The Falling, page 29
“Don’t call her! She’ll kill you. And she’s already mad at me for not working my full week,” Elodie exclaimed, eyes wide. “I’m off today, I can cover for you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I decided already. You helped me so much when I was sick from the baby.” She smiled. “I’m going to shower now and get ready.”
After Elodie left, I had the house to myself and could either crawl back into bed and be miserable or try to keep myself distracted while still being miserable. Giving other people the power to make me feel this way was exactly what I had been avoiding my entire life. Kael made me break my own rules.
I should have known that, sooner or later, he would reveal himself to be exactly what he was, what we all are, the most selfish of creatures. I’d never met a person who wasn’t selfish. I shouldn’t have ignored that little voice inside that told me we were headed for nowhere fast and we were going to run out of gas anyway. The problem was he made me feel comforted and understood, less alone in the world—the highs of being with him were so consuming that the voice of reason in my head was drowned out. It was fucked up the way he cracked me open, turned me into a freaking maple tree, my deepest private thoughts pouring out of me and into him. He soaked them up, but kept the tap closed when it came to himself. And he turned out to be just another liar in my life.
Even so, it was a hard pill to swallow. My body clung to the memory of his touch, the hot flash of his warm lips brushing my skin, his mouth trailing down the nape of my neck. I lifted my hand to touch there. Even my own touch reminded me of him. When he touched me, I didn’t know where I ended and he began.
Time was going impossibly slowly; it was barely eleven in the morning on Day 1 post-Kael. I couldn’t get him out of my mind: he made his home there with a constant presence—and worse than that, there were traces of him were everywhere in my house. As I dug through my drawers for something light and easy to wear, I saw the satin pajamas. And his gray PT shirt was folded neatly next to them. Even my fingers ached for him. Fuck him, honestly.
Maybe if I cleaned myself up, had a shower, and brushed my teeth, I might feel a little less zombie-like. At minimum, the tasks would distract me. I walked to the kitchen to throw my dirty laundry into the washer, then went into the bathroom, where I grabbed Kael’s stupid gross toothpaste and tossed it into the trash can. When I missed, it hit an already loose wall tile that cracked into pieces, hitting the floor. Fuck this house, and how it knows just how badly I need him to fix my life.
And then I thought about my own advice to my childhood friend, Sammy, after she and Austin broke up for the fourth time. I reminded her that he was only a teeny tiny little part of her life, that in five years he wouldn’t matter. No one in our school in Texas would matter to us. Not even the cool kids would matter when we were grown-ups. She said she’d never fully be able to forget him because he was my twin and our laugh was the same. We got distant after she and Austin split, and her marriage soon thereafter made it harder to keep in touch. Eventually she faded from my life like everyone else had.
I turned on the music and looked into the mirror. My dark hair washed out my tired face more than usual, and I thought about coloring it. I crouched down and opened the cabinet. Sure enough, I had a box of dye. A lighter brown than my hair was now, but not too drastic of a change.
Screw it, I decided.
I had the house to myself for the rest of the afternoon and I’d been thinking of changing my hair for a while anyway; it would be a few months until I could afford to go to the salon to get it done. I ripped the box open and followed the instructions, even though I knew how to do it by now. I mixed the dye, shook the bottle, and applied it carefully to my hair over the sink. I had lost count of how many times I’d changed my hair color in my life. My mom let me use temporary dye, a dark blue, when I was twelve. I would never forget the look on my father’s face when he came downstairs to see my mom and I both with deep blue streaks in our hair.
I set a timer for twenty minutes on my phone and rummaged through my cabinet to see what other luxuries I had. I found a face mask to use after the shower and grabbed my nail file and tweezers. I leaned my face to the mirror and brushed my eyebrows with a little brush meant for tooth flossing. My thick brows could definitely use a little shaping; I held the tweezers up and brought my face closer to the mirror. In my reflection, my hand was shaking, so I traded hands. The right hand was even worse, and because I had already committed to hair dye with no guarantee of the outcome, I didn’t want to risk messing my eyebrows up, too. I wasn’t that far gone.
