Page 5 of Somewhere Between Falling

Blair was Dad’s new trophy wife, and ever since they got together I have been low on his priority list. She was everything my mom wasn’t. Tall. Blonde. Thin. Always had perfectly coiffed hair and shiny red lips. They met when she was still in graduate school—and while she was not taking one of his classes at the time, she was still technically a student. They waited until after she finished her dissertation before going public, but everyone knew it had been going on long before then. And even though she was not the reason my parents split—they had been unhappy long before she entered the picture—I still held on to the belief that she was the reason he stopped trying to make his marriage work, so I couldn’t bring myself to accept her. The whole thing was an embarrassment. Especially since they announced they were expecting a baby this spring. What nineteen-year-old wants to think about her father getting frisky with some twenty-something-?

Somewhere between believing in fairy tales and happily ever afters, and discovering that reality wasn’t always sunshine and roses, I grew up and accepted that all of that stuff about soulmates and true love was, well, a bunch of horse shit.

“I’m sorry I missed out on our plans again. Things are just a little crazy now. Forgive me?” he pleaded.

“Don’t I always?” I sighed. It wouldn’t be so upsetting if it wasn’t so expected, but what else could I say? These days, he was anything but dependable, and there wasn’t really anything I could do about it but accept it and not let the disappointment control my life.

“Thanks, Sweet Pea. I promise to make it up to you,” he said, though I knew it was just another promise he wouldn’t keep. “It’s late. I better get back home.”

“Yeah, sure. I should probably get some sleep.”

“I hope you … and your mother … have a good Christmas.”

“Thanks, Dad … you too.”

He left, and I entered the solitude of my dorm room. My roommate, Alex, had already left for break so the room was quiet, but I didn’t mind, especially after today. The quiet allowed me the freedom to think about the day … at least the good parts. I would have preferred not to have it tarnished by thoughts of the real world, but maybe it was good that my day ended on such a sour note. Maybe it would help ground me, bring me back to reality, because otherwise it would be easy to lose myself in the what-ifs. I plugged my stupid phone in and got to work packing for Christmas break. After I finished, I showered and slipped on my warmest flannel pajamas.

Before I got into bed, I grabbed the brown paper bag from the bookstore and pulled out Little Women. I lovingly placed it on my bookshelf next to my tattered copy of Leaves of Grass and smiled as my mind drifted back to Tobias.

What if I would have asked for his last name? At least then maybe I would be able to find him on social media.

What if …

Against my better judgment, I fell asleep thinking about all of the what-ifs I swore I wouldn’t.

Chapter Four

The last few weeks had been cold and dreary and very, very lonely. I spent a lot of time just searching for anything to distract me from the intrusive thoughts of a boy I would likely never see again. I couldn’t wait for winter break to be over. On one hand I enjoyed the laziness of sleeping in and having no responsibilities, but on the other hand, I missed the routine of campus life and my boisterous roommate. After all, there was never a dull moment when Alex was around. I knew she would distract me from thinking of Tobias with one of her outrageous ideas—like challenging random people in the dorm to a pillow fight or going to Goodwill and picking out the most horrendous outfits we could find and then going out to dinner.

But at home, my life was … well, not gloomy but definitely a little gray. Honestly, the house hadn’t felt the same since Dad officially moved out and moved in with Blair last year. It was as if all the warmth of the sun had been sucked out of the universe. He had invited me to spend Christmas Eve with them, but I just couldn’t do that. Holidays were supposed to be spent with family, and Blair wasn’t family. Plus, I wasn’t sure how I would handle seeing their smiling faces in pictures on the walls when all the memories of our family were now boxed up in the attic.

I put up a small Christmas tree on my second day home in a vain attempt to bring some joy into this house, but it wasn’t much better than the Charlie Brown Christmas tree before all the Peanut characters decorated it and made it look all shiny and new. Too many of our ornaments held painful memories, so I left many of them in the box. The tree was pretty pathetic, which just made me kind of sad.

It didn’t help my mood that this was the first time in my life that we didn’t go visit family, so it was just Mom and me, which meant I spent a lot of time reading, watching movies, and waiting for snow. Christmas just never felt like Christmas without snow. I couldn’t remember the last white Christmas we had, but I know I was a kid because my parents were still happily married to each other and we all went sledding until dark. I remember being so cold that I thought for sure my toes would fall off, but I kept begging to go ‘one more time’ at least twenty more times, much to my mom’s dismay. Eventually Dad was able to convince me it was time to go home with the promise of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and a movie night.

I lay in bed for a while, not wanting to leave the warmth of my covers. I was supposed to head back to campus today, and as much as I missed Alex, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to return to the grind of my courses. It was going to be an extremely challenging semester, but I knew that after this, it should be smooth sailing … until graduate school anyway.

I finally forced myself to get up and start to get around for the day when I noticed the blanket of white outside my window. Of course, it would snow the day I was supposed to head back to campus so I couldn’t enjoy it. It was disappointing to say the least. I stared out my window for a while, enjoying the way the sunlight glistened on the soft, powdery snow before finally the smell of freshly brewed coffee beckoned me down the stairs. My mom was already at the table browsing casually on her phone. She had probably been up for hours even though it was a Sunday and she didn’t have to go into the office today. It was her normal routine. Structured and rigidly unbending—exactly what I never wanted to be.

“Morning,” I said as I poured myself a cup.

She set her phone down and said, “I went over your class schedule. I’m rather surprised you didn’t enroll in the Philosophy of Law course as we discussed.”

Typical—all business. There was no ‘Good morning, did you sleep okay?’ And how on earth did she see my class schedule? In my head I screamed, I am an adult now and perfectly capable of deciding what classes I’d take without your input, but I knew I’d never get up the nerve to say that out loud. My mom hadn’t been the easiest to talk to in the last year, so I had been dreading this conversation all break long. She hadn’t handled the divorce very well; she seemed to be coping with everything by turning into an unfeeling robot. She had lost all semblance of the softness she once possessed.

“Oh yeah, I, um, signed up for Intro to Philosophy this semester instead because it didn’t conflict with Macroeconomics. I figured it would be just as beneficial, plus it’s a core requirement anyway,” I stammered a little bit, like I tended to do when I was nervous about a confrontation.

After a moment that seemed to drag on forever, she finally said, “Hmm, I guess that’s fine. But I still think you should add another elective. You are only enrolled in twelve credit hours. We don’t want to fall behind.”

We weren’t falling behind in anything. Twelve hours was still full-time, and I was still on track to graduate in a year, but I knew there was no point in arguing with her so I just said, “Okay, I’ll take care of it.”

“And don’t forget, it’s time to sign up for the LSAT,” she said, barely looking up from her phone. “Do you want to take them in February or June?”

Whoa, she actually asked me versus telling me what to do like she usually does. It took me a minute to answer, but finally I said, “Can I take it in June? This semester is going to be hard enough.” Especially if I am adding another class to my schedule.

“That’s fine. No later than June, though. We must stay focused.”

Focused.

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