Where We Fell (7 page)

13
.

THE STRANGEST THING ABOUT being a cancer survivor is
that you feel like you’ve been given this second lease on life. That somehow,
after all the chemicals and the battles you’ve won, after staring death in the
face and coming out the victor, you’re led to believe that you’re bionic or
something. But at the end of the day, you’re still human. No more, no less.
You’re not some wonder of modern science. You’re just you, without cancer.

The reality of my overwhelming humanness is a slap
in the face. There’s nothing perfect or second-chance about any of this.

I’ve ruined everything and I know it. But there’s
something inside of me that won’t come to terms with the fact that it’s
entirely my fault. I saw what I saw and I can’t rectify my wrongness in my
brain. I can’t see Coco as the guy. Can’t stop seeing Hannah on the couch
looking at someone the way she used to look at me.

Our garage door makes this ungodly noise because
it’s right beneath my bedroom. It shakes the floor and rattles the entire way
up and down so I’m never surprised by my parents’ arrival. Tonight is no
exception. They’re trying to be quiet when they come through the kitchen, but
their voices carry up the stairs and into my open bedroom door where I’m braced
on the edge of my bed, awaiting their return.

My dad is the first one to clear the stairs and hit
the landing. But he’s not the one I want to talk to. Given his occupation, he’s
been known to have skewed reactions to certain situations. My mom, on the other
hand, she has a tender heart. While she doesn’t cry much, or hadn’t until
recently, she’s soft on the inside. I need a soft answer to this mess I’ve
made.

Leaning out of my doorframe, I wait for her to walk
my way. She’s looking down at her purse and when I call to her, it makes her
jump and drop it on the ground. Her hand flies to her chest and she makes this
surprised gasping sound that causes my dad to reappear quickly. Always on
alert. I’m just glad he didn’t pull his gun or anything.

“Sorry. I was wondering if you had a second?”

She gazes over my shoulder towards my dad, her
expression one of even deeper shock. Maybe it’s been a while since I’ve asked
for a heart to heart. I can practically see her chest tighten up right in front
of me. Like I’ve just asked the most wonderful question in the entire world.
She’ll be so disappointed in me after I’m done talking that I’m almost tempted
to tell her never mind. But I need her.

I need my mom.

She slips quietly into my room and I’m almost
embarrassed to start the conversation. My dad closes the door behind her with a
soft click and I take a deep breath, pressing my fingertips into the thick
denim seam of my jeans against my left calf. She’s worrying her hands again,
and I smile a little at the fact that, even though I’m adopted, I somehow took
on some of her most obvious mannerisms.

Without stalling further, I take a deep breath and
fix my eyes on my computer screen that’s sitting atop my desk. The screen is
pitch black – reflecting my sorry face back at me.

“Mom, I screwed up.”

Her spine stiffens as she closes her eyes and
inhales slowly. “Is Hannah pregnant?”

I laugh so loudly that she jumps, her eyes flying open
at the sound.

“
Mom
! When would we have even had the
opportunity? I mean . . . oh my God.” Rubbing my neck with
shaking palms, I can finally breathe. Relief surges through me at an
accelerated rate and I relax onto one elbow to look at the confusion on her
face. “No. This isn’t a sex talk. I don’t think.” The smile on my face slips a
little as I state the truth. “I went to see her and when I got there she was
dressed up for Halloween and there was a guy with her—”

“No.” My mom’s reaction is cute, actually. She’s
frowning like a cartoon tiger.

“I
thought
it was a guy. It turns out it was
just her roommate, Coco, dressed like a guy. But you should see this girl, Mom.
She’s a swimmer, I guess? And she’s got these shoulders.” I sit up and show her
the width between my palms. “I
knew
it was a guy. I could have sworn she
was cheating on me. And it just,” I stop, feeling my heart speed up at the
memory. “It wrecked me. I had all of these thoughts, like why did I survive
cancer just so that I could feel like I was dying anyway?”

My mom’s lips are pressed in a very thin line as she
thinks about what she’s going to say. With a quick movement of her hand, she
gathers a lock of hair in her fingers and tucks it gracefully behind her ear.
“You know, when we adopted you, you were this tiny little thing. We didn’t even
have all of your family medical history. Which is why it was so hard when you
got the diagnosis.”

