Catch My Fall (5 page)

As I pulled back, Austin smiled at me.  “We’re expecting to see a lot of you this year since you’re living with Darby.  Don’t tell my sister but my mom gave me orders to keep an eye on you both so if you need anything, just shout.”

Trace suddenly appeared at Austin’s side, where he elbowed him playfully in the stomach before he said, “Superman over here acts like he’s flying solo on this.”  Smiling at me, he continued, “Tristan and I are also on Darby and Mia watch, just so you know.  If someone so much as looks at you weird, you reach out to one of us and it will be taken care of.”

I startled when I felt an arm sliding across my shoulders.  Before I even looked up, I
knew that it was Tristan.  It was obvious because the hair on my arms stood up and my nipples hardened painfully. 

“Never mind these morons,” he said with a husky laugh.  “If you need anything you find me first.  I’m the one you want.”

I shivered involuntarily as I choked out an uneasy laugh. 
Fuck my life, can he really tell?
  I didn’t know what was going on with me where he’s concerned and I didn’t like it at all.

With far more bravado than I really possess
ed I pulled away and laughed at him.  “I don’t know,
Stan
,” I said as I made a face that was meant to indicate I was thinking it through.  “I’m just not sure you’re the man for the job.  You’re forgetful and you drink Yoo-Hoo.”  With a dramatic shudder of disgust, I took a step away from him as I laughed.

Holding up his Yoo-Hoo, he smiled at me.  “Hey, this is the drink of champions! And what do you mean I’m forgetful?  I’m the least forgetful person I know.”

“That’s a pretty sorry testament,” I said with a chuckle. “You forgot a pen for your first day of school and I had to provide you with one.  I think it’s safe to say you’re forgetful.”

Trace and Austin’s bold laughter brought my attention to them.  “What a little shit,” Trace exclaimed.  Darby came out of the kitchen door and joined us, looking between Trace and Austin as they laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

Gesturing to his brother Trace said, “Apparently my brother pulled the forgotten pen thing on Mia today.”  Looking at me
, Trace explained, “I know for a fact that this moron had a backpack full of pens because Mom McKenzie was here yesterday loading us all up on supplies.  I watched him put the pens in his bag.”

Part of me
was affronted that Tristan just got caught out in a lie, but a bigger part was flattered that he lied in order to get my attention.  I was trying to think of a retort when Darby smacked him upside the head.

“You are so lame!  What did you think, you were going to ask her to borrow a pen and she would just melt under the heat of your gaze?  BLAH!  It might work on every other trick
-ass slut in this town, but it won’t work on Mia.  You should be ashamed of yourself.  I am sooo telling Mom!”

He looked beyond embarrassed and he raised his hands in surrender.  “C’mon Darbs, don’t do that!  It’s bad enough that she knows that I’m…” He broke off and looked at me uncomfortably.

Throwing his head back, Austin laughed.  “Oh, this is fucking beautiful.  Apparently this idiot is suffering from a case of humiliation.”  Smiling at me he said, “What he’s trying to say is that it’s bad enough that my mom knows he’s allergic to commitment and that he’s got a revolving mattress. I’ll tell you what…It’s quite interesting that he couldn’t just say that in front of you.  I’ve never seen anything like this shit before, ever.”

Tristan looked
uncomfortable and I couldn’t help but wonder what it all meant.  With a chuckle and a shrug of his shoulders he said, “Dude, c’mon man, it’s not like that.  I’m just keeping shit chill because she’s Darby’s friend and we’re obviously going to see her all the time. She’s gonna get to see plenty of my bullshit, trust me.”

Is it bad that
I wasn’t relieved at all that he obviously had no plans to hit on me?

I was a nervous wreck on Wednesday morning because it was time to go to Business Math again, which meant I was about to see Tristan.  There was another get-together at his house last night but he wasn’t there and I didn’t ask why. I can only assume he was out doing whatever it is that Malores do.  I hate to admit it but I was actually let down that he wasn’t there, which was really a surprise.  I don’t know what it is about him that made me so aware but it was nerve wracking to the nth degree.

This morning I found myself taking extra time getting ready and even though my brain was screeching at me to knock it off, I did it anyway.  I brushed my hair so much that
it actually gleamed and the smidgen of makeup I had on was perfect.  I’m not saying I was runway ready, lord knows that’s not true, but I think my face and hair looked as good as they possibly could.

After checking the weather app on my phone I pulled on my white shorts
, which I paired with a red tank top and my red Chucks.  Even though I can wind up with a pale-ish skin tone during the winter months, I’m generally a healthy caramel color so my legs looked good against the white of the shorts.  Surveying myself in our over-the-door dorm mirror, I decided that my long blonde hair played well off my tan, and I nodded approvingly at my reflection.  Grabbing my perfume, Coach’s Poppy, I sprayed the air and quickly walked through it before lifting up my book bag and heading out the door.

