The Truth About Falling

by H. M. Sholander

  “Don’t leave.” He nuzzles my neck, holding me as tightly as he can.

  “I won’t,” I say, repeating his words from earlier.

  We both might have fallen, but we’re still scared shitless of being left in the rubble, of being left behind by the one we trust the most.

  His breaths even out, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. I lay there, listening to the rain fizzling out, knowing any time it storms, I’ll think of him. I’ll think of this night. The turning point for us where we opened up when we never thought we would again.

  The briefest of smiles slips across my face, thinking maybe I won’t shatter when the inevitable happens. Maybe he’ll be there to catch me, instead of me ending up in a heap of a mess on the floor.

  My alarm sounds from my shorts, and I curse under my breath, not wanting to wake him from his serene sleep.

  Removing his arm from my waist, I slip off the bed and silence the noise disturbing the room.

  I quickly put on my still wet clothes and walk to the doorway. I stop, looking over my shoulder at him sleeping soundly. I think about waking him, but I don’t, instead I head to the front door and leave him. Doing the exact opposite of what I promised him I wouldn’t do.

  But I’ll be back, I promise I will, because now my heart is in it.

  I’m in this…for good.

  Dead. Vacant. Silent.

  Well, except for the glasses Monica keeps clattering next to me.

  It happens occasionally. The silence and the vacant bar. There’s no one here. The storm must have kept them all inside tonight which has me relieved because I don’t feel like dealing with a bunch of drunks.

  It’s the perfect night for our new waitress to get acquainted with where the glasses and booze are. Kristy and I have also been teaching her how to mix several drinks that customers frequently order–not that Monica will be mixing drinks anytime soon, but it doesn’t hurt for her to know in case I’m swamped one night and she needs to fend for herself.

  When Kristy and I showed up at work tonight and saw a timid girl hanging out in the corner before the bar was open, we were shocked, to say the least. Of course, we presumed she was here to “please” Anthony, but to our surprise, she wasn’t.

  Anthony waltzed out of his office, told us he hired her, and she was our responsibility so we better make sure she knows how to do her job. Then he left, slamming the front door of the bar behind him, obviously mad that we demanded he hire someone else.

  Kristy and I couldn’t believe that he hired someone, but we didn’t dare utter a word, too scared he might let her go if we said thanks.

  “So I have an idea,” Kristy waves her hand in front of her like it’s a magic wand, “on this whole wedding thing.”

  “Wedding thing?” I chuckle.

  “Yeah, you know because it’s just kind of a thing. A stupid piece of paper that binds two people together for eternity. I mean…how silly is that? Can’t people just accept that I say, ‘Hey, this is Jason. He’s mine. Back off.’”

  “Are you serious?” I ask, holding back my laughter.

  “Yeah.” She shrugs her shoulders.

  “Okay, well, how ‘bout you just tell me your idea,” I suggest.

  She steps out from behind the bar using the seating area as her stage. “Me,” she points to herself, “in a black dress with a corset and some tulle. Jason in a black button-down shirt and black pants. And get this…we get married…in a cemetery as the sun is setting.”

  She stops talking, and I stare at her, wondering when she’s going to tell me she’s joking, but she doesn’t. She stands there waiting for me to tell her how awesome her idea is, but it’s not, it’s totally not.

  “One question.” I take a step forward, placing the palms of my hands on the bar and leaning forward. “Do you even like Jason? Because that’s a terrible idea. You had me up until cemetery.”

  She pouts, running a hand through her short blonde hair. “I thought it was a nice sentiment like oh hey we’re getting married in the same place we’ll both be buried together. Our life will start and end in the same spot.”

  “Creepy.” Monica shudders behind me.

  “It’s…a little morbid,” I refute.

  It hits a little too close to home for me. The thought of Kristy celebrating love in the same place I’ll be grieving the woman who gave me life. But if this is what she really wants, I’ll support her–no matter how weird it is.

  She shrugs her shoulders and moves to sit on a barstool across from me. “I’ve got time to work out the kinks. I had the talk with him. I told him I’d marry him, but on my terms, and that it might not happen for a while.”