I stood outside the shower, impatient for the water to heat up. Steam began to fill the bathroom after only a few seconds, and that annoyed me. Another reminder of Kael—Mr. Fucking Handyman. Fuck the shower. The water was warm and the pressure luxurious, and I decided to take the longest shower I could. I applied a conditioning mask to my hair and shaved my legs. Holding the razor made me think of Kael in front of my mirror and how often he had to shave due to regulations. How hard was it going to be to untangle him completely from my memories? I closed my eyes and let the water spray directly onto my face. I asked the universe, but since it felt like no one was listening anyway, I answered my own question. It would be as easy as throwing away his toothpaste and never going near post until he was gone. I was done breaking my own rules and would just focus on my job and getting my shit together. I didn’t have the time or energy for chasing liars in ACUs around, and this was the end of it.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
The shower had helped me feel relaxed enough to take a nap. Sleeping the day away made me feel better, but I still looked like hell. I had fallen asleep with wet hair and, even though the color was more flattering than I had expected, I woke to a frizzy mess; the way I looked now went right along with the mania I felt. I threw on black sweats and a baggy black T-shirt and pinched my cheeks to bring a little color to the surface.
I heard Elodie’s voice as soon as I stepped into the hallway. If her shift was already over, I must have been asleep for a long time. It sounded like she was hushing someone in conversation, but when I peered around the corner, she was alone in the dark living room with her laptop on her lap. A man’s voice was coming through the speaker.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said in an accusatory tone.
I thought I heard him wrong, but he said it again. This time his words seemed even more demeaning. I didn’t want to intrude, but I was concerned for Elodie.
“Cooper’s wife told me that you were over there. His wife tells him everything, unlike mine.”
Phillip? Shit.
Elodie was crying. I had to hold on to the door handle of the hallway closet to stop myself from butting into the conversation and her business. I didn’t know what Phillip was talking about, but I knew I didn’t like the sound of his voice. I had never seen that side of him or heard it. I couldn’t tell if his wife was used to it or not. I immediately wondered if Phillip was, like Kael, not what he seemed.
“I’m not lying,” she pleaded. “We stopped there for an hour at most. We went to the meetings, then to that house. There weren’t any guys around.”
My phone in my hand dinged as my brother’s name popped up on my screen. I knew Elodie must have heard it, but I tapped my fingers against the wall, just in case, to let her know I was coming into the room. She perked up and wiped at her tears.
“Phillip, Karina’s just walked in,” she cautioned him.
“Hey, Karina,” Phillip said, his voice nice and friendly, a complete transformation from what it had been.
I threw him a bland “hey” and walked into the kitchen. My intrusion seemed to stop their conversation. I decided to stay out of the living room and wait for Elodie to finish. Dishes were piling up in the sink. Wet laundry had accumulated in the washing machine and I opened the dryer to clear it, feeling taunted yet again by Kael as I placed folded clothes in the basket. I couldn’t even blame the mess on my emotional despair because the breakup had happened barely twelve hours ago.
Elodie signed off Skype and met me in the kitchen as I stood washing the dishes. She didn’t seem ready to say anything for a few minutes, and I kept myself busy cleaning up. I gave her a moment to herself as she sat silently at the table.
“Everything okay?” I asked eventually. “Is Phillip coming home?”
She shook her head and I went to sit down across the table from her. Elodie’s eyes were bloodshot; the tip of her nose was red as fire. I didn’t want to press her, but she was obviously not okay.
She handed my question back to me. “How are you feeling, Karina?”
“I’m fine. Don’t let the hair fool you. Elodie, you know you can talk to me.”
“You have your own problems.” She tried to smile.
“We’ve done enough talking about that. I’m here for you, too.”
