This Is Falling(20)

Rowe has a hell of a right hook. It’s amazing how fast my nose is bleeding. I’ve been hit in the face by ninety-mile-per-hour pitches, and I’ve never bled like this. “Ohhhhh f*ck!” I say, embarrassed that my eyes are tearing up as much as they are.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry. Hold on, I have a towel,” Rowe says, running to her closet and pulling out a giant bath towel and handing it to me. I hold it to my nose quickly because the last thing I want to do is bleed all over their floor.

“My fault,” I say, raising a hand and sitting down on the chair Rowe was just dancing on.

“No…oh god! I’m so sorry. I just…I scare really easily.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Cass turns the music down so we can hear better, and Rowe kneels next to me, putting her hand on mine to pull the towel away from my face. It’s the smallest gesture in the world, but for some reason, the way she’s looking at me takes my breath away. Her eyes are so concerned, and her hand is trembling against mine. I’m unable to stop myself from reaching up to hold her hand with my other one. As soon as I do, her gaze jumps to our hands and she jerks away.

“I should get you ice,” she says, standing and hugging herself.

“No, really. I’ll be fine. I have a brother, and I’ve been punched…a lot! It will stop in a minute.”

Rowe keeps her arms around her stomach and moves backward until she sits on the edge of her bed. Cass reaches under her own bed for a duffle bag, pulls it out and goes into the closet to fill it with laundry. “I’m going to go do a load. Rowe, you need me to wash anything?” she asks.

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” Rowe says, her eyes watching her friend walk out the door, and her breath stops the second the door closes behind her. Cass may just be my new best friend, because I know she did this so Rowe and I could be alone. But for some reason, her leaving has Rowe acting even more nervous and uncomfortable; she stands and walks over to the small corkboard by her bed, arranging some photos, and pushing in a few pins.

“So, you ready for Monday?” I say, pulling the towel away from my nose to check that the bleeding has stopped.

“Yeah, I guess,” she says. Her voice is distant, and she doesn’t sound sure.

“Ty says the first week is always easy. Just syllabus review and expectations…all that,” I say, getting back up to my feet and walking over to stand behind her. Rowe’s entire body gets tense as soon as I get close. She’s moving the same picture to different spots on her board, like she’s not quite sure where this picture fits or belongs. “May I?” I ask, reaching my hand out to look at the photo more closely.

She hands it over and makes a tight smile. The picture looks like it’s a year or two old, because Rowe looks younger. I’d guess she’s maybe sixteen in the photo. She’s sitting on some guy’s lap, her arms around him, and her nose tucked into his neck. He’s smiling one of those genuinely happy smiles, and I’d make the same damned face if I were in his position. He’s wearing a baseball hat, and I can tell he’s just left practice or something because he has baseball pants on and they’re covered in dirt.

“Boyfriend?” I ask, just getting right to the point. Not really ready to know if that word is in the past or present tense.

She nods yes and takes the picture back from me, pinning it to the bottom of the board and leaving it there.

“One of your dad’s players?” I ask that, hoping she’ll answer the rest without me asking. But she doesn’t. She just nods again. The silence in the room is suffocating now, and I feel like an intruder, so I hold my towel up and suck in my bottom lip, giving myself some time to think.

“I’m gonna wash this for you. I’ll bring it back, okay?” I say, my feet slowly backing out of her room.

“You can keep it,” she says, but there’s something about the way her lips move that makes me feel like she wants to say more, so I pause. I’m standing here, in the middle of her room, looking into her eyes, and they make me want to cry. After a few long seconds, when she doesn’t speak, I turn and leave.





Rowe





The second he’s gone, the tears come streaming down my face. I hate these pictures. I hate them, but I love them. My mom told me not to bring them. “These things were best left at home,” she said. But I wanted them with me. I wanted Josh and Betsy with me, and not just in my head.





I hate you.





That’s all I write to Josh; I slam my laptop closed again and fall to my bed, curling up into a ball with my covers. When I hear Cass come in the door, I hold my breath, stopping my cries, until she believes I’m sleeping; she gets her keys and leaves me alone.





I slept the entire Saturday away. Of course, I only slept in fifteen or twenty minute fits. I wasn’t really tired, but my emotions were exhausted. Paige was out all weekend, which was a blessing. But when she rolled into our room on Sunday afternoon, she made up for all of the peace and quiet I enjoyed in her absence.

“I’m thinking of rushing Delta or Sigma. I like them both. Cass, what do you think?” I can tell Cass isn’t listening, and I know Paige is only going to ask again, but louder, so I decide to play defense.