Page 72 of Close to Falling

“Well, yeah, I know he will eventually, but it doesn’t make me any less concerned when he falls.”

River smiles at me and kisses my hair. “I love how you love him,” he whispers into my ear as he pulls me to his side.

“I love how you love both of us,” I say.

***

A loud knock on the door wakes me from my nap. I hear footsteps and wonder if River has it. I hear mumbling and sit up, then put my feet down. Running a hand through my hair, I stand up and grab a sweater to cover my wrinkly T-shirt. As I walk to the door, the voices get louder and I see a man in a brown suit and River holding on to the door. The man looks past River at me, making River turnaround to look behind him.

“Thanks for letting us know,” he turns back to the man and says. The man nods,and River shuts the door.“They found Rozz's body, B.” River looks at me. I cover my mouth, my heart breaking for Fisher.

“Do they have any answers?” I ask as I walk into the living room to sit down.

“They said they have nothing, but they probably wouldn't tell us if they did,” he says, sitting beside me and pulling me over to him.

“How are we going to tell Fisher?” I ask as I look at our reflection in the black TV screen.

“I don’t know. I have no idea how to do this.”

***

With a light knock on Fisher’s door, I step inside and see him lying on his bed. His feet are crossed and a skating magazine is in his hands, covering his face. He moves it and looks at me.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Hey,” he says, putting the magazine down and sitting up. I swallow and walk all the way in, glancing back to see River standing in the doorway. Telling a boy his father is dead is probably the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do, but knowing River is behind me helps.

“I don’t have good news,” I say.

“What’s wrong? Is it my dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he okay? When will I see him again?”

“Fisher, your dad…he…” I can’t get the words out. I look back at River, and a slow panic rises in my chest. I don’t know how to do this slowly, so I just come out with it. “Your dad passed away, baby.” The look on his face shatters my heart, and I jump back when he throws his magazine across the room.

“No!” he screams. “No, no no!” he yells louder and starts picking up things, slinging them into his walls. The kid throws a fit, and River hurries in and grabs him. His whole body shakes from the sobs coming out of Fisher’s chest, and I have to leave the room as River takes over. He holds on to Fisher as he bawls, and I slide down the wall in the hallway and do the same––I cry. I weep for a kid who lost his dad too soon. I cry for the teenager who will want his dad so bad sometimes that he’ll cry himself to sleep. I cry for the adult who will need his dad’s advice and not be able to get it. I cry for Fisher, and I cry for myself, because to this day I still miss my daddy so much, and I wonder what advice he would give me now, because God knows I need some.

***

Just my family surrounds the black casket a bed of red roses lies on. Fisher cries quiet tears, and I’m not sure what’s worse, the sound of his tears or the silence. Some words are said, and I give him the letter Rozz wrote to him, so he can have it for himself. We still aren’t clear with the details, but they tell us he was beaten to death. I don’t understand that kind of life. I do not get how anyone could do something like that to a man who has children. It makes me sick and so angry. I know what Fisher is going through, so I try to give him his space, because there are no words I can say to help him really. Nothing helps with the heartache of missing a loved one. Nothing but time will make it easier, but even it doesn’t erase the pain. You just learn to live with it.

***

The summer sun fades earlier and earlier, making room for the bright moon and colder weather. Fisher is getting better. We make him talk to us every day, so he doesn’t close up. I’ve also suggested he talk with Ellie, which he did not want to do, so I got some advice from her and try to pass it on to him. He keeps his mind busy with school and skateboarding, and life is getting easier for him. I’m in the kitchen cooking while River sits at the bar telling me jokes from an old book he bought when we were younger.

“I can’t believe you still have that.” I smile. “And I remember all of these,” I say as I wipe my hands on a dish towel.

“Remember this one?” he asks. “Why is air like sex?”

“Because it’s no big deal unless you’re not getting any,” I reply, trying not to smile at the dumb joke.

“You do remember.” He shows me his River Dawson dimples. “Remember you lied to me about having sex, too?”

“Now that I don’t remember,” I say, turning away from him. I hear the stool he was sitting on move, and I stir the sauce pot, smiling when I feel his arms wrap around me.

“Why, oh why, did you lie to me, B?” he asks playfully.

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