Catch My Fall (33 page)

I couldn’t take it.

“So how are you?”

Nicely done, Faye. As smooth as it comes.

“Pretty good. A little depressed though,” he said.

I was honestly startled by this declaration. “No, why?”

He gestured to the empty pie pan on the counter. “Because there’s no more Apple Pie for me to take home and eat for breakfast the rest of the weekend. That’s why.”

I smiled. “Aaah, I thought you knew me better than that.”

He leaned back against the sink as I snuck passed him. I opened the fridge and pulled out a half size casserole dish before turning like a model on
The Price is Right
so he could see his prize.

His grinned from ear to ear. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope! Feel special?”

“Marry me,” he said, taking the pie and lowering his face so he could make inappropriate tongue movements towards it. I leaned against the counter across from him, the gentle murmur of conversation drifting in from the living room. He set the pie down and leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms. His flannel was open at the top, showing a gray tank top underneath, and his sleeves were still rolled up, displaying his forearms. God, he looked nice.

I did my best not to noticeably look down in disdain at my own ragamuffin appearance.

“So how have you been?” He asked.

I shrugged. “Alright, I guess.”

“Any word on the job front?”

I shook my head. “No. How bout you? How’s the game coming?”

“Stellar. Has Evan tried to buy you out yet?”

I smiled. “Yes actually!”

“What a prick.”

I laughed, and there was a pause in the conversation. I searched for something to say. Silence had never been a problem with us before, but now it felt unbearable.

He crossed his ankles and leaned back. “So, I hear you and Cole are talking again?”

Fuck. You. Jackie.

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

He nodded. “How’s that working out?”

“I don’t know, pretty good I guess.”

“Really?”

I paused. “Yeah?”

He pursed his lips in an exaggerated frown. “Have you ever thought of putting yourself out there more?”

I stared at him. “What? What does that mean?”

“You know, like dating wise. Maybe try some dating web sites or some shit.”

“Why on earth would I do that?”

His hands flailed out in a gesture of mild exasperation. “To meet people, get out there and maybe find someone worth your while.”

“Stellan -”

“I’m just saying. I mean, are you giving Cole the time of day because you’re lonely and bored, or -”

Because I can’t have you, I thought. I shook my head violently, as though I could shake the thought free. “Whatever reason I’m giving Cole the time of day is my business.” I paused. “And ‘putting myself out there’ isn’t going to do anything for me anyway.”

“Sure it will.”

I felt my volume rising. “What do you expect to happen? I put my chubby face up on some site and say, ‘Hey fellas, look no further! Desperate and sexually frustrated thirty something who needs to lose thirty pounds. Now, you’ll need to pay for everything because she has no job and therefore no money, AND she lives with mom, so when she does drop her panties, you get to have awkward sex in the childhood bedroom of her mother’s house.’ Seriously, I’m a fucking prize. I’m surprised they’re not banging down my door, right fucking now.”

Stellan stared at me a moment, mouth open. “Is that really how you see yourself?”

“That’s how anyone else would see me.”

“Bull shit.”

I fought to keep my eyes as wide as I could, knowing that if I blinked, tears might roll down. “It’s true. I’m painfully aware of it, Stell. Fucking painfully aware of it.”

Stellan shifted his arms and set his jaw. “You know how I feel about that prick -”

“Yeah, everybody else feels the same fucking way, but it’s my decision.”

His lip twitched in a half snarl. “Of course it is. But you deserve better.”

“Yeah, hard to believe when ‘better’ doesn’t want me!”

Jesus, Faye! Watch what you say right now! Watch what you fucking say!

It was his turn to get louder. “That’s fucking bull shit.”

“I’m a fucking mess, Stellan. Nobody wants this!”

He moved so quickly, I didn’t have time to jump. I felt warmth and pressure at my sides, then at my chest as he closed the distance between us, locked his arms around me, and kissed me. He held me tight, gripping the fabric of my shirt and pulling me away from the counter.