“I know.”

She swallows quickly, nodding. “We didn’t know your
birth mother. And she didn’t know who your father was. So, you know, we’ve
always raised you as ours. And while I’m not sure your birth father was an
idiot . . .”

“Hey,” I interject, but she rolls her eyes and holds
up a hand to stop me.

“I can tell you that your dad was a bit of a jerk
around your age.”

“No.”

“I know. Shocking, but true.” Her smile is
infectious. “Here’s a story for you. I was in honors choir way back when. And
one day, after your dad and I had been dating for a good while, he snuck out of
his math class early to walk me to French. I had no idea he’d done that, and it
was towards the end of the year, when all of the concerts were over and there
was really nothing left to do but hang out with friends and whatever.” She has
a far-off look in her eyes, and I settle onto my bed, trying to imagine the
entire thing.

“Anyway, that day I was talking with one of our
mutual friends, Chris. He was going on about this girl he had a thing for, and
I knew she was out of his league, but the way he was going on and on about her,
I couldn’t help but listen. Now Chris was pretty touchy-feely, but he had never
crossed any lines. He shared a locker with your father, for God’s sake. He was
talking about this girl and he’d reached over and put his hands on my hips,
talking close so that no one else would hear. But his attention kept going in
all kinds of directions,” she pauses. “This was before a lot of people knew
about ADD. Just so we’re clear.”

I nod because I want her to continue.

“He was looking around the room and I grabbed his
face to get him to focus and that’s when we heard the choir room door slam
shut.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head
in exasperation. “He didn’t know the whole story and he took off down the hall.
I ran after him and he refused to talk to me. He didn’t exactly say it, but I
could just tell that he was about to break up with me. And I was young. In
love. I didn’t want him thinking I’d cheated on him. It was a mess.”

“How did it get worked out?”

“I told him I was sorry because it probably did look
bad. I mean, I
know
it looked bad. But I still, to this day, wish he
would have known me better than to think I’d cheat on him. Especially with a
friend. And especially in public.” A sigh lifts her chest before she settles
back on the mattress to look me square in the eye. “Now that I know you’ve made
the exact same mistake, I guess I can come to the conclusion that boys your age
are all a flock of idiots.”

“Well, that doesn’t help.”

“Sure it does. I’ve been on Hannah’s end. If you
think
you
feel bad, she feels a million times worse.”

With a groan, I flop back onto my bed and rest my
arm across my eyes. “What am I supposed to do?”

“If I had a time machine, I would have gone back to
that day and shoved my finger in your dad’s chest, telling him that he was
wrong. I would have made him make it up to me. Because I wasn’t in the wrong.
He was.”

“You still married him.”

“Young and dumb.” She rests her hand against my
chest and sighs. “Hannah’s not like me, though. She won’t just let you off the
hook for this. And you know you were wrong. So, maybe you can tell her that.
Admit it. With as much as it hurts, you need to be the one who mends it. After
all, I don’t know any other girls that would fall in love with a boy during his
cancer treatments.”

“She’s not in love with me,” I whisper, because I
know it’s true now.

“
Please
. If there’s one thing I know, it’s a
young girl in love. If she hasn’t said it yet, she wants to. Or wanted to
before you acted like—”

“An idiot. I get it, Mom.”

She smiles and I think maybe, for the first time, my
mom might know what she’s talking about.

“Go and tell her you’re sorry.”

“Now?” I glance at the clock and back at the
sarcastic look on her face.

“Not now. Tomorrow. Take tonight to think about what
you’re going to say. Get some rest. And then prepare to grovel about it for the
next twenty-five years.”

After she’s left my room, I lie on my back and stare
up at the ceiling wondering if I’ve been given just that—another twenty five
years to make up for this.

14.

TIMING IS IMPERATIVE.

But timing is a bitch.

I’ve never been one to feel the need to rush
anything. But the overwhelming panic that seizes me as I try to go about my
morning routine lets me know that this isn’t an everyday case of getting
somewhere on time. I just need to get to Hannah and tell her that I’m sorry. No
grandiose gestures of a thousand origami flowers. No pre-written words. Just me
saying that I’m sorry I was an asshole and hoping it’s enough. But I have to
wait, because it’s Saturday, and I don’t even know if she’s awake yet. I don’t
know
anything
about college life.

