Falling Too Deep

by Shay Lee Giertz

  “George and Diane asked me to lunch, that’s all.”

  “And she apologized for running late. She’s delayed on the ninth hole.”

  “No problem,” Mom said. “I don’t mind catching up with my old friend.”

  “Who you calling old?” Mr. Fairchild joked.

  Mom laughed again.

  “I need to get back to work.” I didn’t stick around to hear any more.

  When I reached Tracy, she whispered, “Is everything all right?”

  “What do you think?” I asked. I told her what they said about a lunch date.

  “I can almost guarantee that Mrs. Fairchild is not playing golf. If that makes you feel any better.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  I shadowed Tracy for another couple of tables, but I barely paid attention. I kept sneaking glances at Mom and Mr. Fairchild, both of whom seemed to be having a wonderful time together. The more I watched them, the more upset I became. Especially at myself. How did I let this happen last time right under my nose? “Not this time,” I muttered, storming over to them. “Mom, there’s been an emergency. Bobby needs you at the cabin.”

  Mom stared at me. “What? What happened?”

  “He said he couldn’t get a hold of you, but he needs you back at the cabin.”

  “I’ve got to go,” she said to Mr. Fairchild.

  “Let me give you a ride home.” He stood up and dropped a wad of cash on the table.

  “Miguel wanted to talk to you real quick. Something about a party request? I’m not sure. He told me to come talk to you…that was right before Bobby called,” I completely lied. I hoped this didn’t count against any purgatory points.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Mom said. “I have my car. Tell Diane I’ll catch up with her later.” Mom kissed me and ran out of the restaurant.

  Mr. Fairchild watched Mom leave. “Miguel never discusses party planning with me. He deals with my executive assistant or Diane.”

  “My bad,” I said, still watching the door of the restaurant. “I must have misunderstood.”

  I could feel his cool stare, but I couldn’t turn myself to look at him. “Leave her alone,” I said quietly before walking away.

  My entire body shook. But I found myself smiling. I had just stood up to Mr. Fairchild! That’s when I knew that this time, things would be different. For whatever reason, I was redoing summer. So be it. That just gave me a chance to make sure certain events never happened.

  And if God was keeping score, I was pretty sure I earned some points on that one.

  9

  I fell onto the bed and kicked off my shoes. After being on my feet an entire seven-hour shift, I could barely move.

  “Brooke Dawn McFadden, you lied to me,” Mom said from inside the doorway.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Okay, I’d have to get my lying under control. I didn’t want to displease the powers-that-be.

  “I rushed home only to find out Bobby wasn’t here. I was so worried. I’m running around knocking on doors, hunting your brother down. When I found him, there was no emergency.”

  I kept my face in the pillow. I hadn’t thought my plan through, and now I was out of excuses.

  “Brooke!”

  “Okay, fine.” I turned my body to look at Mom. “Sorry.”

  “Sorry? That’s all I get?”

  “What do you want me to say? I needed you out of the restaurant and away from Mr. Fairchild.”

  “Wh-Why?” Mom stumbled over the question.

  “Because he likes you!” I raised my voice and sat up. “And everyone could see it! It was embarrassing.”

  “He’s my friend.”

  “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I threw my head back and started to laugh, mimicking Mom’s behavior at the restaurant. Then I stopped and stared her down. Mom’s face turned red. “Tracy even knew you two were flirting!”

  “George is my friend,” Mom repeated. “That’s it. And Diane was the one who invited me to lunch. It’s not my fault she didn’t show! And don’t ever send me on a wild goose chase looking for your brother. I was seriously worried.”

  Before she left the room, I got off the bed and stopped her. “Mom, listen. You might only think of him as a friend, but I’m only telling you how it looked. And George Fairchild is looking at you as a lot more than a friend.”