His kiss was soft, but his arms were strong. Every inch of him pressed into every inch of me as his kiss lightened, then returned with double the force. I shivered, reaching up to his shoulders, locking my fingers into the folds of his flannel. My body had melted the instant he touched, and I was holding onto him to stay upright as much as to pull him closer. He lightened his kiss again, and I whimpered as he slipped his tongue past my lips and darted it against mine. The response was involuntary, and I almost crumpled against him. I gripped him, pulled at him, and he reciprocated, the two of us shifting against the counter until I was almost lifted completely onto it. I moved my hands to his back, my mouth open, my tongue seeking his. He hoisted me onto the counter and slid his hand up my back, folding his fingers in my hair.

“Have you guys seen my keys?”

We parted instantly, Stellan turning for the fridge, his hand to his lips to hide a smile. Jackie stormed in from the dining room to find me sitting on the counter, my hair probably knotted at the back of my head, and I could feel the afterburn of his stubble against my chin.

I swallowed, staring at her. She glanced at me, then at Stellan, then back at me.

I shrank under her gaze.

You’re a whore. You’re a whore. You’re a whore. You’re no better than Cole.

“What’s going on in here?” She asked, her tone jovial and teasing, but I was up and heading down the hallway toward the stairs.

I bounded up and away, up and free of what had just happened, away from the glaring reality of my fuck up.

I turned to shut the door to my room.

Stellan was there. “What’s wrong?”

I growled. “Why now?”

“What?”

“I wanted you so bad! I practically threw myself at you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “When?”

My voice was shaking. “At Evan’s party! You pushed me away.”

He shook his head. “You were drunk as a fucking skunk, Faye.”

“I wasn’t that drunk!”

“You were fucking steaming. What kind of man do you think I am?”

I gasped for breath, trying to settle my voice as I spoke. “But now I’m not free anymore. Why did you have to do this now? Why couldn’t you want me before -”

“What? I’ve always wanted you. And what do you mean you’re not free?”

I put my hands to my face. I was an instant from weeping, openly bawling on the floor. I fought it, feeling my throat clench and burn. “I’m with Cole.”

He shook his head like I’d slapped him. “So fucking what?! Break it off. He’s a cocksucking fuck bag!”

“I can’t do that!”

Stellan stood there, his face changing slowly. “Why not?”

I searched for an answer. Why couldn’t I? Why couldn’t I simply tell the man who collapsed in my arms weeping at Paparazzi that he should go fuck himself? “I can’t just hop from one bed to the next -”

His expression hardened. “Are you serious? Is that what you think this is?”

We stared at each other. He held my gaze, and I trembled. Then he was gone, and his absence felt like drowning.

I pressed my hand against the door, and softly pushed it shut.

CHAPTER seventeen

N
o one heard from me for days. Even my mother attempted to breach the sanctity of my room and was met with Troll-under-the-bridge worthy disdain.

I couldn’t be in the world. I couldn’t be anywhere but under those covers with the shades drawn and that sticky grit at the corner of my eyes.

I can honestly say, I don’t think I’ve cursed God more than I did on those three days. There was a lot of dramatic dropping to my knees and sobbing whilst silently repeating the words, “Why? Why?” over and over again. And to be honest, I wasn’t really sure where the wound was – why I hurt so badly. I replayed the moments of that Thanksgiving afternoon with alternate endings, replayed the whole month differently. Even Halloween was treated to a retelling by a snotty, sobbing raconteuse.

The battery on my phone died that first afternoon, and I didn’t bother plugging it in until the morning of day three.

What? I had wallowing to do. The newly charged battery resulted in a near extinction level event of my phone blowing the hell up. Every ringtone I had on the damn thing sounded off, one after another after another, cutting each other off like they were all stumbling to be heard; Cole, Meghan, Jackie, Evan, Mom, and yes - Stellan.

I stared at the phone, imagining what the text might say – all the caring, even loving things he might say that would make my heart feel better.

Wait, what? Faye, you rejected him.

Rather than acknowledge this thought, I picked up my phone, scanned the inbox, ignoring all other texts and opened Stellan’s.

I need the last of the sketches you were working on, if you have them. Thanks.

Natural reaction? I cried. Clearly that wasn’t the heartwarming message I’d been hoping for.

But it’s such a simple message, what’s the problem you basket case?

