So, I have loved to write for a long time. I haven’t always been the most consistent with it, and sometimes I am super terrible about following through with things that I started. I used to be better and worse at the follow through.
As I was thinking about posts for the blog, I was thinking about Writing Wednesdays that I wanted to do, and I found myself struck by nostalgia. I wanted to look at some of my old writing and I found a story I had written when I was in my final year of high school. After re-reading, I thought it might be fun to share it with you all. It’s called Falling Lies and you will find it below the cut.
The scream filled the air as she fell. His hands had hit her chest and she had lost her balance. Her knees had wobbled and wobbled but she had never regained it. She fell. Perhaps the roof hadn’t been the best place to reveal her dirty little secret. She had known his temper. She should have known that it would only be her fault if he did something to her.
The fall seemed to take an extraordinarily long time and it was as if time had slowed to a snail’s pace. She could hear him calling to her, crying her name, saying he was sorry. It was too late for apologies now. She was falling and soon she would meet the ground. If she was lucky she wouldn’t hurt too much when she died. Mental fingers crossed in her mind as the tears came to the corners of her blue eyes.
Death. The concept was foreign to the girl. She had lost her grandfather but that had been so long ago, and she was so young. It was strange that she had come to terms with her death so soon. But it was no more then she had deserved. She had delivered the ultimate blow to his ego and him pushing her off the roof seemed to be a just penance for her.
The ground was closer now but time still moved slowly. Part of her just wanted it all to end, and part of her regretted her infidelity. She shouldn’t have cheated. But then it occurred to her. For all that she had loved him that had pushed her; she loved the other much, much more. She could still hear his voice above her. He was pleading with her not to die, not that she could exactly prevent it. He was calling to her, saying that he loved her.
Did he really? She found it kind of hard to believe that he could still love her. She had done something awful to him. Her gaze met his and she saw he had tears in his eyes. Maybe he did love her. They had been together a long time after all. But she had gotten bored. Rather then doing the best thing she had been unfaithful. She knew how his eyes lit up when she entered the room. She knew how he treated her in private, when they were alone together. Yet she had still tired of him and his love. Was it even possible? Apparently it was.
The ground was so much closer now. She was fully aware of her imminent death. Her life began to flash before her eyes. Her ballet recital at the age of six. Her first sweet little kiss with the boy next door at the age of eight. The first day of elementary school and the first day of both high schools she had attended. Image after image flashed over eyes and she dared a look at the ground.
The sidewalk she had walked over so many times was looking so very dangerous. She was almost at the ground. She gazed upwards at him. He was still calling to her as if he yelled enough she could stop the force of gravity and walk back up to him. She mouthed two words to him: I’m sorry. She was. She was so sorry. But it was too late for apologies.
She hit the ground hard and everything went black.
Their heads were pressed close together, their lips meeting. Though it looked like it, they were technically not kissing. They were talking, whispering rapidly to each other about things only they found important. His bright green eyes enveloped her, and exclaimed his love louder then every cry. She relished the attention. But even as she sat their in such close proximity to him, her mind strayed, drifting to an encounter she had had the previous night.
He drew back, sensing her thoughts were elsewhere.
His words were soft, comforting, and familiar. She had tired of this. She wanted to take risks, to move on with her life to be someone apart from this small town girl who still dated her high school sweetheart. Yet she simply forced a smile, and snuggled closer to him.
“Yes?” she asked.
He faltered, unsure if his previous sense was false. She rested her head on his chest and yawned. A slow smile came to his lips and he scooped her up bridal style.
“Bed time,” he replied, though she could tell he had wanted to say something different.
She giggled softly, still playing her part in this carefully produced play. It was a short walk from the living room to the bedroom they shared, and when he was close enough, he placed her gently down on the bed. She smiled again.
Sleep seemed nice right now, and she was eager for it. Knowing their rituals however it would probably be another half an hour before they actually settled for bed. He proceeded to the dresser. Pulling the top drawer open, he tossed her a nightgown. It hit her in the face, as always.
He grabbed his own pajamas, slipping into the adjoining bathroom to change. She had never understood his peculiar habit of changing in the bathroom rather then in front of her. It’s not as if she hadn’t seen anything he had before.
While he changed in the bathroom she changed in the bedroom. As he entered the room again, she was just slipping under the covers. He grinned at her, and she smiled tiredly back. Normally she put more effort into it but she was just sick of their façade and having to be a fraud every minute of every day.
Maybe it was all because of the previous night. A sigh escaped her lips as she recalled it…
Heavy breathing, every atom of space filled. Bare skin and tight embrace. It was a moment of passion gone awry. How had it come to this? In the back of her mind she could recall the fact that this was wrong.
But how could something so wrong feel so right?
The moment extended, lasting longer then she had expected. Her thoughts were flustered, and she couldn’t think straight. She simply went with it.
Things were going faster and faster. She was swept away with the moment and there was nothing she could do about it.
And this was only the start.
As the days passed by she found herself swept away. She also found herself falling in love. It was fast, again it was fast. But everything seemed to go at a high pace these days? She was out of her element, and she loved it.
Her new love, Dawson, was different. He was unique and intriguing and things were different with him then her high school sweetheart, Anthony. Anthony was sweet, but simple in a small town way. Dawson on the other hand had big dreams and it had awoken something in her she hadn’t realized existed.
For the longest time she had simply existed, content to love Anthony and be with him. Then Dawson had entered her world and brought with him a light that shone like a thousand suns. He opened her eyes and she could see again. It made her restless, and want for something bigger. Dawson was her path to that.
