Behind the Falls

by Brenda Zalegowski

  “Do you think anyone knows what that line in that song by The Bravery even means without having to Google Cherry Valance?” he muses. I give myself a mental shake down and force myself to pay attention to the conversation that’s actually going on as opposed to the one that’s going on in my head.

  “Uh, I think my mom would. She’s the one that assigned me that book to read. Of course I’m pretty sure my mom has no idea who The Bravery actually is.” There’s more silence and it’s the comfortable kind that Max and I usually share. The only thing that makes it slightly weird is when he coughs that wet, horrible cough and there’s nothing I can do about how that makes me feel.

  “So, how do you know when you’re in love?” WHY did I ask him that question? He studies me for a minute before he answers.

  “If you have to ask then you’re probably not. You would know,” is his answer. I’m not sure why I’m pursuing this line of conversation because I already know I don’t love Sherrie. I really, really like her but I know it’s not the same thing.

  “Has she said it yet?” he asks. I shrug.

  “No, but she says she thinks she could…that she will, that’s she’s close to falling in love or whatever,” my ears are hot and I’m glad my hair covers them. I’m suddenly really uncomfortable but I’m so used to talking to Max about this kind of stuff that I can’t stop. “She wants me to be her first, she says. She says once she’s sure she’s there…in love I guess…she wants us to…” I trail off because I just can’t say it out loud.

  “Be careful,” he advises. “I mean, you can only have one first time, both of you. If you don’t love her when you do, you’re going to get hurt.”

  “Don’t you mean she’s going to get hurt?”

  “Well yeah, she will of course but you will too. You’re just NICE, Noah. If you end up hurting her you’ll just punish yourself for it. You don’t want to make that kind of mistake the first time.” How does he know me so well?

  “Nice?” I give a sort of laugh. “You’re the one that said I was using her and I was being cruel,” I remind him. He gives me a sheepish look. It’s a look that doesn’t quite work on Max’s face because he’s usually just confident and this look is anything but confident. It’s kind of endearing.

  “I can’t believe I said that,” he shakes his head. “I was just upset and lashing out I guess. You hurt me, the way you just called off our friendship. I should have never said something so mean to you of all people. I don’t think you even know how to be mean.” Uh, was he not listening when I called him all of those terrible names? If that wasn’t mean…it was meaner than anything he’s ever said or done to me.

  “What about you? I mean, you have right?” I ask and I can’t believe that once again my nosy big mouth has opened on its own. How does this keep happening to me? Max takes it in stride like he always does when I babble things I have no right thinking let alone saying.

  “Absolutely no regrets,” he says without hesitation. “I mean, I wasn’t quite sixteen so maybe we were too young. I didn’t think we’d be moving. I didn’t think we’d break up and we both thought it was forever. I loved Jensen and she loved me and that’s all I needed. If we hadn’t slept together I don’t think leaving would have been any easier.

  “We thought we’d both go to the same college. We thought maybe we’d find a place together. At the time, it was the right decision. Of course none of that happened but it doesn’t mean I regret it. It’s not something you should regret.”

  “Why can’t you still do that?” I ask quietly and it’s like there’s some kind of strange pressure on my heart…a kind of squeezing.

  I push it aside, try not to think what it is, what it means. I put it in the little separate compartment of my brain that does its own thinking and mulling things over while leaving me totally unaware. It’s the part that danced around the same question Kimber asked me that I still can’t answer because I won’t let the rest of my brain think about it. It’s the part of my brain that worries and wonders and thinks over and over about why it is that I feel the way I do whenever my best friend kisses me…

  “I think we’ve both moved on,” he shrugs. “A year ago it sucked and now it’s just my past. I still care about her. I’ll always love her in some way but I’m not IN love anymore.”

  We’re both quiet again. I can see Max’s eyes are getting heavy again. I’m not quite ready to just leave but he looks like he needs to rest so I don’t say anything. I’ll just watch him sleep until Mom and Dad tell me it’s time to leave.

