Catch My Fall (36 page)

“Did you kill him?”

The tears overcame the tirade, and she put her face in her hands. “No. He left me.”

I grabbed her like she was on fire, and she bawled on my shoulder. The passing faces of disapproval shifted now, and instead the looks were those of honest kindness. I waved at a couple of silver haired ladies who mouthed things like, ‘Is she alright? Does she need anything?’ People who didn’t know either of us. I nodded them away with my thanks and held Patty for several moments.

She recuperated and glanced around in embarrassment, only to find an older woman in a long black coat waiting at her side with a handkerchief. Patty took it and smiled through tears before the woman walked away.

This was why I still loved my hometown.

We crossed the street as though Patty didn’t want the same store front to hear the rest of the story. “He said he’d been unhappy since my parents moved in. Said he didn’t want to live like that anymore. That he’d been planning it for a while, but didn’t know how to tell me.”

“Planning what?”

She sniffled. “Leaving. His whole family knew. I’ve talked to his mother on the phone so many times the past few months, and she knew…”

I shook my head. “Knew that he was a douche bag? Would be nice if she mentioned that, right?”

Yeah, the words just came out, sorry. I didn’t know what to say.

“He packed up and went home to Edinburgh last Thursday. I don’t know what to do.”

I hooked my arm with hers, and we continued to walk. It seemed she’d spent the more powerful tears by now, and what was left was a soft sorrow that read like age on her beautiful face.

“I’d give my friend Meghan’s advice and say fuck anything that moves, but that won’t help.” I know from experience.

She forced a smile and shook her head. “I don’t know if I could let anyone touch me, even if I wanted them to.”

God, I felt her in my damn bones. I was angry for her, angry that someone would bring pain to her door, to a woman who had never so much as frowned at a stranger. The notion of her huge cocked Scotsman turning out to be such a disappointment just rocked my whole idea of Patty – of huge cocked Scotsmen in general. Her wonderland of a perfect life that I’d resented her for had been a lie.

There was a lesson in that somewhere. I was too messed up to catch it, but it was there.

We rounded the corner back onto Central Square and something struck me. I couldn’t tell you where it came from – a desire to help, maybe even to step out of the cave I’d been in and spend time with another human being, but the words were out before I knew I’d said them. “I’m actually planning on having a get-together, Christmas dinner party sort of thing – and I’d love to have you come.”

She smiled at me, and for the first time that day, it was a true smile. “Really? When is it?”

I searched my nonexistent schedule and picked a day. “Next Saturday actually.”

She hemmed and hawed a second about her own schedule, but the tone was clear. She accepted. Suddenly, I had a dinner party to plan.

I forgot to ring the doorbell at Stellan’s and simply walked in out of habit. It’s hard to remember to behave indignantly all the time, friends. We found Stellan in the living room. He launched out of the chair, heading straight for me. He must have heard us outside earlier and was waiting anxiously for what I carried under my arm.

When he had a project to work on, he didn’t like to be kept waiting. Stellan was patient as Job - unless it really mattered. Then whatever it was couldn’t come soon enough.

I handed the satchel over to a solid and sincere, ‘Thank you.’

I actually smiled at him.

Patty tried to scoot past us in the front hallway, but Stellan stopped her. “Hey, here lady.”

He handed her an envelope and turned for the basement door. I glanced her way, trying to decipher if I was meant to follow Stell.

She stifled a strange noise. “What is this?”

There was a shrillness to her voice, like she was holding something hot in her mouth.

“Today was tuition day at Ninpo, so I thought I’d take care of a couple months in one go while I had the cash.”

He waved to me, and I hustled to catch up as Patty protested from the living room, her voice still shaky. I shot her a look, silently asking what was up.

Her face crinkled in a strange, happy frown. “This is more than two months’ worth, Ste -”

“Three months then, whatever it will cover.”

He was on the basement steps and gone before she could protest. She shook her head at me, her mouth open, but no words came out. I watched her plop down into a chair and press the envelope to her forehead to cover her face.

I left Patty to her thoughts.

