Catch My Fall (4 page)

“So, is there a lucky man in your life?”

I wanted to cut her face. “No. Just me for now.”

She puckered her lips in an exaggerated frown. It was so fucking cute I wanted to punch her.

“Well, are you still in touch with Stellan Ødegård? Oh, or Evan! Weren’t you friends with him?”

Evan Lambert. The lady had a damn good memory.

Evan Lambert was the third member of Stellan and my trifecta. He was the only son of one of the wealthiest families in Concord, and we’d spent much of high school together. Last I heard from him was three months after he went live with his website, made more money than God, and became a local celebrity.

He wasn’t just a local celebrity anymore. Being a billionaire will do that to you.

“I am, actually. Not Evan, but Stell, yes.”

Where are you going with this, you demonic sprite?

“He’s a handsome guy. And as I recall, he’s always loved you.”

“Yeah, not like that though. Besides, I can’t imagine myself the den mother of giant, mulleted Swedes.”

She laughed, and somewhere a fairy was born. “Doesn’t sound so bad. I could totally see you as Mrs. Faye Ødegård? Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“You know what? It does. I’m going to call him now and demand a ring, now that you mention it.”

She laughed and wished me well, heading back to the Visitor’s Center. I turned back toward the bridge and Monument Street, silently promising myself that I would become an insane hermit and never leave the house again.

I was halfway back down Monument Street when my phone buzzed in my pocket. It startled me. The most likely culprit had left my company to go ‘plow through’ some last minute work. I pulled out my phone.

I miss you, baby.

My stomach turned. Three weeks, two days – nothing. Now, on the first day I’m even capable of leaving the house…

I’m pretty sure Cole Blanchard has asshole clairvoyance.

I stood there on the side of the road staring at my phone as cars whizzed past on their leaf peeping day drives. I wasn’t ok. Any feeling of relief or joy I had while spending the afternoon with Stellan, or walking through town was gone. It wasn’t just fucking gone; it was like it never was. I swallowed and started to walk, watching the ground just inches in front of my feet, oblivious to the oncoming cars. I got home, clenching my hand around my phone, half ready to throw it.

“You all right, honey?”

I startled. “What are you doing home?”

My mom shuffled in from the kitchen and watched me. She was wearing one of her trademark flowing dresses of every color. I didn’t know why she was home, but at that moment I’d never been more grateful for her presence. Still, I wasn’t going to tell her what was wrong.

“Just not having a great day.”

“Did you see Stellan?”

I nodded and quickly ended the conversation by turning on the TV.

Despite my better judgment, I texted Meghan and told her of the new contact.

You are NOT going to respond, right?

I don’t know.

She was calling three seconds later.

“Faye! You can’t respond!”

I wanted to fight that logic, but deep down, I knew I needed to hear someone say it. “So what? I should just ignore it?”

“He cheated on you!”

“We think. I haven’t actually let him explain anything. Maybe -”

“What?!” And that was it; the sound of Meghan’s righteous indignation practically splintered the earpiece of my phone. “The fucker has a picture of someone else’s va-jay-jay on his phone and you think maybe he came by it innocently? That’s bull shit!”

“What if one of his friends texted it to him?”

“Then not only does he hang out with scumbags, but he kept it! Then – THEN, when you discovered it and clearly assumed the worst, he waited three fucking weeks to make any attempt to talk to you about it – or anything for that matter? Hell no! Fuck him!”

“Maybe he was busy…” I cringed, even with the words only half spoken. God, I sounded pathetic.

“Yeah, even you know that’s just not going to fucking fly. Seriously!”

I turned to find my mother standing by the stairs. Shit.

“Sorry Mom.”

“Your Mom is there? Can she hear me? Mrs. Jensen! Back me up!”

Mum could hear Meghan. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Mr. Hodges across the street could.

“I can’t say that I know any better than Faye, but I will say -” Mom stalled a moment almost fearing her next comment would meet with an adverse response. “- he doesn’t seem to know your worth, honey. And I don’t think he ever did.”

She was right to expect a response.

“What does that mean?”

Even I could hear the tension in my voice.

“I just don’t think he’s ever showed you the kind of consideration he should.”

