Falling (8 page)

Rust blooms across the sign pointing to Farewell, Colorado.
It must be a strange weed the locals haven’t figure out how to kill. I see it
climbing up the buildings, sneaking under windowsills and lacing dusty cars
sitting on the side of the road.

I put down Gabe’s PSP and look out the window. Farewell is a
battered town, holding itself together with stubborn grit. An old town of old
men and old women grown gray together.

The temperature is dropping quickly as evening sets in. I
can feel the air thinning, and I wonder if I would have noticed before, or if
this is another new thing I can do better. I keep forgetting not to think.

“It don’t stand out, that’s for sure,” Gabe says from the
front seat. He crosses his arms behind his head. “Like all superheroes, we’ve
got to live on the down low.”

Tarren makes a noise in the back of his throat. I keep my
gaze out the window, noting a Mom & Pop antique shop pressed between a KFC
and a boxy off-colored Walgreens. The stores dry up, and the road becomes more
playful, sneaking cracks and potholes under our wheels. Bushy fir trees hug in
close to the road, and I catch swatches of larger houses set far back into
wooded lots. Sometimes thin mailboxes peeking from the foliage are the only
flag of life.

“Farewell to civilization,” Gabe says with a laugh. “Lots of
retirees come out here. Land is cheap. No one bothers you. Just get yourself a
Life Alert system and you’re golden.”

“Francesca’s out,” Tarren murmurs.

Gabe perks up in his seat, and so do I, responding instantly
as his aura pulses bright violet streaks. “Oh shit, my hat.”

“Eh?” Tarren says.

“The lucky one.”

“Ah yes, the lucky one.”

“Maya, quick!” Gabe twists around in his seat to hammer me
with his eyes. “My bag. It’s in my bag.”

I stare at his energy, at that purple saturation, with
longing.

“Slow down you fucker,” Gabe hisses to Tarren. Then, “Come
on Maya. Team effort.”

I unbuckle my seatbelt and pull the seat down to access the
trunk.

“Brown duffle bag.”

“I know,” I say as I grab the strap.

“We’ve got to be careful,” Tarren begins.

“Your jealousy of our love is pitiful,” Gabe retorts as I
toss the bag to him. He rifles through it as the car slows. “Plus, Dr. Lee’s a
total hermit. No TV, no newspapers. The world could be enslaved by
intergalactic overlords and he wouldn’t even notice. Ah!” Gabe exclaims as he
wrestles the dingy white hat from his bag.

I look out and see a neat cabin bordered by looming pine and
spruce. A thick carpet of orange pine needles covers the ground, and an
American flag rustles from a protruding deck. A woman is tipping a large
watering can over the window box flowers. I notice right away that she is
shamelessly over imbued with good features. Clearly she got to the body part
bins before all the other little kids. I imagine her taking off with long tan
legs, butterfly lashes, pink lemonade lips and glossy black hair while I elbow
through the crowds trying to find something with a little less warts on it.

Tarren stops the car and Gabe — hat in place — presses the
window button. When his window doesn’t budge, he turns to his brother.

“If you try to keep us apart, I will kill you. I swear it.
In your sleep. You have to sleep Tarren.”

Tarren smiles a handsome big brother smile, and the window
goes down. The air carries scents of pine sap and loose soil.

“Francesca!” Gabe calls out to her. He tosses his bag at me,
and I manage to catch it just before it plows into my face. The woman turns and
waves, presenting a round face, smooth, coffee-colored skin and a sheen of
blue-emerald energy pulsing with vitality. Utterly shameless.

“Buongiorno,” Gabe says, grinning as she approaches.

Francesca’s smile belongs on a box of teeth whitener. She
sets the watering container next to her foot and leans against the mailbox.

“Buongiorno Gabe. Hi Tarren. You boys back in town, eh? Good
tradeshow?” Her voice is threaded with a light accent that extenuates her o’s
and r’s almost like she’s purring. “Oh, Tarren, your face. What happened this
time?”