  “You’ve got it wrong,” Mom said. “Both George and Diane have been there for me since your father died. Diane would call a couple times a week. She’s the one who recommended the first therapists we went to. She let me talk to her about how worried I was about you. I would not do anything to hurt her or their marriage.” Mom paused before adding, “And I’m insulted that you would think I would behave so immorally.”

  “We all can make bad decisions when we’re desperate enough.” I thought about our argument before I fell off the yacht.

  “I’m going to bed.” Mom stomped off. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

  Bobby showed up at my door. “Why do you keep getting her upset? It’s not cool.”

  “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.”

  “Oh, so you’re doing it on accident?”

  I motioned for him to come inside. “Shut the door.” When he did, I said, “Remember how I know about certain things? You said I was psychic.”

  “Yeah, I talked to Zach, and he said there was no such thing.”

  “Zach is a little jerk,” I said, getting annoyed.

  “You’re a jerk. You make Mom upset. All the time. Just like now.”

  “No, I don’t. I’ve been working. I’m not around to get her upset.”

  “What about your graduation? She cried. And every night since Dad died, she’s cried. Mostly because you’re a jerk!”

  I pressed my fingers to my forehead and told myself not to get worked up. “Listen, I only wanted to tell you that I know Mr. Fairchild likes Mom. As in he likes her as a girlfriend.”

  “That’s gross. He’s married. And Mom’s…mom.”

  “It’s true. I was only telling her to be careful. That’s all. I wasn’t acting like a jerk. At least not tonight.” I let out a breath and thought of what Bobby had said. “Come on, I haven’t been that bad, have I?” I already knew the answer.

  Bobby raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “You told me you hated me. To leave you alone.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did. The last week of school I had 6th grade awards night, and you refused to come. Mom tried to talk to you, and you screamed at us and told us you hated us and to leave you alone.”

  I could hear the hurt in Bobby’s tone. “I completely forgot about that.”

  “It was only last week.”

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” I admitted. “I’ve had a lot going on. I’m still grieving.”

  “You’re not the only one who misses Dad,” he said, getting emotional. He blinked back any tears and left my room.

  “Bobby, wait—”

  My family hates me, I thought, as I grabbed my pajama bottoms and a tank top and headed to the shower. I couldn’t entirely blame Mom and Bobby. I had acted horribly these last couple of months. But the pressure to remember was something they didn’t understand. Even now in this stupid do-over, I couldn’t remember. And all the questions. Tons and tons of questions. Mostly the same ones asked over and over again. Even tonight Mom had left a therapist’s pamphlet on my dresser with a note that she’d set up the appointment.

  After my shower, I put on my pajama outfit and returned to my room. I stared at the bed and wondered what would happen when I fell asleep. I didn’t want to dream again that I was drowning in water. No, thank you.

  My cell phone vibrated on my dresser.

  R U asleep? Jayce texted.

  No, I texted back.

  Can I come over?

  Ok.

  I’m outside.

  I went
down the hallway and through the living room. Bobby lay on the couch watching SpongeBob reruns. “Where you going?” he asked.

  “Jayce’s outside.” I opened the door to the deck and saw Jayce sitting on the step. “That was fast.”

  “I was hoping you were still awake.” He glanced at my tank top then quickly looked awake.

  “Don’t judge my pajamas.” I sat beside him. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “I wasn’t. Just—” he paused. “Never mind. Anyway, I wanted to stop by and make sure we were good. I had to leave for work, and we didn’t get to finish our conversation.”

  “Everything’s fine. I feel bad for you, but I know that you’ll be okay. You’re one of those laid-back, nothing-really-bothers-you kind of guy.”

  “Heather stopped by today and apologized. Said that they prank all the new people every year. It’s tradition. So, I’d be prepared if I were you.”

  “Wow, a bunch of bored, rich snobs with nothing better to do than embarrass other people.”

  “I’m over it.” He shrugged. “No harm, no foul. Plus she said that it was hard for her to look away when I took my shirt off.”

  “T.M.I.”

  “Would you be cool with me asking her out?”

