How We Fall (5 page)

He couldn’t mean that. I braced my hands on the counter and stared out the window at the hills.

Aunt Shelly walked in and pulled a water bottle from the fridge. Hair and makeup done, but still wearing jeans and a lose button-up. She smiled. “Look at you, making dinner.”

I almost always either did it myself or helped, so she shouldn’t be that surprised. My half-smile was all I could manage. Ever since my deal with Marcus, I’d had a hard time looking her in the eye.

“I sent Marcus to corral the kids for dinner. Gotta get dressed,” she said, on her way back out of the room. I propped my elbows on the counter and rested my head in my hands.

Marcus’s voice sounded in the living room. His fifteen-year-old brother, the nine-year-old and seven-year-old sisters, and then the twins completed my cousins. He was the oldest in his family, and it showed. He yelled up the stairs for Chris and herded the twins to the bathroom to help them wash their hands because Candace had forgotten. When they came out, over the white noise of the twins’ toddler chatter, he told Angie to stop stuffing the head to Candace’s Barbie in her mouth and 19

How we Fall

to come to the kitchen for dinner.

Neither girl came. Candace started wailing, so Marcus deposited the twins in the kitchen and went back to the living room. He caught my eye as he left and shook his head.

The parents, particularly his parents, almost never disciplined the kids. They thought the fresh air and a naturally-instilled work ethic would keep them from pulling the heads off each other’s dolls, but it didn’t.

Dad wandered in and he picked up a slice of the breaded zucchini. “All set for tonight?”

I had no trouble meeting my dad’s eyes. “Yep. We’ll be fine,”

I said. “You look nice.” He actually looked great. His dark hair had turned gray, but it made him seem all the more sophisti-cated, George Clooney-style.

Uncle Ward and Aunt Shelly appeared. The two-year-old twins ran to them, jabbering incomplete sentences. “Goodbye, kids.” Uncle Ward said. “Have fun tonight.”

Mom’s heels clicked down the stairs. How little time she took to get ready always amazed me. The peach cocktail dress and her obsidian jewelry easily made her prettier than I’d ever be. She tugged gently on my hair with a “Bye, babe,” and whirled out the door with Dad.

The door had barely closed when the twins started crying.

They weren’t my siblings, but I’d been here when they were born, helped them take their first steps, and panicked when they swallowed their first Legos. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Come here,” I said. They wailed louder. If they didn’t calm down, everyone was going to be on edge and cranky. I grabbed a napkin from the counter, sat Gage on my lap and pulled Nathan onto the bench beside me. “Did you guys see the bunnies in the yard today? I saw a mom, and a dad, and two babies.” I wiped at Gage’s face, and he paused his sobbing, but Nathan kept right on crying.

20

Kate Brauning

When the parents and my sister were home, walking through the kitchen at dinner time was like wading upstream during a salmon migration.

Marcus stood back while the rest of the cousins crowded the table. He saw me watching him and smiled. Not a real smile, but enough for now.

Chris had grabbed a bowl and poured in at least a cup of ranch dressing for his zucchini. Candace’s face was red from scrubbing away angry tears, and Angie still had the Barbie head, dangling it by the hair.

“Can you fill the plates?” I asked. The boys wouldn’t let me go. Gage hiccupped between sobs and Nathan’s face dripped tears.

I wished the parents wouldn’t all four bail at once. I’d spent most of my life with one sister and my parents. There weren’t enough of us to make this kind of chaos.

Marcus met my eyes, and after a moment, he nodded. He’d looked tired since we got back from the park, shadows gathering under his eyes. He stepped over to the table and took the Barbie head from Angie. “If you don’t stop being mean to your sister, you’re going to bed early.”

Angie looked to me. “Nu-uh. Jackie won’t make me.”

“Oh, yes, I will. Listen to Marcus or you don’t get dessert.”

“I can fill my own plate,” Candace said. “I’m nine.”

“No, you can’t. The casserole pan is too hot.” Marcus handed her a plate, but let her serve her own zucchini. “Let’s go to the living room. We can watch a movie.”

“But we’re over our screen time limit,” Candace argued.

Perfect idea. “We’re babysitting. If your mom has a problem with it, then we’ll fix it later,” I said.

