Free Falling

by Makenzie Smith

  “Then why would you say all of this?”

  “Because,” he said, looking genuinely remorseful. “I’m gonna fuck this up more than I already have. I’m gonna get overwhelmed. I’m gonna get shitty. I can’t make you put up with that. I need to end this before you hate me.”

  Oh. So he was being some type of martyr, sacrificing himself for my ultimate happiness. “I can’t believe this,” I said. I was looking down at the floor, and could see his shoes. His feet were moving awkwardly, taking a step forward and then back like he wanted to come to me, but kept talking himself out of it. I didn’t want this.

  Needing to feel him close to me, I went to him, gripping his shirt with one hand, and rubbing his cheek with the other. “Please, don’t do this Wally,” I said. “I love you. I do. I love you.” I kept repeating it, thinking that maybe it would make some kind of difference. That the words would finally sink in and he’d take all of this back.

  “Babe, you don’t,” he said. His hands had settled lovingly on my waist, and he was pulling me closer to him. He didn’t want this either. He was being stupid. Self-destructing.

  His face was close to mine, his mouth so near. “I do,” I said again, and kissed him. It was soft and slow. I’d expected hesitation from him, but he jumped right into it, kissing me back with fervor. Strong and more passionately than he had in weeks. Tears came to my eyes when I realized why that was.

  This was his goodbye kiss. He was honestly going to end this. Every time he tried to pull away, I kept him close, unwilling to let it end.

  But it did end.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just can’t do this.”

  “Tell me why,” I demanded. “Because none of what you’ve said makes sense.”

  He knew that I wasn’t going to let go easily. With his eyes closed, he took in a deep breath. When he looked at me, I saw that his entire expression had changed. Gone was the remorse. The pain. The reluctance. Determination was there. Hard and unyielding. “I don’t want a relationship, Kristen. It’s that fucking simple. You need to get over it.”

  Full tears fell from my eyes. I didn’t say another word to him, only pointed at the door. He left without looking back.

  Chapter 29

  We were over. Done. I’d told him that I loved him and he’d told me that he didn’t want me.

  For four whole days I wallowed in my grief. I didn’t go in to work. I didn’t leave my house. I mostly just lay in bed—crying until I was too tired to cry anymore then falling asleep. When I woke, I’d cry some more. It was depressing.

  This had never happened to me. I’d never cared enough about anyone to let it hurt this bad. In the past, if a guy broke up with me, it would roll right off my back, and I walked away without a care in the world.

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true. My first boyfriend, James, had hurt. We were young though, and I “loved” him more than anything. I thought we were going to get married, have babies, live happily ever after. But I was only 16 when we started dating, 18 when we broke up. That breakup had crushed my young, little, naïve heart. But no one since him. Not a one.

  Thinking about James lessened the pain I felt with Wally. Mostly because I was thinking about something else. So, on the fourth day, I made a point to think about things that had nothing to do with him.

  For the entire afternoon, I sat on my porch and read; picking a book that I hoped would have absolutely no romance in it. And for the most part it didn’t, but towards the middle, the main character started developing feelings for her best friend. I realized that underneath the main storyline was an ode to unrequited love and shut the book.

  I mowed my huge backyard. I went for a run, and then a drive. I ate a frozen pizza and watched re-runs of old TV shows.

  By the time I made it to bed, I decided that this was it. I couldn’t keep feeling sorry for myself. For ten minutes, I let myself think about Wally. How sweet and gentle he’d always been with me. How he’d made me laugh, and made me feel special. How the world came alive when I was around him. It didn’t feel like I’d ever experience something like that again. In the heart of me, I knew that I wouldn’t. He was my match. I loved him. I loved everything there was to him.

  You’ll never feel this way again about anyone, I thought and a well of sadness filled inside me.

  No, I thought. No. Remember James. Remember how much you thought you loved him. You’ll get over it. You will. You just need time.

