Free Falling

by Makenzie Smith

  This was a bad decision. I knew it. It was going to come back and bite me in the ass, but I had to do something. And if the consequences came, I’d stand by my decision. Scrappy, like all dogs, deserved a good, loving home.

  By five, Scrappy was in a car with his new owners. Given the situation, I was eager to have him out of the clinic as soon as possible, and since Sheila strongly vouched for these people, I trusted her judgment—usually she was skeptical of adopters.

  It was Friday. I was tired. This week had run me down. My typical night would consist of sitting alone on my back porch with a book, or lounging in front of the TV for hours on end getting wrapped up in a movie or television show. Either of those things sounded perfect right now. It’s not that I wanted to be boring, but I was in a slump. Everything felt dull, like all the excitement had fizzled out of my life. I needed to make changes, but I wasn’t certain what those changes should be. I wasn’t unhappy, just…well…bored.

  Feet aching, I kicked off my shoes and slouched down low in my chair. If everyone did as they were supposed to, and they usually did, I should be out of the office within twenty minutes.

  When my phone chimed with a new text message, my stomach dropped. Typically, only two people ever texted me, and I had a good feeling that this wasn’t my mother.

  Wanna have a repeat tonight? ;)

  Trey.

  No, I didn’t. Our sex, even when we were together, usually consisted of him flopping on top of me for a few minutes, or trying to flip me over. He was obsessed with taking me from behind. Not once had I ever let him. I don’t know why. Maybe because I knew he wanted it so bad, and deep down I didn’t want him to get what he wanted.

  I chose not to respond. Last night rubbed me the wrong way. When we first broke it off, it seemed harmless to hook up now and then, but now every time we were in the same room something else about him rattled my nerves.

  Trey was the last in a long string of men who did little but disappoint me. Maybe it was partly my fault. I didn’t exactly make it easy. Over the past few years, I hadn’t had a relationship that lasted much longer than ours had. And it was usually ended by me. My reasoning was always simple, if the man I was with didn’t give me butterflies, didn’t make me feel excited, or I didn’t feel thrilled to see him, then what was the point?

  There wasn’t one. So I’d end it—walk away without a look back, not caring about the heartache I left in my wake.

  Why did I continue it with Trey? Maybe because I was lonely.

  No, I couldn’t keep this up with him. Spending time with Trey was actually more depressing than spending the night by myself. Deciding that I needed to get out, I went to Sheila.

  “Are you doing anything tonight?” I asked her.

  She was sweeping one of the hallways, pausing to talk to me. “Actually, yeah. Me and some friends are going to a bar up the road. Why? You wanna come?”

  “You know what? I do,” I said, grinning like an idiot.

  Sheila chuckled as she continued sweeping.

  “Can you lock up?” I asked her. “I’m gonna head home.”

  “Sure,” she said.

  Three hours, and a dozen outfits later I was standing in front of a bar.

  The sign said Burns. A note was attached to the front door that said, Under New Management. Charles Porter Now the Owner. Leave Lucas Alone.

  I had no idea who Lucas was, so leaving him alone wouldn’t be a problem.

  Once inside, I spotted Sheila, another employee named Deedee, and some strangers all hanging around the bar. Excited, I made my way over to them.

  Sheila was drunk. Deedee was drunk. Everyone at the table was drunk. I was sober. For the last few hours I’d been sipping my beer while they knocked back shot after shot. I was still having a good time, but not nearly as much as they were.

  Before long, they were all on the dance floor. I chose to stay at the table. Deedee had called me a fuddy-dud. I probably was, but I wasn’t sitting in some dark corner brooding. I was enjoying myself. Watching them dance, shake, and weave was highly entertaining. Even if I wasn’t participating, seeing my friends laugh and make goofy faces was enough to make the night a success.

  A ruckus broke out on the crowded dance floor. Everyone started chanting a word, over and over. I couldn’t quite make out what it was and strained to hear.

  My stomach flipped and then flopped and then somersaulted into my throat when I realized they were chanting, “Wally! Wally! Wally!”

