Headfirst Falling

by Melissa Guinn

  Taylor twists in bed and looks at Devin expectantly.

  He laughs and lets his head fall against the pillow. “You girls are going to be the death of me.”

  Taylor throws back the duvet and pats the spot beside her. I slip in beside her, and for the first time in days I feel comfort. This is something we used to do when we were younger, and even as seniors in high school we had frequent sleepovers. Though the source of our problems then was minuscule in comparison to what we’re dealing with now. The last time we did this we were in college and crying because Taylor bombed the nursing entrance exam and thought her future in the medical field was shot to hell.

  “Was it about Stewart?”

  I shake my head.

  “Adam?”

  “No.”

  “Your dad?”

  I shake my head again.

  “Was it about...Jackson?” she finally asks, her voice soft.

  I nod and a sob chokes out. It’s about him. It’s always about him. It’s about him when I’m with him, and it’s about him when I’m not with him. It’s even about him when it isn’t. It’s ridiculous, and frustrating, and exactly what I don’t need. I hate him, and I love him. I’ve lost my damn mind.

  * * *

  When I wake up again I almost want to laugh. Devin is spooning Taylor, Taylor is spooning me and I’m spooning a ridiculous old teddy bear. But before I do, the throbbing that resonates in both my hands and radiates up my arms makes me cringe. It’s almost as awful as the headache that’s taking over my brain.

  I groan and slip from the bed in pursuit of something for my pain—no whiskey, of course; I’ll just stick to the naproxen today. I stand in the kitchen and stare out at the backyard. The morning is dewy and the rising sun is casting soft, orange rays on everything.

  I glance longingly at my sneakers. They’re still lying by the front door, where I carelessly kicked them off after my last run. Who knows when they’ll get the chance to mingle with the pavement again. It won’t be today.

  * * *

  I’m having breakfast with Taylor and Devin at the kitchen table when the doorbell rings. The noise makes Taylor jump in her seat. “I’ll get it!” She stands up and crosses the room so fast she almost tips her chair over. Peering through the peephole, she grimaces. “Prepare yourselves for World War Three.”

  I raise my eyebrows at Devin, but he only shrugs and shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth. Before I get the chance to ask Taylor what’s going on, she’s pulling the door open, and a very angry Jackson is storming through it.

  “What the hell, Charlie!” he shouts, walking past Taylor, straight toward me. “What is wrong with you? When did you plan on telling me that Stewart tried to rape you?”

  I stare at him in shock for a few seconds before cutting my narrowed eyes to Devin. “You traitor.”

  “Whoa.” He throws his palms into the air. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Taylor told me,” Jackson interrupts. “Not my girlfriend or my friend. Fucking Taylor.”

  “Hey!” Taylor says defensively, appearing behind Jackson. “No need to be ugly, Jackson. I know you’re upset, but watch your mouth.”

  “Taylor had no right,” I say, glowering at her. She sinks back, and I direct my attention to him. “I was going to tell you. I was waiting for the right time, but I caught you crawling out of a cab with Mary Jane before it arrived.”

  He shakes his head. “That wasn’t what it looked like, and this isn’t about Mary Jane. This is about you. And Devin.”

  “Devin didn’t do anything wrong,” I say.

  “Like hell he didn’t. You,” he says, pointing at Devin, “are a son of a bitch.”

  Devin stands and crosses the kitchen. “You don’t understand, bro.” He reaches out to put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, but Jackson steps away.

  “I’m not your bro. If we were bros you would’ve told me what was going on with my girl. Seriously, what the hell? I thought we were friends.”

  “I gave Charlie my word, and I wanted to tell. I planned on telling you, but Taylor beat me to it.”

  “Wait a second.” I stand up. “You have no right to be angry at Devin. You have no right to angry at any of us. You aren’t welcome in my life, Jackson. Not right now.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. Have you even told your dad?” After a few seconds of my silence, he snorts. “Thought so. You should be ashamed.”

  “Actually, I told him,” Taylor says quietly. She’s staring at the ground.

  “This is so messed up,” Jackson declares, heading for the door. He freezes in front of it and turns slowly, a small amount of his tension visibly relaxing. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking at me. “The important thing is that you’re okay. You are okay, right?”

  No.

  “Yes,” I lie. “I’ll be better when you leave.” My voice cracks with the last word, and I want him to catch it. I want him to stride across the room, take me in his arms and peel away the fears that leave me shaky every night.

  He sighs and shakes his head. There’s no hiding the disappointment on his features as he looks from me to Devin. “I need some time to cool off.” He reaches for the handle and pulls it open.

  “Great idea.” I hate how icy my voice is. “How about you come back...um, never!” I shout at his back just as he walks through the front door and slams it behind him.

  I sink back into my seat.

  My head hurts.

  My heart hurts.

  What a fucking mess.

