Freefall (21 page)

I nodded. “A little bit.”

Which was kind of downplaying it. I mean, I had no idea how I was going to get onstage for Scratching at the 8 Ball’s gig at Good Times here in town, and the thought of trying it in other towns at clubs I’d never been to was even freakier. Still, like everyone had been saying from the start, chances like this didn’t come up all the time. And it was kind of an ego thing too. I’d
been the bass player who helped get the band to this point; it sucked that Craig would get the credit. If things had been different, if Isaac were still alive, maybe we all would have been going on this trip.

“I knew you’d be kicking yourself,” Daniel said, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t listen to me. I still want to kill you for bailing on us. But I did figure out one good thing that’s going to come of it.”

“What’s that?”

Still talking in his quiet voice, he grinned and said, “You may have noticed that the dude we got to replace you isn’t much of a looker. Which means, of course, that more chicks are going to be keeping their eyes on
me
while we’re playing.”

I laughed as I pulled my keys out of my pocket. “All right,” I said, loudly enough so that they could all hear. “I’m out of here, you guys. Have a good trip. Make sure you break your legs and all that stuff.”

Mikey and Craig were arranging the amps in the back, but Mikey shot his hand out to wave. “Try not to run my dad’s business into the ground, Seth.”

“Sure thing.”

My brother walked with me to the Mustang. “What do you think of ‘The Jared McCoy Band?’” he asked.

After all this time, the guys hadn’t been able to agree on a name, so it was looking like they were stuck touring as the Real McCoys after all. But Jared still wasn’t giving up on his search for something new.

“I think
Mikey might have a problem with you trying to name the band after yourself again.”

“Yeah, good point. I hate this band-naming shit.” Jared pulled out his cigarettes. “Anyway, you take care of Mom, okay?”

As I was nodding in answer, he reached over and patted my back for about two and a half seconds. I almost could have sworn it was supposed to be some type of tiny partial hug thing, but I guess it’s also possible that there was an insect on my jacket he was trying to squash.

4:45
P.M.

If I’d made a list of the places where I wanted to spend time alone with Rosetta, behind the cart barn at her golf course wouldn’t have come to mind. I was happy with whatever I could get, though, so if it turned out that she wanted to stand here all day like this, I had absolutely no problem with it.

“I told the guys in the pro shop,” Rosetta said between kisses, “that we’d be teeing off”—
kiss
—“as soon as you got here.”—
kiss
—“So we should”—
kiss
—“probably go do that.”—
kiss
—“Don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” I said.

Then we went back to kissing.

Yup.
This
. All day. More than fine with me.

But after only a couple of minutes, Rosetta gently pulled back. “You
know, it might be kind of awkward if someone finds us here.”

I doubted that was going to happen. The storm her uncle had been talking about was on its way now, and no one except Rosetta and I seemed to be braving it. And anyway, I was dressed in the country-club–legal clothes I’d brought to work with me that morning, so there was nothing to worry about—unless they had some rule against making out behind the cart barn. Which, come to think of it, wouldn’t surprise me at this place.

“Okay, okay,” I said.

We headed over to the first tee. Without the building blocking the wind, the cold stung my face. Huge gusts pulled at our clothes, thrashed through the trees, and ripped over the flags. It sounded like we were surrounded by dozens of cracking whips. A round of golf didn’t seem to me like the best thing we could or should be doing right now, but it was important to her so I kept my mouth shut.

Using my borrowed driver, I hit a terrible shot—my specialty—and waited while Rosetta took her turn. Then we trudged to my ball. The wind was so rough that Rosetta had to hold on to both bags of clubs to keep them from crashing to the ground while I swung. Three shots later, I got my ball close to where hers had landed on her first try.

“This whole me-golfing thing is so lame,” I said.

Rosetta touched my arm. Loose strands from her ponytail were flying all around her face. “You have to remember that I’ve
been playing since I was three years old. Think of this as a competition with yourself to get better, not to try to beat me.”

While I was nodding, lightning flashed across the sky. It wasn’t long before thunder started rumbling. “Um, that isn’t good,” I said.

