Fallen Elements (7 page)

Ryan didn’t remember seeing any photographers
at the services, but knowing her aunt, they were more than likely
invited and told to remain discreet.

“Thank you.” Ryan started back toward her
house.

“Your family has some money then?” Phyllis
could always be counted on for directness.

Ryan wasn’t sure how to answer that, or if
the woman was angling toward a rent increase. “Ah, I guess you
could say that. I haven’t been close to them in a very long
time.”

Shrugging, Phyllis looked up toward the sky.
“Beautiful day.”

Ryan continued to be confused by the
conversation, and was racking her brain to find a way out of it
without offending the woman. “It is lovely. We’re nearly into
spring.”

“I admire you.” Phyllis stated casually,
clearly redirecting the conversation again.

“I - thank you?” Ryan wasn’t sure what the
woman was talking about.

“You struck out on your own. Made your way in
the world. Not many of your generation can say that.” Nodding, the
woman turned and walked back toward her house.

Ryan felt tears pushing at the back of her
eyes, and she was surprised that a few kind words from Phyllis
Grady had triggered them. If she were honest with herself, she had
felt like her emotions were teetering on the fringe. Moment to
moment she felt she could cry, laugh, or scream. Her family had
always had the ability to put her on edge.

A shiver ran through Ryan, and she wrapped
her arms around her chest and quickly went inside her house. The
distinct smell of stale pipe smoke tickled her nostrils as she
entered.

“Nic, was Aaron here?” Aaron Reynolds was an
ex-boyfriend of Nicole’s that she still occasionally slept with.
Ryan had never taken much of a liking to the man. He was twenty
five years old, unemployed and smoked a Dublin style pipe because
he still worried about looking cool. He had no idea how his obvious
efforts to do so had the opposite effect.

Nicole came down the narrow stairs that sat
to the left of the front door. “He was the second Natty Boh
outside. Why?”

Ryan shook her head. “I would prefer if he
didn’t smoke that awful pipe in the house.”

Nicole started to object and thought better
of it. “Fair enough. Sorry.”

Shaking her head, Ryan went into the small
galley style kitchen to her right, and got a glass out of the
cabinet. She would never understand Nicole’s affinity for slackers
and losers. In spite of all of her successes, or perhaps because of
them, the woman was a magnet for perpetually clueless and foolish
men.

Ryan had often thought her friend’s
lackluster taste in men was rooted in Nicole’s need to always be a
little smarter and a little prettier than the guys she dated.
Nicole thought it made her seem grounded and substantive. The irony
was, Nicole was the kindest and most compassionate person Ryan had
ever met, regardless of who she dated or slept with.

Nicole’s warm hand was on Ryan’s shoulder as
she filled the glass with water from the tap. “Hey, are you
okay?”

Taking a long drink of water, Ryan put the
nearly empty glass on the counter. “Just tired. I think I’m going
to take a nap.”

Nicole nodded, and then a playful grin spread
across her lips. “But wait. Something arrived for you
yesterday.”

Ryan’s brow arched as she followed her
roommate into the living room. She stepped around the wall that
divided the kitchen from the rest of the downstairs, and Ryan’s
eyes widened.

“They barely fit through the door.” Nicole
stood next to the largest arrangement of red roses Ryan had ever
seen.

Holding out a small white envelope, Nicole
smirked. “I didn’t read it, but I can guess who they’re from.”

Ryan snatched the envelope from Nicole, and
pulled the card out.
I’m sorry for your loss. Miss you.
Jenny.

Ryan exhaled. “They’re beautiful.”

Nicole pulled one of the long stem roses free
of the glass vase, and handed it to Ryan. “I personally would have
stopped at two dozen, but hey, I don’t have mommy and daddy’s money
to burn through.”

Ryan bristled at the comment given the turn
of events her finances had recently taken, but she knew Nicole was
right about Jenny.

Jenny Garrison and she had been dating off
and on for over six months. Jenny was born in Boston and considered
coming to Baltimore, and living in a renovated row house while she
finished her master’s in public policy, to be slumming it.

“I can’t live a sheltered life forever,
Ryan.” Jenny had explained a few weeks after they started dating.
“I need to experience the bad with the good; otherwise, I’ll have
nothing to offer my constituents.”

