Behind the Falls

by Brenda Zalegowski

  The snow melted off of the track this week so while I’m waiting for Mom I run laps. I usually have to wait for her for a half hour so I can get at least a couple of miles in. I text her to let her know where I’ll be and she drives up to the spaces closest to the track when she’s done at the junior high. She gets out of the car and watches me from the bleachers that are next to the track. I know how many laps it takes to complete a mile so I finish up three miles then I walk a partial lap before meeting her.

  “You’re fast. You should have gone out for cross country,” she says as I join her and shrug into my coat that I left on the bleachers. I shrug. I don’t run for time I just do my best and try to improve because I enjoy it.

  “Yeah, like I wouldn’t have been a nervous wreck before every meet,” I say. I’ve never been competitive. I would just be nervous and anxious and stomach in knots if there was an end result on the line.

  “I think this is a good decision,” she says as she pulls out onto the main road. “I think telling Max about your anxiety and panic disorder will take a lot of pressure off of you. Max is a sensitive and intelligent young man and I’m glad you have a friend like him. You don’t have to tell him everything. Tell him only what you feel comfortable telling him.”

  “He is pretty wonderful,” I say without thinking and I hope she thinks the redness in my cheeks is from running in the cold.

  “So your father and I have discussed it and we think it will be okay for you to spend the weekend at the Maxwell’s. I’ve talked to Lydia and she assures me Max is trustworthy when they leave him home alone. I want you to call us if you have ANY trouble, Noah. If you have even the slightest bit of anxiety don’t try to struggle through it. Call us. Don’t put Max in that position.”

  “I won’t. I wouldn’t,” I insist.

  “Okay, after dinner then we’ll take you over there.”

  When we get home I text Max immediately. I get all of my homework out of the way so I don’t have to think about it for the rest of the weekend. I put more thought into packing than I usually do. I make sure to take at least one set of running clothes. I take a nice shirt and nice pair of shoes in case we decide to go out of town or something.

  By the time we sit down to dinner I’m a nervous wreck. I’m looking forward to being alone with Max. I can’t wait to be able to touch and hold and kiss and not have to worry about who may catch us. Even when we’re at his house in his basement room with the door locked I’m always afraid someone will walk in on us. I worry that Mark is smarter than we’re giving him credit for and that he already knows Max is lying about us. I’m not going to waste this time alone.

  I’m having second thoughts about being honest with Max though. I know that a lot of my anxiety stems from trying to hide the truth about my anxiety. I know it’s a vicious circle that only I have the power to break. I have the power but I don’t know if I have the strength. I don’t want Max to look at me like I’m a mental case freak. At the same time I think he’d be relieved to finally know what’s wrong with me all of the time but will the truth chase him away?

  I’ve been putting some thought into what Dr. Cooper wants me to work on. He wants me to figure out what the change was that happened in October or November that threw me back into this endless cycle of fear and panic. I know what it is of course. I’ve known all along. It’s just one of those things I file away in that part of my brain that does its silent thinking.

  It’s Max and the way I feel about him. It started when he kissed me and I freaked out because I LIKED it. I’ve come to terms with that part. I can’t help who I love. The rest of it though? I can’t come to terms with it. I’m terrified of being caught. I’m terrified of my parents finding out about it. I’m terrified of what it means about ME and the labels I don’t want assigned to myself.

  I’ve gone quiet and introspective by the time Dad drives me to Max’s house. When Dad asks if I’m okay I tell him I’m just tired and I admit to being a little nervous about my plan to talk to Max. I took my last dose of Paxil before I left the house and Mom gave me enough for tomorrow and Sunday morning. That’s only three tablets. Taking all three at once wouldn’t kill me. I’d rather think they trust me but I’m sure it has more to do with the fact that the combined dose isn’t lethal.

  “You call us if you need anything,” Dad says.

  “Of course,” I say as I get out of the car.

  “We’re proud of you,” Dad says. I grab my bag and wave goodbye. He waits at the curb until Max answers the door and we walk in the house.