The walk across campus to class passed far too quickly for my liking and my wits weren’t quite about me as I stood just outside the door and took a deep breath for courage.  Just as my hand reached for the
knob, I heard Tristan’s voice coming from right behind me. 

“Mimi, you smell amazing.”

I’m proud of myself that I only tensed up a very little bit.  Turning around I raised an eyebrow and said, “Why thank you, Stan!  Here I thought you wouldn’t like anything that isn’t Eau de Tramp.”

Instead of getting pissy or annoyed, he threw back his head and laughed.  When he stopped, he gave me a devilish grin before replying, “It’s good to know you were thinking about me and whether I’d like it when you put on your perfume.”

Foot? Yeah, meet my mouth.

I wish
ed that a hole the exact size of me would open up to take me away. Summoning up a tiny scrap of dignity, I batted my eyelashes at him dramatically and nodded.  “
Of course
I was thinking about you, Stan!  You’re all that and a dish of peaches.”  Giving him a little wink I spun on my heel, grabbed the doorknob, and went into class. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noted that he took the seat next to me as I pulled out my pen and notebook.  When I was settled, he leaned over and set two unopened packs of pens on my desk
—the same brand and color of the pen I had given him on our first day of class. 

“What’s this?”

“It’s my way of apologizing for trying the forgotten-pen play on you.  I know you think I’m a total tool, but I’m not like that to Darby and I won’t be like that to you.”

I looked from the pens to him in wonder. 
It was such a small, inconsequential thing really, but no guy had ever given me a gift before.  I know it was just pens and not a book of poetry or something, but it was…unexpected.

Smiling shyly at him I said, “This was a really sweet thing to do.  I don’t think you’re a tool, Tristan.  I’ve just been teasing you.  Sorry if I’ve given you a complex.”

Our instructor started the class at the perfect moment, leaving Tristan unable to formulate any kind of a comeback.  I went away in my mind as the instructor droned on and on about the importance of Business Math.  Instead of listening, I thought about how strange it was that I was able to have a joking back and forth with Tristan.  I hardly know him at all, yet somehow I was comfortable enough to joke around with him, and that’s not something I’ve ever done with any guy. 

Even before the incident, I was never the type to feel at ease around guys.  My therapist says a lot of that is due to the utter lack of any kind of real relationship with my father.  Back before the divorce when my father
was still married to my mom, he was always short tempered and easily annoyed with me.  He spent a lot of his time yelling at my mother, belittling her sense of fashion, her weight, her voice, and even the books she read.  He told me quite often that I was a disappointment to him because I hadn’t been a son, and, according to my therapist, I internalized all of that.

The storm that was my parents’ marriage came
to a head one Saturday morning when I was seven.  My mother was at the stove making eggs for breakfast and I was carrying out my duty of setting the table.  As I got to my father’s spot, he made a sound of pure annoyance as he looked up from his paper to announce that there was no need for me to put silverware at his spot since he was leaving. 

I can still hear my mother
’s nervous laugh when she asked him where he was going, and I’ll never forget the look of absolute disdain on his face as he informed her that he had bought himself a penthouse apartment and movers were on their way to get his things.  After a few seconds my mother started to cry, but I can still see her initial reaction in my mind, and I know that what she felt first was relief. I knew right then, with absolute certainty, that she had only stayed with my father because of me, and I felt like I had ruined her life.  I never said that to her, but I felt it deeply.  In a lot of ways, I still believe that getting pregnant with me left her in a terrible situation that adversely affected her life.  I said as much to my therapist and she had adamantly told me that after all of the sessions she had been in with my mother and myself over the course of the past few months she was positive that my mother only ever saw me as a blessing. I love my mother and my mother loves me, but I would be blind not to see how much easier her life would have been if she’d never had to deal with John Reeves.

Watching my father leave that day was awful and it sickens me that he
believes he handled things in an up-front and very fair way.  When the movers came, they emptied out his office, his closet, his den, and the rest of it was left for us.  He had already filed for divorce and had my mother served about ten minutes after the movers showed up.  In his most detached voice he told her that it had been inevitable from the start. He then instructed her to “buck up” and move on, pointing out that per their pre-nup, she would be keeping the house, her jewelry and her car. 

“For a girl that got knocked up in her senior year of high school,
you made out quite well, Michelle,” he said matter-of-factly.  “I have to pay for everything for the kid until she’s out of college, which means that you’re in pole position to find a new sugar-daddy. You’re twenty-five and passably attractive, so it really shouldn’t be that hard.  If you’d like, I’ll even let some of the guys I hang out with know you’re on the market again.”

She hadn’t said one word as she turned and walked away, and other than discussing things about me, she
has never willingly spoken to him again.  

I was never close to my father, ever, but I did love him and I prayed every night that I would be good enough for him to love me back.  That day I remember feeling like I should try to show him that I was sad he was leaving in the hopes he would stay for me. In my little girl mind I thought that may
be if I told him, he would change his mind. 

Walking over to where he was standing at the door watching the movers do their thing
, I had tapped his arm to get his attention.  He looked down impatiently at me and snapped, “What?”

