When the Heart Falls(2)

"It's my fault. I didn't tell her about Stevie before we came."

She pats my cheek and I head out, calling goodbye to my brother as we leave, my heart heavy each time I think about all the ways my family has changed, all the things we've lost in the last few years.

"I'm sorry about your brother," Leslie says, startling me from my thoughts. "What happened to him?"

"An accident. But I don't want to talk about him. Let's go have some fun.” I don't feel the words I'm saying, but I'm hoping the whole 'fake it 'til you make it' philosophy applies to moments like these.

Leslie turns up the radio, flipping through modern rock, Christian and classical until she lands on a country music station, and starts singing along.

The sun sets, casting long shadows over the hot land, lighting up the sky with oranges and pinks and yellows.

Setting suns always seem sad, beautiful but tragic in their way. It's another goodbye, a farewell to a day that can never be relived, never be recaptured. It's gone forever, lost in imperfect memories of what might have been.



Stars burn bright in the sky, the full moon reflected in the lake as Leslie splashes through moonbeams while chattering about her summer plans. Her words dissolve around me as I gaze at the sky, body resting against a small patch of grass near the lake.

I don't notice when she stops talking, but it's impossible not to notice when she walks out of the lake, nude body dripping with water, long wet hair falling down her back. My body reacts as any man would, but my mind is still distracted by the future—and the past.

She dries herself off, throws the towel on the ground next to me and lays down, her long leg draping over mine as she presses her breasts against me. "You're overdressed for this event." She pulls up my cotton t-shirt and slides her cool hand under it, then leans in to kiss me. Her mouth tastes like lake water and bubblegum. I respond as expected, kissing her back, but she pulls away. "What's up? You don't seem into this at all."

"Nothing. I'm fine." I reach for her, initiating another kiss, which is preferable to talking, but she slips out of my hands.

"I can tell there's something. Is it your brother?"

Ignoring her question, I pose one of my own. "Do you ever wish you could just do what you want?"

"Don't you do what you want?" she asks. "I mean, you’re Cade Savage. Millionaire."

"My dad's the millionaire. I don't get my inheritance for another five years."

She rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean. You can have anything." With a slender finger, she twirls a piece of my hair. "And anyone."

My lips curl up in a smirk. It figures that everyone thinks my life is perfect, why wouldn't they? They only see the whitewashed facade that is my life, not the stench of death that lives in my home, corrupting everything and everyone. "Hypothetically, if you had what I have, the money, the car, the great family with the family business.... Everything. Would you give it all up for something you really wanted to do?"

She frowns, her full lips turning down into a pout. "Would I lose all the money?"

"In this hypothetical situation, yes."

"Depends. What do I want to do?”

My mind spins, landing on the center of my childhood fantasies. "Something you've dreamed about doing your whole life."

"Like being a Disney Princess?"

I shrug. "Sure."

"But that's impossible."

My eyes wander back to her, leaving the stars in the sky to their own dreams. "But if it wasn't? If you could really be a Disney Princess?"

"If it wasn't, then… " She thinks about it and smiles. "I'd be a Princess."

"You wouldn't miss all that money? How about your family?"

"Oh, I'd miss them all right, but I'd be happy. Truly happy." She flops onto her back, staring up at the sky, perhaps dreaming of being a princess. "How many people can say that?"

I nod, smiling. "Not many."

"Not many." She takes a sip of the wine cooler by her side. "Besides, as a Princess I'd better have some f*cking money."

I chuckle and lay back down, staring back up at the stars.

One star breaks off from the others, shooting across the sky, a bright light trailing behind it, and I finally understand why people wish on dying stars.

Because something always has to die for life to give birth to a new dream.





Like sweet tea, watermelon and hayrides, Sunday morning church is a staple in Texas. Sitting in our family pew, eyes glazed over as I stare at the Bible and hymnal stuck into the back of the pew in front of me, Pastor Mackay finishes his sermon on the importance of family.

The closing prayer seems to drone on for hours, as the pastor stretches his final moments to reach us with his words. When he finally closes with an "Amen," we stand and sing a hymn and then file out of our pews to greet each other, talk about the week, the weather, the kids, the next social event—business as usual.

Pastor Mackay clasps my hands as we leave. "Best of luck to you, Cade. We're all mighty proud of you."

I nod and duck out, resigned to wait in the dry heat for my parents to finish socializing. It's a long-standing tradition that we drive to church together each week. My mom thinks this will bind us to each other in some spiritual way, allowing us to overcome our differences. So far it hasn't worked.