If I Fall

by Britt Morgan

  “Frank?” I knocked on the door and tried the handle. It was open, so I stepped in, hesitating near the front entrance. I could smell something cooking as I looked around, allowing a thousand childhood memories to flood me. Despite my mom being gone all those years, the house had not changed much aside from the empty beer cans and ashtrays filled with cigarette butts. The paint was the same, as was the furniture, including the rocker and the faded blue couch mom had snagged from an antique shop downtown.

  “Khloe?” Frank called from the kitchen. “Come on in, kid.” I shrugged off my jacket and made my way towards the smell of dinner, wondering if I’d made a mistake coming here. Dinner wasn’t supposed to feel so awkward—so unnatural, especially not with your own father.

  “Thanks for the invite,” I said, coming into the kitchen. Frank was leaning over the oven, stirring a pot of something with a wooden spoon. He looked up and smiled as I came in, and I forced a smile back.

  “I made your favorite,” he said. “Spaghetti.”

  “Spaghetti?” I repeated. He must have heard the hesitation in my voice, because the smile melted from his face.

  “That is your favorite, isn’t it?”

  “I—I’m not a huge fan,” I admitted. I figured that if Frank and I were going to try to get on the same page, I would do well to spare him the fake feelings of gratitude and be nothing short of bluntly honest.

  “Since when?” he asked, looking crestfallen.

  “Since birth.” I tried not to sound sarcastic, but there was no way not to.

  “Really?” Frank said. He stared for a moment, as if waiting for me to throw my hands in the air and say just kidding!

  “Really, really,” I said instead.

  “Sorry, kid.” He looked down at the pot boiling on the stove top, brow furrowed in a look of confusion.

  “Alfredo,” I told him. “You’re on the right track because you knew it was like spaghetti, but it’s not. Mom always made us Alfredo. With the white sauce.” Frank looked back up at me, and I could see a look of understanding slowly form on his features.

  “Alfredo,” he repeated. “With chicken. And black olives. She always made the sauce homemade.”

  “Yeah.” I smiled and placed the dinner plates that had been sitting on the counter top onto the table, figuring I could choke it down this one time, hopefully to make him feel better. If he was trying, so could I.

  “Thank you for coming tonight,” Frank said. He sat down at the table and I followed suit, grabbing the pitcher of juice from the fridge before I did. I was both amazed and caught off guard to find no cans of beer chilling in the fridge.

  “Thanks for having me,” I said. Frank slopped some noodles onto his plate and reached for the pan of burnt toast. I did the same. “This is—nice.” I poked at the noodles, feeling suddenly awkward. What was there really to say? Frank and I had been nothing short of strangers before he’d decided to clean up, and now it felt like we were starting from the beginning instead of picking up where we left off. Only, I had no idea what to say to him anymore. Life had changed so drastically since mom’s death, and now here we were, expecting some unlikely father/daughter reunion.

  “How is your friend?” Frank asked after a moment of silence. “The Mexican—Ava? Are you guys still close?”

  “Hispanic,” I said. “And she’s doing well, thanks for asking. Jay took us to our first NA meeting the other night. It’s really going to help both of us stay out of the booze and drugs. I hope.”

  “Those meetings are a Godsend,” Frank said. “It’s AA for me. Without the support from those people I’m not sure I could have stopped doing what I was doing.”

  “Yeah, they’re good people.” I hesitated, thinking of Ty’s handsome face. “I’m—with someone,” I said. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if it was too soon to talk about my brand-new love life with my father, but I figured it couldn’t do any harm. He was my father, after all, even if it had been years since we’d truly connected last.

  “You’re really with someone?” Frank repeated. “A guy?”

  “No,” I said. “A tortoise.”

  “Sorry.” He flushed red and took a sip of his water. “I wasn’t sure if you were seeing that Ava girl, especially when your friend Jay came to breakfast the other day instead.”

  “No, dad. I’m not gay.”