  “What did he say?” I ask curiously because I know Jason would give her anything she wanted, but I also wonder if he was bummed when she told him them getting married wouldn’t happen for a while.

  “He’s cool with it.”

  “He said that exactly?”

  “Kind of.” She runs a hand down her arm, her bright tattoos a stark contrast to the creamy skin on her hand. “He said as long as he got to marry me he would wait until the day before he died.”

  Maybe a cemetery is the perfect place for their wedding. They’re both a little weird, thinking of their wedding in terms of life and death.

  “It’s your day, Kristy. Do what makes you happy.” All that matters is she’s happy–that she and Jason get the life they want together.

  “Speaking of, did you finally get laid because you’ve been in an oddly good mood. Less sarcastic and angry.” She wags her eyebrows with a gleam in her eyes.

  With a blank expression, I say, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to tell me, it’s written across your face.” She leans closer, poking me in the shoulder with her pointer finger. “I can see straight through you.”

  “Is that so?” I ask flatly.

  “Yep, and even if I couldn’t, that hickey on your neck sure as shit gives you away.” My mouth falls open, gasping as both my hands fly to either side of my neck, heat rushing to my face. Kristy laughs, the sound booming through the empty room. “I’m lying. You don’t have a hickey, but thanks for confirming my suspicion.”

  “Evil woman,” I growl at her.

  She composes herself long enough to say, “Evil genius.”

  I wave her off as she laughs, focusing my attention on Monica, who has learned more about Kristy and me than she has about being a waitress. “Let’s get away from the crazy lady, and I’ll show you how to make a Pineapple Upside-Down Cake shot. It’s my favorite.”

  Monica nods her head, staring wearily at Kristy as she laughs so hard tears begin streaming down her face. I roll my eyes and direct Monica to the other side of the bar, leaving Kristy to her own devices.

  The rest of the night is quiet, not a soul stepping foot in the door. Kristy and I laugh more than I have in the last year. I revel in the blissful feeling, sensing it won’t last longer than the night.

  Collision, pain and despair.

  It burst though me all at once,

  throwing me into a black hole I can’t climb out of,

  holding me captive for far too long.

  I chew on my bottom lip, shifting on my feet as I stare at the silver door handle to Mom’s hospital room. I feel like I’ve been frozen in this same spot, staring, motionless for a lifetime.

  It’s not a big deal, right? People do this all the time. They introduce their boyfriends or girlfriends to their parents. Not a big deal. Wrong. It’s a big deal…to me.

  Hudson stands next to me, patiently waiting for me to make a move. It’s like he senses the gravity of the situation. My eyes soften as I watch him out of my peripheral vision, being the support I need without saying a word.

  I have no idea what Hudson is…what we are. Mom has only ever met one guy I was dating before, and it happened merely by coincidence. I have just never met the right guy. The one who deemed himself worthy of meeting my parents. Psh, who am I kidding? I didn’t
care about my dad’s opinion. I never did. It was my mom’s approval I sought.

  Bringing him to meet my mom is a big deal. Because she’s dying. This is her wish, and I’m not sure if the butterflies in my stomach stem from excitement or terror.

  Lifting my hand, I reach for the handle, and my stomach lurches. Definitely the latter.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” he reassures me, running the pad of his thumb down my neck.

  Is it? Each time I see her I wonder if it will be the last. I wonder if I’ll get to see the look on her face when she sees me again. Because her face always lights up like it’s Christmas morning when I walk in her room. It makes me feel a little guilty because if she’s that happy to see me, it means I haven’t been here for her.

  I nod my head once, not because I agree, but so he knows I heard him.

  I push down on the handle and open the door, the smell of sanitizer assaulting my nose.

  We step inside, moving further into the room. The pale blue curtain is pulled across her room, hiding her from view. I step up to the curtain, peeking around it to make sure she’s awake before making our presence known.

  My eyes connect with her bed…with her empty bed, and my chest tightens, my knees going weak, threatening to give out.