  Max is almost asleep. I can tell by the way his eyes stay closed longer and longer every time he blinks. At one point he gives me that slight Mona Lisa smile again and I think he’s finally really asleep but then the nurse comes in for that breathing treatment she mentioned earlier. Mark comes in behind the nurse and resumes his seat on the couch under the window.

  “Noah?” Mom’s quiet voice comes from the doorway. “We really should be going. It’s well past dinner and I’m sure we’re all hungry.” I nod but I don’t get up immediately. The nurse lets Max sleep as she prepares the equipment she’ll use for whatever a breathing treatment is.

  I don’t even think about it when I get out of my chair and kiss Max on the forehead. It’s not until I walk by Mom on my way out that door that I even think anything of it. Did she notice? Does she think that was weird? Did Dad? She ruffles my hair and says goodbye to Mark. I mumble a goodbye too and Dad also says goodbye. I look in the window once before we leave. The nurse is waking Max up and he looks around as if he’s looking for me. When he sees me at the window he smiles and I give a little wave and then we leave.

  Dad suggests dinner at the same place we stopped before the hockey game a few weeks ago. While we’re eating dinner, Mom remarks how she’s so glad Max and I are friends again. “People will come and go throughout your life,” she says. “But really good friends, best friends, are hard to come by and shouldn’t be given up easily.”

  I still don’t have much of an appetite. Mom realizes that we spent so much time at the hospital that I’ve missed a dose of Xanax and she makes me take it right there at the table. I guess it’s not too embarrassing really. I mean, to anyone else it probably just looks like I took some aspirin. I don’t even know why I care.

  It’s pretty late when we get home. I go right to bed. My parents wait until I’m settled and then they say goodnight. They almost never let me go to sleep without coming in to say goodnight. It’s one of my pillars or foundations, an anchor of security and routine. I sometimes wonder if I ever have my own place if I will need them to come over and say goodnight to me before I can sleep.

  “You did great today,” Dad says.

  “We’re so proud of you,” Mom adds as she kisses me on the forehead. I shrug.

  “He’s awake. He’s okay. Why would I have been anything other than fine?” I ask even though there were a few moments when I didn’t feel fine. They don’t need to know every single little feeling I have.

  “Hospitals in general…”Dad starts but Mom kisses him quickly into silence.

  “Get some sleep,” she says as she turns out the bedside lamp and they leave my room. As usual, they’ve left the door open.

  I should be able to fall right to sleep. I feel a huge weight has been lifted. Max is NOT going to die. We’re friends again. I proved something to my parents today too it seems. So why do I still feel uneasy? How is that even possible given that I’m on a steady course of meds again? I guess it’s going to take longer than I thought to feel the effects of the Xanax. I don’t remember how long it took to kick in when I went on it before. I almost hope it doesn’t work. I can keep taking it for as long as they want me to if it doesn’t make me numb.

  I can’t stop thinking of the conversation I had with Max. He said if I were in love I’d know it. I’m already 100% sure I’m not in love with Sherrie. Do I like her? Yes. Could I love her? I’m really beginning to think not. It doesn’t have to mean anything. People date and don�
��t always fall in love. I’m only sixteen. I’m more naïve than the typical sixteen-year-old because of the way I’ve been raised and because of how I am. It doesn’t bother me that I’m not in love with Sherrie. It does pose a problem though because she says she’s falling for me.

  That’s not why I asked the question though, is it? If I’m going to be completely honest about it I know where that question came from. It came from that separate part of my brain where I put things I don’t want to think about. It doesn’t keep me from thinking about things apparently. It seems that little section of brain thinks on its own completely independently of me. I’m supposed to be the one driving this meat suit but every once in a while that part opens its mouth. I’m usually surprised by what it has to say.