The twins’ wails of misery ceased the moment they heard the television static. Their family didn’t watch much TV—another one of my aunt and uncle’s ideas. My parents, thankfully, gave 21

How we Fall

me one to put in my room when we moved from California.

We didn’t have cable, but I could watch the mainstays of my classic film collection after everyone else went to bed. This crowd would never sit still for Grace Kelly or Audrey Hepburn.

I carried Gage and my plate out to the living room, Nate wandering after me, bawling at not being carried too. “Marcus, can you get him?”

Marcus plunked Nate onto his lap and the toddler distracted himself with the sleeve of Marcus’s shirt. “Did you guys pick a movie yet?”

Candace, Angie, and Chris were pulling DVDs out of the cabinet. Chris was arguing the supremacy of Pixar over Dream-Works while Angie argued back and Candace tossed aside the action films.

Our living room wasn’t as big as the kitchen, but it comfortably fit two couches, an armchair, and a number of end tables.

A narrow window had been dug out of the side of the hill, and pansies in pots rested on the outside ledge.

Marcus ate in three minutes and then leaned back in a bone-less, exhausted slouch. I was nearly done with my dinner by the time Candace reached around her brother and slid in a DVD.

As the logo flashed across the TV, I looked at the space between us. He sat in the middle of his cushion, and I sat in the middle of mine. Like at the park today, he didn’t look at me, didn’t react to me, and I kept my distance.

I wouldn’t mind so much, except the distance wasn’t only physical. Alone, we were us. But at home, with our families, anywhere in public, we couldn’t be. We said it was a pause, but it didn’t feel like one. It was more like an endless pattern of daily breakups.

Marcus glanced over at the sticky toddlers crowding me. His hand brushed my arm. “Done with your plate?” He gathered up his and mine and carried them to the kitchen. I watched 22

Kate Brauning

him leave, not missing the way his shirt stretched tight across his shoulders.

My phone chimed. A text from Hannah.

So, apparently Anna hooked up with Eric F. He’s only been
single for 2 weeks.

My hand tightened around my phone. My stomach rolled and the sickening guilty feeling surged upward. Hooking up so soon after a breakup wasn’t nearly as bad as hooking up with a cousin.

I’d chosen this, I didn’t want to leave this, but sometimes I hated myself for it.

Marcus came back, turned off the lights, and sat next to me, an inch closer than before. He stretched out his legs and his leg touched mine. My lungs started to hurt so I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I leaned back, forced my body to relax, and let my hand rest on the couch between us. Here, that was as much as I could do to reach for him.

I could have gone for ice cream at Todd’s to hang out with everyone tonight; that’s where Kelsey and Hannah were. Marcus would have agreed to watch the kids by himself. But every Saturday he got up before dawn to help the parents load the truck for their weekly trip to the farmers’ market, then helped me get the kids up and make breakfast for them, and if it was my turn for managing the produce stand in town, helped me with that. He shouldn’t have to handle dinner and the kids’

bedtime routines by himself.

Marcus shifted and his hand brushed mine before he pulled away. How no one knew what we were doing was beyond me.

The parents threw us together all the time, had paired us off as soon as our families moved into this house. They assigned us chores together. We babysat together. We drove to and from school together. Maybe they were simply relieved we got along well; the two kids who weren’t going to fight and tear down the 23

How we Fall

house if left by themselves.

Not that we were left by ourselves very often.

“I’ve seen
Avatar
eight times,” I said.

The shadows on his face lifted a little. He glanced at my leg, which still touched his, and then looked all the way up to my face, his glance pausing on my lips. Today, for some reason, he was breaking the rules. Maybe because I was, too.

He sat up a little straighter. “Didn’t you say you saw a goblin in the basement earlier?”

“I did.” The cousins were paying no attention to anything besides the movie.

“Want help getting rid of it?”

“Definitely.”

Marcus winked at me and stood up. “Watch the twins, Chris? I’ve seen this too many times.”

“Uh-huh,” Chris mumbled, sprawled on the floor. Almost three years younger than Marcus, he’d never been much help with the younger kids, but at least he’d grown out of antagoniz-ing them.

