Falling Into Us (19 page)

Maria was a comfort, explaining what was going on, what would happen, all that—it was helpful. She was several years older than me, and was willing to take me to the clinic in secret. She told me it was best to wait till I was older, and that even birth control wasn’t one-hundred-percent effective, but she’d rather I be on the pill knowing I probably would be active anyway. She also told me not to let Jason pressure me into anything, and to come to her if I had any questions about anything.
 

I couldn’t tell Maria that I was putting more pressure on myself than Jason was. I knew he wanted to have sex, and I did, too. Even in my own mind it was hard to explain the way I felt about having sex with Jason. I wanted it, badly. I knew how it felt to touch him, to be touched. I knew what it felt like to have an orgasm, what it looked like when he did. I knew all this. We’d crossed every line there was, pretty much, except actual intercourse. I could easily imagine what that would be like, and I had, in fact, fantasized about it all too often. I’d even touched myself, imagining Jason above me.
 

We both knew where our physical relationship was going, that it was only a matter of time. So why wait? Why keep putting it off? Why keep torturing ourselves? Jason kept telling me not to feel like we had to until we were both ready. Which…felt like pressure, to me. Unintentional pressure, but there nonetheless. And I didn’t know what to do about it. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I didn’t want him to feel like I didn’t want to be with him, but there was a sense of fear surrounding the whole thing. I was sixteen and a virgin; once I crossed that line, I couldn’t go back. It felt like the last step to growing up, to being a woman in truth. I knew I’d still be me, essentially. But how would it change me? I already felt different just from what he and I had done together.
 

I pushed the first pill through the thin layer of foil and held it in the palm of my hand, a tiny yellow circle of chemicals that meant so, so much. According to the doctor at the clinic, since I’d started my period on Wednesday, I could take the pill today, Monday, and be protected right away. The doctor had given me a long, involved explanation as to why that was necessary, and how estrogen pills were different from progestin-only pills, but most of that had gone straight past me. I’d absorbed the strict warning about how important the timing was, but that was it.

I popped the pill into my mouth, washed it down with a sip of water from the bottle of Fiji on my nightstand. There, I was officially on birth control. I slid the packet of pills into the pink plastic makeup case, which was basically a compact but fit the circular packet of pills perfectly. I’d Googled how to hide birth control from your parents, and the compact case was the best solution I’d found. I tucked the compact into an inside zipper pocket of my purse and tried to calm my inner panic. I hadn’t told Jason I was getting birth control, but only because I hadn’t seen him since I’d gone. It had been a kind of last-minute trip. Maria had come over unannounced for a weekend away from college, and we’d gone shopping. Gossip about boys had turned into my relationship with Jason, which had turned into her pestering me about whether we were “active” or not. All of which led to her dragging me out of the mall and to the nearest clinic. She hadn’t taken no for an answer.

“Becca, you don’t want to be stupid about this, okay? Maybe you’re not sleeping with him yet, but you will. This way, if anything happens, you’re protected.” Maria was very practical and matter-of-fact. “You’re only sixteen, and shouldn’t be having sex, but I was when I was your age, so I can’t talk.”

I put in my earbuds and scrolled through my playlist on my iPod until I found something that seemed to speak to me: “First Day of My Life” by Bright Eyes. I had my notebook open, a pen in my hand, waiting. I knew the feeling by now, the swelling in my heart and mind, the flux and flow of disconnected words inside me. I put the iPod on shuffle, closed my eyes, and waited, just listened. “We’re Going to Be Friends” by The White Stripes came on next, and god, did I love that song. I’d heard the Jack Johnson version first, and then The White Stripes version had come up on Pandora, and I’d been hooked. I still wasn’t sure who’d recorded the song first, and I didn’t care. “Falling Slowly” by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova started, and I nearly cried. I wasn’t sure why, what the rush of emotions was about, but something about that song brought everything I’d been dealing with to the fore.

My pen started moving, and I let the well of words open.

FALLING INTO US

How do I resist the gentle need in your eyes?