I followed Stellan downstairs. He went to his screens, and I plopped right onto his bed. Something about that walk with Patty, that full day of sketching, had left me feeling almost incapable of disdain. I mean, I had it. I definitely could muster it if the troops needed to be rallied, but by default, I was just sort of there.

He brought up the files and chuckled at the first panel he opened. “You’re a fucking machine, woman.”

I shrugged on the bed, slumping back against the wall. “Naw, just kinda fell into a rhythm.”

“Well, I love your rhythm.”

I laughed. He started working, inspecting each panel as he opened them. I listened like a child at the top of the staircase after bed time, hoping to catch a sharper inhale or a chuckle with every one he opened. Of the twenty two panels, I got at least a dozen chuckles and one ‘Fuck Yeah!’ I was content.

“You need me for anything specific?” I asked, finally.

He shook his head. “No, why? You leaving?”

When he turned to look at me, I was struck by the disappointment on his face. I’d fixated so thoroughly on the tension, on the trouble between us, that I never thought he might still want my company as a friend. “Well, I don’t have to. Just figured if you were working, I might leave you to it.”

He spun his chair halfway back and then shifted there a minute. “Well, it’s up to you. I guess I will be preoccupied.”

Despite that, he didn’t spin the chair the rest of the way. He was waiting for my decision. I remembered the comfort we’d once shared, the capacity to do separate nothings, together. It was something I missed every day.

“Ok, I’ll hang out for a while. Can I see the game now? Is it on your phone?”

He turned back to his screens. “Negatory. Yes, it is on my phone, no you may not see it.”

I groaned at him. “What the hell, man?”

He flashed a grin over his shoulder. “It isn’t done, damn it. Slow your roll!”

“I don’t want to slow my roll!”

He turned back to his screens. “Hush up. Daddy’s working.”

I laughed. Kitchen cupboards rattled upstairs, and I remembered Patty. “Oh, hey. So I’m apparently having a Christmas party.”

The click clack of his fingers hitting keys stopped. “What’s this now?”

“Yeah, seriously. Not sure what I was thinking, but I guess I’m having a dinner party next Saturday night.”

“You animal.”

I chuckled. “I know, right? Get some thirty-somethings together with some red wine and reindeer sweaters and see what debauchery unfolds. Right up your alley.”

“No doubt.”

I shifted forward on the bed, resting my weight on my knees. “Will you come?”

Without hesitation. “Of course.”

I nodded, muttering my approval and grabbed the remote for the talking wall, finding an episode of
Spaced
on Netflix. I then pulled my phone from my pocket, shooting a mass text to the usual suspects.

Don’t call the cops or anything, but I’m having a Christmas Party next Saturday. Seven sharp. Reindeer sweaters optional, booze is not.

I sent the text off to Jackie and Meghan, then added Evan as a shot in the dark. I sat there letting Simon Pegg’s accent work its sultry magic on me until I made the decision to copy the text to another contact – Cole.

By midafternoon, I’d watched half the season of Spaced and said maybe seven words to Stellan. He was working, but still the time felt well spent. I’d forgotten how easily he and I could just be. During that time I’d heard Patty finish up and leave the house, and received acceptance texts from Evan and Meghan - Evan announcing grandly that he wouldn’t miss it for the world, which I then relayed to Meghan who blew up my phone with interrogation. The only other text was a quick response from Jackie, asking if Kevin was also invited. Of course he was.

I asked Stellan during that time if there was anyone else I should invite, and we both came up empty handed. We’re kinda picky about the people we fraternize with.

I headed out in a surprisingly good mood, picking through the catalog of recipes I had in my mind, planning for the party. Though I’d sent out a follow up text that it was pot-luck, I still planned to do a little cooking. I rarely bypassed the opportunity, oddly enough. Might be why I’m still nursing those twenty pounds.

I got home and was surprised to find my mother staring at the front wall from behind the couch, smiling and preening. I turned to see what she was fawning over. The painting was impossible to miss – an impressionist landscape of gold, green and blue now taking up almost the entirety of the front wall. I was impressed at its size as much as its skill. It was spectacular. I inspected the signature at the corner.

