This Is Falling(90)

“Yeah. But—” she starts, but then pauses, pushing her lips tightly.

“But what?”

Cass rolls to her back and holds her arms and legs up in the air, then bends her knees and draws them into her body, hugging them tightly before rolling back to face me. “It’s not like he was trying to hurt you. I mean, I know, you probably feel a little betrayed.”

“Very betrayed,” I butt in.

“Right. I know,” she continues. “But he was sort of put in a really crappy position. And he’s been a wreck.”

I know I shouldn’t be happy about that. But I am. Not that he’s suffering, but happy that he’s feeling. I dreamt about him last night. I dreamt that he showed up in the middle of my final exam and pulled me from some strange office and lifted me into his arms. And when I woke up, I was sad that it wasn’t real. I want to forgive him. But I also want to yell at him. And I still see Josh’s face in the middle of it all, and it makes everything confusing.

“Hey, guess what?” Cass asks, her cheerful voice a change.

“I don’t know…what?” I respond, leaning more over the edge of the bed and letting my arm swing back and forth so my fingers graze the carpet.

“I’m going to tell Ty I love him,” she says. I freeze, then let the smile stretch my entire face. Hearing Cass say that, especially after going home with Ty and seeing new sides of him, makes me feel hopeful for a lot of reasons.

“Yeah?” I say, looking up at her. She’s biting her lip and soon she starts kicking her legs excitedly, and hiding her face in her pillow.

“Yeah. Can you believe it?” She’s still hiding, but peeking at me with her eyes barely above the pillow.

My smile softens, and I roll onto my back and look at the ceiling, then nod slowly. “Yeah, I can.” I remember talking to Ty, telling him how disappointed Cass was that he didn’t invite her home for Thanksgiving, and I remember the look on his face when I told him. He loves her, too. I just hope he’s ready to admit it.

“I’m happy for you,” I say, keeping my eyes focused on the ceiling so Cass doesn’t see my smile fade. I am happy for her. But I miss Nate. And I’m jealous that she’s in her honeymoon phase. Mine was cut short, just like every major milestone in my stupid life. Problem is, as much as I miss Nate, I also miss my box of Josh memories. And I’m not so sure there’s room to miss them both.





My exams take most of the next day and the full next morning. By the time I get back to our room, Cass has her luggage packed, and she’s almost ready to walk out the door to head to the airport.

“So, this is it, huh?” I ask, looking at her and almost wanting to kidnap her and put her in my suitcase so she can come home with me.

“Stop it. Don’t you dare get mushy on me. We’re not criers!” She pulls me into a hug, and I giggle lightly, doing my best to mask the tears also threatening to come. Because truth of the matter is Cass and I are criers. We just don’t want anyone to know.

“Have a happy Christmas!” I say, sitting back on my bed while she pulls the straps of her bags up on her shoulders.

“You, too. And I’ll see you…in a month, right? You’re coming back?” I nod yes and offer a tight smile, but my stomach twists because I’m not so sure. When I fly back, I’ll be staying with my grandparents, where my parents are staying through the holidays until they settle in at San Diego. I’ve thought about transferring, that way I can live at home with them. But that’s not really home either.

“Oh, and I have something for you,” she says, pulling a folded envelope from her pocket and tossing it on my bed next to me. “I’m leaving now, so I won’t get to see you get pissed at me for sitting on that for two days. But I had very specific instructions. And…well…I love Nate’s brother, so I sort of felt like I owed him one. You know, by extension? Anyhow, whatever. Read it. I did. Again, get pissed when I leave. Okay, love you. Bye!”

She’s out the door with a barrel of noise and activity, her bags hitting every wall on her way out and down the hall. I hear the elevator ding, and when I know she’s gone, I turn my face to look at the envelope, my heart pounding so heavily I’m convinced if I looked down I could see it beating through my sweatshirt.

Swallowing hard, I pick up the envelope, which has clearly been torn open, and I can’t help but shake my head and smirk at Cass’s confession. The need to know is so strong that I don’t hesitate long, and I pull the folded sheets of notebook paper out. It’s written in pencil, and some of the lines have smudged, probably from my nosey roommate, but his handwriting is familiar, and just seeing it has me smiling.

I miss him. I miss him. I miss him. I unfold the pages and smooth them out in my lap, pulling my legs up crossed in front of me, and begin to read.





33,


And begin. I’ve written the first line of this letter about a dozen times. Ty says I’m wasting paper. Every opening line sounds desperate and cheesy, so I’m opting for that one. Now that I’m this far in, I think I can keep going.

I love you. I also wanted to make sure that was said up high, should you stop reading. I hope you’ve read this far. Have you read this far?





I pause and run my arm under my eyes while I laugh. I can actually hear his voice while I’m reading, smooth and deep, and I miss him more.