“Got punched out on the show floor by one of our clients,”
Gabe jumps in. “Terribly embarrassing, but I did end up selling the guy 160
licenses of our data management software upgrade. Broke a company record
actually, but who’s counting.”

Francesca crosses her arms over her chest. “Why are you
always so mean to your big brother, huh? He watches out for you. He does good,
honest work here. Always polite. Not a mean bone in his body. Right, Tarren?”

“Right,” Tarren nods. I almost choke on my spit.

“Did you know that he drowns baby kittens?” Gabe says. “It’s
his only passion in life.”

“Gabe!” Francesca exclaims. “Always lies and that big smile.
Oh.” Francesca sees me through the window. “Hello.”

“Hi,” I say and make a genuine effort to keep my gaze
affixed to her face instead of the beautiful waves of energy that cloak her
body.

“This is our cousin Maya,” Tarren says. He keeps his tone
casual. “She just got out of school and is staying with us for a while.”

“Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you, but you better watch out
for this one,” Francesca nods towards Gabe. “He thinks he’s sooo cute and
clever.”

“Lies,” Gabe says. “I’m incredibly handsome and clever.” His
energy is fluttering like humming bird wings. The purple shades grow dark as
wine. I force myself not to stare.

“How is Dr. Lee doing?” Tarren asks.

“Okay,” Francesca turns toward the house. “Grumpy as ever.
The summer is better for him. He goes outside to read during the day. He likes to
be in the sun.”

“Me too,” I say for no reason.

“Looks like the lawn needs some work,” Tarren says. He gives
me a warning glare through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah,” Francesca tugs on her jean skirt. “Come by any time
Tarren. There’s always something to do. Raking up all these pine needles. Then
a good mow and putting in seeds. Whenever you have time. We always need help
keeping this place together.”

“You’re doing a great job,” Gabe says. “Dr. Lee is lucky to
have a girl like you helping him out.”

“He has a good heart,” Francesca says, and her voice
softens. “He respects you so much Tarren, and he still speaks of your mother
sometimes. She sounds like an amazing person.”

“She was,” Tarren says. His energy flicks. “Tell Dr. Lee
‘hello’ from me and my brother. I’ll give him a call when we get settled. We
gotta get some groceries and supplies in the morning. Make up a list of what
you need, and I’ll pick it up while I’m in town.”

“Okay,” Francesca says. She shivers, and I watch goose bumps
pattern along her arms and legs. I watch her energy too. And Tarren’s. Mostly
Gabe’s, though. Still humming bird wings.

“Well, it’s always good to have you boys back. I hope you
stay for a while this time,” Francesca says.

“Hard to say,” Tarren replies. He turns the engine on.

“Nice to meet you Maya.” She raises her hand in greeting.

“Yeah,” I say.

“See ya!” Gabe calls after her even as Tarren closes the
windows. When the car moves on, Gabe falls back against the seat.

“She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s in love with me,” he says.

“I could tell that she totally wanted you,” I respond.

“In the worst kind of way,” Gabe confirms. He twists around
in his seat, so that his bright eyes are peering at me. The smile hasn’t left
his face.

“When this is all over, I’m going to marry her. We’re gonna’
have beautiful children. And wild sex. Twice a day.”

* * *

The road gives way to gravel, and the Murano’s tires dig
in.  Shadows from the trees sweep over us in bands. We turn into a long
driveway.

“Don’t miss your line,” Tarren says to his brother.

“Oh yeah,” Gabe sighs. “Home sweet home.”

I gaze out through the windshield, and the only thing I can
think is,
I already had a home
.

The house of the Fox brothers stamps a generous footprint
across a scraggly plot of land. Gray brick meets green siding at the second
story, just above the garage. The paint is peeling and rust eats its way up the
gutters. The front lawn is made up of patches of long crab grass with bright
dandelion heads peeking out from their midst.

“Ready?” Gabe asks me.

