If I Fell

Chapter Thirteen

“Hm?” I questioned absentmindedly, my finger running along the corner of the page, begging for a paper cut.

My attention was focused upon the new textbook we’d been given today in physics class. And I was finding that just flipping through it was enough to give me a headache. Although the content of the book seemed as dry as a bare sheet of paper to me, it still held my concentration considerably better than the other person in the car who was seated to my left.

So it was with great difficulty that I pulled my gaze away from it to look to Marcy.

“Have you even been listening to a word I’ve said?” she asked, the irritation creating a slight bite to her voice.

Unable to help the grin that raised the edges of my lips, I met her eyes as she pulled the car to a halt for a mere moment at the four way stop. “Sorry,” I apologized somewhat sheepishly, closing the textbook with a snap and holding it up for effect with one hand. “It’s interesting reading, you know.”

“That’s a brilliant textbook, our class got it last week,” she informed me. “And I know you hate physics.”

“Oh, you know me so well,” I sighed, dropping the book carelessly upon the bag at my feet. “I was trying to force myself to like it; I figure it has to be something that you learn to love through repetition.”

With a giggle, Marcy replied, “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Pushing a careless hand into my hair, I propped my elbow against the window to create a nice brace to lean upon. “It was worth a try.”

“You’re going to ruin your hair doing that,” she reprimanded. “I guess. So where were you?” she added amiably. And so quickly she switched back to our original conversation that it was almost a chore to remember the almost chastising words from before.

“Huh?” I asked with a confused furrowed brow as I dropped my hand from my hair, letting it dangle uselessly, “Where was I when?”

“On Friday,” she prompted, “The party, remember?”

I found myself almost immediately staring out the window, purposefully avoiding her eyes. “Uh,” I said stupidly, searching desperately for words, but I’d never been the most talented liar. I’d never had reason to practice, and they do say that’s what makes perfection, don’t they? I had been doing far more lying lately, though, so by that conclusion I should have been getting better. In a voice that sounded thick, I found myself saying, “I went out with my mom. I’d forgot I had to go for dinner with her.”

The lie felt like acid on my tongue, but I didn’t want to think of what she’d have said had I told her what I was actually doing.

While I could hear the falsehood in my voice as clear as day, Marcy proved to me that my lying talents had been raised. That or she was simply oblivious. Either way, she just pouted slightly and said, “Oh.” After a long pause she added, “Well, we’ll all get to hang out this Friday at least.”

I felt like this conversation was one where I was constantly being thrown off balance. That seemed to be common lately. “What?” I asked blankly.

“Your birthday,” she laughed, giving me a little shove with one hand before it went securely back to the right position on the steering wheel close to her other hand. “Jeez, I know you don’t like your birthday much, but c’mon, you’re turning eighteen!”

The words had my stomach dropping down to the balls of my feet, right between my shiny ankle boots.

Every year, the week or even weeks leading up to my birthday were approached in a fog that was a confusion of fear and something that might be construed as akin to apprehensive excitement. All that was on my mind was that phone I would be staring at, letting it ring and ring. And ring. Until finally it gave up. But I would sit there, staring down at it in wonderment. The idea that the person that was biologically my father was on the other end was simply implausible, and I was always struck by the existential feeling of the moment.