Catch My Fall (9 page)

“- and I’ll go as Cyndi Lauper or some shit.”

The thought of dressing up like an 80’s pop star did spark something in my psyche. I began to run through ideas - Adam Ant, Freddie Mercury, Billy Idol (naturally), a member of A Flock of Seagulls. Still wasn’t particularly interested in this party.

Stellan leaned onto the table. “I tell ya what, babe. If you wanna go, I’ll go. We can do Sonny and Cher. I’ll be Cher, obviously.”

Meghan and I both stared at Stellan a moment, still unsure whether he had actually spoken or not. He seemed disappointed not to get a laugh. I couldn’t laugh, I was too startled by his offer.

I blinked. “You’re not serious?”

He shrugged. “Why the hell not? I’ve been told I need socializing with other human beings on more than one occasion.” He gave Meghan a gentle knock on the elbow. “You know, maybe I’ll evolve.”

“I’m not going as Sonny Bono,” I said, swallowing.

I just wanted to make that perfectly clear.

“What you’re gonna crash it?” Meghan asked.

Stellan gave her the most piteous look I’d ever seen. “No,” he said and laughed. “But I might go. I told Evan I’d rather amputate a testicle, but I’ve changed my mind on bigger things to be sure. And he did ask about you, Faye.”

“He did?” Meghan asked in unison with me.

Meghan glared at Stellan and the true nature of her interest in this party became clear. “You know Evan Lambert?”

Evan Lambert, local celebrity and all around rich bastard, was a handsome, single guy, and I could see Meghan practically salivating. I was actually rather pleased with myself that I’d never mentioned him around her.

Stellan shrugged. “Yeah, we’re friends. Worked on a couple projects together in school.”

He was underselling his lifelong best friend. I understood completely. Despite Evan and I not speaking for almost ten years, people still gave me the third degree at the mere mention of our having been good friends.

A lot of people wanted a slice of Evan Lambert.

Meghan leaned in. “You were at school together -”

I smirked at him. “Why on earth would you go? You hate parties.”

“I don’t hate parties, I hate people. There’s a distinction there, dove.”

Stellan loved get-togethers, but get-togethers of that magnitude made up entirely of brown nosing people from our high school? Not by a long shot.

“Well -” He glanced at me. “Let’s be honest, you do need to get out of the house.”

Meghan hooted her approval and demanded that Stellan high five her, only to have him pull his hand away at the last second, leaving her hanging. She hit him, of course.

I frowned. “Don’t say that.”

He nodded. “It’s not that you’re turning into a recluse or anything, babe, but -”

“What? Yes she is! She practically broke out in hives when we got in here! Who has she seen other than you and I for the past -”

Stellan sighed. “Ok, strike that. You’re practically a hermit. I keep expecting you to start talking to squirrels and trying to get me to read your manifesto.”

I laughed uncomfortably. If he’d been talking about anyone else, I would have found it funny, but this intervention felt like being bullied by Sarah Foley in fifth grade for not shaving my legs. I wanted to get up and storm out, telling them both to screw themselves, but sadly I had a long walk home if I chose such dramatic flair. Damn it, how does a woman in modern society expect to pull classy broad moves without looking ridiculous?

Stellan put his hand over mine. “I’m sorry babe. Don’t be mad.”

I looked up to find Stellan leaning toward me. Apparently, my thoughts read on my face.

“You promise you’ll go with me, and you won’t leave me alone with random high school acquaintances?”

He smirked. “You know I’d never let that happen.”

“Cause I swear to God, if someone asks me what I’m doing with my life, I’m going to smash a bottle of tequila over their head.”

“I support that implicitly,” he said.

I glanced at Meghan, who was silently waiting with bated breath. Apparently she knew well enough to let Stellan plead her case. I was her wingman as much as Stellan was offering to be mine. After all, she didn’t go to my high school. She wasn’t invited.

I nodded.

“Oh man, you’ll have so much fun! We can go shopping at the costume store when I get paid; get you all vixened up – it’ll be spectacular!”

I let her drone on a moment, losing the ability to pay attention. Stellan sat across from me, glancing between Meghan and myself with silly expressions only I could see. I smiled at them, trying hard to settle my stomach. I hadn’t realized just how agoraphobic I had become over the past month. It felt as though being out in the world was walking across a shooting range. Having my reclusive nature declared as stoned waitresses bustled around me made me feel like someone held up a mirror to my haggard face and said, Look.

