Page 32 of Close to Falling

Ankles crossed and back pressed against my favorite tree, I have my drawing pad on my lap and black charcoal in my hand. I haven’t done this in so long. Dark lines on my paper are still a mystery, as I haven’t decided what I want to make them into yet. Leaves dance across the lawn as the wind shifts them in different directions. My heart beats slowly, and I take small breaths. The sun warms my pale skin, and I chew on my nails as I try to get my hand and mind to create something. My hand moves in an up and down motion, and I rub across the paper with my outer palm to make it smudge. I think of the waves crashing and a girl walking across the beach at night. Long dark hair, soft pale skin, arms spread out. Concentration and my passion take over; the world around me doesn’t exist anymore. It’s just this old oak, my chalk and drawing pad, and me.

***

A group of birds flies out of the treetops, moving in sync across the vast blue sky. I grab my hair and move it to one side as Ellie tells me about different school options. I try to listen to her, but my mind is somewhere else today. We take a seat on the bench by the pond, and I look out onto the water.

“What does that sound like to you?” Ellie asks.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay today?” She looks concerned.

“Just thinking,” I respond.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asks, turning my way and putting her foot up on the bench. I take a breath and bite the inside of my cheek. “Tell me more about River.”

“We kept everything a secret until River finally saved up enough money to move out. He was nineteen, and school was over for him and Landon. Cali and I were in our last year. River and I sat Landon and Frankie down and told them we were together. Frankie didn’t say a word; he got up, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and left. Landon was pissed.

***

We watched Frankie grab his truck keys off the counter.

“Frankie.” I slide my chair back and stand up. He looks back at me, but still doesn’t say anything. I see disappointment on his face, and sadness surrounds my heart. He turns and walks out, leaving us three alone.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Landon says as he stands also.

“Hey, chill out, man,” River says.

“Fuck you, River. You know better than this shit. Hell, Maddie is our little sister.”

“No, brother, she is your little sister. I have never thought of her that way, and you know that.”

“Maddie, you can do…”

“What, Landon? I can do what?” I ask, eyeing him. “And be careful with your next words.”

“You have talent, B. You can draw like I’ve never seen. You need to do something with that. Don’t get trapped here.”

“How does being with River have anything to do with my drawing? He would never hold me back.”

Landon looks between us. “River, you know what I’m talking about. Tell her,” he says.

“Landon,” River warns, nostrils flared and lips pressed.

“What?” I ask.

“River has been talking to his dad in prison.”

“Shut your mouth, Landon,” River says, standing up. He’s balled fists and low brows.

Landon looks to River. His head is lifted back, his mouth curved down, as he says, “Pops and your boy here got big plans, B. They’re going—” Before he can get the words out, River lunges forward, slamming into Landon. He draws back, and his fist meets Landon’s face.

“River!” I scream. Running over to them, I pull on my boy’s shirt. It rips, and he leans up off Landon. But Landon gets in a punch of his own, and blood spews out of River’s mouth. River jumps up. He lifts his chin toward Landon who has jumped up, too. I can feel the tension in the room and the adrenaline coming off the boys in waves. Landon straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. He looks over at me and shakes his head before he walks out of the room. River takes a breath and pulls his pack out of the front pocket of his black jeans. Bringing it to his lips, he pulls a cigarette out with his teeth and holds it between his busted lips. “River, what aren’t you telling me?”

“I gotta smoke, babe,” he says, turning around and walking through the living room. I follow. We step out onto the porch, and he rests his elbows down on the railing. Running a hand through his hair, he grips the back of his neck. He doesn’t speak for a minute, and I let him cool down as I look out into the yard. The porch light is off, and the moon shines bright above us. River finally stands up straight and pulls the smoke out before he turns and spits blood out of his mouth.

“River, I need you to talk to me.” He turns and looks at me for a moment before he casts his eyes downward. He slides his lighter out of his pocket and lights his cigarette. “You’ve been talking to your dad?” I ask.

He nods, as smoke blows from his mouth. I walk over to him and search his eyes before I look down at his lips. I reach up and lightly touch them. They’re swollen and bloody. He doesn’t move as my finger lightly brushes over them.

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