The Way We Fall Page 12

  “Geez, what temperature is the thermostat set at. It’s hotter than Satan’s waiting room in here.”

  Hallie sets her juice on the table and takes a seat. “How do you know Satan’s a doctor?”

  My mom fans her face with one hand as she grabs her glass of red wine with the other. “Someone turn down the heater.”

  “It’s just a hot flash, Mom,” I say, trying not to look at Rory as I take the seat between her and Hallie at the round dining table.

  “Just a hot flash? Well, now it’ll be just a little cold. You can put on your Christmas sweater.”

  I try not to laugh as I get up from the table to adjust the thermostat.

  Hallie holds her hand out to stop me. “I’ll turn it down. I have to show Rory something in my room really quick, anyway.” She looks at Rory and nods toward the corridor, but Rory looks confused. “Come on.”

  Rory shrugs and flashes my mom an adorable smile as she gets up from the table. I don’t bother trying not to look at her as she walks away. It’s just my mom in here now, and she’s too busy holding the cold bottle of juice against her cheek to notice.

  When Hallie and Rory return a few minutes later, I search their faces for any sign that Hallie may have told Rory about how she caught me ogling her. But Rory appears as uncomfortable around me as she always does, looking everywhere but at me as she smooths her dress and takes a seat in her chair. I find myself wondering what kind of bra and panties she has on underneath that dress. Or if she’s wearing any at all. Just the thought of that makes my cock twitch.

  I need to get this under control. Too bad I’m not twenty-one, or I’d be pouring myself a glass of red wine to dull these unexpected urges. Though I’m pretty sure my mom knows I drink, I know she won’t condone it in her house. Besides, getting a drink or two in me might actually backfire.

  We each take turns passing around the mashed potatoes, string beans, maple-glazed carrots, and the tray piled high with sliced turkey smothered in gravy, until our plates are overflowing with food. Every time Rory passes me a dish, I look her in the eye to keep from staring at the way her dark red hair falls softly over her cleavage. As we eat, I find myself stealing glances at her, watching the fork as it disappears inside her mouth, her lips wrapped tightly around the steel before it comes out clean again.

  Hallie clears her throat. “Ahem. So Houston, how’s that new business coming along?”

  I narrow my eyes at Hallie. She knows Mom doesn’t know about my little side business. I don’t know what she’s getting at by bringing this up now.

  My mom looks up from her plate. “What is she talking about, Hugh? I haven’t heard anything about this.”

  Hallie smiles. “Oh, it’s nothing. Troy and Houston are brewing non-alcoholic beer.”

  I look at her like she’s crazy, but she just smiles and continues.

  “Yeah, they named their company Barley Legal. Isn’t that cute? Barley Legal.” She looks very pleased with herself as Rory covers her mouth to keep from laughing. “Get it? Because it’s non-alcoholic beer, so it’s legal for him to make it and to drink it. Pretty cool, huh? I think Houston’s going places with that one.”

  I shake my head at her. “You’re insane, but I still love you.”

  “Ew, Mom. He loves me. Tell him to stop.”

  My mom rolls her eyes. “Oh, you two, that’s enough. Finish your food so we can open presents. I’m sure Rory’s dying to get back to her normal family.”

  “That’s not true,” Hallie replies as she stabs her fork into a string bean. “Rory loves our crazy family. Don’t you, Rory?”

  Rory glances at me then goes back to staring at her plate of food. “Yes, I do. Almost as much as I love… Um…”

  “Don’t hurt yourself,” Hallie says with a wink of her eye. “The word you’re looking for is turkey. You love us almost as much as you love turkey. Right?”

  Rory nods as she presses her full lips together, trying not to smile. She’s wearing red lipstick today, which accentuates her fiery auburn hair. Everything about her looks different. I don’t think she normally wears enough makeup for anyone to notice. I normally prefer the girls I date to look naturally beautiful, but if Rory hadn’t worn that red lipstick and that white dress today, I may never have noticed her.

  What the fuck am I am thinking? I can’t date Rory.

