my face tucked into the crook under his chin. My body sags against him and I am too weak to resist the strength of his embrace. My face is wet, but not from the rain.

  Ethan

  I press my face against the dark sweep of hair hiding her face and inhale deeply. Fallon smells incredible as always--her scent enhanced by the scent of fresh rain. Her whole body is shaking and her shoulders tremble with her silent sobs. She feels so small and vulnerable in my arms.

  Trying to sooth her, I rub her back in circles like my mom used to when I was little. I can feel her tears against my skin and despite the sobs racking her body, she makes no sound. In this moment, I know that walls have been torn down between us. I know this secret is not something she has ever shared. It is rare for her to be this open and probably even rarer for her to be so raw and exposed.

  After a few minutes of holding her in silence, I feel her body begin to still. Her breathing is still uneven but she pulls away, quickly turning away to dab at her eyes with a towel. When she looks back at me her green eyes are rimmed with red and wary. “So I told you about my scars, now I want to know about yours,” she says with watery bravado, her finger tracing the scar along my back. A jolt of electricity travels down my spine and I shiver involuntarily.

  “Sometimes I forge it’s even there, it seems like a lifetime ago. I got it the summer before 8th grade. My dad was sick of city living and wanted us to live a quainter life. We were staying in this converted farm house out in the middle of nowhere in rural Illinois. It was like a two stoplight kind of town. We were growing our own vegetables and riding around in a vintage pick up truck. There was even an old fashioned pharmacy in the main square that still served milkshakes at the counter.”

  My voice drifts off as I remember the days when my life was simpler. When my family was still together. It is odd how fast things can change. Now I’m living in my mom’s hometown, sitting here with this beautiful girl whose broken heart I want desperately to make whole again.

  Fallon’s soft voice shakes me out of my reverie, “Sounds peaceful.” She reaches over and squeezes my right hand, urging me on.

  I squeeze back and shake my head, trying to focus my thoughts, “Anyway, it was awful. Scott and I hated it. We were like twelve and ten years old. Naturally we were extremely bored and the TV didn’t always work. It was late June, so we had been complaining about this place for almost a month straight at this point. My dad decided to have a real bonding moment with his sons. He took us down to the river before the crack of dawn. Gave us fishing poles and a bucket of worms and set us to task. At first, we were fascinated but it turned out to be incredibly difficult and required far more patience than either of us had. Scott and I spent most of our time fooling around and wrestling. I guess the area where we were fishing had become eroded. One minute I was being chased by Scott, the next the ground had given out beneath my feet. I fell about twelve feet onto the rocky ledge of the riverbed. I cracked my skull and fractured three vertebrae and broke both my legs. I was in a medically induced coma because of the swelling in my brain and the damage to my body.”

  Her grip tightens on my hand and her eyes are wide as she presses her free hand against her mouth, “Oh my God.”

  “The scar is from the surgeries to repair my spine. The doctors told my parents that I would probably never walk again or lead a normal life.” Fallon looks so serious as she takes in my story, I give her a sly wink. “But, as you know Fallon, I don't take no for an answer.”

  That shy smile crosses her lips, “Did you know you’re pretty incredible? I’m glad you never give up.”

  “I did get some help. I was operated on by several of the country’s top spinal surgeons. And of course, there were the years of intense physical therapy. All the weight I lost while I was in my coma, I put it back on as muscle. It was a long, arduous process. But I started exercising, playing sports. All the things I didn’t have interest in before I got hurt. My injuries made me appreciate what my body is capable of.”

  “Sometimes you need to see the darkness before you can appreciate the sunlight,” she murmurs into her hand. Her dark lashes are wet from tears and her green eyes are burning with sincerity.

  I have an overwhelming desire to close the small space between us and kiss her. Instead, I reach over and brush her tear stained cheek with the back of my left hand. My right hand is still gripped in hers but it slackens when I reach over.

  Her body freezes on the couch, her lips parted as she inhales sharply at my unexpected touch. She closes her eyes and allows me to continue stroking her face, leaning into my hand. Tears continue to trickle slowly down her face. For once, her defenses are down. And I am wholly enraptured.

  Fallon

  I open my eyes and Ethan is still staring at me, his eyes blazing intently as his fingers brush my face. I am paralyzed by his stare and that familiar hunger forms in the pit of my stomach. My heart is thrumming like a hummingbird in my chest. Very deliberately, he sweeps my wet hair over my shoulder and his hand comes to a rest at the nape of my neck. My whole body is screaming for him to kiss me.