I don’t

I can’t

Not when that same heartdeep, soulspearing desperation is rooted within me

Tendrils of sunhot want wrapping around my soul

Like ivy up a brick wall

God, your eyes

Greener than summer grass

Greener than moss and sunlit jade

Sharper than obsidian

Gentler than clouds and feathertouch

They burn into me when we kiss

They scorch me when I score your skin with trembling fingernails

And I know, I know, I know

All too well

Where all this is going

I’ve seen it happen in my dreams

I’ve seen it play out in the steam-wreathed privacy of my shower

Where I touch my hot, shivering flesh
 

And imagine it’s you

Wish it was you

It’s been you

But not like we both want

And that’s where it’s going

We’re dancing on the edge of a knife

And I want to fall over

With you

But I can’t help being a little afraid

Of the adulthood lying on the other side

I’m afraid of what we can’t take back

Of giving away that last piece of my girlhood

Even to you

And yeah, I know, I love you

And yeah, I know, you love me

But yeah, I know, we’re still just kids

We’re as close to junior high as we are college

As close to twelve as we are twenty

And I don’t want to regret a thing

God, I’m so confused

And the only time I’m sure of anything

Is when you’re kissing me

And then it’s all too easy to forget

Everything but the way I feel

The way you feel so close to me

And I can’t help wondering

If that’s the smartest time to make such decisions

Exactly because I get so lost

Because it feels so much like falling

Into love

Into you and me

Being in love is scary

So much like falling

A frightening descent into
 

Beautiful madness

Yes, you and me

We’re

Falling into Us

And I don’t dare stop the fall

Because I need it far too much

I put the pen down and leaned back in my desk chair, staring out the window at the thick fog of skirling snow, letting the surge of words subside. “Comes and Goes (In Waves)” by Greg Laswell played in my ears, and I was grateful that the words didn’t apply, didn’t seem to be tailored to my emotions. So often, the music I listened to fit into my life, seeming like a soundtrack to my soul. I usually loved that, chose songs and artists for that reason, but with the poetry still juddering in my veins, I needed music that was just music, just sonic beauty for its own sake.

A knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. “Who is it?”

“Ben.”
 

“It’s not locked.” I closed the notebook and stuffed it into my purse.
 

Ben came in and flopped onto my bed like he so often did. He didn’t light up this time, thankfully. “So what’s up with you, Becca?”

I shrugged. “Homework, school, Jason.”
 

Ben grinned. “So what’s up with you and Mr. Football?”

I shot Ben a look. “We’re good. I like him.”

“You got Mom and Dad to let you see him openly, huh?”

I smiled. “Yeah, that was all him, honestly. We got caught, so Jason basically confronted Father and made him realize if he let us see each other, he’d have more semblance of control.”

“Pretty badass. Dad can be scary.”

I nodded. “Not much scares Jason.”

Ben eyed me quizzically. “You seem…better. Happy. You’re not stuttering at all.”

I shrugged, hiding a grin. “I am. I’m happy. Jason is awesome.”

“So he’s to thank, then?” Ben dug in his pocket and pulled out a cell phone and flipped it between his fingers. “He’s taking care of my baby sister? He’s not pressuring you into anything, is he? I’ll kick his ass if I have to.”

I laughed. “I love you, Benny, but you couldn’t kick his ass. And yes, he’s great. He’s not pressuring me into anything, I promise.” I gave my brother a stern glare. “And that’s all I’m saying to you. I’m
not
having that conversation with you.”

Ben tapped his phone, and I heard the telltale sounds of
Angry Birds
. “Believe me, I don’t want to have that conversation, either, but you’re my baby sister, and I know Mom and Dad wouldn’t be open to talking about reality with you. All I’ll say is, be careful, okay? Please? I don’t want to see you on
Teen Mom
or some shit.” He didn’t look up from his game, but I knew he was being as serious as my brother could be, in the only way he knew how.
 