“Yea?” she called, turning to see Dawson behind her.
“Want to do something tonight?” he asked, his voice sounding eager.
He knew of her situation. She had told him the night before. She had been nervous to tell him, afraid he would spurn her. Yet he hadn’t, Dawson had simply found it a bigger adventure and she had appreciated that. Although he was okay with it, it didn’t alleviate the guilt she felt. Always in the back of her mind lurked the ever present presence of Anthony. She could see the hurt on his face, and his confusion at all of her no shows.
She would tell him. She knew she would.
“Umm sure… I just have to cancel some-”
Dawson nodded, cutting her off so she didn’t have to speak the words he knew haunted her. Cautiously he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.
The phone rang once, twice, three times. Finally he picked up.
“Anthony its Brylee. I have to cancel for tonight. Something came up at work and they want me to stay late.”
“C’mon Brylee! This is the third time this week you cancelled on me. I’ve spent all day cooking.”
“I’m sorry Anthony. Don’t stay up.”
She hung up the phone and hunched over on herself. The guilt she felt was intense and she wanted it all to end.
Dawson found her like that after work, hunched in on herself. She had been crying, but the tears had dried out an hour or two ago. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
“We don’t have to hang out tonight, Brylee,” he said.
She shook her head.
“I already cancelled on Anth- him,” she said cutting herself off part ways through his name. She couldn’t vocalize it.
“Well then what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, dismissing it and putting on a happier look.
Dawson didn’t accept it entirely but he accepted it enough that he helped her up and together they left.
The flashing red clock on the VCR read 1:00. Anthony was passed out on the couch and she could only imagine that he had done what she hadn’t wanted him to: stayed up. She slipped up to him, and covered him with a blanket. Her lips pressed to his forehead, and she snuck back into the bedroom. Her pajamas were laid out on the bed, and she felt tears burning in her eyes.
The pressure was getting to her and she could bear it anymore. She needed to end this. She needed to tell him, but she didn’t know how she could. Anthony, though simple, was complex to understand. Until very recently she had only thought he had one layer. But she had been wrong. It seemed that every day she was discovering new layers to the man she had been dating since the summer after tenth grade.
He would have been happier staying home. She had always known that, and yet he had come with her. He had been content to let her follow her big city dreams, and he was content to tag along like a third wheel as she lived the life she had always wanted. She had never felt this guilty in her whole entire life.
Slipping into her pajamas, she settled on the edge of the bed. The urge to tell Anthony was stronger then ever. And what was stopping her: her own stupid fear of hurting Anthony. She babied him and wasn’t she hurting him by sneaking around like this? God, she was stupid.
Sleep didn’t come that night. She stayed up straight until the alarm clock rang at 6:00 am. Her thoughts had kept her awake and she had kept dwelling on them, reliving the fact that she was being a rotten person.
Slowly, as if she had aged 50 years in one night, she went through the routines of her morning. Around seven she woke Anthony. He didn’t question her, which she hadn’t expected. He remained silent, sulky like some pubescent teenaged girl. Not wanting to deal with his moodiness, she left for work a half an hour earlier then she needed to.
On her way to work she stopped by a coffee shop, purchasing a simple black coffee. The smell woke her up nicely, and the acrid taste suited her mood. Halfway there, she spotted Dawson across the street from her. He saw her too and ran to catch up with her.
They walked the rest of the way together. It helped her to forget the conflict with Anthony, and she relished in that fact.
Briiiing! Briiing! She fumbled for a moment, before managing to yank the phone to her ear.
“Brylee?” breathed a voice.
“Yea?” she responded.
She was silent, having nothing to say.
“Look, I’m sorry Brylee. I understand work makes you busy, and I shouldn’t act so immature. But I guess I just miss spending time with you,” he said.
Her breath caught in her throat, her tears welling.
“No, no. I need to. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Will you be home for supper tonight? It’s supposed to be clear and I thought we could eat on the roof.”
“Yes,” she said her voice clear of emotion.
“I love you Brylee,” he repeated.
“Love you too,” she repeated in return.
The line went dead, and carefully she placed the phone down on its dock.
There was a knock on the door and she glanced up to see Dawson standing there. He let himself in and went over to her, pressing his lips to hers.
“Want to get together tonight?” he asked.
Here was her test.
“I can’t. I- I promised Anthony I would go home for-”
Dawson cut her off.
“C’mon Babe, you’ve skipped out on dinner before. This is just another time.”
She shook her head. It wasn’t just another time this time. This time it was entirely different.
“I’m telling him Dawson.”
She was home before six that day. The apartment was empty, as she had expected. On the bed he had left her a note. She picked it up, unfolding the paper to see his familiar handwriting.
Dress nicely, I’ve made us Italian.
I’m on the roof, waiting for you.
See you soon.
She dropped the note to the bed and walked to the closet. Moments later she was changed into a black dress, with a matching pair of black heels. Her hair was done nicely, and she made herself look as pretty as she could.
Rather then the creaky old elevator, she took the stairs. She needed the time to organize her thoughts and figure out what she was going to say to Anthony. The one thing she didn’t want to do was lose his respect entirely.
The night sky was beautiful, and a few stars managed to shine through the smog of the city. Anthony shrugged apologetically.
“It’s the best I could do sweetheart,” said Anthony.
She hesitated for a moment, then stepped over to him, seating herself on the edge of the roof. Suddenly, sitting down to tell him this felt wrong. She stood, and reached out to grasp his hand.
“Anthony, I have to tell you something.”