“Why must you conspire against me?” Rosetta asked the sky, shaking her fist. Then she said to me, “Let’s try using the power of our brains to hold off the rain for another couple of hours.”

“Think that’ll work?”

“We’ll see.”

And then—
right
then—it started coming down. Boy, did it ever. This was not your typical Washington rain that drizzles on and off all day; it was a full-on, tropical-rain-forest-style downpour. It was as if God had pulled the plug on a lake in heaven and was funneling it onto Rich Bitch Hill Country Club.

Within seconds, our clothes and hair were soaked. The wind was picking up, making the evergreen branches slam together and the air whistle through. Rosetta pulled me under a tree, but it only blocked us a little because the rain was blowing sideways, too. “I guess we didn’t have to wait long to get the answer to that brain power question,” she said. “What’s our new plan?”

I held her close. Kissed her again. Being stuck in wet clothes and shitty weather is not one of my favorite things, but I wasn’t minding this.

Smiling, Rosetta turned her face away. “Seth, we need to focus here.”

I
was
focusing. Just not on what she wanted, I guess. “How about if we head to your place now?” I gestured across the way. “If we cut through, we’ll get there pretty fast, right?”

I’d never been inside her house, but she’d pointed it out to me once. It wasn’t the absolute hugest or fanciest around these parts, but it was pretty damn close.

“We
could
do that,” she said, biting her lip. “I don’t think you’ll like it much, though. My aunt and uncle are home, and they won’t give us even one second of peace. They’ll probably try to make us stay in the family room and play Scrabble with them.”

“That’s out, then,” I said, quickly. “I’m no good at that game.”

Rosetta laughed, and I’m sure she knew that I just wanted to be alone with her.

Another surge of wind rolled through, trees bent over, and there was a loud
crack!
A huge branch—longer and thicker than an entire Christmas tree—crashed about ten feet away in the spot where Rosetta and I had been standing before the rain came.

We stared at each other. Her eyes were wide open with shock, and I’m sure mine were as well.

“Holy shit,” I said.

“No joke,” she said.

5:09
P.M.

Rosetta handed the guy in the pro shop the bag of clubs she’d borrowed for me. “Just so you know,” she said all casual, “a huge widow-maker just fell in the middle of fairway one.”

That might have made zero sense to me if I hadn’t seen it myself—and if Rosetta hadn’t told me that when tree limbs fall like that they can spear right through a person and kill them instantly.

I wasn’t going to worry about what could have happened, though. Really, I was more interested in trying to figure out where Rosetta and I could go to change out of our soaked clothes and keep dry for a while. She had a bunch of friends who lived nearby, of course, but the idea of hanging around any of them sounded as bad—or worse—than being stuck with her aunt, uncle, and a pile of board games. My place was our best bet, really. Jared and the guys were all out of town, and Mom would be heading to Good Times for her shift soon. The problem, of course, was Rosetta’s car phobia. The Valley is a long walk from the golf course.

Rosetta came over to me after finishing up her conversation about our near-death experience. Together, we stood dripping on the carpet next to a rack of men’s jackets as we stared out the window at the rain pelting down on my sad-looking car. “Any ideas yet?” she asked.

And that’s when I got one. A good one. The
best
one.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you in a minute,” I said, trying to sound calm even though my heart was already beating faster at
the thought that I might be able to make this happen today. “First, let’s put your bag in my car so we don’t have to worry about it.”

Rosetta followed me back into the storm and waited as I dealt with the bag and stuck it in the trunk. Then I took a deep breath, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the door. “I know this is earlier than we’d talked about, but I think you’re ready,” I said.

“Ready for what?”

But I could tell by the way she’d started chewing on her lip and shaking her head that she knew.

“This is a serious situation here,” I said. “We’re completely soaked, the trees are trying to kill us, and any second we could get struck by lightning. So we should get out of here. I’ll take you to my place. We’ll get dried off. Change our clothes. Figure out what to do with the rest of our afternoon. Sound good?”

