Free Falling

by Ana Simons

  But then I gathered my wits, lied through my teeth and managed to convince her I was alone. And made her see the entire scene was insane, that for everyone’s sake, I’d better take her home. Which I did.

  As we stopped in front of her house, I let her know I wasn’t coming in, that we would only talk for a little while in the car.

  That maybe she wants more, she said, the tears already pooling in her eyes. That I should be honest and tell her what she means to me, she urged me, her begging eyes transfixed on mine, her hand holding my hand tightly.

  She was right, I had to come clean with her. “You’re an exceptional woman, Jo.” She is. “And precisely because of that, I’m afraid we can’t see each other anymore.”

  “But, babe…”

  “I am not the right man for you, Jo. You deserve so much better.” She does. “You deserve to be with someone that loves you, that can give you exactly what you want.”

  “But I don’t want anyone else! I want you!”

  “That person isn’t me. I’m so sorry.”

  Getting back now to the honesty topic. From where I stand, when a woman asks you for the truth, and you’re sincere and give her the truth, she should be contented, correct? It sounds pretty logical, doesn’t it?

  Well, let me tell you something then: fuck logic!

  You know what my honesty brought me?

  An I’d-fucking-shoot-you-in-your-sleep-if-I-could-get-away-with-it deadly stare and a slap across the face. A strong, resounding slap that’s still echoing around my head. And then, right before she stormed out and slammed the door really hard, I was again reminded that I’m a dirty prick who for sure will rot in hell.

  And it’s okay. I probably deserve that.

  13 One of a kind

  Though pallid, the morning light illuminates the room and spills across my face. My half-conscious brain registers the discomfort and I roll over in bed.

  Struggling against the haze, I crack open one eye and squint at the clock on the nightstand. Almost ten and, damn, my head is swimming, every muscle hurts.

  With last night’s events flooding my mind, I sink back into my pillow wanting my mind to shut down and let me go back to sleep.

  But then it reaches me, the music coming from the living room, along with the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

  Olivia.

  A hard rush of adrenaline sends me out of bed and I hurry for the door. I’d almost forgotten I’m not alone.

  Dear lord, please, make it like in the films! Let her be wearing nothing but some old see-thru t-shirt of mine, swinging her butt to the music.

  Wait, the shower’s running.

  Then let her come out with a tiny towel around her, that’ll do just fine too!

  Brian Anderson, what a wild imagination you’ve got! Get a grip, mate.

  All right.

  I pour myself a cup of coffee and sit down, drumming my fingers impatiently on the armrest, listening to the soulful, crooning voice drifting through the house.

  Nice.

  I turn it louder, loud enough to make her aware I’m already here, waiting for her.

  Scrubbing my face with both hands, I sink into the swivel couch, trying to bring some order to my mind. My knee is bouncing up and down in tiny jumps, a damned nervous twitch that makes me even wonkier. I make it stop, but my hand resumes its drumming.

  This flutter in my gut is unbearable, I need to find meaning in all that’s happening. Last night. My feelings. Her feelings. What the hell really happened to us back then. What her version of our story is.

  Take your eyes off the goddamn bathroom door!

  I also need a distraction.

  The sketchbook with the drawing I did last night. It’s still lying on the side table. I turn it over and study her delicate face, trace my fingers along her hair cascading in waves over her shoulders.

  Damn, she’s so beautiful...

  A few seconds later, my eyes are glued again to that door. I keep imagining the moment she gets out, wrapped up in a towel, a few rivulets of water still running down her neck, her graceful, long legs finally revealed and exposed to me.

  No! She doesn’t get out, I’m getting in. I’m in the shower with her, hot water is streaming over her delicate skin and my gaze is scanning each inch of her body.

  Sliding my arms around her waist, I pull her closer and bury my face in her neck, nibbling her skin, sucking gently. And she gasps in between kisses, moaning my name over and over again up until the moment my lips close over hers with the same passion I kissed her last night.

