Page 4 of Break Your Fall

The rain slows to a heavythunk-thunkagainst the umbrella as I work my way back to solid ground, my eyes sliding along the looming shadows of the caves in the distance as thunder cracks above.

Shelby’s house is on the way to Reyna’s, and as I approach the two-story brick, I lower the umbrella and stare up at the black sky. There’s not enough rain to wash off my lack of amusement this time. After a stare-down that lasts about five seconds, I’m the one to relent with a sigh toward the house.

Am I supposed to knock on the door? Is Reyna inside? The windows are dark. Shelby’s parents are known to crash early. Shelby sometimes stays up to work on the candles she makes and sells—I still have a few she’s given me on my dresser in my bedroom—but her light is out, too. I half hope that Reynaisinside. Safe, with someone to talk to. Even if that someone is my recent ex-girlfriend. I try not to feel uncomfortable. To dwell on the idea of them talking aboutme.

What would they say?

Shelby was my first real girlfriend. Reyna is my first real love. When both are happening at the same time, but not with the same person, those conflicting ingredients don’t make for a lasting relationship with the former.

Our break up was mutual, but I said the words first. Shelby and I were good together, but we weren’t enough for each other. We couldn’t be enough. So who really knows. I tried to do right by Reyna when it came to Julian, and I’ve come out of this looking as bad as the rest of them.

I continue along the sidewalk, pass a street lamp. If Reyna is inside with Shelby, she’s at least safer than where I’m heading now.

There are two cars in the driveway—Valerie’s and a new pickup. The pickup isn’t new, but I’ve never seen it here, so there’s a new man-child inside. I don’t think as I move to the door, the need to know that Reyna isn’t being touched by this pervert driving me right inside the house. The umbrella falls behind me, fanned open outside the door as I start through the rooms, realizing I’m leaving damp prints along the floor.

That’s what the hardwood’s for.

And honestly,Fuck you, Valerie.

The rooms are lit up, making the trek easier. My feet are giving me no time to stop, carrying me on to the next room when I don’t find her, her name sounding in my head through each one.

The living room—clear.

Kitchen—clear.

Dining area—clear.

Reyna. Reyna. Reyna.

Once I get to the hall, I find Valerie’s bedroom door shut. I never know why she bothers. Evidence for the excuse ofI do the best I canwhile still doing the worst she can. Her daughter needed her, and Valerie gave her alcohol to cope. Her daughter needs her now—always, every day—and this is what she’s doing. Getting wasted and laid behind a closed door that’s never enough to block the shit out. She’s mewing like a kitten back there.

Nice. I’ll never look at cats the same way again.

I collect myself, relaxing my balled fists as I open Reyna’s bedroom door and step inside. Clear. My chest falls with both relief and dejection.

The lamps at each side of her bed are both on. They emit a softer light than the one overhead. Music reaches my ears, low. “First Day of My Life” by Bright Eyes. A slow smile finds my mouth as I listen. This song is Reyna’s secret favorite. She listens to it when she’s working on a project.

I step closer to her open laptop, see the song’s on repeat. She left everything going, like she made a hasty exit from this room. The lock on the outside door is still unlatched, Reyna always wanting us to be able to come and go. At least that hasn’t changed overnight.

Her painting corner is a mess. That’s not unusual, but it’s different. Guess I need to get used to things being different now. I should be good at it. I’ve had some practice.

The painting propped on the easel twists my insides, bends something in me until it breaks.

The canvas shows an open mouth screaming red light through a dark throat like puncture wounds, the light forcing jagged cracks in the barrier.

I’m staying, I decide in the moment I swing the door shut and close the laptop, my eyes glued to those angry streaks of light as I drop down into the green beanbag chair I got Reyna for her last birthday.

I have to stay, to wait for her like she’s waited for me. She needed me those nights I found her in my bedroom. She still needs us now. I need her now. She’s still my best friend, and she’ll come home.

She always comes home.

2

After Last Night

Reyna

I’ve never done the walk of shame.

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