I did my best not to fidget as we drove home.

I was ready to be by myself. I wasn’t waiting to cry myself to sleep or anything – they’d somehow managed to tag team distract me from those thoughts. I did, however, want to sit with my thoughts.

You have a month, Faye. Plenty of time to prepare.

Was I really going to go to a Halloween party at Evan freakin Lambert’s house?

Stellan pulled up outside my house and put the jeep in park, then he leaned across me to open the door of the jeep. I climbed out. I waved and mumbled my good bye, still trying to hide my racing thoughts, but he stopped me.

“What’re you up to tomorrow?”

I glanced down at my phone, pretending to check my calendar. “Surprisingly, no plans,” I said, and if my tone was sarcastic, it was thoroughly intended.

“Want to do something? I kinda had something I want to run by you.”

I shrugged, too tired to be curious. Then the date on my phone registered. I checked it again – September 14
^th
, 12:24AM.

September 14
^th
? Oh god.

“Oh my god, Stellan. I’m so sorry.”

His eyebrows shot up as I came barreling back toward the jeep.

“What’s wrong?”

I reached across to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “I’m the worst friend ever. Jesus, you bought
my
dinner on
your
birthday? Happy Birthday, almost an hour late.”

He chuckled and squeezed me. “Honestly, Meghan paid for your dinner. She refused my money. Don’t even worry about it, lady.”

But I did. I‘d spent the day with him, chased him down, cried to him about all my problems, all the while oblivious to the fact that it was September 13
^th
– my best friend’s birthday.

I sucked at life.

“Here. I got these to celebrate.” Stellan reached into the back of the jeep and produced a package of chocolate cupcakes.

“You bought yourself cupcakes? I literally hate myself right now.”

He just laughed. “Mum made me a cake, but she didn’t have any chocolate, so – thought I’d treat myself, damn it.”

He handed me one of the cupcakes, and the two of us feasted in the front seat of his jeep, Stellan moaning in sexual ecstasy all over again.

We finished up and he smiled, promising to stop by the next afternoon. I gave him another three hugs, then I sat there a moment, silently wishing he wasn’t leaving. I’d spent all day with him, I was sure he must need a break.

“You all right, babe?” He asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

His tone sounded open ended, and the urge to ask him in grew near to overpowering.

Come on, Stellan. Come watch craptastic television with Mopey MacGee into the wee hours of the night. You know you want to.

I climbed out onto the sidewalk, but he stopped me before I could shut the door to the jeep.

“And F-Bomb.”

“Yeah?”

He jingled his keys, then ran his knuckle over his lips. “It wasn’t you.”

I stared at him, waiting to understand.

“When that douche bag pushed you away; it wasn’t you.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I couldn’t respond. I felt miniscule.

Stellan smiled at me, but I couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Any real man would be up on that for days. Everyday.”

I stared at the passenger seat of his jeep, my face flushed. “Shut up,” I said, but my smile and my tone made it sound more like ‘Shucks.’

He said his goodnight, started up the engine, and waited. I headed up my steps and opened my front door. I knew he wouldn’t leave until I did. I watched him pull away. Before long I was standing on my sleepy dead end street, listening to the leaves rustle overhead, and I was alone.

CHAPTER FIve

T
hat night will live forever in infamy.

You might remember that comment about sleep curing what ails you. Well, it seems sleep can do some other magical works, so I found out, because that night I fell madly in love with Stellan. Well, I fell in love with dream Stellan, at least.

I dreamed I’d bought a house with endless rooms I’d yet to explore, and as excited I was to explore my new place, it seemed every member of my extended family was there to check the place out as well. The place had Jacuzzi bathtubs, a dozen bedrooms, holes in the walls and floor, and a ghost of course – this
was
a dream. And then there was Stellan.

He appeared at my side, declaring the find of a lifetime just down the hallway. I followed him down the hall to a grand bedroom, and fell in love - despite the strange holes in the hardwood floor that showed my family members below. Stellan closed the door behind us and grabbed me about the waist, pulling me away from a rather large hole in the floor that had decided to appear when I wasn’t looking. I mumbled something about how easy it would be to fix the floor and that the house was well worth the miniscule price I’d paid when I looked up to find Stellan smiling at me. His arms were still around me as he looked at me.