  In the last week or so it’s said two things that took me by surprise. One of those things it said to Kimber. I don’t know! The other thing it said to Max today. How do you know when you’re in love? His answer, though vague, made sense and I understood when applied to how I feel about Sherrie. That’s not what I was really asking though was it? I toss and turn for hours turning it over and over and looking at it from every direction. At some points my anxiety escalates to epic proportions and I have to hug my knees to my chest and ride it out and at other times it just seems so clear. I can see the hint of daylight around the edges of my black out shades when I finally fall asleep.

  ****

  Mom actually lets me sleep in for once. Did she check on me without my knowing about it? Does she know I had a fitful night or is it mother’s intuition? I ache and I’m tired but I finally drag myself out of bed, brush my teeth and put on running clothes. Running in the winter is always a challenge because I have to start out dressed warm enough but I have to be able to easily peel off the layers once I really get going and get warm.

  Mom is cleaning up breakfast dishes when I enter the kitchen. Dad is reading the paper. He raises his eyebrows when he sees me dressed and ready to go.

  “I’m going for a run. I’m going to do six miles but I’ll just keep going around the main downtown blocks. It should take me maybe an hour maybe less. I have my phone,” I say, holding it up to prove I have it.

  “Oh, Noah, it’s awfully cold this morning,” Mom says.

  “It won’t be once I get moving,” I argue.

  “You have to take your meds first,” Dad says.

  “Well then would someone please get them so I can get going?” I prompt them. Really, not being in charge of my own meds can be a drag. What are they going to do if I ever get my own place? Is Mom going to come over every few hours to dispense meds? Like you could ever handle having your own place and living alone, I think.

  Mom finally returns with the Xanax and I swallow and prove that I’ve taken it and then I’m off. I stretch first and dammit it’s cold! I take extra time stretching though. I’m extra sore today. Sometimes the fitful nights cause painful mornings.

  When I run down Max’s street I see Mark’s car in the driveway. I don’t know why it’s not in the garage. He’s probably leaving soon to go to the hospital. I wish I could jump in the car and go with him. I know my parents aren’t likely to take me again. I’m surprised I was allowed to go at all. How long will he have to be there yet I wonder?

  It’s a good run. It doesn’t take me long to get in the rhythm and it doesn’t take long to get lost. I’m not in my head anymore and I haven’t even gone a mile yet. I don’t know what appeals to me more. Is it the getting lost without having to think? Is it the physical exertion and pay off? Whatever it is I just know I NEED this. I think if it’s possible I might be addicted to it. Why do I only run for six miles? That night that I ran so far that Dad had to bring me back I slept so well. I think I’ll add a mile the next time. I can’t today, though. Mom and Dad will expect me in no later than an hour.

  When I’ve finished my six miles I walk for a few blocks to cool down before I head home. Slowly, I start to think again. Now that I’m no longer concentrating on breathing and pacing and stride my mind is free to wander. I think about what to do today. Well, that’s not too difficult. I have plenty of homework to keep me busy. I need to call Sherrie and make a plan for later. That should pretty much take up the rest of my day.

  By the time I get back home my nose is red. I stretch again before going inside. I’m really tempted to just sit on the front porch for a while and see how long it takes my parents to find me. They can’t exactly get angry if I’m actually at home. I don’t know where that thought came from. I’m never defiant.

  As soon as the front door closes Mom calls out to me. “Noah?” I follow her voice to the kitchen.

  “I’m back. I told you it wouldn’t be too long,” I say.

  “Do you want some breakfast? I could make some more eggs or pancakes or whatever you want?” she offers. I shake my head.

  “Not hungry yet. I’m going to wash up then I’ll grab something.” I usually can’t eat right after I run. It kind of kills my appetite for at least a half hour and the Xanax is killing my appetite even more so. After a quick shower I just make some peanut butter toast.

  Homework sucks up most of the day and then I get a call from Sherrie. Why the heck didn’t I think to call her as soon as I got home from my run?

  “I thought you’d call by now,” she says. I try to decipher her tone. Is she angry with me? Is she hurt? Am I reading too much into it? It’s probably the latter.

  “I went for a long run and then I did homework. I wanted to get that out of the way. So, did you still want to go to the movies?”