Ryan thought Jenny’s heart was in the right
place, but Ryan’s efforts to explain the irony of her being able to
choose
poverty negating the point had fallen on deaf
ears.

“Isn’t that what you’ve done with your
family?” Jenny had earnestly asked while the two women sat in
Ryan’s living room watching an Orioles game.

“Not really.” Ryan had struggled to tamp down
her defensiveness. “My mother and I had a terrible disagreement,
and even before the argument, we fundamentally viewed the world
differently.” Ryan had taken a drink of her beer before continuing.
“I didn’t have a choice.”

In spite of her bourgeois leaning tendencies,
Jenny was fun to be with, smart, and seemed content to maintain the
casualness of their relationship. It didn’t hurt, though Ryan was
loath to admit this to anyone, that Jenny was gorgeous.

She was meticulous with her body, hair and
dress without being overly fussy. Her shoulder length brown hair
framed a defined jaw, full lips and blue eyes accented by long
thick lashes. When Ryan had first seen her at the student center,
she had reminded her of someone out of a J. Crew catalog.

“You can’t leave these down here, you know.”
Nicole was looking suspiciously at the three dozen roses.

“I doubt I could get them up the stairs.”
Ryan joked.

Picking the vase up, Nicole walked toward the
back door. “Perfect. I’ll put them on the deck.”

“Wait.” Ryan rushed after her roommate. “It’s
fifty degrees out there.”

“Aren’t you supposed to refrigerate flowers?”
Nicole teased. She was not a fan of Jenny’s. The two women were
polar opposites and though they made nice for Ryan’s sake, neither
pretended there was any love lost between them.

“I’ll take them up to my room.” Ryan
carefully retrieved the vase and its contents from an amused
Nicole.

“Fine, but if you’re not back down in ten
minutes, I’ll assume you’ve been suffocated by the flora.”

Rolling her eyes, Ryan carefully traversed
the narrow wooden stairs to the second floor of the house. “I’ll be
asleep in ten minutes, so don’t bother.”

Walking into her room, Ryan breathed a sigh
of relief to be alone for the first time in days. She balanced the
vase precariously on her hip as she cleared a space on the top of
her oak dresser. She had found the piece discarded on the curb,
drug it home, cleaned and refinished it. She liked the Frank Lloyd
Wright design feel the dresser had, even though it had nearly
killed Nicole and her getting it up the stairs.

Stepping around her suitcase Nicole had put
near the side of the bed, Ryan kicked off her navy and gray Merrill
tennis shoes and fell into bed. Pulling the black throw that lay at
the foot of her bed over her, Ryan closed her eyes, content to
sleep for an hour before unpacking and doing her laundry.

But after five minutes, Ryan sat up, her mind
whirling through the past week. She had put the inheritance to the
back of her mind until she had to meet with an attorney. She had
even managed to push aside her irritations with her aunt, but she
had not successfully stopped thinking about Leah. Ryan reasoned the
woman remained on her mind because she was a bit of an enigma.

I’m curious. That’s all. The coincidence of
how I met her, and then her being an estranged friend of my
mother’s. That’s it.

Ryan lay back down; her eyes open as she
stared at the white ceiling of her room. She had more important
things to contend with, and was growing to resent the perpetual
presence Leah seemed to have taken up in her head.

Willing her mind toward the practical, Ryan
began to go through her list. She had done this since she was a
small child. It gave her a sense of order and control. As she got
older she realized it was her equivalent of counting sheep.

Nap, unpack, do laundry, get outfit for
interview ready, double check directions to interview, call Jenny
and thank her for the flowers, charge phone, shower, read some
mindless genre dribble.

Ryan’s list halted on the last bullet point
as the task of reading shot her train of thought back over to Leah.
Damnit! Do it again, Myers.

Ryan began repeating her list, skipping the
reading part and going straight to bed.

“I’m going to Kislings to watch the Capitals
with Greg. Want to come?” After a half hour of tossing and turning,
Ryan had given up on her nap, called her friend, and was now
pulling her coat and gloves on.

Nicole was sitting in the small dining area
adjacent to the living room, and looked up from her laptop she was
hovering over. “Hockey and stalker - I’ll pass.”

