Page 64 of Close to Falling

“It’s staying, B. No point in arguing about it.” I roll my eyes and sigh.

“You’re taking over.”

“You don’t want me here?” he asks, looking at me with narrowed eyes and wrinkles of question on his forehead.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, what are you saying? Because I can take my ass right back over to my place. I haven’t given it up yet.”

“You haven’t?” I ask with a line of concern between my brows.

“No,” he says, pushing a side table out of the way and placing his chair there, right in front of the TV. He smiles and puts his hands on his hips, obviously proud of his ugly brown chair, but I’m still thinking about the fact he hasn’t given up his place.

“You keeping it in case this doesn’t work out?” I point between the two of us.

“Oh, this is going to work out, B. I don’t care if we have to live separately.”

“I don’t want to live separately.” I pout. “Get rid of your apartment, River.”

“Stop bitching about my stuff.”

“I’m not bitching.”

“Fine. Stop pouting then,” he says, turning his head sideways, like I’m a big baby. Maybe I am.

“Ugh, you drive me crazy.” I throw my hands up in defeat and storm off to my studio. River hasn’t taken over this space yet. As I walk through the door, I’m swept up off my feet. I giggle and take hold of the doorway.

“Let go, B.”

“No,” I say.

“You wanna play this the hard way?”

“No,” I say again as my hands fall and I’m being taken to our room.Ourroom. I love that. He tosses me onto the bed and climbs on top of me.

“You only make me want you more when you argue with me.” He keeps a straight face as he looks down at me.

“Fine. I’ll argue with you for the rest of my life,” I reply, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down closer. His lips lift before he kisses me. I hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, and I slide his pants down with my feet. He reaches down and puts his hand inside my comfortable, cotton pants. I moan as he touches me.

“Already wet,” he says as he slides the cotton down my legs, and in one move he is inside me. I breathe out hard and grasp his backside, wanting more, always wanting more. He’s whispered words oftell me, and I sayI love youover and over as he lifts my thigh and makes me come undone.

***

Winter snow has all melted, and spring flowers are once again showing their colors. The doors to the shop are open, letting in a nice breeze, and I’m sitting at a desk River made for me so we could be closer while we both work. I wrap my hair up onto my head and pull out some stray pieces before I grab my pencil. Rozz turns the record player up as Janis Joplin croons out lyrics of summertime and living easy. Sweet magic flows out of my fingers like it does most of the time, and I sway my head to Janis’s rustic voice. River walks in, dressed in a black T-shirt and matching jeans. Boots cover his feet, and he sees me checking him out. He winks, and I smile as I look back down at my drawing. A man sits on a barstool with his head hung low. He’s crying. You can’t tell from his face, but the hang in his shoulders and the way his back is hunched over speaks for him. The background is filled with rows of empty liquor bottles, and an empty glass sits on the wood bar. He’s lonely, and it’s all his fault. Liquor took over his life, and now it’s even gone. It reminds me of David somehow, and I wonder how the storyteller is. I feel someone behind my shoulder and look to see River. His eyes scan over my art.

“Tell me about it.”

I look back at the drawing and tilt my head. “It’s a sad man in a bar. He loved drinking more than anything else, but eventually that went, too, and he is left with all his demons and nothing to drown the pain away. So he’s crying.”

“That’s deep, B,” River says.

“Yeah,” I agree, deciding I’ll put a guitar on the floor beside him. He rubs my shoulders before he leans down and kisses my hair.

“Love you.”

“Me, too,” I reply. He walks back into the store, and I look over when I hear Fisher, Rozz’s son, roll into the shop on his skateboard. It must be after three already.

“Hey,” he says to his dad. Rozz turns the music down and asks his boy about school. “It was okay,” Fisher replies, flipping his board up and walking over to me.

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