  “Well. That’s good, I guess.” Looking awkward Frank set down his glass and reached for some toast and butter. “So, tell me about this someone who isn’t a tortoise or a woman,” he said. “I’m intrigued.”

  “His name is Ty. He’s a paramedic. And he’s in school.”

  “And he likes you?” Frank asked. I looked down at my plate, twirling the spaghetti on my fork.

  “Yes,” I said. “At least, I think so. It feels so good being with him that I guess I keep waiting for the catch.”

  “I don’t see why he wouldn’t like you,” Frank said. “You’re a pretty amazing girl, Khloe.” I chuckled uncomfortably, wondering how this conversation was still in full swing.

  “He’s a good guy,” I said. “He’s everything I ever wanted in a person.” There was a moment of silence as we ate, and after a few minutes Frank spoke.

  “If Carter was alive, would he approve of this Ty kid?” he asked. I was surprised to hear my father speak Carter’s name, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I hesitated, thinking about it, trying to envision how a meeting would go between the two.

  “Yes,” I said. “I think Carter would have loved him to the point of wanting him all to himself.” I was surprised when Frank smiled, amused.

  “How is the Drake family?” he asked. “The last time I heard from any of them was when Melanie brought me flowers after the accident. She had that kid with her, the kid sister.”

  “Gracie,” I said. “She’s a sweetheart.”

  “She is,” Frank agreed. “How is Mr. Drake? David, I think his name is.” I twirled the under cooked spaghetti onto my fork, trying not to grimace as Frank chewed heartily on his burnt toast.

  “I don’t really know,” I admitted. “I haven’t talked to Mr. Drake since he kicked me out of Carter’s funeral.”

  “He did what?” Frank put his fork down and stared at me, looking shocked. “Why would he do that?”

  “He doesn’t like me.” I pushed my plate aside, appetite gone for good. “He didn’t like me when Carter and I were friends, either. David and I got off on the wrong foot and it all went downhill from there.” I leaned back in the chair and sighed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I need to make things right with that family.”

  “I don’t know what you can do,” Frank said. “If I can remember right, that David Drake isn’t a cakewalk, Khloe. Maybe it’s best to just let it go.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “I owe it to Carter to make things right. David thinks I influenced his son’s decision to commit suicide.” Frank set down his toast and looked at me.

  “You don’t believe that, do you? I know we haven’t exactly been friends the last few years, kid, but I do know that whatever happened with Carter had nothing to do with you.”

  “Even so, I’d rather make peace with him,” I said. “If anything, just for myself.” Frank shrugged then, raising just one shoulder slightly. It was a habit I was also guilty of. Like father, like daughter.

  “Good for you,” he said. “I guess your mother raised you right.”

  “It wasn’t just mom,” I said quietly. “For a while you were there, too.” Frank looked at me again and set down his fork. Our eyes met.

  “I hope I can be that man to you again,” he said after a moment. “I think I can be, if you let me.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for trying. I’ll try, too.”

  “Try what, Khloe?” Frank asked. I leaned forward, propping my elbows up on the table.

  “I’ll try to become the woman mom wanted me to be.”

  Chapter 37

  February 14, 2017

  Some say that Va
lentine’s day is the saddest day of the year. I happen to agree. Khloe loves it, but I think it’s for the boxes of chocolate. And besides that, she makes it a point to egg the floral shops every year on V-day eve. It stopped being funny when Mr. Wilson caught her in the act and called the police, but that didn’t stop her from doing it again. I swear that girl asks for trouble everywhere she goes. Maybe one day, when she finds someone to love, she’ll start taking things seriously instead of pretending everything is a joke. I love her, but sometimes I wonder if she’ll ever grow up. With me here holding her up, probably not. With me here, she doesn’t have to.

  I wish jay and I were still together. What an amazing day this could have been with him. I wonder if he misses me as much as I miss him. I doubt it. I think it’s hard for him to even admit that he’s gay. Why do people fall in love so easy?

  It’s bullshit.