Ryan frowned. “Be nice. I’m convinced the two
of you are destined to get married and live the dream.” She opened
the front door. “You wouldn’t want little Mary Sue and Bobby
knowing mommy once had a restraining order out on daddy.”

Nicole wadded up a piece of paper and threw
it at Ryan. “Stow it!”

Ryan laughed. “Pick that up, please.” Nodding
toward the paper on the floor, she closed the door and began the
mile walk to meet Greg.

The clear sky, crisp air and the brisk walk
had Ryan feeling more like herself by the time she reached the
tavern. She had always loved how you could be walking along a
sidewalk lined with row houses, and then round a corner and be
standing in front of a bar, restaurant or dairy store. Baltimore
was an eclectic blend of neighborhoods, each unique unto
itself.

Glancing at her Timex watch, Ryan realized
she had a little less than ten minutes until the game started.
Kislings Tavern was akin to a dive with its long narrow bar lined
with wood paneling. The bar was backed with mirrors obscured by a
myriad of liquor bottles and sports banners.

Kislings had character. It was a locals’
hangout, a great place to watch a game, and had the best buffalo
chicken wings Ryan had ever tasted. That plus the cheap beer had
made the tavern one of Ryan’s favorite places to be, either on her
own, or with friends after a BSSC game.

“Ryan. Over here.” Greg was sitting at the
farthest end of the bar with two Natty Bohs in front of him.

“Thanks for the beer.” Ryan hopped up on the
bar stool next to Greg, and reached for the frothy pint glass.

“Sorry, what?” Greg smirked and reached for
the second glass. “I wasn’t sure what you were drinking.”

Ryan nudged the man with her shoulder. “Cute.
Now give me the beer.”

“Are you sure you don’t want something
stronger?” Greg teased.

“I don’t think they serve grain alcohol
here.” Ryan jokingly started scanning behind the bar.

“I take it New York could have gone better?”
Greg asked, the humor from earlier replaced with genuine
concern.

Ryan shrugged, and took a drink of her beer.
“I went there for a funeral.”

“Your mother’s funeral.” Greg gently
interjected.

Ryan looked out the side of her eye at her
friend. “Your point?”

Greg leaned back, waving his hands in front
of him in mock surrender. “Check. We’re here to watch the hockey
game.”

Ryan grinned. “Thanks, Mathews.”

Finishing the last of his pint, Greg
shrugged. “For what?”

“Letting me pretend for the next two hours
that the last
five
days didn’t happen.” The lump in Ryan’s
throat caused the last of her words to wobble, and she quickly took
a drink, hoping to mask her distress.

Greg gestured for the bartender to bring him
two more pints. Glancing at Ryan, Greg raised his voice above the
noise of the crowded bar. “And two Jack Daniels shooters.”

Ryan looked suspiciously at her friend. “Are
you trying to get me drunk?”

“Nope. But if you feel up to it, it’s my
treat and I’m happy to help you stumble home.” Greg quickly patted
Ryan on the back and took the two pints from the bartender,
followed shortly by two shot glasses of Jack Daniels.

“Cheers.” Greg held the shot of whiskey up
ceremoniously.

Ryan brought the caramel colored liquor to
her lips and quickly drank it. The taste of wood with hints of
pecan coated her mouth and throat, followed by a slight burn that
sent a wave of warmth cascading through Ryan’s chest.

“Hard core, Myers. You’re not even chasing
it.” Greg took a long drink of his beer.

Ryan slid the empty shot glass back on the
bar. “It’s not my first time at the rodeo.” The truth was, she
wasn’t much of a drinker. If she had any hope of stringing a
coherent sentence together tomorrow at her interview, that was her
first
and
last shot.

“Another round then?” Greg raised his hand
toward the bartender.

Ryan grabbed his wrist, and pulled his hand
down. “Let’s pace ourselves.”

Greg grinned. He knew as well as any of
Ryan’s friends that the woman was a light-weight. “Beer it is.” The
man shifted on the stool, and suddenly seemed nervous. “Ah, I
thought maybe Nic would come with you.”

Ryan had to give the man credit, he had
managed to go nearly ten minutes without mentioning the unrequited
love of his life. “She’s not really a hockey fan.”

“Oh, sure, but I thought just hanging out
might interest her.” Greg picked at a groove on the bar top with
his finger.