  It takes all my willpower to squeeze my eyes shut and break the spell. My voice cracks betraying my emotion, “Please don’t.” Immediately, his hand drops back down onto the couch. When I look up, the blood has drained from his face and his face is twisted with hurt from my rejection. What am I doing with this boy? All I can do is whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  Ethan winces at my apology and looks away, his voice is gruff, “D
on’t be. I don’t know what I was thinking.” The pain in his voice as he utters those last words pierce through me and the ache in my chest takes my breath away.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you to. It’s... it’s complicated.”

  “You’re still conflicted.” He says it like it’s a bad word.

  “Yes.” And my conflicted feelings are down right tearing me apart inside. I wish it wasn’t like this. But there’s no use longing for things that can’t change. Frustrated, I run both hands through my hair, tugging the ends in frustration. I will him to meet my eyes but they are fixed determinedly at the front door. “I need time. To think things through. To get myself to the right place. Are we still friends?”

  He still won’t look at me, his eyes darting everywhere but in my direction, “Of course, we’re still friends. That’s all we’ll ever be. I think it stopped raining. I should get going.”

  Hastily standing, he pulls on his still damp shirt and zips up his wet jacket. He slings his backpack onto his shoulder and walks out the front door as I follow silently in his wake.

  Ethan pauses on the porch and turns around, looking down to meet my eyes. His blue eyes are beseeching, searching for an answer to his unspoken question. I don’t know what to say. On the one hand I desperately want him to stay, on the other I know we cannot continue on like this. Ethan reaches over and gently places his hand against my face and it takes all my strength not to crumple onto the ground.

  His expression is tense, a line forming between his furrowed eyebrows, “I don’t understand you at all, Fallon.”

  I feel wretched, “I wish there was a way I could explain myself better.” Even I can hear the despair in my voice.

  Ethan closes his eyes, sighing deeply, “You don’t have to explain yourself at all. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m too impulsive.”

  I don’t know how long we stand on the porch, saying nothing. His face is already committed to memory, but I drink it in like it’s the last time I will see him and his eyes are doing the same. “I’ll be here when you’re tired of running,” he murmurs finally, releasing my face. “Goodbye, Fallon.” He turns away from me, descending the front steps before marching down the driveway and disappearing around the corner. He doesn’t look back.

  I shut the door once he is out of sight and my legs give out. I slide down to the floor, sitting with my back pressed against the door. When I close my eyes, I can still see the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. Before Ethan came into my life, I had forgotten what it was like to care for someone else. I trace the scars running down my wrists. I had also forgotten how much pain you can inflict on those who care about you. I don’t know if I can ever make things right between us.

  His last words echo in my brain. Ethan is right, of course. I am always running from my feelings about him. And I keep stumbling. How did things get so complicated between us?

  I curse myself for lacking any sort of willpower when it came to Ethan. Despite the walls I had so carefully built to keep people out, he was slowing chipping away at it. He was standing at the threshold now. And I wanted desperately to let him in.

  Monday morning I awake with a familiar panic, my heart in my throat. My hair is clinging to the sheen of sweat on my forehead. Unable to recall the details of last night’s dream or shake the feeling of dread, I cannot bring myself to leave my bed let alone the house. It is still pitch dark outside, I glance over at my alarm clock. 4:05AM.

  I don’t like ominous mornings, the day never turns out well. Pulling on my robe and slipping on my slippers, I decide the best course of action is to play hooky and stay home. I shuffle into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Perched on the edge of a stool next to the kitchen island, I close my eyes and listen to the quiet percolating of the machine.

  A pair of flat, steel gray eyes, cold and devoid of emotion, flash in my mind. Startled by the image, I catch myself on the edge of the marble as I almost fall off the stool. I shake my head trying to clear my vision, temporarily blinded by the strange flash. The coffee is already done brewing. I’m so exhausted, I must have nodded off momentarily.

  Not wanting to fall asleep again, I switch on the TV and turn the volume up as I down two cups of coffee. After a long, hot shower, I change into a long sleeve black henley and my softest, worn-in jeans. Freshly showered and out of my pajamas, I feel a lot more alert. It is now a more appropriate hour. The sun is even peeking through the curtains.

  Trying to busy myself, I straighten up the already immaculate living room--the result of it never actually being lived in. Pulling out all the books from the bookcase, I dust the empty shelves and then re-alphabetize them by author instead of title. I glance anxiously at the clock on the mantel. Second period is just letting out.