I left my chair and slid into my customary place on my bed, against the wall with Ben on the outside. I smelled cigarettes on his shirt, but no pot or any other chemicals. I loved these moments, when Ben was happy, lucid, and sober. This was how we spent time together, how it had been since we were kids. He’d come into my room unannounced at random intervals, and we’d talk, just hang out. He’d lie on my bed and I’d lie next to him, and we’d just hang out. He only did it when he was in a good mood, though. If he was on a downswing, he’d be gone for days at a time, and when he was around, he was closed off, silent, hiding in his room with rap thumping.

I watched Ben play
Angry Birds
for a while before saying what was on my mind. “You don’t seem high.”

He didn’t react right away. “I’m not,” he said.
 

“At all?”

He shrugged. “I’m trying to learn how to just deal with the mood swings on my own, no drugs, no meds.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back to college?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Probably not. I hate school, always have. I’m working at Belle Tire for right now. Changing oil and tires. It sucks, but it’s work, and it keeps me out of trouble.”

“I’m glad you’re working.”

Ben glanced at me as the next level loaded. “Why?”

“Well, like you said, it keeps you out of trouble. You know how I feel about you smoking pot. You should be on your meds, Ben. I know you don’t like them, but they do help.”

“Are you my little sister or my mom?” He sounded disgusted.

“I just care about you. I worry about you. Sometimes…” I struggled with how to say it without insulting him. “Sometimes I feel like you don’t…care. About your future. About yourself.”

“Sometimes I don’t. I’ll never amount to anything, Beck.” He sounded so matter of fact, it hurt.

“Don’t say that, Ben. It’s not true.”

“What am I good at, then? What can I do that’s worthwhile?”

I didn’t have an answer. He didn’t really have any hobbies that I knew of. “You’re a good person, Ben. You have talents. Everyone does. You just have to find yours.”

“You sound like a goddamn guidance counselor. I
don’t
have any, Becca. I’m good at smoking pot. I’m good at selling it. I’m good at being a bipolar fucking mess, that’s what I’m good at.” He clicked the top button to put the phone to sleep and shoved it angrily in his pocket.

I sighed. “I’m sorry, Ben, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just meant to point out how glad I am that you’re not smoking pot.”

“Well…I’m trying, okay? That’s the best I got.” He stood up and took three angry steps across the room.

“Ben, wait. Don’t be mad. I-I’m sorry.”

His shoulders slumped, and he turned back around to crouch next to the bed, his face level with mine. “I’m not mad, sis. I know you care.” He smiled gently at me. “But you shouldn’t waste your time worrying about me. I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself. You worry about you, huh?”

I frowned at him. “You’re my brother. I love you. Of course I’m gonna worry about you. I can’t help it.”

He shook his head at me. “You don’t need the weight of your messed-up brother on your shoulders, Beck.” He put his hand on my shoulder and wiggled it. “I’m
fine
, okay? I’m in a good place. I’m working, I’m sober, I’ve even got a girlfriend. She’s good for me, like Jason is for you. Kate doesn’t let me smoke anything but cigarettes, so that’s good motivation. She holds out on me if she finds out I’ve gotten high.”

“Holds out on you?” I wrinkled my nose in confusion.

Ben quirked an eyebrow at me. “You know—she won’t put out.”

I squealed in mortification and buried my face in my quilt. “Eeew, Ben! I didn’t need to know that.”

He laughed at me and smacked my shoulder before standing up. “Hey, it works, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so. I just didn’t need need to know.”

Ben left then, and I turned my attention to my AP bio homework. Jason was picking me up at seven-thirty, so I had to be done by then, which only left me three hours to finish four hours’ worth of homework.

EIGHT: The First Night of Forever

Jason

Two days later

I fingered the keycard in my pocket as I sat in my truck, waiting for Becca. We’d planned this out, and now we were going through with it. My nerves were jangling, and I wondered if Becca felt the same way. I was sure she did. I had a CD player plugged into the lighter outlet and the tape deck, an old-school arrangement that I only used when I was in the mood for something specific. Today it was Johnny Cash, and currently playing was “God Is Gonna Cut You Down,” which seemed unfortunately ironic given the circumstances, but it was still a kick-ass song.