E. Blair - Falling

My eyes shift back to the crack briefly as I turn to go into the other room. I walk over and sit down with my mom on the couch.

“How are you doing, darling?” she asks, patting my knee as I get comfortable.

Thinking back to my conversation with Tori in the water, I ask, “Are you happy, Mom?”

“Where is this coming from?” she questions, and I mindlessly find myself rubbing the back of my head where that bump from twenty-one years ago doesn’t exist anymore, but the memory still does.

“You’re all alone here in this house. I worry.”

“I’ve always been alone in this house.”

She never remarried after my dad died. I haven’t even known her to date. We’ve never talked about it, but I just figured she was too scared.

“Can I ask you something?” I say as I turn to her.

“Anything.”

“How come you never sold this house?” I wonder if the past still haunts her like it does me.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s filled with so many bad memories.”

“But it’s filled with so many good ones too, dear.” She smiles when she continues, “I remember holding you in my arms when I brought you home from the hospital. This is our home. It always has been. The one thing that bastardized this place is gone.” She pats my knee as she says this. Nervous reflex. She isn’t convinced of her own words. I’m good at reading people, especially her. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Are you happy?”

I dig my thumbnail under the damp label on my beer bottle. Nervous reflex. I’m sure she sees it too. We are good at reading each other like that.

“I worry about you,” she says softly.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m good. Business is good,” I assure her.

She leans back on the couch and lets out a sigh as she says, “I don’t doubt that work is good, but I wonder how much longer you plan on keeping up like you are. I wonder when you’ll decide to slow down and settle.”

“You know why I don’t settle, Mom.” This is no secret between us. She has always known why I’ve never gotten involved with anyone. She knows my fears. I tell my mother nearly everything.

“You’re nothing like him,” she affirms sternly, and when I look at her, I deny her words.

“I’m a lot like him.”

She doesn’t respond, and I feel bad for cheapening her words. “Sorry.”

“It hurts me to know this is how you think of yourself. I don’t want you to be alone. I want you to find someone that you can be happy with.”

“I want the same for you,” I tell her.

“I know you do, but you’re young. You have time on your side.”

I can’t help but laugh. “God, Mom, you act like you’re a blue-haired lady at the bingo hall.”

She laughs with me and says, “You know what I mean.”

“I know.” Letting out a deep yawn, I take the last swallow of my beer and lean in to kiss her on the cheek. “I’m gonna hit the sack. Tor and I are headed to Indian in the morning.”

“What time will you guys be back?”

“Around ten or so.”

“I’ll cook you kids breakfast.”

I smile at her referring to us as kids and say, “I love you, Mom,” as I stand up and look down at her.

“Love you, too.”

Before the water gets too busy, Tori and I decide to call it and head back to shore. Tossing our boards aside, we sit and take a breather. The morning is cool, and the sun rising behind us casts a glow across the water. People filter in, trying to get as much of the sun as they can before the season changes and the rain and grey haze finds its home for the rest of the year. Personally, I love the darkness.

“I gotta head back tomorrow,” Tori tells me as she unzips her wetsuit and tugs her arms out of it.

I start doing the same, saying, “I thought you were gonna stay for a few days.”

“I was, but Trevor called late last night, and he just got a big case, so he has to go in this weekend.” She digs her feet into the packed sand and shrugs, “Life of an attorney.”

“You gonna talk to him?” I question.

She looks over at me and nods. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.”

“So when are you coming back home?”

“I don’t really know. Whenever. For sure Thanksgiving though.”

“Connor was asking if you were going to take him trick-or-treating this year.”

I love her kids. Although they are my cousin’s children, we’ve always just referred to them as my nieces and nephews. I have a lot; three nieces and four nephews. Being an uncle is great, and I take pride in spoiling them rotten despite their parents. “You know it’s always a busy night at the bar, but I’ll see what I can do. Don’t say anything to him though because if I can’t make it back here, I don’t want him to be let down.”

She smiles and says, “I won’t.”

“How is Bailey doing?” I ask about her one-year-old daughter.

“Crazy,” she laughs. “She’s a tiny diva. I look at her, and I know I’m in for trouble in about fourteen years.”

“Well, if she’s anything like you were . . .”

“God, don’t even say it!” she whines.

We both laugh, knowing all too well how much of a partier she used to be when we were in high school.

Recalling a memory, I mention, “I will never forget seeing you hanging over the docks and puking into the water.”

“Ugh! That was awful. I was trying to be cool in front of that guy, Shawn, so that he would notice me.”

“Oh, he noticed you,” I joke, laughing harder. We used to get together in Astoria, where she’s from. We’d meet up with friends late at night and drink on the docks. Every now and then we’d get busted, but it never stopped us from going back.

“You ready?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’m starved,” I respond as I stand up and grab my board. We head up the stairs, off the beach, and to my jeep. Loading everything up, we make the drive out of Ecola Park and back home.

The smell of coffee and bacon fills the house as we walk through the front door. We toss our gear into the laundry room then head into the kitchen where my mom is scrambling eggs.

“How was the beach?” she asks as I pour a mug of coffee.

“Good,” Tori answers.

“Well, it’s a good thing you guys went when you did. It’s supposed to rain this afternoon.”

“You know rain doesn’t stop us,” I say as I walk by and kiss her cheek.

She plates our food, and we all sit to eat.

“Tori has to bail tomorrow,” I tell my mom.

“Oh, no. Everything okay with the kids?” she asks.

“Yeah, the kids are good. Trevor has to go into the office, that’s all.”

“When are you heading back?” she asks me before taking a sip of her coffee.

“I’ll probably stay here for a couple of days. I’m in no rush to get back. Michael should have everything under control.”

Finishing breakfast, I help my mom clean the kitchen before heading to my room to get cleaned up.

After my shower, I lie down on my bed and call Gavin.

“Hey, man. How’s the beach?” he says when he answers.

“Good. Anything going on Tuesday?” Too many serious conversations yesterday and my head needs an escape when I get back home.

“Whatever you want to go on,” he responds.

Gav and I have been friends for nearly ten years now. Through the years, I feel like our friendship, although it remains constant, has grown a bit superficial. He still parties the way we used to in college. We go out a lot, and he’s into the chicks as much as I am. He’s loud and obnoxious, where I’m more laidback, but he’s my one friend that isn’t tied down.

“Monkey Pub?” I suggest.

“Yeah, that works.”