Mom beamed at me. “My first Bertrand Fuller.”

I took it in, appreciatively. “Oh, no way. You were right, it’s gorgeous.”

She stood behind the couch, taking a few more steps back into the hallway, all the while staring at the painting. “It’s just a masterpiece, isn’t it?”

I joined her. “I’m very impressed.”

“He has such a gift. I have to call the insurance agency this afternoon to see about having some come down.”

At this I furrowed my brow and turned to her. “Really? You have to insure it? How much did it cost?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Forty grand.”

My jaw dropped. “Holy fuck.”

“I know!”

I shook my head as though I was shooing off a fly. “You spent forty grand on a painting? Where the hell did you get forty grand, mom!?”

She smiled and shot me a sneaky glance before turning her eyes back to the painting.

She handed me a small note card. I flipped it open to find a familiar scrawl. I’d received many inappropriate notes in this very handwriting throughout Chemistry class, junior year.

Pamela,

I couldn’t agree more. His work is exceptional. As I recall, this was your favorite.

Take care,

Evan

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

My mom beamed. “I know!”
“Excuse me.”

I turned for the kitchen and despite my mother’s jovial protests from the living room, called to harangue Evan. He answered on the second ring.

I had two words for him. “You dick!”

“My secret identity! Who told?”

“I’m so mad at you.”

“What did I do?”

I took a few minutes to berate him, demand he buy me a small island if he wants to throw his money around, then quickly had to convince him I was kidding, please don’t buy me a small island. The conversation settled onto the subject of my impromptu dinner party.

Evan was in full sarcastic glory today. “Very exciting news. I’ll get to enjoy that awkward silence between you and Stell again. Looking forward to it.”

“Actually, we were pretty alright today.”

Evan sighed. “Thank god. Seriously, you’re both idiots.”

“Screw you!”

“So what shall I bring to this gala? Other than my devastating good looks.”

I chuckled. “Humility. And I don’t know, whatever you can grab – or can have one of your minions grab.”

“Yes, yes. My minions.” Evan let out as maniacal a laugh as he could before yelling off to some imaginary servant. “Dance monkey! Dance!”

I was always a little unnerved by how well Evan could laugh maniacally. If there were ever a comic book caliber super villain waiting to happen, Evan had the right stuff. I suddenly had an idea for a comic strip of a billionaire super villain whose idea of evil was to redesign Facebook - again. I wondered whether Evan would be honored or insulted. He made further demands of the imaginary minion and I decided the answer was honored.

My mother slipped into the kitchen past me. “What’s he bringing to what?”

I turned into the phone. “I gotta go nut job, but I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Fuck yeah you will. Kisses.”

I laughed and made a puckering sound before putting down the phone. My mother ogled me a moment, appraising the innocent gesture between old friends. I shook my head at her. “I actually decided to have a get together. Bit of a dinner party.”

“Oh, isn’t that nice? You haven’t done that in a long while.”

“I know. Trying to remember how I used to go about it.”

She scoffed. “Oh, you’re a master at that sort of thing. You take after Grammy.”

My phone buzzed on the counter – Cole. I ignored it for the moment, but was surprised to find my mother apparently knew his ringtone. “So you and Cole are on speaking terms again?”

I grew tense, instantly. “Yes.”

She pulled a mug out of the cupboard and began filling the kettle. “Are you -”

“Yes.”

She pursed her lips as though she might hum, and nodded. “Well, that’s nice.”

I didn’t move or speak for a long moment. When the spell broke, I shrugged.

She glanced toward me, but did not make eye contact. We discussed dishes I might make for the party, and she laughed when I asked if she still had any puff paint style Christmas sweatshirts from the eighties. She assured me she did not and headed upstairs to read. I finally ventured toward my phone.

Cole -
I might be willing to do that. Are you free tonight?

I glanced around the kitchen, trying to decide if I had prior engagements. Or more aptly, was there a movie on cable I might enjoy watching alone. I decided that though there might be, Cole and I needed tending and that tending wouldn’t get done if we weren’t together.

I grabbed my coat and my keys and headed out for the night.