  * * *

  “I do not pretend everything is a joke!” I slammed the journal shut and tossed it aside, fuming. “And even if I did, someone had to. Carter was so uptight he couldn’t unclench his ass cheeks with a wrench!”

  “There’s an image I didn’t need,” Ava said. She looked over at me, the nail polish brush hovering over one fingernail. “Thanks for that.”

  Huffing, I crossed my arms and glared at the wall.

  “Just because I lived life with a little bit of fun does not mean I was really as bad as he makes me sound.”

  “Did you really egg a floral shop?” Ty asked. He was halfway through a bowl of cereal, the spoon hovering over the bowl as he looked at me.

  “Every year,” Ava cackled. “Mr. Wilson hated her. She’d get the death glare every time he saw her around the city.”

  “Just because he was an uptight asshole,” I grumbled. “He had to admit it—I kept his life interesting.”

  “You kept everyone’s life interesting,” Ava said. “Mine and Carter’s included.”

  “He writes about it like it’s a bad thing,” I said. Jay, who was kicked back in the recliner, laughed.

  “Carter was a straight-shooter,” he agreed. “He must have mellowed you out, Khloe.”

  “This Carter sounds like my kind of person,” Ty said. He sat down next to me, and my skin seemed to light on fire as his leg touched mine. I swear it didn’t matter how much I was around him, the flame never flickered out.

  “He was amazing,” I said, and reached forward for a hard candy that was chilling in a bowl on the table. “Everyone loved Carter. He was the type of person that didn’t have enemies. Everyone liked him too much.”

  “Eh,” Ava said. She took a drag on her cigarette and shrugged. I didn’t love that she was smoking cigarettes, but I knew that if it had to be anything, I’d rather that than crack or booze. “We butted heads a lot,” she said. “There are still moments when I think about him and want nothing more than to punch him in the face.”

  “I think that about you every day,” I teased. Ava glared at me, but she was resisting the urge to smile.

  “Only the truest of friends feel like that sometimes,” Jay said. I smiled and rested my head on Ty’s shoulder, melting into him, allowing the demons of the past to shrivel away and vanish.

  Chapter 38

  Monday was a rainy day when I met Mrs. Dunham in her high school office for our counseling session. It had come to the point that I was starting to look forward to our weekly meetings. There was something comforting about being able to talk to the wise woman knowing that she understood what was happening in my life. She had known Carter—she had known his secrets, dreams, and desires, and now it was my turn.

  “I’m almost six months sober,” I said. Raindrops splattered against her office window, but it was calming. The rain always soothed me.

  “That’s excellent,” Mrs. Dunham said. “Have you noticed any changes in your life because of it? For better or worse?”

  “I still want it sometimes,” I admitted. “I used to turn to alcohol and drugs to help me face the world. It felt like I couldn’t even be social without being drunk first. That’s been hard—trying to make friends without a liquid crutch.”

  “Have you succeeded?” Mrs. Dunham asked. I thought of Ty. And of Jay. And even of Ava, who day to day was getting stronger and stronger without the drugs to tear her down.

  “The guy I’m with, Ty, he’s so good to me. He’s amazing. I’ve had to get to know him sober—I’ve had to be intimate with him completely sober. There haven’t been any mornings that I’ve rolled out of bed with regret because I can’t remember who I slept with and whether we were safe.”

  “How does it make you feel to be able to make friends sober, too?”

  “Honestly, it’s awesome. Ty sees me for who I am sober and not for who I turn into drunk.”

  “And he still likes you,” she said. It wasn’t a question. “I think you’re on the right track, Khloe.” She set down her pad and paper and leaned forward, her eyes catching mine. “Carter would be proud of you, wouldn’t he?”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “He would.” And for the first time since he’d been gone from my life, I believed that.

  I was surprised when I got out of therapy to find Ty waiting for me out front in his little white car. He spotted me coming out the front door and waved before getting out to greet me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. Then, feeling like an asshole, added, “I usually just take the bus home.”

