The Fall (32 page)

Dallas

• Now
  

“Seth Whitaker, I am still young enough to divorce you!” Rose and I laughed hysterically at our parents fussing in the kitchen.

“Good morning!” I chirped as I watched them fight over the stuffing recipe. They ignored me as they fought for ten minutes about whose turkey tasted better.

“I bought two, Seth. You didn’t defrost yours, deal with it!” She raised her hands in a Hail Mary as he shook his head, his hands on his hips.

“Laura, you want to explain to me why you took yours out and didn’t bother with mine?”

“Are you saying I
purposefully
sabotaged your turkey?” My father winked at me as my mother’s blood pressure rose to an all-time high.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” His grin was cut short by a spoon full of raw dressing hitting his face. Rose and I ducked for cover as my mother threw spoonful after spoonful, drenching him in her concoction

“You are such a pain in the ass,” he roared, trapping her arms around her body and rubbing the dressing all over her by sliding against her. Rose and I quickly grabbed the broom and cleaned what we could before resuming the stuffing of the bird. Once we had completed our task, we looked up to see our parents smiling at us from our former chairs.

“They grow up so fast,” my mother said.

“Yes they do, baby.” He pulled my mother into a hug. “At least if the turkey is dry this year, for once it won’t be your fault.” My mother pulled away from his grasp and gave him an elbow to the chest. Grant came down and joined us with a smile. “Whoa, what happened here?”

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary,” Rose chimed in, taking his hand, leading him into the hallway for what I was sure was a show of affection. I heard murmurs and promises and tried to be happy for her when the small pang of envy arrived.

I spent the day in the kitchen utilizing some much-needed uninterrupted time with Rose’s fiancé.

“Grant, why the rush to get married? Not that I have any objection,” I added quickly while Rose glared at me, popping the ends off of fresh green beans at the table.”

“I’ve wasted enough time with the wrong woman. I want our life to start right now.” He smiled at her, completely unaffected by my question.

“That’s all very romantic, but you do know she will bankrupt you with the grocery bill alone, right?” I laughed as several beans flew at me from her direction. “She eats like a—”

“Like she’s pregnant with triplets. Oh, God, don’t I know it. Last night she had a 3:00 A.M. feeding that gave me nightmares. I mean, really? Peanut butter and mayo?”

A fistful of beans hit him in the head as he chuckled and addressed her. “Baby, you’re a pig, but a beautiful pig.”

“I plan on getting good and fat once we are married,” she huffed. Grant and I spoke at once to egg her on.

“We should record her and put it on YouTube—”

“I leave half a loaf of bread on her nightstand just so—”

“There will be no ganging up on me!” she declared, rounding the corner with her colander of beans.

“Thank God your mother got a thirty pound turkey,” Grant finished as she dropped the beans in the sink and swung the faucet handle on him.

“Go ahead, say something else,” she threatened as she turned the water on, holding the nozzle dangerously close to his crotch.

“You two would make Mom and Dad proud,” I said, seeing Rose’s face burst with pride and her demeanor soften with the words. I laughed as she threw herself in his arms, kissing him repeatedly as he laughed at her outburst. I checked my messages giving them a moment alone as I stepped outside. It was another Indian summer type of day.

DEAN: Are you home?

DALLAS: Yes, you?

DEAN: Yes. We are having steak.

DALLAS: Oh no, she forgot?

DEAN: Yes, but that’s okay. She’s doing well.

DALLAS: Come on, bring her over. We have plenty.

I waited for his reply. I missed him terribly and this was the perfect excuse to see him without worrying about how he would interpret it. I still didn’t trust myself, but I was working on it.

DEAN: She doesn’t leave this house, Dallas.

DALLAS: Wouldn’t hurt to try.

DEAN: I’ll see what I can do. What time are you eating?

DALLAS: Around six.

DEAN: Okay.

DALLAS: I really want you to come.

I waited for a reply and got it several hours later when the doorbell rang. My heart soared as I opened it to find Dean gripping his mother tightly to him. She was clearly having a hard time with being there, and I instantly felt guilty.

I ushered them inside and once we got her seated with a glass of wine, I took him aside. “I don’t want her to feel this way. You didn’t have to do this.”

He leaned in to me with concern clear in his voice. “I really wanted to come. I mean, she’s here. What if it’s one of the last times she’s able to—”

Loud laughter echoed from the family room as we both stood there. His mother was hysterical as we both turned the corner to find Rose speaking fluent Spanish and waving her arms completely animated.

“What is she saying?” I asked Dean.

“She’s telling her about her favorite soap opera. Apparently, Rose watches Telemundo.”

“You are shitting me,” I gaped as Dayana tilted her head back and let out another full belly laugh at another of Rose’s antics. “Well, looks like you chose the wrong sister,” I said apologetically to Dean.

He wrapped his arms around me. “Yo nunca tuve opción.”

“Why do you do that knowing I have no idea what you’re saying?”