  My inner pep talk didn’t help much, because I knew that I was lying. I’d never get over Wally Nikolokakis.

  My employees knew something was bothering me. How could they not? I’d taken off three days and then shown up looking a mess—hair barely combed, clothes mismatched, eyes spacy and distant. But they were gracious enough not to say anything.

  I was so used to doing my job, filing paperwork, cleaning, handling the dogs that my body was on autopilot, freeing my mind to think about anything I wanted. Unfortunately, it seemed the only thing it was interested in thinking about was Wally.

  I was sick with him, like he’d poisoned me. I kept trying to find ways to talk him out of it, to make him see the truth—that we were great and he loved me too.

  It was sad, this hope I clung to. If it had been a friend of mine going through this, I might have looked at her with pity. How many had I done that to already? Stared at and thought, She needs to get over it. No one is worth this much grief. And I’d believed it. Again, this was justice. I’d finally been forced to experience all the heartache I thought was only weakness.

  That’s what love was—a weakness. It weaseled its way into your soul and made you do things you’d never do, say things you’d never say, believe things you’d never believe. It took your arm or your leg and expected you to bounce back, all the while hitting you with your own severed limb.

  It was probably a mistake, but I had to see him again. I had to make one more appeal to him. Lay everything out, tell him everything I felt and knew to be true. It was obvious that Wally had issues. He was insecure. Self-conscious. Being with me made him feel lacking. Not because I made him feel that way, but because of himself.

  He had this skewed vision of what a relationship was supposed to be. He thought I needed him to have a high-paying job and a nice car or house. Maybe because growing up, he’d never had those things and being unable to give them to the person he cared for made him feel like a failure.

  He wasn’t a failure. He was far from it. He was an impossible splendor, living life to the beat of his own beautiful drum. I could make him see that. I could have enough faith for the both of us. I could help him realize that all of those things, all of those ideas he had about love, were wrong.

  I couldn’t let him sit back and self-destruct. I had the power to do something about it, so I would. For the rest of the afternoon, I thought long and hard about what I would say when I saw him.

  If you see him, I had to remind myself. It’d been nearly a week. He might not want to see me. I decided then that I’d give myself the weekend. No more. Just two days to contact him and make him see what he was giving up. If I couldn’t convince him by then, I had to let go.

  Chapter 30

  All of Friday night I contemplated texting or calling him, but my fingers couldn’t do either. I’d nearly hit send, but stop myself at the last second.

  What if he never responded? I’d feel stupid. I didn’t want to spend the whole night waiting around for him to answer me. Instead, I decided to try and find him the next morning. Unless he was out of town, which was certainly a possibility, he would either be at work or home. I’d be sure to find him in one of those places. And then if I didn’t, I’d try again the next day and go by the homeless shelter.

  After that, I’d stop. I couldn’t let myself pine away for him. Just one more try.

  Around ten in the morning, I got in my car and drove to the skydive hangar. It was closer to my house and I hoped he’d be there. Finding him at work seemed less intimate, less intimidating. He wouldn�
�t tell me to leave or make a scene, because that wasn’t Wally’s style. He’d let me say what I needed to. He’d be more likely to listen, to actually hear me there.

  When I pulled up, my heart dropped. His car wasn’t in the parking lot. That doesn’t mean anything, I told myself. He could be having trouble with it again. Taking a breath and swallowing my nerves, I approached the large building.

  Some young guys were sitting behind the desk out front, laughing and horse playing. They hadn’t even noticed me. I looked around for Wally, hoping to see his wavy locks.

  Not seeing him, or anyone else from the first time I’d been there, I took a breath and approached the young guys. “Hey,” I said, getting their attention.

  “Heyyyy,” one of them laughed, as if greetings were hilarious. “You here for a jump?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m actually looking for someone. Wally. Wally Nikolokakis. Is he here?”

  “Wally?” the other said. “Is he coming in today?”

  “Ben!” one of them called, “Hey Ben! Is Wally coming in today?”