  * * *

  Less than an hour later my cell phone chimes, and I try to ignore the skipping of my heart as I reach for it. It’s my dad. I shouldn’t be disappointed, but I am. What’s with this twisted logic? I’m mad as hell at Jackson. Furious, actually. But my phone rings, and I still want it to be him.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “You’ve got some explaining to do.” His voice is authoritative.

  “Apparently you’ve talked to Taylor?” And now you know I’m an unstable, mental mess.

  “Yeah,” he says. “And Jackson.”

  I scowl. “Why?”

  “He does work here.” Now he’s exasperated.

  “I’m just surprised that he’s in the office today, is all.”

  “I’m sure you are. He told me about the argument you had this morning and the misunderstanding yesterday.”

  “Misunderstanding?” I scoff. “I’m not sure I would call it that.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this over the phone,” he says. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

  My stomach sinks. It’s time to take another step forward. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  He sighs heavily. “So am I, Charlie.”

  * * *

  I can hear the sound of my own heart breaking, like the clean snap of a twig beneath heavy boots. I’m surprised it’s held up this long, given all the hell I’ve put it through, but it couldn’t survive my father’s fallen expression or his pointed disappointment with his lost daughter.

  I drop my eyes and crumple farther into the sofa, wanting to disappear. “So now you know everything.”

  He shakes his head and exhales slowly. “Charlie, you’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself.”

  “What?” I don’t know why I ask. I know the answer. I think I’m just talking so I don’t have to hear his silence.

  “This!” He throws his hands in the air in frustration. “This self-destructive, self-loathing bit.” He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You’re too much like your damn mother.”

  My mouth falls open in surprise. “You’ve never said anything like that to me before.” Heaviness settles in my stomach. I don’t want to be anything like my mother. I don’t know anything about her, but I know I don’t wa
nt to be like her.

  His hard gaze softens. “You’ve got to stop giving up so easy.”

  “I know.” I’m not just talking to make noise anymore. I know that he’s right. And I’m already trying. Life knocks you on the ass because it can. And it does it to everyone. I have to learn how to start getting back up.

  “And you’ve got to come to terms with what happened to Adam. There isn’t anything we can do for him now. Obsessing over it is only going to make you weaker. Be proud of the man he was and happy with the memories we have of him. Can you do that?”

  “I can try.”

  “No, Charlie. Stop saying you’re going to try. You always say that. Say you will.”

  I correct myself. “I will.”

  “And you need to accept what’s happening to me. No amount of tears and sorrow will help me. I need someone strong, and you’re all I’ve got, Charlie.”

  If I’m being honest, that scares me. Things are going to get harder, and he needs someone who won’t break so easily. “Dad, don’t say—”

  He cuts me off. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m gonna make you tough if it’s the last thing I do. You’re no quitter...you’re not your mother.”

  “I’m not my mother,” I repeat, and when I say the words, I actually believe them.

  He leans back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. “There’s one more thing I need you to do for me.”

  “Okay. What is it?”

  “I want you to promise you’ll do it first.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to promise without knowing what it is.”

  “Promise me,” he reiterates.

  “I promise.”

  “Go talk to Jackson.”

  I scowl. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours. That’s why I’m asking you to do this.”

  The thought numbs me. “I’m not ready to talk to him.”

  “Well, whether you’re ready to talk or not, you’ve still got to see him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he has something for you,” he says elusively.

  “He couldn’t have anything I could possibly want,” I mutter.

  “Oh, I think he does.” He smiles like he’s got a secret. “He has something from Adam.”

  Damn him.

  I swallow hard and decide I’ll pay him a visit at his apartment. I don’t want to, but I want what he has.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two days later I stand in the lobby of Jackson’s building, feeling out of place. I really had to psych myself up to get myself here. And part of me still feels like I shouldn’t be here, but I promised, and I’m curious. Whatever he has I want, and my dad knew I would.

  Will you meet me in the lobby?

  Being alone with him in his apartment is a bad idea. At least in the lobby we have the presence of Melvin to keep my emotions under control. Not that Melvin’s presence has ever stopped me before.

  No. But you know the code if you want to come up.

  His response irritates me. I should turn around and leave, save face while I still can. But I don’t. I walk to the elevator and push the arrow up. Once I’m through the doors I press the numbers into the keypad—123 then 456. The elevator begins its ascent.

  I find him in the kitchen, leaning against the granite countertop and drinking a beer. He smiles against the rim of the bottle. “You’re looking well, Charlie,” he says, tilting the bottle up to take a swig.

  I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”

  He points at my casted arm. “How’s that going for you?”

  I shrug. “Oh, not bad. I can’t write, drive a car, take showers or unscrew anything...but not bad.”

  His lips tilt into a small, crooked smile. “You can’t take showers?”

  “I am bathing, Jackson.” He’s so vexing.

  “It sounds like you need a full-time babysitter. I would be more than happy to oblige.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve already got one. She’s blonde and bossy.”

  He laughs and tips his beer bottle back again. “You want something to drink?”

  I shake my head and clear my throat uncomfortably. “Speaking of blondes—where’s yours?”