  Was he here? How many people could be named Wally? It had to be him. Gosh, I hadn’t seen him in…months. Just the one time in fact. But it had been enough.

  I stood from the table trying to get a better look, not even realizing that I was fiddling with my clothes and hair, trying to make myself presentable just in case. After we’d met, he’d been all I could think about for days—Trey’s mysterious, handsome cousin who looked at me like I was the first woman he’d ever seen.

  My mother used to say that when she met my father sparks had shot through her entire body—that was how she knew. I thought it was all crap.

  But then I met Wally.

  I wasn’t about to say the he was the one or even close to it, but in my 27 years he’d been the only man to ever make my heart race with just a lazy smile, and I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.

  I saw the top of his head. Shaggy brown hair. Seeing that hair made my palms sweat. Smiling, he turned around before jumping onto the stage. Wally walked over to an electric guitar sitting in the corner.

  “Y’all wanna hear me play?” he yelled out to the crowd.

  They cheered and roared, making his smile broaden. He turned on the amp and I watched his fingers maneuver the neck of the instrument. He was fast, making the guitar wail and screech. Needing him to see me, I started navigating the room, trying to find an open space so that I could get his attention.

  For several minutes he entertained the rowdy crowd with his skills. And honestly, I’d never seen anyone play as expertly as he did. As he was nearing the end, he turned. Our eyes finally met. Still playing, I wasn’t sure if he recognized me, but then his eyebrows shot up. He gave me a slow smile, followed by a wink.

  I felt it, just from his wink, a racing of my heart, a heating of skin. I realized that I was excited and nervous to see him, and I loved feeling that way. This was the reason I’d left the house tonight, to get out of my slump. And that man was the ticket. I waved at him before retreating to the bar, hoping that he would come to me.

  It took him longer than I would have liked, but he did eventually come. Twenty minutes later, he finally approached.

  “You waiting on me?” he said, sliding onto the stool beside me.

  “Maybe,” I shrugged.

  “You are.” His smile was flirtatious, never leaving his face. “Is this your first time here?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Some friends invited me. Is this like ‘your place’?”

  “Sort of.”

  Our mouths stopped talking, but our eyes didn’t.

  You want to come home with me?

  Possibly.

  Yeah. You do.

  Then ask me already.

  He didn’t. Instead he asked, “So, you still dating my cousin?”

  “Trey? No, we broke up a month or so ago.”

  Even though he didn’t say it, I saw the yes! flash behind his eyes.

  “You know,” he said, looking away, “that night we met, at my aunt’s, I almost asked you to leave with me.”

  I wished he would have. I think I might have said yes. How different would things be right now if he had? I guess it could be better, but then again, maybe worse. “I might have gone with you,” I told him, honestly.

  “You lie,” he chuckled.

  When I thought back to that night, I knew that I was telling the truth. I’d only been seeing Trey for a week or two. He’d basically tricked me into going with him, not telling me about meeting his family, and I’d been mad at him. Any chance we might have had a
t a relationship ended right then, but I’d tried for another few weeks before calling it quits. If Wally had asked me to leave with him, I would have gone and just never spoke to Trey again.

  “Are you still doing the skydiving?” I asked him, not wanting to discuss Trey any longer.

  “Yeah, been doing tandems for a while now.” He looked at me gleefully, jumping his eyebrows. “You wanna do it? Jump out of an airplane with me?”

  I didn’t know. I bet it would be an experience I’d never forgot, but wasn’t quite sure I was ready for it. “Tell you what, give me your card and I’ll call you if I decide to.”

  “What’s your number?” he asked.

  I gave it to him, and smiling, he put it into his phone. A few seconds later, my phone vibrated on the bar with a new message.

  Girl, you aching for it, he’d sent me.

  I couldn’t help it, I laughed, bashfully. Wally was one of those rare people who could say crude, inappropriate things without looking like a creep.

  “Maybe,” I admitted, but could feel my face heating.