  I shake my head as I mentally cross her name off my to-do list.

  When we’re done eating, Rory offers to do the dishes, the way she always does when she has dinner at our house. But this time, I offer to help her instead of sitting back and letting Hallie do it. My sister cocks an eyebrow at me as she and Mom walk out of the kitchen to start sorting the presents in the living room.

  When I turn around, Rory is already washing the large roasting pan my mom used for the turkey. I place my hand gently on her arm and she flinches. Her gaze is fixed on the sudsy water in the pan as she waits for me to say something.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” I say, gently taking the pan out of her hands. “I’ll wash, you dry. I don’t want—I mean—you don’t want to get your dress dirty.”

  She smiles as she rinses the soap off her hands, then she steps aside and grabs a clean dish towel out of a drawer. We spend the next five minutes in relative silence. I pretend to care whether every bit of grease comes off every dish, drawing out the moment until I can work up the nerve to say something to her. She alternates between crossing her arms, biting her lip, and staring at the floor. Finally, I get an idea.

  I finish rinsing my mom’s wine glass, but when I reach out to give it to her, I pretend to accidentally drop it. “Shit!”

  “Oh, no!” Rory says, immediately squatting down to clean it up, giving me a spectacular view of her ass.

  It takes me a moment to tear my gaze away from her body, then I kneel next to her, reaching for her towel. “I’ll clean it up. It was my mistake.”

  She stares at my hand on hers and seems unable to speak. I gently ease the towel out of her grip and she finally looks up at me. I flash her a warm smile and she looks confused. It takes a moment, but she seems to get her bearings and quickly stands up, leaving a soft cloud of vanilla-scented air in her wake. I sigh as I breathe in the fragrance while cleaning up the glass.

  “You can go ahead,” I say, as I carry the jagged shards to the trash bin. “I’ll finish up in here.”

  I’m drying the last few pieces of silverware when Hallie comes into the kitchen. She crosses her arms and tilts her head, waiting for me to say something.

  “What?”

  “That’s how it starts,” she says. “First, you try looking for ways to be around them. Even doing shitty stuff like washing the dishes seems fun if it means you get to spend one moment with them.”

  I place the forks in the utensil drawer and cock an eyebrow. “Are you speaking from experience? I don’t seem to remember you bringing any guys around here.”

  “What makes you think I’d bring a guy I like around you?”

  I slide the drawer shut and lean back against the counter. “It’s not what you think it is. She just… She looks different today.”

  “Yep, that’s how it started for me, too. You have to tell her, Houston. Don’t be a pussy.”

  I laugh as I shake my head. “No fuckin’ way. She’s not old enough. If I still feel the same when she’s eighteen, I’ll think about it.”

  A dull sadness washes over her features. “Fine.”

  She turns around and heads back to the living room. I wait a moment before I follow after her. When I enter the room, I find Rory sitting on the sofa with a pile of presents at her feet. Hallie hands her the gifts one at a time and Rory shakes each box to try to guess what’s inside before she places it on the cushion next to her.

  Hallie holds up a long, thin box and reads the gift tag. “From Hallie to Rory,” she says, handing Rory the box. “You don’t have to bother shaking that one. It’s your new battery-operated boyfriend.”

  My mom�
�s jaw drops. “Hallie, you didn’t.”

  “Oh, yes I did, Mom. And I got you one, too.”

  Rory and I burst into hysterics. She whips her head around at the sound of my laughter and quickly tries to hide the long box behind the other presents on the sofa.

  “Oh, my God,” she mutters, covering her face with her hands.

  I try to keep from laughing even more at her embarrassment as I make my way toward the sofa. Sitting down on the opposite end so Rory’s presents form a barrier between us, I hold out my hand for Hallie to give me my first gift.

  “To Houston from Hallie,” she says proudly.

  I take the shirt-sized box wrapped in green paper from her hand, and sure enough I can feel the soft weight of some type of clothing sliding around inside. “Is this the butt-plug I asked for?”

  She shakes her head. “Can’t sneak anything past you.”