“Sure,” I lie. I want to stay in the car. Forever. I want to
not be thinking of my apartment and all the books gathering so much dust.
Avalon mocking on the wall. Ryan not there. The ghosts of my dreams rattling
chains and moaning softly.

Gabe and Tarren shoulder their bags and tromp into the
house. I follow timidly and stop just inside the door.

My first impression is that the house seems empty and plain.
I assumed it would be messier, more boyish and rough-lived. The living room
looks cared for just enough, though everything seems old and overused. There is
a distinct lack of strong colors. Nothing hangs on the white walls, the wooden
floors are wanting in wax, and the furniture is minimal—blue cloth couch, boxy
television sitting on a chipped stand. There’s an Xbox and a precarious tower
of DVDs next to the TV. 

“Oh,” I say softly.

“We have an ad out on Craigslist for a stuffy British
butler, but so far, no luck,” Gabe says. He is my rambling tour guide, and his
energy ticks with nervousness. Tarren is edgy too, tracking us from room to
room without a word. We move to the kitchen with its glass cabinets and long
counters. The table is all scratched and nicked.  Dishes are piled in the sink
and reeking of dried spaghetti sauce and salad dressing. I notice a crack in
the wall beside the back door.

The dining room is next, which isn’t a dining room at all.
This is Gabe’s office, and he’s set up three plasma computer monitors on his
desk, bookended by Bose speakers. On the top shelf, above the monitors, a terrible
battle wages between two opposing armies of action figures. The destruction is
intricately choreographed. X-Men face off against GI Joes. Spiderman and Batman
have teamed up against Conan and some round-eyed, large-breasted anime
character. A Ninja Turtle stands proudly over the broken body of a Ken doll.

“…you know, gotta’ have fun with your job,” Gabe is saying
behind me. “See if you can find the Care Bear. Here’s a hint, it ain’t got a
head anymore.” He pauses, and I think he’s actually waiting for a laugh.

This is so awkward. I try, really try, not to compare this
shabby little house with my love-filled apartment or with the immaculate, airy
home I grew up in. I shouldn’t look at this as a prison or a punishment. I need
to stay in the present, let each second crest and break over me without
resistance.

“What do you think, basement next?” Gabe looks to his
brother.

“She’ll see it soon enough,” Tarren says. “We’re all tired.
Let’s just go upstairs.”

* * *

On the second floor of the house the boys pause in front of
the first door, and we all wait for someone else to open it. I shift, but Gabe
is already reaching forward.

“And, your room, madam.” He twists the knob and opens the
door into the master bedroom. “We weren’t exactly planning on having any…uh,”
he stumbles for a word.

“Coerced guests?” I raise an eyebrow.

Gabe frowns at my joke, because, of course, it isn’t really
a joke. “We weren’t planning on having anyone over,” he clarifies, “but it’s, I
don’t know, pretty big. You’ve got your own bathroom. That’s important for
girls, right?”

I walk to the king bed and run my hand along the thick,
white comforter. The bay window is painted black by the night sky. It hasn’t
been opened in a long while. The air in the room is stale and heavy, tinted
with old perfume and lazy dust particles. The dust. A fine layer lies across
the floor, clings to the mirror of the vanity and gathers in the folds of the
white curtains. I open my mouth to utter some sort of shaky compliment, but my
attention is snatched away.

Bookshelves. The boys are still standing in the doorway, but
I have forgotten about them. I reach out and trace my fingers along the spines
of the books, swallowing hot sparks each time I recognize a title from my own
collection. I breathe in the musk of aging paper and ink, and the aroma is so
much more powerful than I remember. For a moment I am back in my apartment.
Chapped lips on my shoulders. Vanilla
.

Then I catch sight of something even more compelling. Little
staggering steps take me to the second bookshelf. For a moment, I am distracted
as energy flares around both boys. Then, I pick up the first silver-framed
photograph and stare at the face of my mother.

Diana is smiling softly and ducking her head to avoid the
camera. I imagine the person on the other side of the lens is goading her to
look up.

