The Truth About Falling

by H. M. Sholander

  “What do you mean?” I question. “I’m me.” How could I ever be anyone else?

  Her smile turns a little sad. “I know, but one day you’ll understand what I’m saying. I want you to be whoever you want. Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t reach your dreams because it isn’t true. If you want it, make it happen. I know you love art, so I want you to know that you can achieve that dream if you want it.”

  I nod, a little confused about what she’s saying, but I do love drawing. My art teacher, Ms. Camille, says I’m the best student she’s had in a long time. I even won two awards for Best Artist this year.

  I look around at the artwork displayed on the walls and grin at the possibility of that being me one day.

  We amble around for hours, admiring the colorful art. Some of it is happy and some of it slightly creepy but all of it is beautiful.

  After we leave the museum, we head down the street to the bakery where we share a slice of red velvet cake, my mom’s favorite, so it’s quickly becoming one of mine, too.

  The monitor Mom is connected to beeps, and I stare down at her. Her hair was once a dark brown, but now, it’s faded, the color muted. Her skin used to glow in the sun, but it’s pale now since she’s been inside for months, not venturing outdoors. In ways, she’s not the same woman, but when she looks at me, I see her. I see my mom staring back at me, and it doesn’t matter that her hair is wiry and skin pale. All that matters is she’s here.

  But we’re at the end of the line, and we’re never going to have a play day again. We’re never going to eat red velvet cake, and she won’t be able to tell me that I can do anything I put my mind to. She won’t ever be able to push me to be more–to do more because she’s dying right before my eyes.

  I kiss her cheek, praying she isn’t in pain.

  And then I leave because I can’t take it anymore. I can’t sit here. I need to leave. I need to be alone.

  So I run.

  Out of the hospital.

  Away from my mom.

  I run because it’s the only thing I know how to do.

  I stop outside my house and close my eyes, inhaling, wishing my heart would stop splintering. I let the darkness of the night wash over me, letting it comfort me as cricket’s chirp in the background.

  After several deep breaths, I open my eyes, and fury floods my body, replacing the agony that’s been swimming inside me for the last three hours.

  Dad waltzes out of the house carrying three full black trash bags, and I jump off my bike, letting it fall to the dirt.

  “Where were you?” I yell, clenching my fists at my sides.

  “I was here.” He shrugs.

  “Why weren’t you at the hospital. Why weren’t you with Mom?” I demand, my nostrils flaring.

  “I called an ambulance. They took care of her.”

  “You should have been there for her. You’re never there.”

  A cab pulls up behind me, flashing its lights, and Dad rushes down the stairs, moving past me without a word.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Are you going to the hospital?” I ask, eyes wide. “What are you doing with those bags?”

  “I’m not going to the hospital.” The trunk of the cab pops open, and he lifts it the rest of the way, tossing the bags in the trunk before closing it. “I’m leaving and not coming back.”

  My jaw unhinges as he opens the back door of the cab.

  “You’re what?!” I shriek, stomping closer to him until I’m on the other side of the cab door.

  “I can’t do this.” He shakes his head, his eyes vacant.

  And I hate him even more for not caring about what he’s doing to Mom by leaving.

  “You can’t do this?! Do you think I can? Do you think Mom can? You’re being a selfish bastard, but I guess that’s just the status quo for you. Leave and give up whenever things get too hard.”

  “You’ve got this under control. She doesn’t need me around. She doesn’t even know I’m there.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I scream. “Of course she doesn’t know you’re there because you’re never fucking there. You haven’t been around since she was diagnosed. You gave up on everything a long time ago. Her. Me. Yourself.”

  He blinks, his mouth twisting like he’s keeping something from me. “You’ll be better off without me.”

  I shake my head, disappointed in him, but I shouldn’t have expected anything more.

  “I will, but what you’re doing is going to hurt Mom.” I crane my head closer to him. “Did you ever even love her? Or did you just want someone to clean up after you your whole life?”

  “I do love her, and I love you.” He sighs. “I just don’t show it well.”

  “Bullshit.” There’s no way I believe him because love doesn’t hurt, and that’s all he ever did to me and Mom.

  “I’m gonna go,” he says, gripping the cab door.

  “By all means, leave. That’s one less mouth for me to feed, and don’t expect me to call you when she dies. Don’t expect to come crawling back to me when you’re homeless. We’re done,” I spit. “You’re just a stranger to me. The dad I knew disappeared a hell of a long time ago.”

  He drops in the back seat and closes the door, and the cab drives off, leaving me standing in front of our house.

  Tears stream down my face faster than I can wipe them away, so I give up, letting them fall freely as I kick at the dirt, but it doesn’t make me feel better.

  I pick up the yellow dump truck sitting in the yard and throw it at our trailer. My trailer. My trailer because there isn’t anyone else left. It’s just me. I snatch a tennis ball from the ground and chuck it at the window, breaking the glass as it flies inside the house.

  I throw the firetruck, plastic shovel, and every other toy in the yard until I have nothing left, until I’m left feeling everything I’ve been left to deal with. Death. Misery.