Marcus turned off the outdoor lights, I closed the kitchen curtains, and he locked the front door. I snapped the lid on the casserole pan and shoved it in the fridge. We had an hour or so until we’d need to give the twins a bath and get them in their pajamas. By the time that was done, the movie would be over and I’d have to bribe Angie to brush her teeth and then Marcus would sweet-talk her and Candace both into going to bed without a fight. Chris would be up and wandering around until midnight at least. But right now, we had an hour of freedom.

Three minutes of which had already passed.

The basement door was off the kitchen, and the absurdly creaky stair boards were a great sibling warning system. Bare bulbs dangled from the ceiling, and the cement floor was empty except for a stack of boxes and my reading corner. I’d brought 24

Kate Brauning

down a square of leftover carpet, a reclining beach chair, and a worn but supremely comfortable quilt.

I stood in the quiet, cool space, and the stress drained away.

“I know it’s hard,” he said.

“What?”

He stopped beside me and touched my hair, let the strands sift through his fingers. “I mean, I can tell. Going from the youngest in a small family to one of the oldest in a huge family.

I get it.”

But he couldn’t, really. He’d been a part of this family since he was born. I’d moved in at fourteen.

No matter how hard I tried, it was still overwhelming, even after three years. I’d never be as good with the kids or as responsible as Marcus. “I wish all four parents wouldn’t leave at once.”

“I can pick up the slack. You don’t have to.”

“You shouldn’t have to, either.”

“I don’t mind so much.” He sank onto the beach chair. His voice lowered. “You said I’m not hurting you. Are you sure?”

That weight in my chest grew heavier. Marcus wasn’t hurting me, exactly. It was something else. Something I couldn’t look at too closely. We had our rules, and they’d keep us safe. “I’m sure.” I moved closer to him, stood by the beach chair.

He looked up at me. “Promise me.”

I sat down on his lap. “I promise. I won’t let you hurt me.” I just had to keep things in their place.

“Good.” His hand touched my waist, slid down to my hip.

“So this is ‘later’ I take it?” His brown eyes were dark in the dim light.

I didn’t protest. “Actually, I was thinking I’d bring down my computer. Take a look at a few more university websites. College is important.” The shadows on his face were sharp. I swung my legs over his so I sat sideways. The fact that my tank top had been pulled down a bit far didn’t bother either of us.

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How we Fall

He shook his head. “Half the time I don’t know what to do with you.”

I could give him a suggestion if he wanted one. I leaned closer and he met me more than halfway. His lips warmed mine. I put my hands on either side of his face, the stubble on his jaw pricking my palms. He exhaled and his body relaxed.

Locking his arms behind my back, still kissing me, Marcus leaned back against the beach chair and took me with him. I rested my weight against his chest.

When this whole thing started a year ago, we’d agreed we couldn’t really be together. We’d made our three rules: no commitment, no labels, and no sex. Our thing, whatever it was, wasn’t a big deal. But it felt like one when his hands slid down my back and gripped my waist, when he traced my cheekbone with his thumb, when his breathing sped up and mine matched his and I didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, even though I needed air.

He was my best-kept secret. When Marcus looked at me, what other people might think didn’t matter. This was me, and we were us.

Here, he wasn’t so reserved, so quiet. His responsibility was left upstairs with the kids and the dishes and the arguments.

I ran my hand through his hair and brushed my lips against his jaw. His arm slid around my waist, holding me to him. I couldn’t help but grin as I threaded my fingers through his and kissed him until his heartbeat pounded and I kept every bit of his attention.

The basement was dark. We lit it up.

26

Sylvia Young returned to the produce stand Monday and Wednesday, both of the days Marcus and I worked the stand. Radishes and onions, then sweet corn and green beans. Both times she lingered, talking about either moving into the house her dad was renting or senior year. She made eye contact with Marcus for thirty seconds out of every minute, and she wouldn’t quit playing with her hair, twisting a dark strand of it around her index finger.

When she took her second bag of produce for the week back to her car on Wednesday morning, I crossed my arms. Marcus didn’t notice. He was rearranging the bags of spinach.

He liked order. He liked consistent patterns and reliable processes. My whole family was a chaotic jumble of mixed-up parenting roles and babysitting shifts and nontraditional everything, and he was the one person who kept trying to put things back together.