  “Jay told me your car was out of service for a while, so I figured I’d offer my own,” Ty said. “He told me where you would be—so here I am.” He grinned and opened the passenger’s side door for me, but not before pulling me into his arms and greeting me with a kiss. I allowed my lips to linger on his for a moment, feeling my heartbeat speed up with a buzz of electricity.

  “You’re a sweetheart,” I said, pulling away. “Thank you for being here.” I slid into the front seat, inhaling the soothing scent of vanilla and spices coming from the air freshener on the dashboard. Outside, the sky was threatening to open, and I was suddenly glad that Ty had made an unexpected appearance. Not just for the ride though—but for him, too.

  “I thought you might be working today,” I said as we drove. “I always worry I bother you too much, so I didn’t call this morning.”

  “Bother me? It only bothers me when you don’t call. No work today. I’m nearing my hours.” He smiled at me. His smile was charming, and I felt my face flush red as if I was back in high school drooling over the football quarterback. It was inevitable—that smile would forever get me.

  “No damsels in distress to save, either?” I said with a grin. Ty laughed. I enjoyed his laugh.

  “Well there is you, Khloe,” he said. “Didn’t I just save you?”

  “I don’t need saving,” I told him. “I can handle myself.”

  “Somehow I believe that.” Ty turned on the heat as he drove, bobbing his head gently to the music coming from the radio. I watched his fingers tap on the steering wheel, taken with how laid back and chill he was, even sober. Jesse had always been relaxed, but it was only ever because he was high. I found it so odd that someone could embrace and enjoy life so much—without drugs or alcohol.

  “I told the counselor about you,” I said after a moment. “I never really know what to call you, though, except for the guy I like. Nothing was ever made official.” On the window next to me, it was starting to fog over. I traced a smiley face in it with my finger, thinking of Carter, wishing he were here to meet and give me the green light on Ty. I knew that he never would have approved of Jesse, but Ty was a different story. Ty was good. Kind. Whole. Ty was exactly what I needed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. His tone had shifted slightly—the joy and teasing were gone. “I already have a girlfriend.”

  “You what?” I whipped my head around, my heart dropping in my stomach. For a reeling moment, I thought I might vomit all over his dashboard.

  “Yeah,” he said, furrowing his brow. “I couldn’t leave my girlfriend. She
’s too good for me. She’s kind and funny and extremely intelligent—she’s come a long way since I’ve met her.”

  “Oh.” I dropped my hands into my lap, both humiliated and too shocked to speak. I cleared my throat to say something—anything—but Ty continued to talk.

  “She wants to be a doctor,” he said. “Well, a surgeon. She’s even cooler than me. And really ambitious.”

  I looked over at him, feeling the flush rise to my cheeks as he met my gaze and smiled. The skin around his eyes crinkled up in the corners, and he grinned that silly, lop-sided grin. I nibbled on my lip, fighting a smile.

  “She sounds like a catch,” I said. “Don’t let that one go.” He reached for my hand then, his fingers intertwined with mine.

  “Trust me,” he said. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Chapter 39

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ava leaned over me to peer out the driver’s side window of my car, leering anxiously at the house in front of us.

  “I doubt it,” I admitted. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”

  “You’re loca,” Ava murmured. “I wouldn’t pick a fight with David Drake if my life depended on it.”

  “I’m not here to fight him, Ava,” I said. “I’m here to make peace. If not for me or Mr. Drake, then at least for Carter.”

  “Maybe we should have Ty with us,” Ava said. “Or even Jay. I know the dude is gay, but he could probably fuck somebody up pretty good.”

  “Good grief, Ava. Chill. You’re not even coming in. Besides, they’re both working.” I opened the driver’s side door, wincing as the hinge on Missus Betty’s springs creaked and squealed. Jay had managed to tinker with the insides, making her a tiny bit more reliable to drive, but the dingy body of the car was a lost cause.

  “Leave the car on,” Ava hissed. “If Mr. Drake comes after you with a rifle, I want to be able to flee the scene.”