  I rush around the curtain and throw open the door to the bathroom in her room. I flip on the overhead light in the bathroom, and it flickers several times before coming to life.

  “Jade?” I hear Hudson say, but I ignore him, not able to speak when I feel like I’m on the verge of being destroyed.

  She’s not here. Her toothbrush is on the small counter next to the sink, and her shampoo and conditioner are visible in the shower, but she isn’t here.

  Tears pool in my eyes, clouding my vision. She’s gone. She’s gone and they didn’t tell me. Why didn’t they call me?

  I begin hyperventilating, my chest heaving faster than I can inhale my next breath.

  I stumble out of the bathroom, walking across her room not able to bare the sight of the space that has been hers for so long.

  Hudson’s arms wrap around my midsection before I can make it past the bed. “What’s wrong?” he asks with a tenderness I can’t be grateful for since all I feel is loss.

  The room…it’s spinning, everything off kilter. The floor comes out from under my feet, but I’m still standing, being held upright by Hudson.

  “Jade?”

  I swear I hear the sound of her voice. I blink my eyes several times before my vision clears.

  “Jade?” Her voice meets my ears, and my hand flies to my mouth.

  Thank fucking God.

  I choke out an exhale, ensuring I keep my tears at bay.

  I remove Hudson’s arms from around my waist, and I rush to my mom sitting in a wheelchair with a nurse behind her. My arms wrap around her neck, holding on tight and breathing her in as the world comes back into focus. “Is everything all right?” she whispers against the side of my head.

  “Yeah,” I strain.

  She pats me on the back as the nurse says, “Let me help her into bed, and then I’ll leave you alone to visit.”

  I unlatch myself from her, stepping out of the nurse’s way. I lean against the nearest wall, taking several deep breaths, telling myself she’s fine, that everything is okay…for now.

  Hudson slowly moves toward me like he’s afraid I might break if he moves too fast. His arms glide across my waist, enclosing me in his embrace. He holds me, letting me take his strength while he takes my fears, protecting me while he can. He doesn’t say a word, and I appreciate the time he’s giving me to let my mind and heart settle down, allowing me to comprehend that she’s still here.

  I let out a deep breath, and Hudson loosens his hold on me, stepping back an inch to see my face. I nod my head in reassurance to his unanswered question. Am I okay? As much as I can be, and I’m glad I don’t have to tell him that. I’m glad my simple nod suffices.

  He drops his hold on me as the nurse vacates the room, leaving the three of us alone.

  “Jade, are you still there?” Mom asks, sounding tired.

  I clear my throat, heading in her direction, grasping Hudson’s hand as I go. “Yeah, I’m here. We’re here,” I correct.

  I push the curtain away, revealing my frail mother, lying in bed with an expression of pure love and adoration on her face. She holds out her arm, wiggling her fingers. I step closer to her bed and grab hold of her hand, wanting to squeeze her but too afraid I’ll break her. I settle for holding her hand in mine, feeling her pulse beneath my fingertips and letting it comfort me.

  I lean down and kiss her on the cheek, noticing the weight loss in her face. She used to have full cheeks. The kind that you could pinch. Now her face is sunken in, almost skeletal in appearance.

  “This is him?” she whispers to me, acting as if he can’t hear her even though he’s standing right next to me.

  I nod my head yes.

  Hudson drapes his hand over hers. All of us linked together. Me on the bottom, Mom sandwiched in the middle, and Hudson on top holding us all together. “I’m Hudson. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hart.”

  She beams up at him. “Call me Elizabeth.”

  “Elizabeth,” he echoes.

  “You’re the one who’s made my Jade so happy.”

  “Mom,” I complain, rolling my eyes.

  “I think I have.” Hudson glances at me, his lips curling up.

  “Oh, no, honey, you have.”

  I inwardly groan, feeling like she’s trying to embarrass me.

  “Sit down,” Mom says to both of us, pulling her hand from between mine and Hudson’s.

  There’s only one chair, so he gestures for me to take a seat while he stands over me and my mom.

  “Tell me something about yourself.” Mom looks at Hudson expectantly, waiting for an answer.