  “Only if you want to.” Girls can be so infuriating. Why can’t she just say what she wants?

  “I will do anything you want,” I tell her. “It’s your choice. If you want to go to dinner we can do that. If you want to go to the movies we can do that. If you want to go out of town we can do that…well, as long as my parents are okay with it.”

  “Okay, then, movies it is. I’ll pick you up at seven, okay? It’s too cold to walk.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I tell her. That should be the end of it I think but we spend another half hour on the phone. By the time she finally says goodbye I’m tired. I take a nap for the better part of the afternoon.

  Sherrie is always prompt and she’s at my house at exactly seven o’clock. I slip into my coat and head for the door. I hate when we linger and make small talk with my parents.

  “Do you have your phone?” Mom calls.

  “Yes! Goodbye!” I call. I took the last dose of Xanax for the day a half hour ago so at least that’s out of the way.

  I slide into the passenger seat and lean over to give Sherrie a quick kiss. She grabs my face and prolongs the kiss. Finally she gives me one final peck and then pulls out of the driveway. She turns in the wrong direction to go to the movies though.

  “It’s quicker if you go down Clark Street,” I tell her.

  “I changed my mind. I decided I didn’t really want to go to the movies tonight,” she says. “I hope that’s not a problem. I mean, you said whatever I wanted to do was fine.”

  “No, no problem, but if we’re going to be later I’ll have to let my parents know,” I sit back and wait to find out where we’re going.

  “I’ll get you home at a decent hour,” she turns to smile at me then turns back to the road. I’ve been coming to Lansing pretty much my whole life so I know where we’re going when she turns towards the quarry. I’m not really sure why she would go there in the winter. In the warmer months I know the quarry is great for swimming.

  When we get there I’m surprised to see other cars. There are cars parked at least halfway around the quarry. “What’s this?” I ask.

  “Parking, what did you think it was?” she says as if everyone should know about parking at the quarry. I guess everyone should.

  “Oh, uh, I didn’t know people did that I guess,” I stammer. She kills the lights but leaves the engine running for the heat. “Aren’t you afraid we’ll run out of gas?” I ask.

 
“We’ll only leave it on until things heat up,” she says. The flirtatious line sounds kind of false because she’s usually not that bold but she gives me a nervous smile so I try to go along with it.

  She leans over and starts kissing me and is it just me or is she getting better at this? Maybe it’s me that’s getting better at this. Whatever it is, we’re more in sync than we were when we first started kissing. Soon we determine that the center console is a total pain in the ass.

  “Back seat,” Sherrie says. See, this is one of the benefits of having a girlfriend who is a little older. There’s no way I would have suggested that on my own. She gets out of the car and then gets in the back door. I wait for her to get back inside before I get out because the last thing I want is for us to accidentally lock ourselves out of the car and then need to explain THAT to my parents. There are times when being a chronic worrier pays off, really.

  She’s already out of her coat and I shrug out of mine and then she’s pulling me on top of her and kissing like this is the last time we’ll ever get to kiss. She runs her hands up and down my sides and I run my hands pretty much all over her. We kiss until our lips are swollen and we need to take a break but…no butterflies.

  “Noah? Have you given any more thought to what I said the other day?” she says breathily into my ear.

  “Um, which part?” I stall for time.

  “All of it. You do WANT to, don’t you?” she asks.

  “But, uh, I thought we were going to wait?”

  “We are, at least I want to, until it’s just right…but every time I kiss you I just think there could be MORE, you know?” We’re sitting in the back seat and she leans against her door and pulls me on top of herself again. We kiss until I need to come up for air.

  “I think…” I begin and I don’t know how to say this but I know I have to do something. I need to stall her. She can’t be falling in love. “I’m not really ready,” I admit. “I know that’s incredibly lame and I should be all over you trying to convince you but I never even KISSED a girl before September. I mean, I’m sixteen and I’m just, I don’t know, inexperienced?”