Page 39 of Free Fall
Back in my van, I start it up and drive out of the parking lot to head to the campsite. As I wait in line behind a half-dozen other cars to exit onto the main road, I tug out my phone and send a text.
Hey, Doc, hope we’re still on for Friday. Looking forward to it.
For the next twenty-four hours, I wait for a reply.
But Sejin doesn’t answer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sejin
Leenie and thekids have crashed my place of business, and normally I’m fine with that, but I’ve been stressed out the last two days for a plethora of reasons.
First, my dad never texted back, which kind of hurts a little more as each day goes by. Why doesn’t he at least reply with “I miss you too?” Or something innocuous like “Things are good here, son. Hope you’re fine.”
I miss when my mom was so excited for my every adventure. “Send pictures!” she’d demand, and then respond enthusiastically to each one when I did. “Those clouds are beautiful!” she replied once to a photo of me in front of a dingy hotel sign, sent as proof both that I was alive and of where I was staying for the night. I hadn’t even noticed the clouds.
Dad couldn’t seem more disinterested in my life if he tried. I know he’s grieving, we both are, and I know he prefers to do it alone—we’re alike like that—but I hate feeling like I’ve lost both my dad and my mom since her death. It sucks. A lot.
Second, Leenie and Martin had a fight last night, and I worry it was about me. I could hear them in their bedroom trying to keep it down, but words seeped out from beneath the closed door. Things likemonths,how much longer,why, and “it’s not that I don’t love him too, but…” So, yeah, it must be about me, and I really do need to get the fuck off of my cousin’s sofa and figure out my life.
But where can I go? Rents are insane around here. I don’t make a lot of money. Dad doesn’t have any to give since thechemical companies shut their doors and left West Virginia in the lurch. It’s not like I can ask him for a loan when he doesn’t even respond when I ask for a phone call. But I hate that my presence is probably causing them stress.
Third, Pete is on my ass at the coffee shop because I asked him to rearrange the schedule around my work at the preschool again, and you’d have thought I’d asked him to cut his dick off and let me eat it for breakfast, because he was seriously uncool about the whole thing.
And then there’s Dan.
He texted about Friday, and I haven’t replied. Mainly because I don’t know what to say. If I say yes, then we’re going to fuck, and it’s going to beamazing, and I’ll want to do it again and again. But some day down the road, whether we’re still fucking or not, someone’s gonna say “Did you hear about that climber that died?” and it’s going to be Dan. And I’m going to have to live with the knowledge that someone I’ve had sex with, that I’ve had inside my body and come for and with, someone I think I might care about way more than I should after just two hookups, died doing something I don’t even understand.
I just don’t know how to feel about that.
But right now, Idoknow how I feel about Leenie, but more specifically Jeremiah and Sarah Kate crashing out in the comfy corner of the coffee shop, settling in, screaming for me constantly, asking for multiple free refills, and Leenie asking me to watch Jeremiah while she changes Sarah Kate’s diaper. All of them are basically treating Papa Bear like their home-away-from-home when I’m already in deep crap with Pete. Normally the guy’s indulgent of his employees’ families, but today he’s short-tempered and has it out for me. If Leenie wants me off her sofa anytime soon, she really needs to pack up and go.
But I’m not sure how to explain that without Pete overhearing, and…
The door chime rings. I look up expecting a new influx of folks given that it’s almost lunchtime, so I’m surprised to see just one customer. My stomach drops, and I go a little light-headed as our eyes meet.
Dan.
He looks good too. Wearing worn jeans that hang on his narrow hips, a t-shirt stretched tight across his chest muscles and snug-capped sleeves that show off how wiry his arms are. He’s all…unf.So lean and sexy, with his big, wide eyes staring right at me full of questions and intensity. I’m instantly aware of my skin in an acute way that’s hard to explain. Like I’m tingling with effervescent bubbles of anxiety and attraction popping all over the surface of me at once. It’s weirdly hard to breathe.
I swallow as Dan approaches the counter.
“Small hot apple cider,” he says, not taking his eyes off me as he hands over his debit card. “And a few minutes of your time.”
“Look,” I say, as I begin to make the drink. It’s pretty easy—some apple cider, some steam, whipped cream, andvoila.“I’m at work, and I can’t really talk.”
Dan takes the cup from my extended hand. “When’s your break?”
“He doesn’t get one today. He was late,” Pete says, bustling up next to me, his grizzled voice rising with irritation.
“Alright. I’ll wait until your shift is over,” Dan says, going to sit at a table by the window and bringing out a worn journal and a pencil. He begins marking inside of it.
“That guy bugging you?” Pete asks warily. “Because I can handle him if you want.”
“No, he’s fine. I kind of owe him a conversation, I guess.” I don’towehim anything really, but I don’t feel right not giving him an explanation about why I’m going to cancel on him for Friday night.
Pete groans. “Drama, kid. Guys like him? They’re drama.”