  An older gentleman came towards the front. His hair was graying, but he was in great shape, strong across the shoulders and arms. “Today? Don’t think so,” he said. “Why?”

  “Somebody’s looking for him.”

  “Who?” Ben asked.

  “Me,” I said, smiling at him. “I’m Kristen, his girlfriend.” I really hated that I’d said that, but it had tumbled out without me even thinking. Ben narrowed his eyes. My false statement had confused him.

  “Dude,” one of the guys behind the counter said. “Wally’s got a girlfriend?” He laughed as if that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Since when?”

  “Didn’t know he was seeing anybody,” Ben said. “Must be a new thing. He usually tells me everything, and I don’t think he’d leave you out.” He winked and reached for my hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too,” I told him, my gut clenching. He hadn’t told him? Any of them? He and I had been together for months and he’d never even mentioned me? I unnecessarily cleared my throat. “I was hoping to catch him. Do you think he’ll be in today?”

  Ben could sense something was amiss. “You can’t reach him on his phone?”

  “It’s not important,” I hurried out. “I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by.”

  “I can call him if you want,” he offered.

  “No,” I said, smiling. “I’ll try to get him later. But thank you.”

  “Sure thing,” he said. I felt his eyes boring into my back as I walked to my car—the mysterious girl who claimed to be Wally’s girlfriend. He thought I was a fraud. I was, I suppose.

  The encounter left me so rattled that I nearly dropped the whole thing and went home. But I forced myself to continue, to go to his home and get it over with. Twenty minutes later, I pulled onto the street in front of his house.

  His car was sitting in the driveway, the garage door open. Charles’ and Priscilla’s vehicles weren’t there. He was alone. This is good, I thought. Just stay calm. Say what you need to and take it from there.

  I was nervous, my hand actually shaking a little bit as I stepped out of my car. By the time I made it to his door, I’d gained a little strength, and knocked quickly before I could chicken out. No one came, so I knocked again.

  When I’d stood there long enough to feel thoroughly stupid and exposed, I walked to his garage. It was still early. I bet he was sleeping. Instead of coming back later, I turned the knob.

  The garage door was unlocked and I stepped inside. The house was quiet. No music or television playing in any of the various rooms. I moved towards the stairs and startled when Wally’s phone vibrated on the coffee table. Ben calling…It said.

  I huffed, annoyed with his co-worker and moved to the stairs. Quietly, I went up, my heart racing with each step. At the top landing, I saw that his door was cracked, and hesitated.

  This was dumb. What the hell was I going to do when I got there? Gently shake him awake and look like a psycho? Now that I was standing there, faced with it, I realized how ridiculous I was being. If I wanted to talk to him, I should wait. Maybe Marlowe was home and I could hang out with her until he woke up.

  I was turning to leave, but heard a soft, feminine murmur seep out of his room. The recognizable steady, timbre of his morning voice followed. My feet moved. Instead of a retreat, I was in a pursuit. I had to know. I had to see who that voice belonged to.

  At the door, I heard, “It was so good,” from the woman, followed by a soft giggle. “See? Why waste this?”

  Wally made a noncommittal sound, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her. I had to open that door. I had to.

  I watched my fingers as they landed on the wood, shaky and pale. My mouth was suddenly dry. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and pushed…

  He was lying on his stomach, his bare back exposed and his face turned away from her. Nicole was sitting up, her breasts bare, her legs tangled in his sheets. I knew those sheets. I’d spent hours on them. That rusty orange that I’d always found ugly, but for some reason they worked on Wally’s bed. She was smiling down at him, rubbing a hand along his back.

  I wish that I could have just slipped away—moved back down the hall and to my car without a sound. I tried, but a broken sob came out of my mouth, and Wally jerked his head towards me.

  “Punks?” he said and scrambled out of the bed. He grabbed the sheet and covered his naked body as he approached me. Nicole barked out some protest as she was left fully exposed on his twin mattress.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have done this.” I went to leave, but Wally grabbed my wrist.

