If I Fall

by Amber Thielman

  “How far have you gotten?” she asked. I squinted, trying to rack my memory. It was amazing to me how clueless getting high left me. But then again, sometimes not being able to think straight was exactly the therapy I needed. Thinking, I had come to realize, was just as overrated as happiness.

  “January 5th, I think,” I said. “That was the second entry.” Nodding, Ava opened the book and flipped over a few pages.

  “The next one isn’t until October 25th,” she said. She squinted, mumbling something under her breath in Spanish I couldn’t make out. Not that I ever could, really. She could have been cussing me out, and not for the first time, and I wouldn’t have had a clue.

  “You mean he didn’t write in it for nine months?” I asked.

  “Almost a year,” Ava said. “The entry jumps from January 2014 to October 25th.”

  “October?” I repeated. “October 25, 2014?”

  Ava nodded, confirming, and my hands automatically started to clam up. “What does it say?” I asked, though hesitant to hear the answer. She cleared her throat dramatically as if getting ready to stand up on stage and give a speech.

  “October 25, 2014,” she read. “Khloe’s mother died today—” Ava stopped, caught off guard, suddenly looking uncertain. Her eyes fluttered up from the page, and she looked at me. I nodded, encouraging her to go on, despite the desperate urge I had to cover my ears and hum. She did.

  “My heart hurts for Khloe and Mr. Daniels. They were close, and it’s hard to see her in pain. I just wish I could take it away from her. The pain, I mean. She means so much to me, and I hope she knows that.” Ava stopped again, looking uncomfortable, and then handed the journal over to me. I took it, my finger marking the page she had been reading from. My hands were shaking, but I didn’t know if it was because of the meth or the circumstances.

  “You don’t have to read it out loud,” she said. “Just read.”

  I looked down at the entry.

  Khloe’s mom, Charlotte, had cancer. In the last few months, she’d been getting sicker. Poor Khloe. It hurts her. I know it does, especially because she had to take care of Charlotte at the end. No fourteen-year-old girl should have to go through something like this. I’ve tried to be the best friend I can to her, but there’s only so much one person can do. I know that from experience.

  When Logan was killed, nobody was ever able to make it better. It sucked. It sucked for everyone, and it still sucks now.

  An odd, tight sensation gripped my chest. I handed the book back over to Ava. She glanced down, skimmed it, and then closed it before setting it down on the coffee table.

  “Who’s Logan?” she asked. I picked up the bottle of vodka, poured myself a shot, and took it straight, grimacing.

  “Logan was Carter’s older brother. He died last year, just a year after my mom.”

  “How?”

  “He was shot.”

  “Really? Bummer.” Ava took another hit off the pipe, inhaling deeply. “I bet Carter’s tight-ass dad had a field day with that.”

  “He did,” I murmured. “He never let us forget it.”

  I’d known at the time that being downtown around the Three Mile Station was a bad idea. Three Mile was off the map, prime realty for drug dealers, gangs, and thieves. But even at seventeen, the thought of buying liquor and not getting ID’d compelled me. You couldn’t do that anywhere else in the city, and I was up for the challenge. Being a rebel was what I had become best at, just to spite my father, who had become cold and withdrawn after Mom’s death a year before.

  “Let’s go home,” Carter said. “I don’t think we should be down here. I told you it was a stupid idea to skip school.

  “Quit being a pussy.” I hitched my purse over my shoulder and lit another cigarette, more anxious to get drunk than worried about being caught.

  “Don’t go in there, Khloe,” he begged. By then, his tone had taken on a hint of desperation, which compelled me even more so to do it. “I don’t think we’re welcome on this side of town.”

  “If you want to go home, then leave.” I was angry, irritated, and ready to punch him in the balls.

  “You should both leave,” someone said, approaching us from the other direction. It was Logan, Carter’s older brother. Logan, the good guy. The sweet guy. The man with so much potential and so much drive that he made the rest of us look like losers.