It’s like I don’t know anything about anything
anymore.

Getting dressed takes forever and I allow the
minutes to go by at a snail’s pace because I deserve it. November mornings are
cold, and require long sleeves, so I opt for a dark gray thermal and my
favorite jeans that have begun to fit right again. And even though my hair has
grown back enough to not warrant it, I put on the hat she gave me in the
hospital, so that maybe she can see it meant a lot to me. Even if I never told
her.

My mom, standing in the living room window, gives me
an encouraging smile and a wave as I pull out of the driveway. It’s the image
that’s seared into my mind as I make the short trip to Hannah’s apartment. The
weather is perfect, a chill slipping between the seal on my driver’s side
window that adds to the beauty of the scenery I pass at sixty miles an hour.
All of the trees have turned; their golden and red hues rushing by in a quiet
blur while I drive. It calms me somehow. The inevitability that the changing of
the seasons happen no matter what’s going on in one person’s insignificant life
gives me hope. Change is constant. There’s always change.

Her apartment is quiet as I stand outside her door
and contemplate whether to knock or just try the knob. I hope she’d be smart
enough to lock her doors, but there’s a small piece of me that feels it would
be somewhat romantic just to walk in and crawl into bed with her and whisper my
apologies as she begins to wake.

That image is shattered from my psyche the second
her door is jerked open and a disheveled Coco appears before me. Holding a
frying pan. In her pajamas. With a panda hat on her head.

A red panda, if I’m not mistaken.

It’s such an odd choice of headwear that I’m momentarily
struck dumb, cocking my head to the side in contemplation. She’s as tall and
broad as I remembered, but her face is so feminine—the combination is
unnerving. Her eyes are light green and wide-set beneath really thick lashes.
And her lips are big and puffy, like Angelina Jolie’s. I can’t stop staring at
her and wondering how I ever, in a million years, could have thought she was a
boy.

“What?” she asks, looking me up and down, holding
the pan aloft. “What are you staring at?”

I raise my hands to stave off any frying pan attacks
she may have planned for me before choking out, “I’m Oliver.”

“I know who you are, Dickup.” She lifts her chin
higher and widens her stance. But she’s still wearing that damn hat, and
between it and the pink flower pajamas she has on, I can’t stop from laughing.

“Did you just call me Dickup?”

She shrugs, lowering the pan a little. “Rhymed with
Bishop.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Go away,” she says, trying to be ferocious. “I’m
too tired to hear your shit. And I don’t feel like being insulted today or
having to stay up again until four in the morning consoling my roommate because
you’re–”

“An idiot,” I finish for her. Her eyes go wide and
she presses her lips together as she glares at me and shakes her head.

“Nope. Not good enough. Say you were an asshole.”

“I was an asshole.”

“Okay.” She lowers the pan and leans against the
door frame. “Say you were wrong.”

“I was completely wrong.”

Coco looks smug now. “Say I don’t look like a man.”

“Oh, well . . .” I start and she
lifts the pan a little higher. “In my defense, you were dressed in a male
doctor’s outfit. And you had your hair all slicked.” I move my hand to imitate
it on my own head. “But, if I’d seen you from the front, I never, ever would
have thought that. Because you’re really pretty.” My heart is hammering in my
chest at the admission and I wait with held breath until she sighs and throws
the pan into the kitchen.

“I am really pretty. Right?” She raises both
eyebrows and the red panda hat crinkles, like it’s judging me, too. “I’m
totally telling Hannah you were hitting on me. You drove all the way up here
for that?”

“Coco.”

She smiles for the first time, and it makes me feel
even worse. The girl is just this side of stunning—on a Saturday—before noon.

“I’m kidding with you, Oliver. I won’t tell her
that. Your crush on me can be our little secret.” She motions for me to follow
her inside and then holds up a hand to stop me in my tracks. “I’m going to tell
Hannah you’re here. If she says you need to go away, you need to leave. Got
it?” I nod, hoping above hope that Hannah will give me the chance to say I’m
sorry to her, too. Waiting in their living room feels so foreign to me that I
start losing my nerve.

