The Price of Falling (16 page)

I had to choose my next words carefully, this could go either way. Except I was never very good with words. Especially with him, and when our bare skin was touching. I took in a breath as I tried to formulate my reply. I hoped it would be something along the lines of, I want to know if you like being with me, because I like being with you and I don't want it to stop.

That was what I wanted to say.

However what came out in that nervous moment was, ‘Do you like doing this or is it the money?’

I knew it sounded bad as soon as I'd said it. Jason's reaction was minimal, for him. But then, he had smoked a joint earlier. He simply shrugged my arms off and stepped away from me.

‘What's that supposed to mean?’

I knew I'd annoyed him. But he annoyed me too; he let me think that he might like me just so I could give him more money. He must have known it couldn't go on like this, unless he thought I had an endless supply of money.

Or maybe that
was
what he thought, I realized.

‘I don't have enough money to keep doing this,’ I mumbled.

‘You think that's all I'm worried about?’ he asked, accusing.

I stared at him, surprised. I wanted to answer, yes. Money was always the only thing he'd talk about with me, especially at first. I knew it had all gotten a bit blurred recently. I saw him so often we'd agreed without really discussing anything on a rounded up figure. Usually I gave him money on Friday night when he wanted to buy alcohol and pot, but he had stopped counting it. At least in front of me anyway.

Sometimes there were nights we hadn't arranged to do anything but an opportunity was suddenly there, if he was stoned and I kissed him enough it led to more. He wouldn't ask for extra money, although I kept expecting him to. I wasn't sure if he forgot or maybe thought I deserved a perk. In truth, I didn't know what to think.

My silence answered his question.

The look he gave me was one I hadn't seen before. He didn't look angry, he looked...different.

I was panicking too much myself to really take it in before he turned away from me. I watched him pick up his t-shirt from the floor and pull it back on. He shot me a glance as he walked past but that new expression had gone, replaced by the cool, indifferent look he usually wore.

I grabbed up my shirt as well, pulling it on as I followed him down the stairs.

‘Where are you going?’ I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

We were at his house. His Aunt hadn't been gone long. It looked like we were going to have another wasted opportunity, all because of my big mouth.

‘I think you should go,’ Jason said, over his shoulder. As if my being there was of no interest to him. His words cut through me a lot sharper than I expected.

‘What?'‘

He didn't repeat himself, he ignored me entirely. I followed him blindly as he walked into the kitchen. I stood there like a fool while he opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of juice. As he closed the door he looked up at me briefly, expressionless.

It made me so angry, I knew there had to be some feeling under there, some feeling for me.

‘I was only trying to talk,’ I said, trying to keep my voice level. ‘Why has it always got to be your way?’

Jason didn't reply in words, he simply rolled his eyes at me.

I can't explain how I felt other than enraged; it wasn't fair. I wasn't being given the chance to explain or ask anything, and now he was pretending I was nothing.

The pent up anger ran through me, my hand acted of its own accord and smacked the carton of juice out of his hands. It dropped onto the floor halfway across the kitchen, big globs of liquid flying out in an arch.

I was horrified I'd done it almost the second after it happened. I didn't like the reaction I got at all, in fact it haunted me for a long time. Jason had frozen on the spot but I could see his hands, now holding nothing, were shaking. The look on his face was pure fear.

I turned around and left. I ran back to my car and once inside gripped the steering wheel with trembling hands. I was upset, more than I could describe, and shocked I had behaved exactly like my Dad would have. I'd seen Dad get angry before, mostly it was just him shouting. When I was younger he'd slap me round the head if I was naughty.

It had been terrifying. I couldn't believe I'd done exactly the same thing. Worse still had been the look on Jason's face. I would never forget it.

When I was older, and thought about all of this a lot more, I realized that had been the look of someone who'd been hit before and knew what was coming. It was horrible to know he thought I was going to do that.

We didn't speak for three days. I felt so ashamed, I wanted to tell him how sorry I was. It still didn't address what I'd been trying to ask in the first place, but that paled in comparison now. I didn't want him to hate me.

I tried to catch his eye in class but he never looked my way. After three days, I took a deep breath and went over to him as class was dismissed. Amongst the bustle of students, hopefully no-one noticed.

‘Hi,’ I said, sounding as pathetic as I felt.

He looked up at me warily.

‘I'm sorry,’ I said quietly, desperate to tell him. ‘I...can I talk to you later?’

‘I'm busy later,’ he replied, eyes flickering away.

I swallowed back the sudden lump in my throat and held out a folded piece of paper, warm and rumpled from being squeezed in my hand. This was my plan B, in case he refused to talk to me.

‘I wrote this,’ I stated dumbly. ‘Would you read it?’

I held it out, and at first he didn't move. ‘Please?’

I must have sounded pretty desperate, as he accepted the paper from me. Then he turned away without saying another word. I wasn't sure if he'd read it or throw it in the trash.