She nodded. “I’m okay. It’s only Phillip imagining things when he hears the other soldiers talk. Why is there so much drama? Don’t they have anything better to do?” She sniffled and rubbed her nose. “How are you?”she asked, reaching a hand across the table. I pretended not to notice as I lowered my hands onto my lap.
“I’m all right. Just tired,” I lied.
If she could lie to my face, I could do the same.
CHAPTER SIXTY
I spent the next day working in the morning. I was getting used to the bags under my eyes, but I finally felt a little more alive. I whizzed through my shift—three clients back-to-back—and got higher tips than expected on all three. I was feeling pretty good as I walked down the street to my house. The sun was bright, and I felt more energetic than I had for the last couple days. I thought of the many ways I could spend my afternoon off. I tried to remember the things I liked to do before I met Kael.
I walked into my bedroom and looked at the stack of books on my dresser. I had read most of them and didn’t feel like starting a whole new story, so I decided to grab one of the poetry books I had bought while browsing in a favorite bookstore in Atlanta. Right now, poems suited my mood—the perfect length, room for my own emotions, and I could skip anything that made me think too much. I desperately wanted to distract my brain from reality.
It was the perfect temperature outside today, warm enough not to have to wear a jacket, but cool enough that I could wear a long-sleeved shirt and shorts and be comfortable. I pulled my hair up, grabbed a few things—my phone for music, a pillow from the couch, and the poetry book Lost and Found, and headed out to the porch. I sat down on the cool concrete and wished I had a swing. Another item for the “one day” list. One day when I redo the porch, I will make it big enough for a swing. One day.
As I skipped from page to page in the book, I felt like every single poem was being read to me in Kael’s voice. He was everywhere. He had become everything.
In the hollows under his eyes, I found a map
in the stars that dipped into his cheeks, I found solace
in the bow of his lips, there was truth
in the rise and fall of his chest, I found myself,
and if you ever need me, that’s where I’ll be.
I closed the book and tossed it, watching as it went skidding across the porch. The stars reminded me of Kael, the mention of his dimples, the truth I’d believed from him that wasn’t there after all. The feelings were too close and I wanted these words as far away from me as they could get. I stood up, took a few steps, and kicked the little white paperback, watching it disappear into the patch of weeds next to my porch.
Then I felt guilty. It wasn’t the poet’s fault that my first real connection with someone was so short-lived I stepped down off the porch to retrieve the book, digging my hand into the stringy weeds that surrounded the concrete slab. They were too long, too unmanageable; unpredictable vegetation was overgrowing my yard. This little house was what it was. I knew what I was getting when I signed on the dotted line for the basically abandoned house at the end of a commercial strip. It was the only thing in my life that wasn’t going to turn out to be something that it wasn’t.
I began to pull at the weeds in the yard. They were everywhere, the more I looked. I needed a distraction and had the rest of the day to do as I pleased. Minutes went by and I moved on from the weeds to sweep the gravel back into my driveway. I had decided to ignore this week’s Tuesday family dinner obligation. No way was I going to deal with that.
At first, I thought the dark blue Bronco pulling up to my house was a mirage. The sun was already setting and I seemed to have lost track of time. My mind was obviously playing tricks on me. I stood up and stared, watching unwaveringly as Kael parked in front of my house in his usual spot.
When he got out of his truck, it dawned on me that he was at my house for the first time since the blowout with my dad. I had so much to say, but couldn’t think of anything that would help the pain I felt in my bones.
“Karina.” His voice danced around me, almost hypnotizing me.
I opened my mouth to speak and heard my dad’s voice in my head, followed by Kael’s, then my dad’s again. I couldn’t sort out my own thoughts, and I still couldn’t make sense of everything that they had said, even though I had replayed it over and over in my mind. I realized that I wasn’t prepared to face Kael. Not tonight. I needed at least one hundred hours to mentally prepare to see him.