  As soon as the door closes I pull him to me and claim his mouth right there in the foyer. Maybe instead of telling him I’m on drugs for a mental disorder I should just tell him that I love him this weekend. That seems to be the more important news anyway right?

  “You taste like peanut butter,” I tell him when we come up for air. He chuckles.

  “I was making fluffernutter for dinner,” he admits.

  “You’re the master chef. Surely you can do better than fluffernutter,” I tease as he takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen.

  “I happen to love fluffernutter. Are you hungry? I’ll make one for you,” he says as he sits at the breakfast counter where an open bag of bread keeps company with the peanut butter and marshmallow fluff.

  “I’m good. I had dinner about an hour ago,” I tell him.

  “Did you really have dinner or are you doing that Noah thing where you had like enough food to feed a small child and then claim to have eaten?”

  “I really had dinner. I don’t have an eating disorder,” I say. To prove it to him I take a large spoonful of peanut butter from the jar and lick it like a lollipop while he makes a sandwich.

  “God, Noah, do you have to do that while I’m trying to eat?” he laughs. I raise my eyebrows in a what gesture.

  “You are so damned sexy and you don’t even know it,” he breathes. I feel my cheeks get hot and I put the entire spoonful in my mouth at once. “Well, gluttony can be hot too I guess,” he laughs as he eats.

  “We have the entire house to ourselves tonight. What do you want to do?” he asks when he’s done eating and has cleaned the kitchen.

  “Sex on the floor in the family room in front of the gerbil?” I tease. God, I hope he realizes I’m teasing! He laughs a loud barking laugh.

  “You’re in a good mood tonight,” he says when he finally stops laughing.

  “I want to dance with you again,” I say more seriously. He leads me to the formal living room where an impressive stereo system is hidden in a walnut cabinet. He puts on some music that plays over surround sound speakers. He turns on the gas fireplace that’s so realistic I would swear it was a real wood fire if he hadn’t used a remote control to start it.

  “Come here,” he says and I go quite willingly into his arms. We slow dance for several songs. We’re really just holding each other and swaying to the music. I put my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

  “I never would have thought I’d be here a year ago,” I say and I’m not sure what I mean by here.

  “I’m glad you are,” he says as he kisses the top of my head. After a few more slow songs something faster comes on and Max makes me dance to that as well.

  “You’re a good dancer when you let yourself go,” he says. “You have a natural rhythm. You can feel it you just get too uptight. It’s just us. Let go and have fun with it.” We start out dancing faster but we still have our hands on each other’s hips. The next song has a really funky groove to it and Max pulls me into him as he grinds against me and oh my damn this is hot. Soon I’m so turned on I can’t stand it.

  “Downstairs,” I gasp. He turns off the music and the fire and takes my hand and practically runs through the house with me. He puts on some music in his studio and then pulls me into his bedroom. We start dancing again and the song is fast but we’re dancing slowly. His hands are travelling my body and I’m cursing my clothing for being in the way. I’m about to start losing some of my clothes
when his phone vibrates in his pocket and I can feel it.

  “Leave it,” I gasp as he takes his hands off of me to reach for his phone.

  “I have to take it in case it’s my parents,” he pants. He looks at the display and tosses the phone on his bed. “Not my parents.” He’s kissing me again but my mood flips like a switch because I saw who the call was from. It was Mischa Mallory and he even has her number programmed with her picture.

  I shouldn’t care. He’s dancing with me in his bedroom. He’s kissing me like he can’t get enough. She’s just a phone call that he ignored but I know he thinks she’s pretty. I know he likes hanging out with her. How far away from liking her as more than a friend is he? He can be seen in public with her. He can take her to a school dance. He can introduce her as his girlfriend. He can have a life with her that I can’t give him. He can have a family with her. He can have normal with her. He can have a forever with her.

  “Hey, where did you go?” he says. I just look at him. My heart is pounding. He’s mine. I don’t know what makes me do it but all I can think is He’s mine!