  Hudson grins, his eyes skating over me before he gives my mom his full attention. “I have a son, and he’s the center of my universe.”

  Mom’s face lights up more than I have seen it in a long time. “I know the feeling. You don’t know true love until you have a child.” She looks at me, her eyes shining. “Everything you do is for them.”

  Not everything.

  I drop my gaze, staring at the floor, so I don’t pop her happy bubble with the scowl on my face. Hudson drops his hand to the back of my neck, his warm fingers skating across my skin.

  Letting herself die isn’t for me. She thinks it is for some reason, but I’ve yet to understand why.

  “How old is he?” Mom asks.

  “Six,” he says, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. “I spend as much time with him as I can. I go to work pretty early so I can be there when he gets home from school.”

  I bring my eyes back to Mom, catching her looking at me with a longing expression on her face. “Spend all the time you can with him. It’s more important than working your life away.” She clears her throat before she shifts her eyes to Hudson. “What do you do in your free time, honey?”

  “Lately, I’ve been with you daughter.” He chuckles. “Tried to teach her to skateboard.”

  “Hey,” I interject, “it’s harder than it looks. Those things are too high off the ground.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Do you remember when you crashed your bike?” Mom asks me as she pulls the covers over her chest.

  I nod. “I was racing down a hill in our neighborhood, and I didn’t slow down enough to make the sharp turn at the bottom.”

  “You came home crying your eyes out with blood running down your shin.”

  I point a finger at her. “But it got me out of gym for two weeks because I couldn’t put a tennis shoe on my right foot since I had a scrape down my ankle.”

  She laughs. “You could have put on a tennis shoe, but you hated gym.”

  I shrug. “It’s true.”

  Hudson tightens his hold on the back of my neck. “So no more skateboard lessons?”

  I shake
my head as I glance up at him. “Riding a bike is the extent of my outdoor activities.”

  “You and Chris are more alike than I thought.” He runs his hand down my back. “He hates doing anything outside.”

  I wonder if Hudson had to talk Chris into playing baseball since he dislikes the outdoors.

  My lips tip up. “That means we can overrule you if you try to make us go running or something.”

  He rolls his eyes as mom laughs, the sound echoing off the bare walls of the room. I bring my attention back to her as she wipes at her eyes.

  “I’m leaving my daughter in good hands.” She sighs, looking at Hudson. “Promise me you’ll always be there for her.”

  The smile falls off my face as reality comes crashing back down.

  “I will,” he assures her.

  I hate that she keeps asking for promises–from me, from Hudson. Why should we honor them when she’s killing herself?

  “Let me tell you a secret.” She motions for him to come closer, so he leans in, his shoulder brushing across my chest. “Jade, here, hasn’t been happy in a long time. I’ve watched her turn away from everyone. I hated watching my baby girl slip away. It’s my fault. I know it is.”

  My face pales as I listen to my mom tell Hudson she’s the reason I turned in to a bitch. It’s not true. Sure, I hardened a little more. I let everyone I was close to slip away, and I gave up my dream of art school, but I did it for her.

  I didn’t do all of that because of her. It was mostly my dad’s fault and the world’s fault for throwing so much crap at me and expecting me to hold it all on my own.

  If I had a Dad that stepped up, I could have had more. But for whatever reason, he thought he could treat Mom like she was nothing more than his maid, not his partner in life.

  If I had left her with alone with him, I fear she wouldn’t have lived past my nineteenth birthday. He wouldn’t have been there and cared for her. Hell, they probably would have ended up on the street.

  “She gave up too much for me at such a young age,” Mom continues. “But then one day, she walked in here, and she was a little lighter. I didn’t say anything because I liked getting a glimpse of my daughter. The person she is under that hard shell. The last two times I saw her, I knew.” Her gaze meets mine, her eyes shining, and I fight to keep my face void of the tortured feeling coursing through me. “I knew she had met someone who changed her. Who forced her out of her shell. Who turned her back into Jade, my Jade. Thank you for bringing my daughter back.”