  “This isn’t any of your business.” Reaching for the door handle, I told myself that I wasn’t about to leave without a cheap bottle of booze tucked into my bag. I had something to prove, though at the time I had no idea what. Just something, I suppose. As I started to pull on the handle, a man dressed in sagging pants and a dirty white t-shirt opened the door before I did. He smiled, and for some reason, I noticed that three of his teeth were capped with gold.

  “You kids looking for something good?” he asked Carter and me.

  “I’m sorry,” Logan said, and he stepped in front of me. “They’re minors. We were just about to be on our way.”

  “I wasn’t asking you.” Suddenly, the man with the gold teeth looked less than trustworthy, and every speck of confidence I’d previously had vanished like water on a hot sidewalk.

  “No, it’s okay,” I stammered, finally realizing my mistake. “We were just leaving.” I backed away from the door, my eyes on his, wondering what I had dragged us all into and if it had been worth it.

  “C’mon, Khloe,” Carter murmured. He’d taken my arm in his grasp to steer me away, and Logan had rested his hand on my other one. Count on those two boys to protect me like a sister. They always had my back.

  “I don’t think the lady was done doing business,” the black man said. Carter stalled, but Logan kept pushing me forward, ignoring the guy with the over-sized clothes and gold teeth. We had about vanished around the corner when I heard the click of the gun. Instead of stopping, Logan had pushed us faster, somehow managing to place himself behind Carter and me, shielding us. Under his breath, I could hear him mumbling a prayer, but I couldn’t bring myself to join. I was too terrified to think straight.

  “Your God won’t save you today,” said the man with the gold teeth. And then he had fired the gun.

  Just because he could.

  “No wonder David Drake hates you,” Ava said. She opened another bottle of beer and took a drink. I wasn’t sure how she wasn’t passed out all over my couch yet. Although I had come to find that underestimating someone like Ava was a beginner’s mistake. She could run with the big dogs. That’s why we’d become friends.

  “Carter took it upon himself to keep me out of it,” I said. “He told David it was his idea, not mine.”

  “Did he believe that?”

  “Not even for a second.”

  “I’m surprised Carter stayed friends with you,” said Ava. I looked up, caught off guard, suddenly defensive.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You got his older brother killed,” Ava said with an innocent shrug. “I sure as hell wouldn’t keep you around.” As she took another hit from the pipe, I pondered what she’d said. Despite my resistance, she had a point. I’d been an outcast during my teenage years after the death of my mom—a rebel, an attention-seeker in a world of evil and mishap. Carter was my angel in disguise. He’d pulled me up, brushed me off, and sent me forward. Thanks to him, I got clean. Thanks to him, my world had slowly started to piece itself together again. Thanks to him, I was still alive.

  “I wasn’t always like this,” I told her. “My world started to crumble when my mom got sick.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you were ever a precious angel.” Ava laughed. I looked down at the glass of vodka in my hand, tracing the rim with my fingertip.

  “I did really well in school, actually. My mom was my biggest supporter. She was behind me every step of the way. It didn’t matter what choices I made.”

  “And your dad?”

  “Frank wasn’t around much, even when my mom was
alive. But when he was around, he was great.” My eyes averted to the journal on the table, and I sighed. “He wasn’t always the way he is now. My mother’s death drove him over the edge.” Ava, noticing my eyes on the journal, leaned forward and picked it up. She opened it again, skimming through it.

  “Well?” she said. “What are you going to do now?” I reached for the book, flipping to the beginning to re-read the first page.

  “I’m going to go to school,” I said. “And I’m going to get some answers from Traci Dunham.”

  Ava and I were back to work at the club Monday night. The weekdays were slow, and for that, I was relieved. I was getting tired of all the sympathetic looks and sad eyes. It was no secret in a place like that. Everyone had known Carter for the amazing person he’d been, and now he was dead, leaving his pitiful excuse for a friend to fend for herself.

  “Khloe, check this out,” Ava called. I glanced over at her, still dusting the beer glass in my hand, trying to rein my thoughts back in. Ava had a streak of liquor shots lined up on the counter and, as I watched, she proceeded to take them all in a row, shooting back the little cups of booze with an expression of triumph. She shot the last one and slammed it back down on the counter before raising her slender arms above her head in a silent cheer.