I was a wreck all day, absolutely shambolic in football practice. Coach got frustrated and gave me a good chewing out in front of the guys. I felt so fed up I just took it, I couldn't feel angry any more. I felt heavy, like I was waiting for the end.

It was June, and although I didn't know it then the end was already in sight.

I'd never written anything important to anyone before, not like this. I'd never stepped over a line so badly that I had felt such a need to apologize, to explain myself. I had anticipated Jason not wanting to talk to me. I could hardly blame him. So just in case, I had written what I wanted to say on a torn out piece of workbook paper. I'd done it at home one night, instead of my Math assignment. After I'd screwed up a few of the first drafts and I had one I was satisfied with, I thought maybe in future I should communicate by writing. I wasn't a great talker, I was too shy.

Especially with Jason, I couldn't think straight when I was with him.

I hoped he would at least glance at my note. I re-read one of the copies to myself. I hadn't addressed it to him, just launched straight into it.

'Please don't be angry with me. I'm really sorry and I'd never hurt you.

'I'm no good at talking, I always say the wrong things. I didn't mean it how it sounded.

'I'll do whatever you want. Please don't hate me.'

I didn't even sign it. I was worried I would incriminate myself if anyone ever saw it. He knew it was me, that's all he needed to know.

I hadn't mentioned anything about money again. I didn't care now, I would get more money if that's what he wanted. I had to know he wasn't going to stop seeing me.

I stayed in that night and watched videos with my sisters. I stared at the television but I wasn't really seeing. I kept thinking, turning things over in my head.

Considering what happened next, it probably would've been easier if Jason had just continued to ignore me, and our little chapter could come to a close right there.

Saturday late afternoon Alicia came out to find me, carrying the telephone handset. I'd been scooping up the fallen leaves from the pool for something to do. I put the net down to take the phone from her. My heart pounded. ‘Hello?’

‘It's me,’ Jason said. ‘Are you busy?’

‘No,’ I answered quickly, like he probably knew I would.

‘Do you wanna come pick me up?’

Of course I did. We arranged a time. He said we should probably talk. I told him my parents were going out that night, it was Saturday.

Unfortunately my sisters weren't. Because I thought I'd have no other plans, I had agreed to stay home with them tonight.

I was determined to make this work.

My parents left the house around seven. Once my sisters were settled watching a film, I offered to run out and get them a takeaway. Of course they jumped at the prospect of greasy pizza.

When I came back I gave Alicia and Courtney their pizzas. They were so excited by it, and so engrossed in their film that they weren't bothered by me saying I was going to do some studying.

I had already snuck Jason in and he was waiting for me upstairs. We hadn't spoken much in the car when I'd picked him up. Neither of us wanted to start an awkward conversation it seemed.

I hurried up to my room. Jason was sitting on my bed, nosing at the Math assignment I hadn't even started yet.

‘I thought you'd be ahead of me,’ he said.

I smiled nervously. ‘Not on Math.’

I shut the door and came to sit on the bed too, with some space between us to be polite. I didn't want to push things. It was difficult to concentrate though, when we'd been in this room so many times before and the memories of sex came to mind so easily. I glanced at my blank notebook and pot of pens on the desk. Next time I needed to say something I'd write it down, I thought.

Neither of us said anything. It made me more nervous.

‘Do you wanna put some music on?’ he suggested eventually.

I jumped at the idea to fill the silence. There were a few of his cassettes by my tape player, so anything I picked he was bound to like. Whatever I put in and started playing was one of those strange, electronic bands.

I sat back down on the bed. At least the music filled the gaps as I tried to begin speaking. I could feel the blood pumping round my ears, my head. Almost half the song drifted by and I still couldn't think of how to start.

It must have been obvious I was struggling. Jason shifted across the bed to sit next to me. I knew he was looking at me but I was too shy to raise my head. Instead I stared down at his leg, his hands. I watched as one of those hands reached over to gently touch the back of my hand.

I leapt at the contact and grasped his hand with both of mine, not too hard but firmly enough. This one action of holding hands was enough to tell me what I wanted to know; he didn't hate me at least. The rest we could work out later.

I pulled him to me and kissed him, hesitant at first but as he kissed me back I lost my control. I pushed him down on the bed, covering his body with mine. I did wait until I felt his hands sneak under my shirt before I did the same. I raised up to help peel his t-shirt away and shed my own. My hands went to the waist band of his jeans but then he said my name.

‘Mike?’

I stilled, looked up at him. His face had that placid look, but his eyes were different. They looked more open somehow.

‘I wouldn't hate you, y'know,’ he said quietly. So quietly I almost didn't catch it.

I absorbed those words but didn't know how to reply. I nodded instead. I knelt over him and pressed my mouth to his. We could talk later, maybe, when I wasn't so distracted. I was afraid I would say something to spoil this.