  Backing her hot body against the cold tile, I let my fingers play between her legs, my kisses trailing down her neck, to her collarbone, her breasts. And then to her belly. A moan escapes her as I continue further down, my tongue teasing and stroking the tender flesh, her body twisting and aching for me inside her.

  Desire fills every pore of her and my entire skin, stirring a fire within we’re no longer able to extinguish. I pick her up. With her legs wrapped around me, she pulls me tight to her, to whisper I can do anything I want to her because she’s mine, all mine. And between her breathless gasps and sighs, I let myself go and murmur her the actual truth, that deep down I’ve never stopped lov–

  The sound of the doorknob turning brings me back from my inner digression. It’s her, finally, humming to the sound that fills the atmosphere and drying her hair with a towel.

  “There you are, sleepyhead!” She walks towards me with the warmest smile, to take my cup and sip my coffee. “I knocked on your door, but you were sleeping like a rock!”

  “Morning, beautiful. Someone is in a good mood.”

  “True! I haven’t slept like that in weeks. God bless your sofa. And your coffee maker!” Olivia takes another sip, puts the cup down and raises a finger, to draw my attention to the music.

  Swinging her body to the soulful rhythm, she sings along, absolutely amused. She puts all her heart into her performance and we can’t help chuckling at the scene, my mind bouncing back to the many memories of the summers we spent together, to all those adventures, and even some misadventures, of our teenage years.

  I like her, a whole lot. She’s funny, genuine and witty and always had this ability to light up my face and spark a laugh. And to tear my guard down. And I’ve missed her too, I missed her like crazy. I’ve missed her so much there aren’t even words to express how I felt when we stopped talking to each other.

  On the spur of the moment, before I even have the time to think what the hell I’m doing, I’m already standing and taking her hand, to pull her closer and tighten one arm around her waist. I want to hold and dance with her again.

  She responds with an even brighter smile that makes my heart race and follows my lead. And we dance, light-hearted and cheerful.

  And suddenly I realise how it feels so right to be here with her, it feels like she belongs here, in this place. To my life.

  Towards the end of the song, I give her a tight squeezing hug and she embraces me in return, her breathing brushing my neck, her scent enveloping me. For an instant, I wish I could freeze time and continue to live in this moment forever.

  Bathrobe and all.

  Yes, she’s dressed in my bathrobe, a long and huge gown that is covering her body from neck to toe and makes her look like a sack of potatoes. God is obviously mad at me.

  “I’m sorry... and thank you,” she breathes into my ear, still clinging to me.

  I pull back and I raise my eyebrows, uncertain of what she means.

  “For putting up with me last night. My life’s a mess, and yesterday I probably drank a tad bit more than I should. You know, I’m still trying to get my shit together...”

  I hold her closer and kiss her on the top of her head, our bodies still swaying slowly. “No problem. You know what I was just thinking?”

  “What?”

  “What a fruitcake you were, back then! Remember that night you dared us to go for a swim on the beach? But my sister freaked out and ran away?” />
  “I sure do. She returned with my mother, mighty pissed off and ready to smack us all! Sue’s always been such a big scaredy-cat!”

  I smile in agreement.

  “And that day when we convinced a bunch of kids to dance to some Britney Spears song in Plaza Nova? We practically invented the flash mob! Ha-ha! And that time we pulled an all-nighter to celebrate Johnny’s driving license?”

  “Hell yeah, that was fun! And when we flew to Majorca? Remember us piling into that shitty old rental car and hitting the road without a destination?”

  A sad smile comes over her face. “On one of those nights we slept under the stars...”

  Yes, we did. And we also made a lot of plans, like for example you moving to London the following year, to attend medical school.

  I force my mind to steer in some other direction, as that thought leaves me particularly unsettled. “What about that day it started to pour down out of nowhere? Instead of running for cover, we ran straight to the ocean; how insane was that?”

  “You, boys, ran. I didn’t.”