  With a sexy smile, he leaned into me, placing his hand on my leg. Slowly, he pushed it up, squeezing my inner thigh. He was being forward, leaving no doubt as to what he wanted. It was a refreshing excitement, and my heart pounded. Our faces were close, his lips lowering down to mine when my phone began buzzing on the bar.

  Trey calling lit up the screen. Are you kidding me!? Wally saw it. I huffed in annoyance. He made a confused sound.

  Quickly, I reached up and put it to voicemail. Wally stood from the bar. Just before he walked away, he put his hand to my jaw, leaned in, and kissed me good. Slow, with a soft mouth, and a gentle tongue. I sighed as he pulled away.

  In a daze, I was just coherent enough to hear him say, “Talk to you later, babe,” before he walked off.

  Chapter 3

  At first I thought, Alright, that’s it. I’ll never hear from him again. But I was wrong.

  It started simple. He sent me a picture from the open door of an airplane. The message said, Do it!

  I sent a response—a picture of my feet, firmly planted on the ground. Like them where they are, thanks.

  After that, any barriers we’d put in place fell. One topic bled into another and then another. All day long my phone buzzed in my pocket. He asked me about my life, my job, my family, and I told him. He, however, was a master of avoidance and managed to dodge all of my questions about his personal life. I liked that though. It kept him mysterious.

  We talked every day, our texts bouncing back and forth between this and that. If we saw something cool, or had a random thought, we told each other. It was never serious, just little notes I’d have waiting for me after I finished meeting with customers or running errands.

  He’d send me a link to a music video saying, Check this song out. You’ll like it.

  More often than not, I did.

  I’d have random messages that said, You know, you’re really beautiful. Out of nowhere! I couldn’t remember the last time someone did that for me, if they ever did. When I felt my phone vibrate or heard its chime, I immediately became giddy thinking of him, eager to know what his new message would say.

  It’d been too long since a man made me feel this way, and I knew that I had to see him again. This is what I’d been waiting on, someone to breathe life back into my mediocrity. If we had the chance to be together, even just casually, I knew that it would perfect.

  He’d just sent a message that said, Just got back from a jump. It’s beautiful out there. How’s your day going?

  I decided to just go for it and ask him to meet up with me. It’s good, I said. I wanna see you. Can we hang out tonight?

  I waited a few minutes. No response. Needing to help out front, I left my office and came back thirty minutes later. Still, no response. This was unusual. Normally, I heard back from him fairly quickly. But I let it go, knowing that he could be busy, too.

  Apparently, he was busy all night.

  And all of the next day.

  It was over 29 whole hours later before he texted me, and then it wasn’t even a reply. You saw the moon tonight? Fucking huge.

  Whatever, I thought, bitter about his silence. I didn’t like that he avoided my request, and knew that if he was actually speaking to me, he’d have a harder time dodging.

  Haven’t been outside, I told him. You busy? Wanna call you.

  Call, he responded.

  Immediately, I dialed his number. He let it ring too long before answering. “Hello,” he said.

  “Hey, how’s everything?” I said with too much excitement, and then cringed.

  “Good, good,” he said. We paused. He cleared his throat and I looked around my living room. Now that I had him on the phone it was kind of awkward. Most of our correspondence had been through text messages, and now I, a grown ass woman, was intimidated just by hearing his voice.

  “Um, cool,” I said.

  “Yeah…” he trailed off, and then suddenly burst out laughing. “Oooo, girl, you’re nervous as shit. It’s fine. Talk to me. Just like normal.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said, smiling despite myself. “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone. It’s just weird.”

  “Alright,” he said with a hint of amusement. “Just start with telling me about your day.”

  I did. All of it. And he laughed at the funny moments and asked questions when he wanted me to elaborate. After that, he told me about his. It was nice, just two people sitting at home telling each other about the mundane things they’d done. But it didn’t feel dull. His life was interesting, and even though mine didn’t feel like it was, he seemed genuinely intrigued by everything I told him. Before I knew it, we’d been on the phone for hours.