  He reaches out and wraps a strand of my hair around his finger. “Last I checked I was dating a brunette.”

  My cheeks heat, and I take a step back. “Last I checked you were crawling out of a cab with a girl who wasn’t me.”

  “It’s not what you think,” he says. “She showed up at the bar I was at, and we split a cab fare home.”

  “She had flowers,” I argue.

  “Not from me.”

  “Why were you at a bar in the first place?”

  “Because I was waiting for you to call.”

  He stares at me impassively, and I’m unsure of what to say. I opt for a change of subject. “My dad said you have something for me?”

  “I do.” He nods and withdraws a folded envelope from his back pocket. “A letter from Adam.”

  When the words sink in, my legs get wobbly and my head spins. I prop my hip against the counter so I don’t go down. Then he hands it to me, and I stare down at it. These are the last words I’ll ever have from my brother. My closure. I run my fingertips over the paper that’s been worn and pitted by the relentless sand. I don’t know if I want to laugh or bawl. My annoying big brother always thought of everything—I love him for that. “Why did you wait so long to give this to me?”

  “I was waiting for the right time. This seems to be it.” He sets his bottle down and covers the distance between us in two big steps. “Before you read that, I need to say something.”

  I nod, and he continues. “I know it’s hard for you to remember Adam for anything except the goofy kid you knew. But you have to know that by the time he finished basic and shipped overseas, he wasn’t the same kid brother you grew up with. He found what he was looking for over there—a quiet courageousness. It changed him. There wasn’t a guy in our squad he wouldn’t lay his life down for. And you’d better believe we’d all say ‘send me’ if we had the chance. Although not biological, Adam was our brother too. He loved what he was fighting for. And when he went down, he was doing something he was proud of. I just think you should know that.”

  When he finishes, I have a lump in my throat that I can’t speak around. I know if I open my mouth know, I’ll burst into tears. Not because I’m sad, but because I’m feeling so many different things. I feel proud and happy. And relieved. I know everything he just said is true, and that’s almost closure enough.

  Jackson looks like he wants to touch me but decides against it. “I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in the office if you need me.” And with that, he leaves.

  I turn the envelope over in my hands again. It’s brown and wrinkled, worn with its age. Swallowing hard, I open it and begin to read.

  My dearest Charlie...

  If you are reading this letter it’s for a reason. And these are words that I hate to write, but I have a lifetime worth of things to say to you and this is my last chance. My death is simple. Life is guaranteed for no one, we all must die someday—my day came a little early. My only regret in leaving this earth is leaving you without me on it, but I know you’ll find your way.

  Don’t confuse your path with your destination—just because it’s dark doesn’t mean you aren’t headed for the light. I know you. You become attached to the things that are familiar and safe, and you hold on to them—even when it’s unhealthy. My passing is something that you must let go. I think that eventually in my absence you’ll find my presence in a higher power. Have faith and believe in something bigger than yourself.

  Giving up is easy. Standing tall and taking hits is harder. But you’re stronger than you think you are—you always have be
en. You can do this on your own, but you’ll never be alone. I’ll watch over you, always. And you’ve got Dad. I know he’s silly and makes life one big joke, but he’s also wise. He’ll always have an answer for you. You have Jackson too. Take it easy on him. He cares for you greatly, and I know if you don’t have me, you’ll always have him. He’ll keep you safe and keep you sane.

  Life isn’t always pretty. It can get messy, but it can be beautiful too, and it’s always worth it. Let’s face it, no one stays on their feet for long. Life knocks everyone down, so get used to it. Learn how to fall and how to stand back up. And remember, we all die. You can only live your life with enough meaning to make it all worthwhile. So let life come to you, little sister. And always remember to smile.

  Know that our bond will be forever carried from this life. Please realize that when you see me again, I’ll still be older and wiser—and smarter for that matter. But until then, look at the sky when you feel like you’re alone. Count the clouds and count the stars. In their numbers you’ll find me. Everything will be okay—trust me.

  With all my love, yesterday, today and tomorrow, Adam

  It’s not until I taste salt that I realize I’m crying. Not because I’m sad, but because I finally understand. I stopped skimming over the surface and sunk in. And for the first time since Adam died, I can actually accept it. Reading the letter lifted a weight from my shoulders that I didn’t even know was there.

  I trace the curve of his handwriting with my fingertip and reread his words. Once, twice, three times. Somewhere along the way my tears stop. I fold the letter up and press it to my chest, holding it over my heart. It makes me feel calm. I’m glad he left me this one last thing, because it made me confront my feelings and take yet another step forward.

  After a few minutes, I set it down and pour myself a glass of water.

  “You okay?”

  I spin around, and Jackson’s leaning against the archway outside of the study. He pushes away from wall and crosses the room to join me.

  I nod. “Yeah, actually. I feel—I don’t know, at ease, I guess.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He pulls another beer from the refrigerator and twists the cap off. “Since you can’t operate heavy machinery—or do much of anything for that matter—” he raises his brows at my cast, “—why don’t you stay for a while?”