I was undone by it.

No one had ever looked at me the way dream Stellan was looking at me.

Thanks a lot, subconscious.

Have you ever felt love in a dream – the kind of love you imagine exists in the world, but perhaps haven’t yet found? Be it with someone you know, your imaginary great aunt’s mailman, or Benedict Cumberbatch, it doesn’t matter - you feel the warmth of familiarity, of kindness and desire, not just of the sexual nature, but of something far deeper than that. At that moment, I simply wanted to fold into Dream Stellan’s arms, even his eyes, and live there in the warmth between us. And because it was a dream, I didn’t feel odd, incestuous, or surprised – this was where I belonged, and I pressed my palms against his broad chest to feel his skin beneath his shirt.

The dream quickly descended into a Benny Hill episode where Stellan and I were running from room to room trying to steal a private moment so we could shag, and being interrupted each time by a mad gaggle of family members hell bent on cockblockery in the form of a self-guided house tour.

I was practically homicidal when I woke up.

Homicidal, but smiling. The feeling of affection - of overflowing and reciprocated affection - stayed with me. I wrapped my arms around my pillow and hugged it tightly, letting the untouched coolness of the fabric warm against my cheek.

I heard my mother moving around the house getting ready for work, and I hollered my endearments down to her. She hollered back and the front door closed, leaving me alone in the house. I lingered in bed, and on the memory of that feeling. After a few moments, I recognized that for the first time in weeks, I hadn’t woken up thinking about Cole. I hadn’t woken up with that momentary serenity of everything being right with the world, only to have it ripped away in an instant by memory. This time it didn’t tear from my fingers. It lingered, as did my smile.

This is interesting, I thought.

My inner workings scolded. Thinking about Dream Stellan was near to sacrilegious, and I should just cut it out, they said. I ignored the inner voice. I felt held by the memory, as though Dream Stellan was still next to me, his arms around me. I felt the sleepy comfort of being in love, or at least what my subconscious had decided was how love should feel. Yet, under that I felt frustration - the aggravation of what I was sure a man might refer to as ‘blue balls.’ I wanted to hunt each of those dream cock blockers down.

A moment later I felt a warm rush between my legs. My body had responded to the dream as well.

I shifted in bed, fighting the tingling that seemed to be emanating from down below. In my attempts to ignore it, I climbed out of bed and headed down the hall, towel in hand.

I undressed, climbed into the shower and sat down. Despite years of having done this, I still faltered for a moment at the thought of doing this in my mother’s house. I wasn’t seventeen anymore.

You’re alone, I thought. Even if she were to come in, you’re in a locked bathroom. I let my fingers begin their work. I thought of that warmth. I thought of the arms around me. I thought of Stellan’s eyes.

Stop it! Think of something else.

I thought of the most passionate porn scene I’d ever witnessed. I thought of the second most passionate porn scene I’d ever witnessed. I thought of a handsome Captain named Malcolm, piloting a ship called
Serenity
. I thought of young Val Kilmer as Mad Martigan in
Willow,
of Cary Elwes whispering ‘As you wish.’ I thought of Stellan towering over me, my fingers curled into his shoulders.

Stop it Faye! God damn it!

Ok, ok. Edward Norton? No. Sam Rockwell? Usually, but no. Stellan’s blue eyes and him pinning me up against the porcelain sink whispering in his bedroomy voice?

Oh god yes!

It was innocent enough to just let a dream carry me through, wasn’t it? I didn’t ask for the dream, but I enjoyed its effects, and I was going to strike while the iron was hot. Oh wow, it was really hot. The voice in my head hissed and booed, but I noticed that as my hands moved, the minute Stellan’s image appeared in my mind – his face, his hands, that bedroomy voice of his that always made me squirm – it made the sensations triple in intensity. The heat rose, rose again, and then my fingers and my wrist went nearly limp and useless – a side effect of relying on one’s own efforts to achieve orgasm and not having a Garden Bath Tub like I did in my condo to do all the work. I fought against atrophy to maintain, but the orgasm had crested and fallen back, not half the strength it could have been. I would have to be satisfied with that.