“Seth, no,” she said, shaking her head harder now. “I’m not prepared to do this. I mean, not at
all
. I’m supposed to have seven days left. Remember?”

My excitement was fading already, but I had to follow through. I’d known it wouldn’t be easy ever since that day at the coffee shop when she’d first told me she had this phobia, but now I had to do my best to convince her. “Rosetta, just try. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I don’t think I can—”

“See, you’re setting yourself up to fail. Don’t do that.
Maybe it will help you to try to think the same way you did when you convinced yourself to go bungee jumping that time?”

“That was
different
.”

I pretended like I hadn’t heard her. “Ready?”

She was hanging back, shivering and wringing her hands. She didn’t look like she was ready, or like she was capable of getting there on her own. I helped her out by putting my hand on her back and scooting her closer. The seat and floor inside were getting soaked already, but I didn’t care about the car. This was going to be so worth it.

“You can do this,” I said. “I know you can.”

Rosetta moved with me, her body tense like she was about to bolt at any second. I wasn’t going to let that happen, though. If I could just think of the right thing to say, I could calm her down. I would help her do this. I had to.

“You’re going to be fine. I promise,” I said.

Rosetta was staring at the car. She reached out, touched the edge of the open door, and then jerked her hand back like she was afraid of getting sucked in.

“Seth, I can’t,” she said between quick, uneven breaths.

Should I back off? Try to come up with a new plan?

We were so close here.
She
was so close. It would take only a few quick movements for her to go from standing next to the car to sitting inside it. This was not the time to give up on her. If she just ducked her head, stepped in, sat down . . .

“Try
thinking about how great you’re going to feel when this part is over,” I said. “Like free-falling or whatever, right?”

She was standing frozen now, chewing her lip like crazy. Her eyes were wide and unblinking. I wished I knew more about how this whole overcoming-your-fears thing was supposed to work. Was I doing it right? Was this helping her at all? She looked so scared.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” I said, wiping streams of water from my face with one hand and rubbing her back with the other. “I’ll drive carefully. I’ll be the safest driver you’ve ever seen.”

That must have made something click because finally Rosetta started moving.

Just . . . not
toward
the car.

Instead, she pulled away from me and stepped backward. “I’m sorry,” she said, bending to grip the tops of her knees as she panted like she’d just finished a marathon. “I can’t do it. I
can’t
.”

Then she took off running.

5:14
P.M.

Through the sheets of falling water, I could just make out Rosetta as she sprinted to the grass, stopped suddenly, and sank to her knees. She was crying. Because of me. Because I’d been so sure that I could make her get in the car even though she’d said she wasn’t ready. Because I’d fooled
myself into thinking
I
could somehow cure her of a clinical disorder.

Still standing where she’d left me, all I wanted to do was punch something. Repeatedly. My own face, maybe. I mean, what was my
problem
? But instead of dwelling, I closed up the car and ran through the rain after her. The closer I got, the more my insides felt like they were being squeezed.

I’d fucked up. Completely. And I didn’t know how to fix it.

She was sitting all scrunched so that her knees were pulled up, hiding her face.

“I’m such an asshole,” I said, lowering myself onto the grass next to her.

She didn’t respond with words. She just sobbed onto her pants.

When I’d seen her crying in the stairwell, I’d been clueless about what she would want or need from me. Unlike then, this time it was my fault she was crying. I had little doubt that what she wanted was for me to stay back and keep my hands off her. Part of why I’d pressured her at the car was because I’d wanted so badly to get her alone. I knew it and was pissed at myself. She probably knew it and was pissed at me too.

“I shouldn’t have done that back there,” I said. “I know it didn’t help you. I only made things worse, and I’m sorry. I’m a jerk. A dick. A complete asshole dickhead
loser
—”

“Stop,” she said quietly, still not looking up.

I stopped.

And then we sat there in the wind and the rain, soaked and shivering beside each other. I tightened my jaw to keep my teeth from clanging together like hers. This had been such a bad, bad idea. All of it. I should have taken her up on the Scrabble when I’d had the chance.