  “You’re pretty skilled,” I said, listening to the applause her show received. Ava was always the first to put on a good show, which is why our boss hadn’t fired her yet for always being sloshed on the job. Lots of men came into this club, and men liked women like Ava.

  “I need to get laid,” Ava said as I filled an ice-frosted glass with beer for a customer. “I just need sex, you know? Sex is good. Sex is great.”

  “I volunteer as tribute!” Jesse called from where he was sitting at the end of the bar, quoting a popular movie. He was playing on his phone, hunched over the counter with a drink in his hand as he eavesdropped on our conversation. I rolled my eyes, but Ava looked smug.

  “I would consider taking you up on that if you weren’t already spoken for,” she said. Ava didn’t tend to care who was hitting on her. If they’d give her a good screw and get her high, she was sold.

  “I don’t think anyone’s spoken for you, have they, Jesse?” I said, shooting Ava an icy stare. Being set up was not on my agenda, not by far.

  “Oh, come on!” Ava cried. Her pitch was high and whiny, like a teenager being grounded. “Jesse’s nice. Aren’t you, Jesse?” She looked over at him, and he gave us thumbs up and a grin. I turned away from Ava, annoyed, and poured a shot of tequila for myself, but not before glancing over my shoulder to make sure our supervisor wasn’t watching. He wasn’t, per usual. I didn’t even know where he was, actually, and that was part of the reason I still worked in this shithole. Despite being underaged, I worked my ass off for under the table wages accompanies by the occasional drink on the job. Our boss was a skeevy loser, but it’s the reason I’d been hired in the first place. I could make enough money to live and our boss could turn the other cheek on the legalities of it.

  “Stop trying to set me up,” I said. “I don’t need to be with someone, Ava.” Across the club, the front door opened, and a group of men piled it. I had my head down scrutinizing a broken mug when I heard Ava purr. I looked up, trying to pinpoint what she was drooling over.

  “Firemen,” Ava said. “Men in uniform get me all hot and bothered.”

  “Men, in general, get you hot and bothered,” I said, but she wasn’t listening anymore. Granted, it was nice to be able to feast our eyes on a group of men who weren’t in their sixties or drunkenly slobbering over every female in the club. That seemed to be the norm here.

  “Hi,” I said as the men made their way up to the bar. “What can I get you?”

  “Beer all around,” one of the guys hooted, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Typical men. Loud and slobbery, and did I mention loud?

  “No beer for me, thanks,” one of the men said, stepping around his friend. “I’m the designated driver.” He flashed a smile as his eyes met mine.

  “You,” I said. “I think I know you.” The guy with hair as dark as night leaned forward, his vivid blue eyes seeming to sparkle mischievously.

  “You look pretty familiar yourself,” he said. “What’s your name?”

  “This is Khloe,” Ava said behind me. Christ, she was as loud as they were. “She’s pretty amazing.”

  “She definitely looks it,” the guy said. He smiled again, and it dawned on me where I recognized him.

  “You’re the paramedic,” I said. “That’s how I know you.”

  “Guilty,” he said. “Do I know you from a job?”

  “You probably don’t remember.” My chest tightened as I stared at him, memories from that evening wrapping my chest in a suffocating vice. “My best friend committed suicide, and you were one of the medics who arrived at his apartment.” A moment of silence settled between us, and I saw the guy’s face slowly start to melt into realization.

  “I do remember you,” he said softly. I tried not to think too hard about how disturbingly terrible I’d acted in front of this guy after finding Carter dead and getting kicked out of the funeral. I was sure that was all it was going to take for this person to back away politely and never look in my direction again, but he didn’t. “I’m Ty,” he said instead, offering his hand. I took it in mine, both of us caught off guard. I was flattered that he hadn’t gone running for the door.

  “Khloe,” I mumbled, and Ty smiled.