  I need something to occupy my time or else I would be watching the clock all day. I scan my newly re-arranged bookshelves looking for inspiration. I pull out a cookbook and scan the index until something piques my interest. I set the book back in its spot on the shelf. After all, I already have this recipe archived. Then I head to the kitchen to hunt down ingredients for red velvet cupcakes.

  I hardly ever cook anything more elaborate than an omelette, but my cupboard is always stocked with baking ingredients. I spend the morning carefully measuring out the ingredients. Using an ice cream scoop, I carefully drop quivering red blobs of batter into little silver tinfoil cups. For a moment, my mind flashes on dark red against pale white. A bloody gash. A flash from my nightmare? A memory from a horror movie? An overactive imagination? It’s hard for me to distinguish and an involuntary shudder passes through me.

  I push the thought of my mind as I furiously whip together the cream cheese frosting as the cupcakes bake. I so desperately wanted to be normal. That my dreams didn’t mean anything. I realize I am crying over the batter. From fear. From frustration. A long, drawn out beep sounds as the timer goes off and I pull the cupcakes out, setting them on a cooling rack.

  As I wait for the cupcakes to cool, I eat frosting straight from the bowl, feeling sorry for myself. The doorbell rings and I pause in the middle of licking the spoon. Who could possibly be dropping by at this hour? It’s noon and I wasn’t expecting any packages. A heartbeat later, they begin leaning on the doorbell impatiently. Setting down the bowl, I jog quietly into the living room.

  I look through the peephole before yanking the door open. “Have you lost your mind? What are you doing here, Ethan?”

  “Why weren't you in school today? Are you feeling okay?” He places the back of his hand on my forehead as he walks past me into the house. I shut the door and turn to face him.

  “I think the better question is why aren't you in school? You should be in class,” I cross my arms sternly to emphasize my words.

  Ethan shrugs as he drops his book bag next to the closet, “I was worried. I spent the entire weekend studying for the Bio exam I’m pretty sure I just failed. I needed to see you.” His words drift off as he looks at me, a sad smile on his lips. He looks so achingly beautiful, it makes my heart constrict.

  “You could have called me, you know. Ask how I’m feeling. Ask if I’m contagious. It’s what people normally do.”

  Rolling his eyes, he replies, “Yeah, but then you would have told me not to come.”

  “Exactly.”

  Suddenly, his eyes narrow and he reaches out his hand to touch my face, “Is that frosting on your face?”

  I can't help but laugh as he wipes the frosting off my face and licks his finger. I confess, “I’m not really sick sick. I took a mental health day from school. I had important things to do... like bake cupcakes.”

  His smile in return is absolutely radiant, his eyes glowing with joy. It makes me feel light enough to float away like a heavy burden has been lifted from my shoulders. “Of course. Who needs an education when you can eat a boatload of sugary treats instead?”

  “You only live once. Do you want some cupcakes? They’re red velvet from a super secret recipe that I followed from a book.�
�

  “Impressive. I thought you would never ask. I did skip lunch to come check up on you,” Ethan says as places one hand on his stomach and the other against his forehead, feigning weakness from hunger.

  “I didn't think you would want to see me after what happened...,” my voice trails off.

  He cringes, “Well, I guess I’m a saint. I do have a weak spot for girls that can carry a conversation.”

  I can feel my cheeks reddening as I lead the way to the kitchen. He takes a seat at the counter. Taking out the milk from the refrigerator, I fill two glasses. Placing a glass of milk in front of him, I take a seat next to him and slide the plate of cupcakes over.

  “Ladies first.” So I pick up a cupcake and take a bite. Ethan bites into his cupcake and his expression is one of total ecstasy.

  I peel back the wrapper taking a small bite out of the cupcake, “Martha knows her stuff, huh?”

  “They don't call her a domestic goddess for nothing,” he replies, devouring his cupcake in three efficient bites. I let my mouth hang open in faux shock as he reaches for another. Ethan pauses before he takes a bite, “What? I'm a growing boy.”

  “Oh, it's not that. It's just that you have a little bit of frosting on your face.” I reach over and place a finger full of frosting on his cheek.

  A wicked smile flashes across his face. “Do I now?” He reaches over and swipes his finger in the bowl of frosting still sitting on the counter. I get up from the stool and start backing away.

  “Ethan,” I say warningly. He lunges out of his chair and I bolt into the living room, sliding in my socks down the hallway. He chases me around the couch a couple times. Then with a spectacular leap, he jumps over the couch and lands lightly in front of me. I react too slowly and slide right into his hard body.