My jaw shifted. “You’re just saying that because he never comes by the house.”

“Yeah, let’s just talk about that!” Meghan said, ready to run with it. “Let’s put the poontang pic aside and talk about that. Why
doesn’t
he come over?”

“I think he’s just uncomfortable with the situation.”

“Has he even met your Mom?”

“Yes, of course!” I said.

“Once,” my mom said. Then she quietly turned and headed back into the kitchen. This wasn’t helping. I was tense, but what most bothered me was they were right. Believe me, I’d spent three weeks making an inventory of just how big a schmuck he was, but this text somehow managed to scribble over that inventory, like a shopping list that has been half purchased. Maybe there was a reason, an explanation, an exit strategy from this near month long depression I’d been wallowing in. He’d caused it. Maybe he could fix it?

Having my mom leave the room only offered a moment’s relief.

Meghan took a deep breath on the other line. “You deserve better, Faye. You know you do.”

I sighed. “I do, but what if he is willing to offer -”

“You can’t be serious. People don’t change, girl.”

“That’s not true.”

“No, it’s fact. If you’re thinking of talking to him, or worse, fucking getting back together with him, you need to do some serious fucking soul searching. He is what he is, and the woman you were three years ago when you met this asshole would have never, I mean fucking never tolerated half the shit he’s done, let alone a twat shot on his fucking phone! Christ!”

I wanted to hang up. I loved Meghan, but I needed to process. She hollered and swore until my mother came in to offer me dinner. I took the opportunity to end the call, and despite not being the slightest bit hungry, I sat with my mother and pushed food around my plate.

An hour later I was in bed, fondling my phone. It buzzed again in my hands and my heart leapt.

I opened it to find a quick text from Stellan.

I’m here if you need.

My brow furrowed, but I smiled. I knew he was. My oldest and best friend always was. No matter how long I’d been gone, too busy to be anyone’s friend really, I always knew he was there. Sure, he had a mullet, but otherwise he was the greatest man I’d ever known. Still, his text wasn’t what I wanted.

I opened the text from Cole and stared at it.

…I miss you too.
I responded.

Two weeks went by. Cole didn’t respond.

CHAPTER THREE

S
chool started up in mid-September, pulling Meghan away for a good amount of the time. At the age of thirty one, Meghan had decided to return to school to become a nurse, and she was halfway through her studies at the local Community College. Her life was entirely dictated by the pursuit, and she’d often suggested I follow in her footsteps whenever we discussed my futile job hunt. After that text incident, and not hearing from Cole again, I spent a bit more time with Jackie. I was ready to go out of the house and despite Stellan being my closest friend, he worked every chance he got – and watching Stellan programming in his basement, be it iPhone apps or for work, was not as exciting as it sounds. When he wasn’t working, he was ensconced in the newest installment of
Fallout,
and I was still too depressed to play video games. I needed more distraction than watching him play while swearing in Swedish.

Jackie was married to an old fashioned guy who was content to be the lone breadwinner while his ‘little woman’ stayed at home and baked cookies all day. He didn’t require a housewife by any means, he loved his ‘strong, independent woman.’ He just also loved baked goods, and Jackie’s last job had caused her such crippling depression, Kevin finally one day grabbed her car keys and refused to let her leave the house. After a couple hours of argument, tears, and Kevin himself calling in to work, Jackie agreed to quit her job. She’d been unemployed – and happy – ever since. That was enough for him.

She liked that just fine. That’s right, a feminist who enjoyed being a housewife. Eat that, Gertrude Stein!

I rolled into Jackie’s driveway for lunch and found her fully ensconced in a recipe for lemon cake with raspberry mousse. Despite my new life decision of becoming a svelte and gorgeous version of myself, I was fully prepared to eat that whole cake.

“So you haven’t heard back from him?”

“No. Nothing.”

Unlike anyone else in my life, I felt safe telling Jackie I’d responded. Jackie had more patience for love inspired action, given that she actually had the castle and the prince, and she’d gone through hell to get it.

Let’s just say, Kevin was a miracle compared to the men that came before him.

“How do you feel about that?” She asked.

“Miserable!”

She nodded.