  I move closer to the trailer and kick it, punishing it for mocking me for being here by myself. I scream as loud as I can, letting out my anger the only way I know how.

  I kick, and kick, and kick until a light is shining behind me, and not just any light. Those damn flashing red and blue lights.

  A car door slams behind me, and my body locks up as my forehead falls onto the trailer. “Ma’am, we were notified of a noise complaint,” the officer says, shinning his flashlight at my back.

  The light casts a shadow on the trailer–my shadow. I hate it. I hate seeing my form, slouched and small–even my shadow seems defeated.

  I pound my fist against the trailer, wishing I could feel each blow to my body.

  I wish the events of my life hadn’t led me to this exact moment. The moment when I rear my hand back and slam my fist into the face of my shadow, hitting the officer behind me with my elbow.

  The flashlight clicks off before a set of rough hands grabs both of my arms and shove me against the trailer.

  Cold metal clamps around one wrist and then the other, cuffing my hands together.

  I close my eyes, wanting nothing more than to crumble to the ground and never get back up.

  A radio clicks on and the officer behind me says, “104 to Central.”

  “Go ahead 104,” a female voice comes through the static of his radio.

  “I’m bringing in a female for disorderly conduct. Starting mileage 8924.”

  He pulls me off the side of the trailer, guiding me to his car where the flashing lights blind me.

  I’m being arrested. The anger and pain dissipate until all I feel is numb to everything around me that is until I see his face. Hudson standing in the dark, his mouth turned down and color drained from his face.

  Everything has changed–shifted, leading me to this place where I can no longer hold myself together–not on my own.

  The police officer ducks my head into the back of the car and shuts the door.

  More tears. No longer numb. Now I’m completely embarrassed for the wa
y I acted. I should have waited until I was in the comfort of my own home to self-destruct, that way no one would be witness to the crazy, but instead, I fell apart before everyone’s eyes.

  The worst part is that Hudson saw it. He saw my spiral. I wonder if he’ll be around now that he’s seen the worst part of me.

  I’d like to think he will, but the fact of the matter is everyone leaves. And I’ll always be on my own. In the darkest part of me, I pray he won’t be around because I don’t want to ruin him–I want him to run and stay as far away as possible.

  When the officer is in the car, he asks, “Full name?”

  “Jade Elizabeth Hart,” I say, feeling the weight of my mother’s name on my tongue.

  I feel like I let her down more than anything. I dishonored her name and tarnished mine.

  “Date of birth?”

  “October 18, 1995.” I drop my head back, letting it hit the headrest as I stare out the window.

  The officer puts the car in drive, honking the horn on the car as the lights flash across my broken trailer. The people who gathered move out of the road, watching as I experience the worst day of my life.

  When the car drives past Hudson, I swear I hear him say, “I’m coming to get you.” But I can’t be sure because who the hell would save me? And why would they bother?

  Spending the night in jail was never on my bucket list. I also never meant to turn into someone I don’t recognize. Someone who has lost complete control over everything. Okay, so maybe no one ever has control over their life, I mean shit happens, but I will bet you my left kidney that not everyone acts on their every thought.

  That’s where I’m different. I don’t bother to consider the consequences of my actions, and that’s the exact reason why I spent the night in jail next to a hooker and a drug dealer in a small-as-fuck holding cell.

  And because I didn’t bother to use my brain last night, I have to go to court. I have to appear before a judge, who will do exactly that–judge me for my actions, for the very reason a cop put me in handcuffs and hauled me away.

  “Jade Hart,” the correctional officer yells my name, and I stand from the hard metal bench and make my way over to the cell door. “You’re out.” He opens the door, keeping an eye on the other two people behind me. “Let’s go.”

  I squeeze out of the cell, careful not to touch him the way I accidentally elbowed the officer last night. That might be my only saving grace about the events of last night. When I was in the cop car thinking about how my life was spiraling out of control, the cop glanced at me from the rearview mirror. I guess he took pity on me, watching me silently cry in my own misery because he told me he wouldn’t press charges for assaulting an officer.

  I was a little baffled to say the least because I was acting like a complete lunatic, and he was showing me a small act of kindness.

  I’m not sure I want anyone’s pity, but I guess I can thank my lucky stars that he decided to, even if I didn’t want it.

  The correctional officer locks the cell and guides me to the front where he gives me a bag of my things. Funny, a bag of my things. The sad plastic bag only contains my phone and house key. It’s symbolic of my life.

  I don’t care about stuff. I haven’t in a while. The only thing I’ve needed is myself, but standing here staring at my plastic bag, I realize I want something else, or should I say I need someone because right now, I have absolutely no one and nothing. I’m an empty shell roaming through life. I have to wonder if I was to die in this instant, who would be there? Would anyone care?

  “Sign here.” The guy points to a piece of paper where I acknowledge I’m receiving all the belongings I came in with. I scribble my name and discard the pen on the counter. “You’ll be getting a letter in the mail in two weeks informing you about your court date. If you don’t show, a warrant will be issued for your arrest, and I will be seeing you again.”

  I nod my head in understanding.