  “No, you didn’t, but you’re crazy! You stayed on the beach, doing some frigging rain dance. But I had my eyes on you…”

  Like I have now, on her lips, my fingers already buried in her hair. I am about to bend down and kiss her, again, but she gives me a light tap on the head and pushes me gently away.

  “Hey, chivvy along! We must hurry up, boy! Get me a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt or something?”

  Shock runs through me, like a bucket of cold water thrown right into my soul. “You have to leave already?”

  “We have to leave. It’s that brunch thing at my uncle’s!” She pulls me by my hand and leads me to the bedroom. “I want to get there and change before the whole circus begins.”

  I know about this? And can’t we just stay here, the two of us? Damn, Liv, we need to talk.

  “I don’t think I was invited...”

  “Sure, you were. My folks and your folks, we’re all supposed to be there. Like old times. Only Jimmy has a good excuse not to come.”

  Yeah, by now he should be already arriving in Cuba, getting ready to dance the horizontal mambo with his wife. Lucky bastard.

  14 Frozen

  What awesome weather! It’s such a sunny and warm August day it almost feels like we’re not in gloomy Britain, but rather back in southern Spain, like in the old days.

  The table is already set outside waiting for the guests to arrive and Olivia has sneaked upstairs to change. I’m comfortably seated on the garden deck, soaking up the sun and watching the Burke brothers discuss the thrills of grilling and all the different techniques each one claims to have mastered. They’re boasting so enthusiastically about their skills, I bet they’ll forget to flip the steaks and in no time, no one will be able to tell the difference between the meat and the charcoal.

  And it will be a blast! Raquel and her bad temper will soon come out spitting fire, threatening to kill them both, and I’ll be watching the whole show right from the front row. I’m already grinning and it hasn’t yet happened.

  I’m sipping my drink, drumming my fingers to the beat of some summer hit song they have on and, well, eagerly waiting for Olivia to come down, with a secret beam of hope we can talk before total chaos erupts in this so far idyllic scenery. Yes, because as soon as Johnny arrives with his two toddlers and my sister Sue comes on the scene with her little brood, I doubt I’ll manage to have any of her attention or–

  “Brian? Give me a hand, will you?”

  Oh, crap! My worst fear has just come true.

  My sister storms into the back garden in a state of near hysteria, with little Emma by the hand. My niece is whining and doing some strange pee pee dance and one of the twins is crying her eyes out in the stroller, only God knows why. The other is threatening to do the same any minute and, finally, Josh is grumbling with a huge pout on his face.

  I set my tonic water on the table and get up from the deck chair, coming to the rescue. “Hey? Where’s your husband?”

  “Mum, why can’t we get a dog?” Josh asks, tugging at Sue’s blouse, trying to get her attention.

  “Oh, just take these.” She shoves two diaper bags at me. “Mark’s in a coma, let him be; he’ll show up later. Dammit, why hasn’t mum arrived yet? Oh boy, I’m dying here. We had one of those nights.”

  “Why? He tried to knock you up again?” I banter, just to loosen her up a bit.

  “MUM? Why can’t we get a dog?” Josh insists, this time louder and pulling like billy-o at the hem of her blouse.

  Sue throws me a reproachful glare and mouths, “You’re such an idiot!” She then bends down towards her oldest. “We can’t, Dad’s allergic.”

  “And when Dad dies, can we get a dog?”

  Sue rolls her eyes. “Sure. Why not?”

  Josh seems pleased with the answer and runs to the garden, where there’s already a large quilt with cushions and toys, laid out not far from the playhouse and the swing.

  Emma jumps frenetically and wails again, one tiny hand cupping it down there, the other pulling her mama. Marianne’s face, my other twin niece, suddenly flushes and a loud deafening cry flies out of her mouth too.

  Man, what a powerful stereo system these two!

  I lift my eyes to study my sister’s face. She’s pale and stiff, about to snap.

