Page 56 of Falling Backwards
Fragile hope overwhelms everything else in her expression—it relaxes her jaw, lifts her eyebrows.It even fills her lungs.
“You will?”she asks.
Between the way this new look makes me feel and how my brain is still trying to get a grasp on what I’ve found us in the middle of, it takes me a few seconds to figure out how to nod.
And for a few more, we just hold each other’s gaze.
She whispers, “Thank you.”
Another flicker of something I haven’t seen from her in an eternity.
Indeed, it’s been several long years since we were last able to share personal space for hours and just…be.Not glare or bicker or straight-up argue.I have to wonder how we’re going to manage to look even halfway normal here.
Maybe a rum and ginger ale will help that too.
At thinking this, I recall how sore my legs are.Stepping out of the alcove is a sharper reminder.Funny, though, how the pain is no longer the biggest thing on my mind.
Same as the past, I guess, at least for now.
This time, my belated response is, “You’re welcome.It might be a challenge, but it’s just for the night.Surely we can exercise some restraint.”
I think back on her kindness from when I had that headache the other day.
Then, clearing my throat, I gesture towards the rest of Merritt’s.“Ready to go?”
She nods and starts shuffling along with me.Somehow for the first time, I notice she’s wearing high heels—black ones that look simple yet nice with her gray sweater and black pants.I’m still taller than she is, though.
I always kind of appreciated that detail in passing, but something about it means even more to me now.
She quietly rushes out, “Hold on a second.”
We stop walking.When she faces me, I mirror her and get a front-row seat to the new blush that’s taking over her cheeks.
“Maybe it’s a good idea for—for us to say something not-mean to each other.Before we get in there.To kind of break the ice or whatever.”She slips an unsure glance over me and tugs at her sweater, as if self-conscious.“If you can find anything about me that you don’t wanna make fun of.”
I give an approving hum.I do think that’s a good suggestion.I’m also amused by that last thing she said, but if I laugh, she’ll probably take it the wrong way.
Shewilltake it the wrong way if I joke about her being careful walking in those heels; that’s what happened yesterday when I laughed about her tripping at work in flat shoes.I know I’ve teased her before about being clumsy, but yesterday I was still riding the strange high I got from her shoulder drop in the breakroom, so I found her little stumble endearing somehow.Then she got mad at me and turned the whole thing around, including that mood I was in.So I was mad, too, about thatandthe squabble we got into about my phone.
Thinking about the phone reminds me of how I later noticed another employee getting in trouble for having theirs on them.At first I thought the guy deserved it because he wasn’t surreptitious enough, but I eventually—albeit grudgingly—admitted to myself that that wasn’t really true.He got in trouble because the shape of his phone was visible in his pocket, which could’ve happened to anyone.It may or may not have made me reconsider my own stance on the no-phone rule, and I wonder now if that’s a good not-mean thing to say to Maggie.‘You were right to tell me to leave my phone locked up in the breakroom.Someone else got reprimanded for not doing it, and it could’ve just as easily been me.’
But nah, I’m not bringing that up, though I’m sure it would cheer her a bit.
Telling her how beautiful she looks doesn’t seem like the best idea either.So I just go with a different simple truth: “We may not be friends, but I still believe you deserve to feel comfortable.”
There’s no way to know what she thought I might say, but the look in her eyes is one of light surprise.It shifts into gratitude next, and then…something I can’t put my finger on.
Still in her quiet way, she says again, “Thank you.”After a beat, she adds, “We may not be friends, but I still think you’re being kind.”
The compliment brushes over me.
She thinks I’m being kind.
I echo her low thanks because I’m pleased and abruptly saddened at the same time.
I never wanted to give her a reason to think poorly of me in the first place, but my old actions forced her hand.
And what with so many emotions running high right now, I find I can’t keep from wondering ifshe’sever still sad about us.If she ever feels regret over how things went, not just resentment and betrayal.