  “No, no, no,” he said, sounding desperate and frantic. “Wait.”

  I jerked away from him and went for the stairs, hearing him follow me.

  “Please wait,” he called after me.

  “NO!” I yelled.

  In the living room, he ran ahead of me and blocked my exit through the garage. Angry tears were flowing down my face and I turned towards the front door. He ran and cut me off there too.

  “WAIT!” he said, putting a hand out.

  “Fuck you,” I spat. “Fuck you!” My muscles were tense. My fists clenched. “One week, Wally. One week and you’re already sleeping with her. I feel so stupid! I’ve been sitting at home trying to think up ways to help you see how much I love you and this is what you’ve been doing. I’m such an idiot. I’m such a fucking idiot!”

  “It’s not…If I could just…I didn’t…” He was tongue-tied, unable to form any coherent thoughts.

  “We were so good together,” I said, crying. “Why couldn’t you see how good we were?”

  “I did,” he said. “I do.”

  This hurt worse than anything I’d ever experienced in my life. I hated how broken and bruised I felt. How hopeless and weak he was making me. I was better than this. Stronger than this.

  He touched me. Just a gentle hand at my shoulder. “If you let me—” I jerked away from him.

  “I never want to see you again,” I said and left.

  Chapter 31

  My mother knew that something was bothering me. I’m sure it was more obvious than I thought. Since I’d found Wally in bed with Nicole, I’d been hard and distant with everyone around me. Not mean, just removed. This was a defense mechanism. I was trying to rebuild the strength and confidence that I had before Wally came into my life and shook me all up. I was working on myself, focusing on the things I had before—before Wally and before Trey.

  It was easier than I thought it’d be. Closing off and pretending that everything was normal was preferable to the truth. And the truth was simple—my heart had been ripped out of my chest, squeezed and trampled. Wally had messed me up good, but I was determined to not let anyone know that. If he asked after me, or tried to find out how I was doing, I wanted people to say, “She’s great. Really doing well.”

  Take that, jackass.

  He’
d slept with Nicole.

  I had to say it out loud sometimes; just to remind myself how horrible he’d made me feel. “He slept with Nicole,” I’d say, standing in the middle of my living room. “He slept with her one week after breaking it off with you.” Whenever I felt myself softening towards him, longing for him, I’d sit and remember everything I could about what I’d seen.

  Her pale naked body. Her long fingers rubbing his skin. Her words It was so good. Why waste this? How much time had passed since he’d been inside her before I opened that door? A few minutes? Was that why he didn’t answer the door? Was he too busy plowing into her to hear my meek knock? Maybe he’d been with her before then. Maybe even when we were dating.

  Giving in to those painful thoughts made hating him so much easier. And hating him was better than admitting that, yes, I still loved him. So much. I hadn’t even had to try; it had happened effortlessly. It made sense for me to love him. There was this overwhelming sense of rightness, of purity that accompanied that love, like things in my life were aligning, clicking into place.

  That’s why it hurt so badly. I’d finally given in and let myself fall for someone. All I got in return was a piss poor excuse for a break up and the knowledge that Wally had no problem pushing his feelings for me aside so that he could fuck other women.

  Despite all of my careful actions and planned words, my mother knew that I was messy inside. Smeared. Aching. No matter how much I insisted that I was fine, she insisted that I wasn’t. Determined to help her baby girl get over this breakup she decided to stay with me over the weekend.

  Friday while I was at work, she showed up with lunch to inform me of this.

  “Surprise,” she said. “I thought it might be fun to come and see you. We can have some girl time.” She smiled, handing me a boxed salad from the market up the road.

  “Uh, sure,” I said. According to my mother there was nothing that a little “girl time” couldn’t cure. Inwardly, I cringed, knowing that her definition of girl time would be painting nails and watching chick flicks.