  “Taking Emma to the toilet. Please, change Mathilda, she’s spat milk all over herself.” Trying to ignore the loud screeching sounds, Sue points at the filthy clothes and then rushes inside.

  No problem, baby logistics don’t really intimidate me, I can handle this. I’ve been there since day one, since Sue popped Josh out, that twenty-inch little fella who yelled, spat up, peed and pooped like no one else. And I often babysit this entire crowd too; it’s my contribution to help Sue maintain her sanity and keep their marriage relatively intact.

  I take the stroller to the garden and sit the eight-month-old twins on the quilt. Josh, my little wingman, helps me by entertaining Marianne with a plush bunny, while I’m on my knees getting Mathilda out of her soiled clothes.

  “Uncle Brian?”

  “Yeah, kiddo?” I fondle his hair and encourage him to talk. Josh has always had a natural curiosity I find absolutely endearing. It amuses me to watch him trying to figure out how the world works.

  “What is sex?”

  Christ, why are you asking ME that? Well, his curiosity is endearing—most of the time. This one has stopped me in my tracks.

  “How old are you again? Almost eight, right?”

  He stares at me boggle-eyed. “Yes! Next month. You forgot that?”

  “No, that was a rhetorical question.”

  He looks at me confused. “I don’t know what erectorical means... I just want to know what sex is.”

  Marianne has just taken off her shoe, which she begins to chew, apparently quite entertained. I trade it for a teething ring instead, but as soon I see a sob crawling up, I don’t care, I let her chew whatever she wants.

  Mathilda is already stripped down, only wearing a diaper and sucking her toe. Debating on what I should say to avoid getting into trouble, I stop what I’m doing to look at him.

  Man, they always manage to come up with questions that stump you. How am I supposed to know what’s the latest educational crap about the topic these days?

  After some reflection, I give him what I believe is a safe explanation. “I think it’s when you have to say whether you’re a boy or a girl. That’s your sex. But why don’t you go inside and ask your mum? I have it covered here, mate. You can go.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “You sure?”

  “Yes! I’ll take it from here, no problem.”

  He still looks sceptical. “No! You sure that’s what sex is?”

  I shrug and nod, trying to look innocent.

  “But Ben said it’s when people take off their clothes and rub against each other. Is that true?”

  Well, bugger me. Ignoring him, I rummage into the
bag. “Go inside and tell your mum I can’t find any undershirt.”

  He fishes one out the same instant. “But is it true?”

  Hum... feeling kind of cornered here.

  “Yeah, people call that sex too.”

  “They take everything off? Like butt naked?”

  “I guess...”

  “Eww! But isn’t that gross?”

  “Uhh... Yeah. Very.”

  “But why would they do that?”

  Oh, screw it. “To make babies.”

  His mouth falls open. “Mum and Dad did that too?” Shit, the kid seems to be in shock. “But Mum said Dad planted a seed into her belly.”

  “He did.”

  He frowns and shakes his head confused. “I don’t get it...”

  I keep silent, pretending I’m focused on my task while trying to decide if I give him some storks’ silly tale or the P in the V version. I remain undecided.

  “I think you should ask your Dad, he’s the one who has already put a lot of seeds in there. He should know better.”

  He reflects upon it for a moment. “Okay. And can I ask you something else?”

  I think I’m about to break into a sweat now. “Shoot!”

  “Ben’s golden fish died this week. Do you think it went to heaven?”

  I sigh in relief. Down the drain, more likely.

  “Oh, that one is really tough too! But you know what? You should ask Auntie Raquel.” I send him to Olivia’s mother, just to mess with her a little. “She and the Almighty up there are really, really close friends.”

  His mouth drops open again, his eyes glow, telling me the revelation excited the bejesus out of him. “Wow, you serious? That’s soo cool!”

  “There you are, Matty, all cleaned up.” I sit her next to her sister and give her an activity board. She’s now quiet and seems fascinated with all the poking, squeezing, shaking and dropping things.