“For so many reasons, you can’t be here,” I told him just as he reached the grass. My back hurt as I stood there with one hand on my hip and one blocking my eyes from the blazing sun that had nearly set. Why was the sun so bright? Even nature was taunting me at this point.
He stopped and looked at me, seeming uncertain what to do next. Still too close. He held out my laptop with an extended arm and I quickly grabbed it from him. The last bit of me that he could have was now back in my hands.
“Karina, can’t we talk? I just want to explain myself,” he pleaded.
I had barely caught a glimpse of his face, and the emotion in it made me move my hand down to shade my eyes like a coward, so I couldn’t see his face.
He was staring at me, I could feel it though I avoided his eyes. He was attempting to register everything I was feeling, absorb it, and read me like a fucking book, and I regretted that I had ever given him this type of access in the first place.
“You had the chance to explain yourself and didn’t,” I said flatly.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Karina. You must know that.” The cool condescension in his voice sent me over the edge.
I threw my hands in the air. “Atlanta! You’re kidding, right?”
He shook his head.
“Actually, Martin, I don’t know anything about you at all.” I wanted to hurt him with my words, so I didn’t allow myself to filter my thoughts. “Everything you’ve told me seems to be part of a story that I don’t know. You’ve humiliated me, like it’s some kind of joke that everyone else knows who you are and what you do but I don’t. You may think I’m naïve, but you are exactly the kind of person I’ve tried to stay away from my entire life. You need to leave . . . you need to go.”
His eyes went wide as if he were stunned, and the selfish satisfaction I felt from his reaction outweighed the pang of guilt I felt for purposely hurting him. He must have found something in my expression when my eyes finally met his that told him to back off, because he put his hands in the air and turned around and walked away.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
When I woke up the next morning, I was even more miserable than I’d been the day before. Would it really get worse every day? For how long? I washed my hair for a while, rubbing my scalp to ease the ache. My neck felt so stiff, my skull so heavy. It wasn’t fair that I was made to feel both physical and emotional pain. What sort of God, or universe—or whatever is up there—allows that? It was just cruel. An unfair punishment. I’m not a crier usually, but I couldn’t hold it in last night, and honestly, I’m not sure if it helped or was a waste of time because I still felt like shit inside and now my head was pounding, my eyes swollen, my skin blotchy and uneven.
The longer I stared at myself in the mirror, the more hesitant I felt about going to work, but Mali’s staffing and my bank account were both running short, so staying home wasn’t an option. I did what pre-Kael Karina would do and dabbed concealer under my eyes, put my hair up, and got dressed. I wore all black to accentuate my mourning and appreciated the morning’s clouds and rain as accompaniment to my mood.
Elodie was still asleep on the couch when I went into the kitchen. I was going to eat a bowl of cereal and make a pot of coffee with the little bit of time I had before work, but I didn’t want to wake her up. Instead, I opened my back door and took a breath, letting the humid air fill my lungs. I closed my eyes and listened only to the rain, letting my thoughts float away with the clouds, until my phone alarm started to vibrate in my uniform pocket. Everything would be fine. Time for work had come, yay. I had left my umbrella leaning against the dryer. I grabbed it and, holding the back door ajar, I tempted fate by opening the umbrella inside the kitchen. Bad luck, but who gives a fuck! At this point, why did that matter? Things couldn’t possibly get worse for me. I rolled my eyes at how dramatic I was being and walked out the door. I thought of Kael when I looked at the lock, and damn it all to hell, I locked the door.
I walked around the side of my house and halfway across the yard before something caught my eye. Kael’s truck was parked in the street in front of my house. Is he really here again? Maybe he had parked and gone somewhere . . . or was he waiting there for someone? I couldn’t tell and thought for a moment to just keep walking past, as if I didn’t notice. The rain felt like it picked up as I passed his truck at a safe distance. I could barely see him through the rain falling on the glass, but could make out the same gray sweatshirt he was wearing when he came here last night.