  I wink at Rory as I set the box down next to her vibrator. “She knows me so well.”

  My mom sighs as she yanks the hair-tie out of her hair and plops down onto the recliner on the other side of the Christmas tree. “How did I raise such twisted children? Where did I go wrong?”

  Hallie pats my mom’s knee. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s the kids that are too afraid to have the butt-plug conversation with their parents who end up in trouble.”

  “That’s very reassuring,” my mom replies.

  Once Hallie has sorted the presents by recipient, we all open our gifts at the same time. This is the tradition in our home ever since Mom and Dad divorced. My mom felt the need to change all the traditions that reminded her too much of my father, which is also why we celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve now instead of Christmas Day.

  Hallie helps Rory stuff her five gifts into a couple of grocery tote bags so she can carry them back to the house. But she leaves the unopened vibrator box behind. Hallie joins me in the living room to clean up the boxes and wrapping paper while my mom puts a couple of logs in the fireplace.

  I grab a couple of Rory’s discarded boxes and stuff them into the large trash bag Hallie’s carrying. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  “Speak for yourself. You really confused Rory.”

  “What’s wrong with Rory?” my mom asks as she grabs the lighter off the mantle.

  My stomach clenches at the thought that I may have made Rory uncomfortable or confused. “I guess I should just back off.”

  “Or you could, you know, follow through and ask her if she has any plans for New Year’s Eve.”

  I take the trash bag from Hallie. “No, I’ll just wait it out. These things pass.”

  She sighs as she stares at my mom with a far-off look in her eyes. “Like I said, speak for yourself.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She shakes her head and grabs another piece of torn wrapping paper off the carpet. “It’s not that easy. True love doesn’t disappear with time.”

  “Are you saying Rory is in love with me?” My heart races at this thought, but I can’t decide if I’m more excited or scared.

  “I don’t know. Just forget it. It’s probably best if you two don’t hook up. I don’t want you getting between me and Rory.”

  “Are you trying to set your brother up with Rory?” my mom calls over her shoulder as she pokes the small fire in the grate. “That’s a dangerous situation, Hallie. You have to be prepared to accept the consequences if it doesn’t work out.”

  Hallie sinks down onto the sofa cushion. “I just want everyone to be happy. Love makes people happy.”

  My mom shakes her head. “Love can also make you crazy and miserable. Don’t forget that.”

  Hallie sighs as I take a seat next to her, then she rests her head on my shoulder. “And I’ll bet it’s totally worth it.”

  August 24th

  * * *

  I get up an hour earlier so I can get out of the apartment before Tessa wakes. I grab a light rain jacket. It’s one of those rare August days in Portland where the rain clouds roll in and attempt to dampen everyone’s summer plans. Not that anyone in Portland can be deterred by a smattering of rain. I’m almost out the front door when Tessa stumbles out of the bedroom, squinting at me through the gray morning light.

  “Why are you leaving so early?”

  I’m tempted to tell her that it’s none of her business. That she lost the privilege to question me when she betrayed me by getting pregnant behind my back. That she never really earned the privilege to question me because our whole relationship has been teetering on a knife-edge waiting for something exactly like this to happen.

  Picturing the two of us careening off the edge reminds me of a quote I read in college: This is the way we fall. First we lose our balance, teetering precariously on the edge of uncertainty, until, mercilessly, gravity takes over. You can’t outshine gravity. Tessa and I are about to topple over and she’s either too stubborn to admit it or too delusional to see it.

  “I’m heading to work early.”

  “But, we didn’t get to talk about…”

  “About what? If you’re truly pregnant, you need to get an abortion.”

  “Abortion?” she shrieks, her face contorted with disbelief. “I’m not getting an abortion. How can you even suggest that?”

  I step back inside the apartment and push the door closed. “How can I suggest that? What else do you propose we do? Raise a child in a home built on lies? Is that what you want for your child?”

  “Our child. And it’s not a lie if I told you the truth. I didn’t hide the pregnancy from you.”

