After I Fall (26 page)

Mom’s high heels clicked against the concrete. We swerved our way through the crowd that clogged the Orlando International Airport sidewalk.
This
week, the one between Christmas and New Years, was the absolute worst time to travel. And today? The day after Christmas? I wouldn’t recommend it.

The air was cool this time of year, only hitting mid-sixties today. I couldn’t help but cringe, knowing it was positively balmy compared to the temperature at my destination.

I stayed a few steps ahead of Mom. The wheels of my carry-on rattled as I tugged it along behind me. I clenched my jaw in resigned determination. I could feel her gaze searing into the back of my head. She was waiting for me to have a tantrum. A fit. A meltdown. Whatever you want to call it. To be honest, the thought had sincerely crossed my mind multiple times over the last few months.

I would’ve felt justified. What she was doing to me bordered on cruelty.

Who forces their seventeen year-old daughter to transfer to a new school, in a different state, halfway through their senior year? Charlotte Monroe, that’s who.

I trudged my way through the automatic doors. Inside was even more crowded than outside. A quick scan produced what would have to pass as a quieter spot to say our farewell. I rolled my luggage to the alcove that wouldn’t exactly grant us privacy, but it would have to suffice.

“Now Harper, if you’ve forgotten anything—”

“Dad said he’d take care of whatever I need,” I interrupted. I flashed her a sweet smile. “I’ve talked to him almost daily since you decided to send me away. Last night, he told me he has years to make up for. He can’t wait for me to get back to Woodbury. I know I was hesitant at first but now?” I pulled out my smile again, willing it to be real but not quite succeeding. “Well, I’ve had time to adjust to the idea. I think Dad’s right. This will be good for us. I’m really looking forward to spending some time with him.”

Her expression was frozen. I was sure it wasn’t from her latest wrinkle-fighting injection. She managed to blink and I turned away so I could scope out the line I was going to be facing shortly.

No need to have a tantrum. Making Dad out to be a saint packed a better emotional punch. Better yet, there was nothing she could do about it. I could be reprimanded and scoffed at for pouting. Even my mother knew she couldn’t logically degrade me for being grateful. 

Not as long as she didn’t realize I was faking it.

That frozen face thawed ever-so-slightly as she gave me a frosty smile.

Not a strand of her perfectly coiffed, highlighted blond hair was out of place. Her pantsuit was void of even the tiniest wrinkle. Her heels were ridiculously high considering she was essentially only running an errand.

I was wearing comfy tennis shoes, yoga pants, and a long sleeved gray tee. My blond, highlight-free hair was in a sloppy knot at the back of my head. It was the most defiant gesture I could muster today.

If there was one thing I knew about my mother, it was that she always got her way. I had let her know unequivocally how much I loathed being ripped from my school this close to graduation.

She made it perfectly clear she thought she had done me a favor by letting me live with her for the first half of the year. In her mind, letting me finish out football season in my old school was a sacrifice that she had made for me. As if my hesitancy in moving had nothing to do with friendships and everything to do with pom-poms.

Now my high school cheerleading career had come to an end. Along with it, my life in the sunshine state.

My parents divorced when I was fifteen. It was the summer before my sophomore year of high school. My brother, Dustin, had been preparing for his freshman year at USC.

Mom had been hired as the manager of Whittington’s. It was a trendy, up and coming department store. Recently, she’d made a slight career change. She decided the life of a clothing buyer was far more exciting and to her taste. So she’d switched tracks. Her new career, which was inconveniently scheduled to start after the first of the year, would frequently take her out of town. And even out of the country on occasion as she attended fashion shows, trade shows and possibly a factory visit here and there.

I had argued extensively with her decision to send me back to Wisconsin. It had taken a while but I had settled into life in Orlando. Most days, I didn’t even feel like a tourist anymore. I tried to convince her that I was old enough to stay home alone while she was away on business trips.

She didn’t agree.

Annoyance and frustration zinged through me once more. I fought it off. At this point, I would only be degrading myself by begging. Mom’s mind was made up, her decision locked up as tightly as a steel vault.

“Bye, Mom,” I said. I looped my arms around her, squeezing her into a hug. I didn’t want to prolong this. If I did, I was likely to start leaking out some tears. If I did that, she’d be likely to think they were because I was going to miss her. The truth was, I was angry. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of mistaking my anger for despair over missing her.

I released her quickly, worked up one last smile and grabbed the handle of my carry-on. With a tiny wave, I spun around, ready to be on my way.

“Harper?”

I paused, not wanting to look back but unable to avoid it. I glanced over my shoulder, raising my eyebrows in question.

“Text me when you get there.” It was a command, not a request. I acknowledged it with a nod and then I was moving forward again. Text…not call. A call would likely require too much of her time. Time she was not willing to spare on me since she was headed back to Whittington’s to deal with the craziness of the after-Christmas sale crowd.

I checked in and made my way through security. The crowd inside was every bit as bad as the crowd outside. My suitcase rattled along behind me as I found my terminal. I found the least crowded area—which wasn’t saying much—flopped down in a chair and stuck my earbuds in.

Despite the music, my mind wasn’t preoccupied. I closed my eyes, settling in for the long wait while my mind began to wander.

I thought of Gabby and Alyssa. Despite promises to keep in touch, be best friends forever and all sorts of over the top proclamations made by our fifteen year-old selves, we hadn’t done that. Sure, we’d kept in touch for a bit. But at fifteen, in different states, living completely different lives, the texts and the private messages had become fewer and fewer until they didn’t exist at all.

