Page 52 of Close to Falling

“I always knew you’d be great, River,” I say with no smile on my face because I want him to know I mean it. “What did you do in prison?” I ask a moment later.

“You don’t want to know all of that.”

“I wouldn’t have asked,” I reply. He rolls over on his side, too, and his eyes roam.

“You’re still so pretty, B,” he says, and I see he is changing the subject. I don’t reply, just stare back at this man I’ve known since he was a boy. He has grown up in front of me, always beautiful, but now he is breathtaking. His eyes change, and he doesn’t blink. I swallow. He leans in, but I look down.

“River,” I say quietly. “Just friends, remember?” I look up at him. He turns his head out toward the water. The mood shifts, and I look back down at the blanket because I don’t like the disappointment on his face. How did we get here? How did we get to this awkwardness and tiptoeing around each other? Things used to be so much easier between us. So much more natural.

“I better get you home. It’s getting late.”

“Okay,” I reply, a little disappointed because I like spending time with him. Of course, I’d ruin a good moment, but I can’t go there with him again. Time is meant to move forward, not backward. We both stand and pack up the blanket.

***

The ride back is quiet, and I feel shitty. He pulls up to the sidewalk, and I turn to look at him.

“I really had a good time. Thank you,” I say, grabbing the door handle.

“Sure, B.” He gives me a half-smile as he jumps out of the truck, and I do the same. He walks me up the stoop, and I grab my keys out of my purse. They jingle in my hand as I try to unlock the door. I’m nervous now, and I don’t know why.I turn to look at him as he slides his hands into his pockets. His lips are in a straight line, telling me he is not sure of what to do either.

“I’ll see you later?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He bends down and kisses my forehead before he walks back to his truck. I watch him with my hand on the doorknob.“Go inside, B,” he says, and I do.

***

The weeks pass by with me working in the studio constantly, trying to get ready for another art show. If I’m not cooped up in there, I’m spending time with River or being forced to go to art galleries. I’m actually being forced to go to one right now, and I’m ill about it, because Sarah has called a thousand times on her way over here telling me to hurry up and get ready. I haven’t got a thing to wear.

“I’m wearing jeans!” I yell to her from my bedroom.

“Wear whatever you like!” she hollers back.

“Fine!” I say, ramming one foot into my pants leg. I do the same with the other and jump to pull them up. I huff, blowing my hair out of my face.“Why do I have to go to this again?” I ask, walking into the kitchen.

“Because you need to be seen, Maddie. You have to make appearances to these kinds of things.”

“I have two pieces I’m in the middle of, and I need to be working.”

“Maddie, after this, you and your creative mind can come home and stay locked up in there for days for all I care.”

“Well, I’m drinking,” I tell her.

“You’re a grown woman. Drink if you like.”

“You’re drinking, too.” I hold out a beer for her to take.

“Fine. I need one anyway, having to deal with your ass,” she replies, twisting the top off.

“Good,” I say, taking a sip.

***

I’m totally underdressed, but who cares. I make my rounds, talk with a few people, and wish I were somewhere else.I grab my phone out of my back pocket and search for River’s name.

Art is boring. Why did I go this route?

I’m a tad buzzed, but not drunk. He doesn’t reply, so I slide my phone back and look around some more, picking up a champagne glass on my way. After two more rounds of talking and walking, my phone vibrates.

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