“I mean, did he text me just to see if I’d respond? What the hell?”

She pursed her lips. Jackie didn’t always speak her mind. Probably because when she did, you usually spewed truth, and you usually hated her for it.

“I think you’re doing the right thing,” she said, spooning lumps of cookie dough onto a sheet of parchment.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re taking care of yourself now. You haven’t texted again, have you?”

“No.”

“Good. Just focus on you, what makes you happy. You sign up for a gym yet?” Jackie asked.

“No. I’ve just been exercising at home. Going for walks.” I was lying.

“That’s great! How are you doing otherwise?”

This was the moment of truth. I didn’t feel ashamed to tell Jackie exactly what I was thinking. I was so grateful to have her, despite secretly hating her for having the kind of love I’d yet to find. Well okay, I admit it wasn’t so secret. I actively told her I hated her. She seemed to appreciate it.

I paused. There were words poised to be said that I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear, let alone say. I’d spent every waking moment regurgitating thoughts of Cole over and over until I was sick to death. Perhaps if I said them out loud, I could purge them. Perhaps.

“Well, I guess I’m scared I won’t find someone else who -” I stopped.

Jackie set two slices of cake in front of me. I was literally floating in a sugar cloud from all the baking she was doing. She assured me there was no bake sale coming. Jackie’s answer to boredom was confection.

“You’re talking about the sex aren’t you?”

Jesus, Jackie. Do you read minds? “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Honey, sex doesn’t make for a healthy relationship on its own.”

“I know that!”

Yet that knowledge didn’t change the fact that I was truly worried. I’d been with a few guys before Cole and a couple had managed to get the job done, but it was different with Cole. Cole had succeeded at least twice as often as every man who came before. That is – when he was ever in the mood to touch me.

“Did you ever think that maybe it was the affection you had for him that made it so great? When it was great.”

Again, I paused. “Maybe?”

Point taken. I’d never really been all that fond of the guys that came before.

Jackie flashed me a smile and returned to the oven. Her entire house smelled like Christmas. I envied her kitchen savvy. My kitchen prowess seemed to only appear at holidays. Instead, I’d been blessed with more frivolous gifts, like drawing the shapes of shadows and charcoal shading. You wouldn’t know that about me anymore, given I hadn’t picked up a sketchpad or a pencil in years.

“Well, I think you’re doing great. Just keep your focus positive, you know? If he’s your soul mate, you’ll figure it out, and if he’s not… Are you gonna try them?”

I looked down at my two slices of cake. One was Chocolate with salted caramel buttercream, the other was the lemon raspberry. I took a bite of the lemon.

I moaned. “Oh goodness.”

“You like?”

I nodded. A bite of the chocolate followed. It was sinful, but I soon chose the lemon as my favorite.

Jackie smiled. “Besides, as I’ve said a thousand times, there’s easily a million guys out there who would be overjoyed to have a girl as funny as you.”

“Ha!” I said, without any real humor to speak of. “Oh naturally. I know that’s what they’re all talking about around the locker rooms and water coolers of the world. ‘Damn did you see Dale’s new lady? Oh, the one with the eyepatch and club foot? Hells yeah! That girl can sure tell a fart joke!’”

Jackie shot her a sideways glance. “You don’t have an eyepatch.”

“Shut up.”

She let me finish my cake, the textures of chocolate and mousse, the hint of salt, or the tart of the lemon - as addictive as Crystal Meth. Not that I have ever partaken in Crystal Meth, I’m speaking in allegory here, but you catch my drift. I pointed at the cake, waggling my eyebrows at her.

“What’s with all the cakes?”

Jackie’s eyebrows shot up like some startled animal. “Oh, just trying new things. Feeling a little cooped up these days, I guess.”

I knew the feeling. “Well, they’re spectacular.”

She smiled. “Still can’t make a pie like you, though.”

I scoffed, waving her away. Though I admit, my blueberry pie is pretty life changing.

We both went quiet a moment as she buttered another cake pan. I jutted my chin toward the cakes.

She glared at me. “Tell me you actually want another slice and you can have it, but if you’re going to come in my house talking about being svelte, I don’t want to be responsible for you feeling bad later because you ate like a steelworker.”