  “Why don’t you want to do it?” he asked.

  “I’m scared, I guess. Don’t act so surprised. You have to know it’s scary,” I said. He was trying to convince me to skydive. I was still hesitant.

  “Yeah, but I’ll be there. Do you know how many times I’ve done this? A ridiculous amount. You’d be safe, I promise.”

  I liked this—him wanting to share an experience with me, promising my safety. “Maybe,” I said. “Let me think about it some more.”

  “I’m gonna wear you down,” he said. “And when you do it, you’ll thank me.” He paused for a moment to yawn. “It’s late,” he said. “I gotta go to bed.”

  I looked at the clock. Midnight. I’d gotten so wrapped up in our conversation that I completely forgot to ask him what I wanted to. “Can we hang out this weekend?” I blurted.

  “Uh,” he said. “I don’t know. Might be going out of town. Text me tomorrow. I should know then.”

  “Okay,” I said, smiling. “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Like he asked, I texted him the next day, but he never responded. I tried being patient. Obviously, something about seeing me was setting him on edge, but after a while I couldn’t make excuses for him. He was being rude, and I didn’t like feeling as though he was playing around with my emotions. What was the big deal? I just wanted to hang out with him.

  For an entire week, I avoided him. But it wasn’t as though he was blowing my phone up. He only sent a few text messages here and there. He’d say something stupid like You see that wreck on your way to work? Crazy. Or try to bait me with Miss your pretty face. The worst was when he asked me things. What’s your favorite color? Such a dumb question. Why did it matter? But I wanted to respond and then I wanted to know what his favorite color was in return. But I held my ground. He was being a jerk, and I wasn’t going to stand for it.

  It was late Friday night when it finally paid off. I had gone to see my parents and was back home, getting ready for bed when my phone vibrated on my bathroom counter.

  It was Wally. If he was calling, that meant he truly wanted to talk to me. Heart pounding, I answered and put him on speaker while I finished moisturizing.

  Wherever he was, it was loud. I could barely hear him. “I can’
t understand you,” I said.

  “I said…” I could hear people laughing and talking in the background, loud music pulsing through the phone’s speaker. It died off and then he asked, “What is up with you?” with accusation, as if something was off about me.

  “What’s up with me? What do you mean?”

  “Something’s bothering you,” he said. “Tell me what it is.”

  “It’s nothing,” I lied. “I’m fine. Just been busy.”

  Wally huffed, and I wondered if he was drunk.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, fine,” he said. “Come skydiving with me tomorrow. I want to take you. Free of charge.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Okay,” he replied and hung up.

  Chapter 4

  On the phone the previous night, he’d forgotten to mention that I would have to pick him up. Mid-morning, he texted me the directions and I met him in the driveway of his two-story house. It was a nice house. Much nicer than mine.

  “Thanks for coming to get me,” he said, fastening his seatbelt. “My car’s giving me shit. Don’t worry, you won’t have to bring me back. I’ve got a ride.”

  “It’s no problem,” I said, then, “I like your house. It’s pretty.”

  “My house,” he chuckled. “It’s not really mine. I just lease it with some roommates.”

  “Who lives with you?”

  “My buddy Charles and his girlfriend.”

  We were silent then, and I was freaking out. Terrified. In a little while, I’d be jumping out of an airplane. I didn’t know if I’d be capable of doing it. I was scared. Incredibly scared.

  Apparently, Wally sensed my anxiety. “Listen, there’s no need to be nervous. The hardest part is stepping off the plane, after that, all of this worry and fear you have, it’ll melt away. Trust me. I’ve been doing this since I was eighteen. It’s an addiction for me.”

  “How’d you get into it? Seems like such a random hobby. And, from what I’ve seen, kind of expensive.”

  He made a scoff of agreement. “Yeah. It was easier for me, though. My grandfather used to own the place we’re going to. Well, I guess he still owns it, but now with his…with his…well, he doesn’t run it anymore. His partner does. When I was younger, he took me out all the time. It’s how I got to be an instructor.”