  “No, you just lied about being on birth control. So where are the test results? How do I know you’re really pregnant? Am I supposed to take your word for it? Because right now your word holds zero value with me.”

  “Why do you hate me? Is it because I’m not her?”

  “I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I reply, in no mood to listen to more accusations of adultery.

  I cheated on her one time before we were engaged and I’ll never live it down. I wish Tessa knew how fucking badly I want to cheat on her with Rory right now and how her accusations only serve to chip away at my loyalty even further.

  Loyalty. You’d think I’d know the meaning of the word since I have it tattooed across my chest. But it seems the older I get, the line between loyalty and treachery becomes thinner and blurrier.

  Marriage is not simple. I knew that going into it. But there are all types of betrayal in a marriage, and most of them don’t involve adultery.

  I turn to leave and she rushes to my side.

  Latching on to my arm, her face is wrought with fear. “Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Don’t go. Please. We can talk about this.”

  My stomach vaults at her desperation. “I have to go to work.” I try to wrench my arm out of her grasp, but she tightens her grip. “Let go, Tessa.”

  She shakes her head. “No. Come to bed.” She reaches for my face and I flinch.

  “Stop it.”

  Her hand slides down and I look her straight in the eye as she curls her fingers around the bulge in my jeans.

  “Don’t do this, Tessa. Let it go.”

  She moves her hand up and down, stroking me through my pants. “Fuck me, Houston.”

  I grit my teeth and will myself not to get an erection. How is it that my wife’s touch makes me feel as if I’m cheating on Rory?

  I look her in the eye as I push her away. “I’d rather fuck my hand.”

  Her eyes widen in utter disbelief. “I’m leaving.” She storms away toward the bedroom. “I’m going to my mother’s. At least she’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

  I want to roll my eyes and call her bluff, but I can’t. I knew a guy named Greg in high school, a friend of a friend, who used to threaten to commit suicide whenever his girlfriend, Alisha, was on the brink of dumping him. It worked for about three years, until Alisha finally called Greg’s bluff. He ended up in the hospital that night after taking thirty Tylenol. Any asshole with half a bra
in knows thirty Tylenol won’t do anything to a healthy person, except maybe make you vomit or possibly pass out. Alisha didn’t visit Greg in the hospital and he got himself a new girlfriend a few months later. If Greg was the only example of attempted suicide following a breakup I’ve ever come across in all my twenty-seven years, I would totally call Tessa’s bluff.

  I follow her into the bedroom and find she has two magenta suitcases open on the bed. Her clothes fly haphazardly out of her dresser drawers and somehow most of them find their way inside her luggage.

  “Tessa.” I call her name from where I stand in the safety of the doorway. “Tessa, look at me.”

  “Why?” she wails, her voice thick with tears. “You’ve been trying to get rid of me since before we even got married. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  “What are you talking about? I never tried to get rid of you.”

  She rounds on me, clutching a bundle of panties to her chest. “You never loved me, did you? All that stuff about my pain is your pain and all that other crap was just bullshit. Wasn’t it? You don’t give a damn about me or what I’ve gone through.” She lifts her left arm to show me the scars on the inside of her forearm. “You don’t care how I got these. You’ve never even asked. You probably even think I’m bluffing when I say I’ll kill myself.”

  “Don’t say that. Just… don’t even say it.”

  “Why? You don’t want to be responsible for another suicide?”

  Her words spark a jolt of violent rage within me. “Shut up! Shut your fucking mouth! You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  She’s stunned for a moment, then her lips begin to tremble. “I’m sorry.” She whispers this a few more times as she sinks down to the floor. “Please don’t make me go.”

  I take a few steps closer and find her sitting on the carpet near the foot of the bed. “Make you go where? You’re the one who said you were leaving.”

  “I don’t want to leave.” She looks up, her blonde hair sticking out in all directions as her eyes plead with me. “I’ll get an abortion. I’ll see a therapist. I’ll do anything. Just please don’t leave me.” She sobs as she grasps chunks of her hair. “I don’t… I don’t… I don’t know who I am without you.”