  “Why are you asking me? It’s not as if I own you. Do your thing.” I hoped he didn’t see through my words. I didn’t want him to know it bothered me. That I was worried he’d get hurt.

  “You seem to dislike her, and I don’t want to upset you after everything that happened.”

  “As long as you’re walking into it with your eyes wide open, don’t worry about me.”

  “I do worry about you,” he said. “I wish there was something I could do to help you through your grief. But I don’t know what.”

  “You are helping me through my grief,” I said. “Being my friend means a lot. The last two months of school were torture. No one could even look at me. Sasha and Mandy tried to act normal around me, but I knew they were hanging out together…without me. Not that I blame them. I was a mess. I still am.”

  “Last night at the bonfire, you were acting like yourself. Dancing, being goofy, having fun. There’s life in you yet, Brooke McFadden.”

  “Maybe.” I thought about his words and hoped I was still alive. That would be cruel irony to figure out how to live again while dead.

  We sat on the step for a little while longer, both not saying a word. I turned my head and gazed at my friend’s profile. I had missed this. In the previous summer, Jayce stopped over a couple times. I always had an excuse to stay in the cabin. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I know I’ve been pushing you away. I’ve been pushing a lot of people away.”

  Jayce placed his arm around my shoulder and slid closer. “I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t help you get through this. And I’m here for you.”

  I rested my head on his shoulder. At that moment, I felt safe and wanted to tell him about what happened to me. Before I lost my nerve, I blurted, “Remember when we would play Mario Crash Cart, and you’d get so mad that you’d turn off the console and reload the game?”

  “That wasn’t me. That was you.”

  I lifted my head and glared at him. “Oh no, it wasn’t. It was you.”

  Jayce laughed. “I don’t think so, but we don’t have to get into the particulars.”

  “Do you think that could happen in real life?” I asked the question quickly, so I couldn’t talk myself out of it. “You know, have life reset?”

  Jayce studied me for a moment. “I’m not following you. Like reincarnation?”

  “No, like a do-over. Another chance to live through a certain time. A chance to reset events—” I stopped. His confusion said it all. “Never mind.”

  “Don’t say ‘never mind.’ I’m only trying to process the question.”

  “It’s nothing,” I said. “Just thinking about a possible plotline for Dad’s fifth book.”

  “Are you gonna try to write it?” Jayce’s eyes looked like they might pop out of his head.

  “Maybe,” I said unconvincingly. I hadn’t given it any serious consideration. There was no way I could measure up to Dad’s gifted writing skills, but I also couldn’t tell my friend the truth about the do-over.

  “So, a do-over where someone goes back in time? Like a restart of their whole life or just a certain time frame?”

  “Just a specific time frame. They get a chance to do it over.”

  “I think that makes a great sci-fi plot arc.”

  “Yeah,” I said deflated. “Only in sci-fi.”

  “You should do it. You’re a great writer. Your short story won $500 in that national competition last year.”

  “That was competing against a bunch of kids. My dad’s writing was a completely different caliber.”

  “You gave him most of the cool ideas in his books. He even dedicated the first one to you and called you ‘his muse.’ Just admit it, you’ve got your dad’s gift of writing. I think you should go for it.”

  “Sure, I’ll add that to everything else I’ve got going on.”

  “Write the first few pages, and I’ll read them and let you know if it’s good. I’ll be brutally honest.”

  How had the conversation turned around to me writing my dad’s fifth book? I pushed off the step. “I’m glad you stopped by, but I’m exhausted. We’ll talk later.”

  Before I made it to the door, Jayce stopped me. “Hey, Brooke.”

  “Hmm?”

  “If you don’t want me to pursue Heather, I won’t. Just say the word.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t want him to date Heather but only because I didn’t want to see him hurt. But as his friend, how could I make that decision for him? “Go for it,” I said. “Only be careful.”

  Jayce’s face fell, as if disappointed, but only briefly. “Okay. See you later.”