“I… I don’t want you to go,
Daddy.  I want you to stay here with me!”

The tears that made their way down my cheeks were warm, but what he said back to me made them feel like battery acid
permanently burning my face.

“Jesus Christ, Mia!  First of all,
don’t call me Daddy
.  How many fucking times do I have to tell you that?  It’s either John, or Father if you absolutely insist on trying to pretend that I’m a parent.  Look, I get that you’re seven and you’ve got to do some sniveling about this, but, honestly, I really don’t have time for your bullshit.  I’m just a guy who made the mistake of nailing some two-bit trash without a condom.  I didn’t ever care about her and I certainly never wanted to have kids.  If my parents hadn’t insisted that I marry her, I wouldn’t have done it.  Now that they’re both dead, I’m free to finally live my life.  I did the best I could and if that’s not good enough for you, tough.  This is life, little girl.  It’s selfish of you to stand here and ask me to stay and be miserable.”

I remember being glued to the spot with mortification and I said nothing as he glared at me.  With one final shake of his head, he looked at me and said, “Christ, you look even more like your mother when you cry.  How I got stuck with a family that looks like it came straight out of a Florida trailer park I will never know.”

After those soul-crushing words, he had left without a backwards glance.  I didn’t see him again until six months later at Christmas, and that pretty much set up the framework of our ‘relationship’.  We spend Christmas Eve together with my Uncle Jesse and their aunts and uncles, and I see him again for Easter, also with his extended family.  If it weren’t for the fact that those were family events, I’d never see him at all.  Truth be told, I would prefer it that way.  In reality Uncle Jesse and Neil have been the male influences in my life and I flat-out don’t like John—less so now than ever.  Any pipe dream that I had tucked away in my heart about him one day having a come-to-Jesus moment and wanting a relationship with me died on the vine this year, and I’ll never be foolish enough again to believe that he has even a scintilla of concern for me or my well-being.

I startled out of my thoughts of the past when a piece of folded paper hit my arm
then landed on my desk.  Picking it up, I saw it had my name on it.  I turned to look at Tristan and found him smiling at me. 

I mouthed, “From you?”

He shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to be mysterious, but the glimmer in his eyes answered the question for him.  Opening the folded paper I found that he’d written me a note.  A NOTE!  I’ve never in my life gotten a note or a letter from a guy.  Hell, I haven’t even gotten a card.  My fingers shook a little as I read what he had written.

Mimi-

It’s true; you’re giving me a complex. 

I’m sorry about taking a pen I didn’t need.  Don’t hold it against me.

Friends?  Check one of the boxes and let me know.

(   ) Yes     (   ) No
If you say yes, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship the likes of Chandler and Joey, Affleck and Damon, JWow and Snooki or my favorite BFFs, Marlin and Dori. 

Who in their right mind would pass that up? 

Say yes.  I know you want to.

~ Stan

At first read, I came up short and my hands got clammy from panic, but then I focused on all of the advice that my mom and my therapist have given me.  I’m not in guy jail. Not every guy is my dad, Brady or Chad.  I can be friendly with Tristan if I want to and.... 
I actually want to
.

I kn
ew I should check an answer off and give it back but I really, really didn’t want to.  If Macy were here we would be going over this note with a fine tooth comb, dissecting each and every word. But since she’s not I would take it to show it to her when I finally got to see her. Folding it up, I tucked it into my bag before ripping out a piece of paper from my notebook and writing a note of my own.

Stan-

I have good news and bad news.

The good news is: I accept your offer of friendship.

The bad news:

You totally just lost your man card and you can never, ever get it back.

JWow and Snooki?  Really?  I’m not getting drunk and chasing juiceheads with you!

The truth hurts, but as your friend, it had to be said.
  I’m sure you’ll get through it. As Dori says:  Just keep swimming!

-Mimi

Class was coming to an end as I signed my “name” to the note.  Folding it quickly I handed it to him and smiled.  “I’m going to the cafeteria for coffee.  Since you don’t have a class now either, do you want to go with me?”

Fiddling with the note that was now in his hand, he mumbled something that I couldn’t quite make out. 

“I didn’t hear what you said.”

“I’ve got a class now.”

It was the first week of school and I knew it was pretty common for people to be changing their schedules.  Obviously he’d added something new to his roster.

“I get it, you added to your schedule.  No biggie.”

He mumbled again so I had to ask for clarification. 

“Uh, what’s up with the wicked case of mush mouth?  I can’t hear a damn thing you’re saying.”

Clearing his throat, he blurted, “I’ve had the class since I made my schedule over the summer. I just…didn’t feel like going the other day.”

I stared at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion as I said the first thing that came to mind.  “Who the hell skips class on the very first day?”

I could tell he was uncomfortable because the tips of his ears were red and he was fidgeting up a storm.  “I, uh, wanted to go to the cafeteria.  Look, I’m going to be late so I better go.  I’ll see you later… pal.”