  I take his face in my hands and I kiss him roughly. I kiss him in the way I imagine a strong person, someone like Bryce from the club in Harrisburg would kiss what is theirs. I push myself into him and he steps back once, twice and I keep pushing until he’s against the wall and still I push and I continue the kiss and then I’m biting his lip and his neck and I don’t care if I leave marks because he’s mine!

  I pull the collar of his shirt down and I kiss the sweet spot even though I know it’s not his sweet spot, he still likes it. I lick his throat and he puts his head back to give me better access. I try to kiss his chest but there’s too much shirt in the way so I grab the hem of his shirt and practically tear it over his head. I put a hand on the wall on either side of his head. I have him caged in now. I have no doubt he could fling me aside easily but he doesn’t. He lets me keep the illusion of being in control.

  “Noah, slow down, honey,” he pants until I claim his mouth again and stop his words. I run my hands over his bare skin and then I let them come to rest on his hips. I kiss his neck. I make it to his collar bone and lick it and he shivers and I kiss and he moans and when I drag my teeth across his collar bone while I’m licking and he makes a noise I’ve never heard him make before I know I’ve found his sweet spot.

  “Found it,” I whisper into his neck and he doesn’t deny it. He brings his hands up to my shoulders but I shove them down to my waist and I press my hips into him again. I tease his collar bone again then move down his chest.

  “Noah, you don’t have to prove anything,” he says but I know I’m driving him crazy and he won’t stop me.

  I love how his nipples react under my tongue. I tease one with my mouth then the other and then I move down his chest to his incredible stomach, so flat and tight and with those three lines, one on each side and one running down the middle. His hands have moved to my shoulders out of necessity because I’m too low now for him to reach my hips. I can feel him clench his stomach muscles under my lips and tongue. I stroke him with my fingertips.

  “Mine,” I think I say or maybe I just thought it. I can’t be sure. I’m not really in control of my actions I just AM.

  I know if Mischa Mallory was here she wouldn’t be content to just kiss him and hold him. She’d give him whatever he wants. I can tell by the way she looks at him. I could tell by the way she kissed him that day. But he’s mine!

  My hands find the button of his jeans, the zipper comes down next. I’m still licking and kissing his stomach while my hands work on his jeans. He’s making appreciative noises and when I glance up I see his head is back and his eyes are closed. I don’t even think he realizes I’ve opened his jeans until my hand slips into them. His eyes pop open and he looks at me.

  “Noah…” he gasps. I shove his jeans down along with his shorts. “Noah I don’t think…” he doesn’t get any further because now I’m on my knees and his words fail him when I put my mouth on him.

  I’m not really sure what I’m doing. No one has ever done this to me so I’m not sure how it works. I mostly use my tongue to start and a part of me is screaming What are you doing?! My God what are you doing?! But the larger part of me is just thinking, He’s mine!

  At one point I gag a little but I can’t let myself feel embarrassed or I’ll stop and one thing I refuse to do is back down now. I put one hand against the wall to better balance myself and the other I use to make up the difference that my mouth can’t handle. I don’t look up at him. I can’t look up at him. The small part of me that knows I wasn’t ready for this is shrieking in my head. The other part, the part that keeps thinking that he’s mine does what it needs to do.

  “Noah! Noah, I’m going to…” he tries to warn me but I ignore him. If I’m going to do this I’m going all the way. He cries out his release and his fingers tighten in my hair. I don’t even know when he put them there. It’s hot and it’s not what I expected. Books and magazines make it sound like this is the best part for the giver but now I know that was all lies and propaganda. I sit back on my heels and involuntarily wipe my mouth.

  The part that was screaming he’s mine is silent as if it never existed and the rest of me is in shock over what I’ve just done. We’ve done other things together, the touching and teasing and rubbing and kissing and holding was all mutual and he always made sure I was ready. This…this crossed a line I wasn’t planning to cross. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. I’m suddenly sick and I run from him.