  I stepped inside the cabin and locked the door. Bobby had fallen asleep on the couch, the T.V. still on. I turned it off and grabbed the afghan from over the chair and gently placed it over him.

  My body was exhausted, but I was apprehensive about sleep. At first, I tried to read a book, but I couldn’t get into it. My mind kept going back to my conversation with Jayce.

  Write the first few pages, and I’ll read them and let you know if it’s good. I’ll be brutally honest. The thought of writing the fifth book seemed daunting. A book? 350 pages? But Jayce was right. I had been involved in all of Dad’s books. The romances. The crucial cliffhangers. It was my idea to kill off Taini, only to resurrect her ghost in book three. “Just a few pages.” I grabbed my laptop and turned it on.

  At first, I only stared at the blank Word document. It wasn’t that I had no ideas. I had read Dad’s fourth book several times. But I felt as if I was stealing from him. The books were his.

  My finger hovered over the off button on the laptop. But I couldn’t do that either. Suddenly I started typing. Book four’s current ending had Esmerelda near death from being stabbed because of Dimitri’s betrayal. The words flowed. I didn’t stop to reread them, I only kept writing. I wrote until my eyesight blurred from sleep deprivation.

  Pausing, I glanced over at the clock. 3:37 a.m.

  Whoa. I had been writing for over three hours.

  Refusing to read through it, I saved the document and set the laptop on the bedside table. For the first time in months, I felt…good. As I lay my head on the pillow, I didn’t think about the dreams at all or the do-over. I closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

  ***

  When I opened my eyes, I was submerged. With the water dark, my eyes had a hard time adjusting. And I already needed air. I tried to maneuver my body to find my bearings, but I was stuck. My legs were trapped in something. And I was hanging upside down away from the surface.

  This couldn’t be a dream. All my senses were on alert, sending out warning signals. I twisted my legs back and forth to try and break free from whatever held me. My heart seized in my chest as oxygen
deprivation took hold.

  No! Not like this!

  And all was black.

  10

  I stumbled out of the bedroom. My body shook, my eyes blurred with tears.

  I was dead. I had to be.

  Without another thought, I ran out of the cabin and sprinted along the southern boardwalk toward the club slave dorms. I sobbed while I ran, making it hard to see and breathe. But I didn’t stop. I needed comfort. I needed someone to tell me everything would be okay.

  Once at his dorm, I pounded on the door. “Jayce!” I yelled. “Open the door. Please.” I pounded the door again, praying he’d open it.

  The door flew open and a bleary-eyed Lakely stared at me in a mix of frustration and confusion.

  “Jayce!” I pushed past him.

  Jayce stood at his doorway, rubbing his eyes. “What is going on?”

  I threw myself at him, nearly knocking him back.

  There was a brief hesitation, but then his arms came around me, which was all I needed to release all my emotions.

  “I’m going back to bed,” Lakely said.

  “Brooke, it’s okay. Take a deep breath.”

  “It’s…bad. So bad.” I sobbed into his shoulder.

  He held me while my fear and nerves and tears depleted. Eventually, the steady comfort of his embrace calmed me down. But I still couldn’t let go. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Not here.” I stepped back. “Would you go for a walk with me?”

  “Sure, let me throw on a shirt.”

  That’s when I observed that he was wearing nothing but a pair of low-riding shorts. “Oh, I’m sorry.” I went back outside before he could notice me blushing.

  I paced the dorms’ porch until Jayce came out. He slid his glasses up his nose and ran a hand through his hair. He now had on a Captain America t-shirt.

  “I didn’t know where else to go. I don’t even know what time it is.”

  “A quarter to eight. Lakely and I were out late because neither of us has to be to work until noon.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “Don’t be. You’re upset. Let’s walk and talk.”

  As we headed down the steps, two girls in maid’s uniforms smiled at Jayce. “Hey there,” one said. “So…you do wear clothes.”