Until Coco emerges from Hannah’s room.

“She was getting out of the shower. Said you can go
in after a couple of minutes so she can put some clothes on.”

“You guys just talk to each other in the shower?”
Girl friendships seem to have no barriers.

“Yeah. Why? I’ve seen her boobs more than my own
since school started.”

“Then you’ve got one up on me,” I joke.

Coco pats me on the shoulder. “Probably could’ve
seen them a couple of days ago, but . . . ya know. You showed
your ass and all that.”

“Hey, thanks for the reminder.” I give an awkward
thumbs up and she purses her lips, pretending to give me sad eyes.

“Just sayin’.”

I’m tired of waiting so I take the first steps
towards Hannah’s room, forcing a smile when Coco whispers an unenthusiastic
‘good luck.’ Pushing the bedroom door open, I stall and take a second to look
around. While I’ve seen where she lives via a computer screen, or from the
other side of an iPhone, being in the middle of Hannah-ville is an entirely
different experience.

It’s colorful chaos. I know she wasn’t expecting me
to show up, so her multi-colored quilt is bunched up in the middle of her bed
exposing blue paisley sheets. Her clothes are scattered about, some notebooks
are open on her white desk, and a couple rubber bands, tangled in a knot, hang
off a cork board by the white curtained windows.

Everything is so very Hannah. It’s like stepping
into her brain.

“Hey,” she calls quietly from the open bathroom
door. “I wasn’t expecting you, so—”

I shake my head quickly and step inside, closing the
door behind me. The distance between us is so minute I could close it in less
than two seconds. But I hover by the door instead, letting my eyes adjust to
the brightness of her room. Of seeing her fresh from the shower, hair still
wet, and cheeks bright pink from being scrubbed clean.

She looks so small. And broken.

It dawns on me just how hurt she is and it makes my
stomach begin to tighten.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out much faster than I
intended. It makes me flinch at how loud my voice sounds in the space between
us.

She shrugs and looks away, rolling the handle of her
hair brush between her palms. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I had no reason to think that you’d
do what I said you did. And you were right. I never defined our relationship
because I was afraid of hurting you more if I didn’t make it. But I did and
then I ended up hurting you anyway. And maybe worse. Because there was a chance
for us and I ruined it. Hannah,” I call to her to get her to look at me. When
she does, I cross the space between us and reach out to pull her to my chest,
pressing her damp head under my chin. “I’m sorry I waited until it was too late
to tell you. I’m sorry I never said it.”

“Never said what?” she asks and it’s muffled against
my shirt. She’s clinging to my back so tightly I can feel her hands when they
begin to shake.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her
shampoo and tightening my arms around her to brace myself before I confess.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I loved you before I messed everything up.”

When she twists her head up to look at me, I can’t
stop the momentum of my feelings. I cradle her chin between both hands and kiss
her with everything inside me. I kiss her like I mean it. Like if I don’t, she
won’t know. And I
need
her to
know
.

I’ve loved her since she bought me a piece of pie I
never ate. It’s obvious now that I wasn’t protecting her heart by not telling
her. I was shielding my own.

Hannah kisses me back until I can taste the salt of
her tears gathering along our lips where they meet. She holds tightly to my
hands as I tilt her face towards mine. But her eyes are screwed up tight and
her body is too stiff, so I stop and pull away to look at her questioningly.

She breathes in quickly and takes a step back to
wipe the tears from her eyes. “I can’t,” she whispers and turns her head away,
so I can’t see her face. But I can.

“You can’t what?”

“I just—” She finally looks at me and her chin
quivers before she lets out a sob that cuts me in half. “I realized I don’t
really even know you. I fell for Sick Oliver. Even though I said it didn’t have
anything to do with it—and it didn’t—you weren’t the guy who said the things he
said last night. You weren’t this Oliver. And I don’t know
this Oliver
.
So I can’t say it back because I . . .” She wipes her eyes again
and her hands tremble. “I think maybe I loved who I thought you were. And
honestly, it feels worse. You got well and I lost you all in one day. It’s like
you died.”

In that moment, with less than a foot between us, I
think that maybe she’s right.