My mother. I think she might be beautiful, but my mind is
rushing in so many different directions I can hardly pull out any coherent
thoughts. Slim, round shoulders. Wavy, caramel-colored hair. The nose I don’t
like that looks better on her and best on Tarren. A finely-carved face, just
like the little boy and girl standing next to her.

The children are made up of skinny legs and knobby knees.
They hold hands. For a strange, white-pulsing moment, I forget that Karen and
Henry adopted me as an infant, and I wonder if the girl is me. But no, her
brown hair is twisted into neat braids, and she has bright, golden eyes that
are unafraid of the camera. The dark-haired boy is looking down at his sandals.
A toddler with thick, sandy curls sits on his mother’s lap, reaching up for her
shiny hoop earring.

“I’m the cute one,” Gabe says awkwardly. Neither he nor
Tarren have breached the threshold of the room. I ignore them and pick up a
wedding photo. My mother’s hair is feathered and long. Her head is thrown back,
and she is laughing as the groom hooks her in his arms. His brown elf eyes
spark with pleasure, and his mischief mouth is cocked into a wide grin. Long,
fluid limbs and dark hair combed back give him a hint of feral strength. Canton
and Diana. In love. Very young. All the lines on their faces come from the
smiles they wear.

Tarren and Gabe each strongly favor one parent, and now I
know why they don’t look much like each other.

Baby pictures. I can tell them apart immediately. Tarren’s
gray-blue eyes. Gabe’s honey curls. The mystery little girl who mixes both
their features well. The little boy and girl on swings. The family at the
beach. A picture of the girl standing on her father’s shoes, his hands
enveloping hers. White fluffy dress, little black shoes and a crooked birthday
hat on her head. Canton looks down at her with a warm smile. There are
different lines on his face now. Deeper. Tired.

There are no later pictures. The family seems to linger only
in those early years.

I hold out the beach photo to the boys. “You have another
sister,” I say tapping the grinning little girl who wears a purple bathing suit
with a bright pink flower on the front. Her ponytail is wet and crooked as if
she has just come out from the waves.

“Not anymore.” Scarlet webs through Tarren’s aura. He turns
and walks away.

Gabe’s smile falters. “She died,” he says softly. “Her name
was Tammy.”

“Oh.”
Quantum queen of tact
. I
put the picture back on the shelf.

“I’ll tell you about it later, but it’s been a long day,”
Gabe says. “Me and Tarren are just down the hall. My room’s first on the left.
Next is a bathroom and then a closet with towels and stuff. Tarren’s at the
end. Always knock. It’s kind of a rule for any closed doors.”

“Wait,” I call as he turns to leave. “This was Diana’s
room?”

“Yeah,” Gabe leans forward against the doorway. “We’ve
always been meaning to clean it out, do something with it, but I guess we’ve
got all the rooms we need already. No one goes in here now.”

“That’s not true,” I say without thinking. My mind is far
away, pinging off book titles, the growing hunger, my mother’s blue eyes.
“Tarren doesn’t come in here, but you do. Your scent is there, on the edge of
the bed. You must come in to look at the pictures. They’re the only things
without dust on them.”

I notice Gabe’s flushing cheeks and realize my mistake.
Quantum queen of tact. Shit
.

“Oh, yeah, well,” he murmurs. “Sure, you have the enhanced
senses.” He looks away, and I see his real face again. The gold-flecked eyes
are shy and shamed. His smile is gone, replaced by a taunt mouth that puts too
many creases into his skin. He looks so much like his father.

“Gabe, I’m sorry,” I say.

“No, it’s fine,” he lies. “It’s just that I don’t really
remember when…when we were happy, so sometimes I like to come up here and…I
don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” I say brilliantly.

“Yeah,” he steps back from the doorway and shoves his hands
in his pockets. “If you need anything, just knock. Okay, well, goodnight Maya.”

“Goodnight,” I say. Gabe closes the door. I sit on the edge
of the bed and listen to his steps retreat down the hall.