Even still, that didn’t stop Gabby from sending me an exclamation mark filled message in return to my quick text letting her know I’d be returning to Woodbury over winter break. Alyssa’s text had been more subtle but just as welcoming.

What could’ve been a crushing experience—being transplanted in the middle of my last year of school—was softened exponentially. It felt a bit heartless to say, but I felt like I was trading in one set of friends for another. Knowing I had friends waiting for me on the other end of my flight made the move back to Woodbury a whole lot more bearable than the move away had been.

*
*
*
*
*

“I have it turned up as far as it’ll go,” Dad said with a chuckle. “It should warm up in no time.”

I burrowed a little deeper into the parka he’d brought to the airport with him. It was a puffy, black contraption. Mom had ordered it, along with an entire wardrobe of warm clothes. She’d had everything sent directly to Dad’s so it would be waiting for me upon my arrival. I shivered despite myself as I tried to absorb the heat blasting from the vent.

As always, things were a bit strained when I first saw Dad. He maneuvered us away from the airport, onto the interstate and headed north. The inside of his SUV was enormous and yet it still wasn’t big enough to contain the awkwardness that surrounded us. I felt it pressing down and I was sure he did too.

“How was the flight?” he finally asked.

“Crowded.” A simple but true answer. At least Mom had the decency to fly me first class.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?”

I shrugged. “It was okay.”

Ever since the divorce, Christmas had lost a lot of its charm. The first two years, both Dad and Dustin had flown to Florida. Mom actually allowed Dad to stay at our house. While this might sound selfless of her, both Dustin and I were pretty sure it was simply Mom’s way of staying in control. If she graciously invited Dad, and he accepted, then she wasn’t at risk of spending the holidays alone. It ensured that neither Dustin nor I would head back to Wisconsin.

However, this year, knowing I’d be leaving the day after and that Dad would not be there, Dustin had stayed in California. He’d spent the holiday with his girlfriend and her family. Mom hadn’t been pleased.

He was in his third year at USC. I thought it was a bit absurd for Mom to act so surprised that he was in a serious relationship.

Dad hadn’t come either, for the obvious reason: I was flying to him the next day. There was also the matter of him dating someone for the first time since the divorce. Or at least, it was serious enough that he mentioned a
lady
friend to me for the first time. Regardless, he’d stayed in Woodbury to be with her.

I’d had a perfectly mediocre Christmas. It had been just Mom and me. Her, forcing holiday cheer. Me, wishing the day was over with.

And now it was. Over. And here
I
was. Not any happier than I’d been the day before.

It had been years since I’d seen snow. Now, enormous flakes were falling from the sky, spattering across Dad’s windshield. The wipers quickly whisked them away, only to have them immediately replaced with another smattering.

To my surprise, I found myself smiling as I looked around. I felt a sense of nostalgia for something I hadn’t even realized I’d missed.

I turned to Dad, a small smile still in place. He glanced at me and gave me a questioning smile in return.

“How was
your
Christmas?” I asked.

“Good. Nice,” he said cautiously. “I spent the day with Paula at her sister’s house.”

I tried to conjure up some polite interest, asking Dad about her. She’d been divorced for quite some time. They’d been together almost a year. She had two sons. One was a year younger than Dustin. He was also away at school. The other was two years older and had just gotten married. She was the director of the local senior citizens’ center. Of course, I’d never met her.

We fluctuated between making small talk and finally sitting in semi-comfortable silence while he drove. It took an hour and a half to get to Woodbury from the airport.

As he turned into the subdivision we lived in, I noted not much had changed. A large, tasteful wooden sign noted “Idyllic Acres”. The words were painted with a flourish over a painted pine tree background. The real pine trees, which surrounded the area, were covered in layers of snow.

The houses here were far from mansions but they were some of the nicest in the area. Most were set back from the road, allowing for sprawling lawns. The townhouse Mom and I had lived in was nice but we could circle our yard in less than a minute. That wasn’t the case here.

When we pulled into our driveway I took a good look at the Ryerson’s home. They were our neighbors to the right. I had no doubt that once the snow was gone, the lawn would be kept perfectly manicured. The flowerbeds would be exploding with color.

The house had white siding, a white wrap-around porch, black shutters and a black front door. To anyone else, it probably looked classy, tasteful even. To me, it looked as ominous as it had the day I’d left.

Maybe that was because I knew what kinds of things had happened behind that door. Sometimes perfectly boring middle class isn’t really perfect or boring at all.

Over the years, I’d never been able to force myself to stop thinking about Seth. It wasn’t just because he’d been my neighbor. It wasn’t just that he’d been my best friend. It wasn’t just because he’d been my first crush. It went deeper than that. From my second floor bedroom window, I could see into most of the rooms on the east side of his house.

I saw things I was never meant to see.

“Harper,” Dad said, pulling my attention back to him. I swung my gaze around as he shut off the vehicle. “I just want you to know, I’m really happy you’re here. I know we’ve kind of drifted apart the last few years. But when your mother called to tell me that she needed you to come here, I couldn’t have been happier.”

I wasn’t able to control my look of doubt.

“It’s true,” he insisted.

My mouth started working before I had the presence of mind to stop it. “Then why didn’t you try harder to see me? Why didn’t you try harder to keep me here? Actually, I remember that you didn’t try to keep me here at all. I
wanted
to stay.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I wanted you to stay. Charlotte convinced me that a young girl should be with her mother. I should’ve fought her harder on it. It’s just that…”

He faded off. I instinctively knew he didn’t want to say anything bad about Mom.

“She’s used to getting her way,” I finished for him. If she didn’t get her way, she had a habit of making everyone’s life hell until they gave in.