  “Nice to see you again, Khloe,” he said. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled back at him, but I didn’t feel I wanted to get too far into that discussion. I filled a glass with cranberry juice and slid it across to Ty, who had taken a seat next to a few of his friends at the bar. Down at the end, Jesse was staring Ty down, looking less than impressed. I wondered if it would be too mean to kick him out for being a jackass.

  “So, are you a firefighter, too?” Ava asked Ty, leaning across the bar counter. Her shirt was low cut, cleavage peeking or falling out of the tank top she wore. I rolled my eyes, but I knew it was a lost battle. If it had a penis, Ava was sure to be all over it.

  “I’m not, actually,” Ty said politely, and I was a bit surprised to see that he didn’t do a double take when looking at my friend. Every man did. “We work with the firefighters, but my adrenaline buzz comes from helping people.”

  “Well, that’s cool, too,” Ava said, turning away with disinterest. The nice guys weren’t exactly her type.

  “I think it’s really cool,” I admitted when Ava walked away. Apparently, she was planning to throw herself at every firefighter in the club until one took the bait. “Being a paramedic would be fun, I think.”

  “It is fun,” Ty said. When he looked at me, he was smiling again. “I mean, it can be really trying at times, you know? It can be hard.” I nodded, remembering the night I’d found Carter, his skin so cold and pale, eyes vacant. I felt sick to my stomach, and I knew he was right. I couldn’t imagine having to see something like that daily.

  “I used to want to be a doctor,” I told him. “But I don’t know if I’m any good under pressure.” I refilled his juice, trying to ignore Ava’s loud flirting from the other end of the bar.

  “What kind of doctor?” Ty asked.

  “A surgeon,” I said, and my cheeks flushed red. “A trauma surgeon. Fat dream, huh?”

  “No,” Ty said. “I think that’s amazing.” And I could tell he meant it. Across the bar, someone shouted a profanity, and a beer mug shattered into pieces on the floor. I jumped, startled, and looked over to see Jesse and one of the fire guys sizing each other up.

  “Jesse!” I shrieked, and Ty looked over just in time to jump up from his seat and pull his buddy off before somebody took a hit.

  “Jesse, get the hell out!” Ava shouted at him. “That is not okay!” I watched Ty pull his friend back, murmuring something in his ear as he patted his shoulde
r. The firefighter Jesse had tangled with was a huge guy, probably over six feet two with bulging biceps and a deadly smolder in his eyes. I almost wanted to call Ty off so that I could see him slam Jesse into the ground.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Jesse probably started it.”

  “I think booze started it,” Ty said with a smirk. “But we better go. If they clock into work tomorrow with battered faces, I’ll be hearing about it from our chief.” I opened my mouth to respond, but it was already too late. The entire group of firefighters and medics had thrown money on the counter and walked out of the bar. Jesse, unfortunately, was still standing at the end of the counter, looking pissed.

  “You’re fucking loco,” Ava said to him. “Chill.” I glared at Jesse, trying to decide if I would rather punch him in the face or groin.

  “Thanks a lot,” I said to him. “You’re an ass.”

  Despite Ava’s begging, pleading, and bribes with beer, I refused to read more entries in Carter’s journal until I could figure the first thing out. Though it seemed silly to her, and probably everyone else, I just couldn’t bring myself to read the whole thing at once. I felt like once I finished reading, and I was done, then Carter would be done too. The last bit of him that I had was in that stupid, leather-bound book, and I couldn’t bear to see it end.

  I’d decided to go back to our high school to meet with Traci Dunham. It seemed to me that her involvement in my best friend’s life had been so much more than I’d ever known, and if anyone had answers for me, it would be her. I had no idea why, or even what to say to her, but I couldn’t leave it alone.

  Tucking Carter’s journal into my coat, I took the bus downtown to my old school, the very same school I’d dropped out of my senior year, months before graduation, much to Carter’s dismay. I’d hated school and hated the bullies, the misfits. I’d hated the mere atmosphere of a toxic, violent building full of imposters. Part of me wondered as I walked up the front steps of the high school how more people hadn’t committed suicide in school. High school was brutal.