  He buzzes the door, and it makes a loud and unpleasant noise as it opens. I step through the door and walk out of the police station.

  I inhale, taking a deep breath before I push it out. It smelled like vomit in the holding cell since the drug dealer puked his guts out halfway through the night.

  I stare out at the parking lot full of cop cars glad to be free from the confines of the police station.

  Freedom. Am I really free if I carry all my demons around, letting them drag me to the ground? No, I’m not. Freedom for me doesn’t exist because I’m trapped, tortured by my mind, never getting a break.

  I shuffle to the edge of the sidewalk and pause, realizing I’m stuck. How am I going to get home? The police station is a good ten miles from home, and I have zero money on me. I could call someone but who? Who would come to my rescue?

  I stretch out my right hand in front of me, seeing a few small scratches from hitting my trailer. It hurts like a bitch, but not as much as my pride.

  A familiar car pulls up in front of me. “Need a ride?” Hudson asks a stoic look on his face.

  I don’t answer. I open the passenger side door and hop in, slamming the door behind me.

  After I click my seatbelt in place, he pulls away from the curb, leaving the police station behind us. I relax into the seat and lean my head back, wishing like hell he wasn’t witnessing my demise.

  “What happened?” he asks, flipping on his blinker, bringing us that much closer to home.

  Home. Can it really be home if you hate the place? If you despise it with your very being because it’s the place that represents all the things that went wrong in your life? No, no it can’t. It’s just some stupid place where everything went to die.

  Again, I don’t answer him. I sit, watching the scenery pass me by, watching everything around me slip away. Time. Hope. My mom. Life. All of it slipping further as I fade away.

  Before I know it, he’s parking in front of my trailer and turning off the ignition. I let out a sigh, knowing I’ll have a mess to clean up after my temper tantrum last night.

  “Do you need a ride to work?” he asks, sounding helpless.

  Shit. It never occurred to be that I needed to be at work today. Everything happened so fast that I haven’t had a second to think about…well that’s a lie…I’ve had plenty of time to think. As a matter of fact, thinking is all I’ve done, but I forgot. I forgot all about the life I was going to have to return to while I dwelled on everything wrong.

  I shake my head, still not able to speak.

  I open the plastic bag and power on my phone. Seven missed calls. All from the garage. Perfect. I open my contacts and swipe to call them back–to let them know I won’t be there today.

  “Harry’s Garage.”

  I cough, clearing my throat. “It’s Jade.”

  “Where the hell are you?” Harry demands.

  “I’m sorry. I had a rough night. I won’t be in today.”

  “You better be here tomorrow. Don’t let that bonus I gave you go to your head. Get it together, Jade.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  The line goes dead, Harry not bothering to say goodbye. I throw my phone back in the plastic bag and stare at my trailer. The one thing I have, and I threw a stupid toy through the window. I step out of the car, feeling another brick collapse on my shoulders, pushing me down further.

  “Do you need some help?” Hudson asks, hovering outside his car door, keeping his distance.

  Do I need help? That’s a loaded question because I’m pretty sure I need all the help anyone is willing to offer, and I don’t just mean cleaning up this mess.

  I nod my head, and he follows behind me to the front door.

  I slip my key out of the plastic bag only to find the door already open. Wonderful. The door has been unlocked all night. I’ll blame my so called dad for that one. The dumbass left with all his shit and didn’t care about what was left behind. Me and Mom.

  Pushing open the door, I’m greeted with a mess. The kitchen cabinets are all open, along with the m
ini-fridge. The television is in the same spot it always is and so is the old recliner Dad always sat in.

  I throw the plastic bag and my key on his recliner, and then I kick the shit out of it.

  “Jade?” Hudson whispers coming up next to me.

  I don’t answer as I glare at the tattered chair.

  I’m surprised Dad didn’t take the television or recliner with him because he loved them as if they were living things. But I guess when you’re using a cab as transportation, you don’t have the luxury of taking everything you want. I’m glad he doesn’t have the things he seemed to cherish the most because he doesn’t deserve them. He doesn’t deserve anything.

  I walk through the kitchen to Mom’s room and see the broken glass scattered across the floor. My chin quivers, seeing the evidence of last night on the floor. The tennis ball, plastic shovel, and firetruck lay on the ground amidst the glass.

  I open the closet door, and notice all of Dad’s clothes have been cleared out. Good riddance.

  I know I shouldn’t be glad he’s gone, but I am. The one thing I’m dreading is telling my mom. Walking back into that hospital and telling her the man she married abandoned her because life got too hard for him.

  I walk out of my mom’s room, not able to deal with anything.

  I drop to the couch at the same time that I break, falling apart for what feels like the hundredth time.

  An arm slips under my knees and another around my waist. Hudson picks me up from the couch, and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding onto him like a lifeline.

  Somehow he knows where my room is as he gently places me on my bed and slips onto the other side. He holds me against his chest, and I cry into his shirt, soiling it with my tears. Tears that keep coming no matter how much I want them to stop. He holds me, protecting me from the outside world, protecting me from everything dark and evil threatening to invade.