He said, ‘Thanks.’

Thanks. Not “Thank you,” not “You’re a Doll,” not… well whatever, he said Thanks! It may seem the simplest thing, but I knew him well. He had the manners of some juggernaut of chivalric purpose. He held the door open for everyone, he called men ‘sir’ and women ‘dear,’ and he himself was the person who’d solidified my stance on the words used to express gratitude.

If you mean it, you say Thank YOU. If you don’t – well, you’re a dick so hopefully nobody does anything for you, but that’s not the point! Damn it, I clearly wasn’t thinking straight.

I texted back.

Cavalier ‘I’m-not-sobbing-right-now’ Me -
I might have a few strays. Nothing major. When do you need them?

I scanned through my other texts, responding to Cole’s many random notes that had culminated in a somewhat brisk declaration of my silence being rude and undeserved. I told him I’d had a few bad days and wasn’t in the greatest mood – and that my phone had died – but as I was typing, I started spewing my thoughts of how, given his previous behavior, I could stab a fork in his eye, and he’d still have no right to call me rude.

I gave Jackie and Meghan blanket statements, and ignored Evans’ text completely. They all wanted to know how I was, or in Meghan’s case, whether she should try going redhead as well. By the time I breached the downstairs for the first time in 72 hours, Stellan’s ringtone sang from my phone, firing off a strange pressure in my stomach - like someone bracing themselves for bad news.

ASAP,
he said.

I know what you’re thinking. That I broke out in a rendition of “Sobbing on the Kitchen Floor,” but I didn’t. The sense of indignation I felt at Cole’s texts was still with me. I quickly responded that I’d collect what I could find and be right there, then proceeded to stomp and fume around the downstairs for twenty minutes building up enough fire to melt steel. I searched my office for any signs of work, anything that had survived the great purge, but there wasn’t anything. I did have a little flash drive with some of the base work I’d done when we first started – scenery, backdrop, tree lined walkways and various nervous animals peeking over walls. I moved everything over to the drive and then deleted it all from my computer with a spitefully aggressive click. Then without falter, I grabbed my wool trench out of the closet, wrapped a scarf around my neck, grateful to have my bed head at least somewhat contained, and stormed outside.

The weather had shifted with purpose. I grumbled in the cold, not because the insides of my nostrils were freezing – though they were - but because I was determined to be as put out as humanly possible. How dare he ask me to just drop everything in my busy life and cater to his basement programmer hobbies? Yes, I could have driven, and yes if I’d stayed home I would probably be perfecting my rendition of “Sobbing on the Kitchen Floor,” but that isn’t the point. The point is – whatever.

I caught sight of Stellan’s house and the tail end of a rather slick looking black sedan in the driveway. I stomped up the steps onto the porch, and unlike any other visit in my life, rang the damn doorbell.

With derision!

Linda let me in with a surprised smile, commenting on the bell, but only in passing as she offered to take my coat. I managed to refuse, politely and sneak out of her company as quickly as I could.

“What up, Jensen?”

I was greeted at the bottom of the basement stairs by Evan’s distracted How-Do-You-Do? He was splayed out on Stellan’s disheveled bed and Stellan was sitting at his ‘wall of screens.’ I stood at the edge of the Persian rug and kicked at the tassels.

Why did Evan have to be there? I’d deflated completely!

Stellan’s room was a basement, ladies and gentlemen. No one ever claimed differently, but it was nice. The walls were still cinderblock on two sides, but the floor was finished. The door to the bathroom was at the foot of the bed. There was a separate, unseen section of the basement for storage and robotics circuitry when Stellan felt inclined.

I mentioned he was a genius, yes?

Stellan had done much of the finish work down here himself, teaching himself carpentry and plumbing from books and YouTube videos, but he was content to leave the final two walls unfinished. Instead he focused on making it home – art on the walls, a fleet of technological wizardry in the form of three separate monitors on his work desk. There was a flat screen the size of an industrial fridge on the wall with bookshelves and an entertainment center he built himself. He had every video game console known to man, every movie he’d ever liked, but those were all stored away behind the wooden cabinet doors.