  I’m shaking and my skin feels like there are hundreds of microscopic creatures running over it and in my head I’m screaming My God! My God! My God! I wrap my arms around my stomach and I’m moaning and rocking on my knees and then I’m finally sick and as if I didn’t feel bad enough I realize he’s right there with me.

  He’s behind me also on his knees and some part of me registers that he’s wearing jeans but no shirt. He has an arm around my middle and he’s holding me up from doing a face plant as I’m sick. His free hand strokes my hair.

  “I’m sorry, Noah. I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he holds me and presses his face against my back. Eventually when I’ve purged the entire contents of my stomach I sit back on my heels and I lean all of my weight into him. I’m numb. I can’t feel anything now. The creatures crawling across my skin are gone. Nothing hurts. I shake occasionally and he holds me. Sweat drips down my back.

  “Noah, please say something,” he pleads. “Please be okay, honey.” I continue to shiver and I shake my head. I’m so far from okay that I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again. He gets up and I miss his arms around me immediately. Of course he’s walking away from me. Who wouldn’t?

  “Here,” he says not a minute later as he holds a tissue to my nose. I blow my nose like a child who has to be helped. He holds a glass of water which I drink greedily. His arms go around me again and he presses against my back and I feel his face against my shoulder. “Please, Noah.”

  “Shower,” I finally manage to say. I feel disgusting and the sweat is still trickling down my back even though I’m so cold I’m shivering. He leaves me then and I hear him turning on the shower and the room begins to fill with steam.

  “Let me help you,” he says quietly and I raise my arms like a child as he pulls my shirt over my head. He takes my hand and I let him pull me to my feet. He unbuttons my jeans and pulls down the zipper all the while looking at my face expectantly as if he wants to make sure this is okay. I make it into the shower on my own but then I just stand there in the spray.

  I don’t know how long I’m standing there when I turn around and realize he’s gone. I wrap my arms around myself again and let the water from the shower mingle with my tears. What did I do? WHAT DID I DO?!

  “Max?” I call but I can barely get out more than a whisper.

  “I’m here,” he says as he wraps his arms around me. I let myself fall against him and he’s holding me up now and I feel that he’s still wearing jeans.
He holds me like that for a while then he takes me by the shoulders and pushes me gently to stand on my own. I sob pathetically but then his hands are back on me. He has soap in his hands and he lathers me gently washing away the shame of what I’ve done.

  He rubs my shoulders and he’s so gentle I lean into his hands. It doesn’t freak me out to have his hands on me. He touches me with such reverence and admiration and he’s so tender. I’m starting to come down off of whatever the Hell cliff I was just standing on.

  He continues to lather me with soap over and over until finally I feel clean and I tell him he can stop. He turns off the water and leaves me just long enough to get a large, fluffy towel. He wraps it around me and I let him take care of me some more as he towels me dry.

  When I’m dry he wraps one towel around my midsection and drapes another around my shoulders and then he dries my hair with a blow dryer. If things weren’t so fucked up I would enjoy the pampering. It feels nice. When I’m dry he brings pajamas to me.

  “I can do it,” I assure him and I take my pajamas into his room to change. I notice water trails all through the gym. Max and his sopping wet jeans have made a mess of the basement. I should help him clean this up as soon as I’m dressed. I’ve just finished changing when he comes into his room with a towel around his waist. He gets his own pajamas but before he changes he pulls back the blankets and forces me into bed. He tucks the blankets under my chin and kisses my forehead.

  “Go to sleep, Mon Coeur,” he says. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep. I think I’ll be awake all night. I think wrong because I’m out in no time.

  When I wake up much later Max is still awake. He’s in his studio sitting at the computer wearing headphones. The door is open just enough for me to see him. I know that whatever thoughts have him unable to sleep that I’m to blame. He’s wearing pajamas and his glasses and as I watch he takes off the headphones and lays them on the desk. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. He looks over his shoulder and sees me looking at him. I say nothing. I just slide over in the bed and pull the blankets aside to invite him in. He wavers for a moment then turns off the light in the studio and comes to bed.