“Because I know it drives you crazy,” he answered without apology. Suddenly my father jumped in, speaking Dayana’s native tongue, followed by Grant. I felt like I had just been transported into the Twilight Zone.

“Okay, you too?” I questioned Grant. “Seriously?”

Grant shrugged apologetically and I waved them all off.

Dinner was blissful and at the same time uneventful. The turkey was a little dry, but we all gave a round of applause for effort. Dayana looked around at us with a peaceful smile, but faded quickly after dinner, insisting Dean take her home. She asked for Papa repeatedly, and I noticed when Dean gave her an excuse for his absence, she was fully aware he was lying and completely lucid. The recollection that he was gone was painful. Though their visit was short, it was more than Dean and I could have hoped for and I waved them a goodbye, saddened by the loss. Dean leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips, fire in his eyes, letting me know he would do much more under different circumstances. I took his kiss and returned it without worrying for once what the repercussions would be. I looked on as he helped her in the car and pressed two fingers to his mouth then held them up to me.

“El rayo te cayó hace mucho tiempo atrás, mi ángel,” my dad said behind me. I turned to him, clearly flustered until my mom stepped in and translated.

“Lightning struck you a long time ago,” she said, giving my father a knowing smirk.

“Okay, apparently I was absent the days the Whitakers took Spanish,” I mumbled, pushing past them to finish the dishes.

That night in bed, Dean texted me things I would never in a million years have recalled, and I replied to him with different memories. The saying that the people closest to you help you remember who you were rang true now more than ever. His memories kept me alive to him and mine kept him alive to me, Although our fondest ones were the same and remained the staples in our lives with or without each other, the smaller more detailed memories reminded us both that once upon a time, though we were young and sometimes ridiculous, we
were
beautiful. I looked at the clock and a sleeping Rose next to me and decided to ask Dean for more than what he remembered.

DALLAS: I’m ready to ask my questions.

DEAN: Okay.

DALLAS: Don’t lie.

DEAN: I promise.

DALLAS: Did you ever think about coming back?

DEAN: All the time.

DALLAS: Why didn’t you?

DEAN: The longer I took to get back, the further away I felt, and the more I stayed away the less I felt I had a right to come back. I was involved with Helena and determined to finish school. I eventually gave up on the thought that you would take me back.

DALLAS: Why?

DEAN: Rose told me you were in love.

DALLAS: Were you...in love?

Of course, he was in love, idiot. He was going to marry her.

DEAN: The part of me that thought I belonged there thought I was.

DALLAS: I wasn’t.

DEAN: I think I knew that deep down.

DALLAS: And still you stayed away.

DEAN: I regret it.

DALLAS: Goodnight.

Damn the explanation was so simple. Still, it hurt like hell.

My phone rang in my hand and I answered quickly, but he didn’t give me a chance to speak. “I never saw myself marrying her or going through with it, not once.” I quickly threw off the covers and snuck downstairs and out the back door. I welcomed the chill in the air as my face heated in anger.

“Why, why didn’t you go through with it? You asked her. You got down on your knee.” My voiced cracked on the last word. The thought of him asking her ripped through me painfully.

“You know why.”

“I want to go to sleep,” I said quickly.

“No, you’re angry.”

“Hell yes, I’m angry!” I took deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. “Let’s not do this,” I pleaded.

“Ask me anything you want,” he encouraged. When I stayed quiet, he continued. “After my father’s funeral, I came to see you at school.”

I froze.

“I was so fucked up, Dallas, so lost. All I wanted was to see your face. You managed to find me at Columbia, and your campus was so much smaller, but I waited a whole day just for a glimpse of you and didn’t get anything. I thought about us as I waited there, searching for you in vain. When I went home, even though I was still without you, I withdrew from Helena. I never belonged to her. When I decided to move home, I looked you up. I knew you were working at that hospital, and I did what I needed to do to get in there. I didn’t know you were still waiting, because if I did—”

“Stop it. Stop. I didn’t get anything from you, not one phone call, not one fucking text, not one email. You gave me nothing! Why didn’t you come to me? Why email my sister? Why couldn’t you have just come to me? I was here. I was waiting. I kept my promise!” I cupped my hand over my mouth to keep him from hearing my sobs. The rejection ripped fresh waves of pain through me as I fought for control.

“I’m coming to you. We can’t do this over the phone.”

“No, answer me,” I said quickly, knowing I would crumble at the sight of him. I had waited a long time for the answers I now knew I deserved.

“I was still trying to figure out how to approach you after all that time. I couldn’t face you being involved with someone else. And eventually I didn’t care anymore. I wanted to know you again. I
had
to know you again. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you, but damn it...Dean, I want to.” My voice shook with emotion and I was suddenly exhausted. “Dean, I have to go.”

“Talk to me, damn it,” he snapped, clearly frustrated and I understood it. I wasn’t giving him any help. “I just want to put this behind us.”

“I’m not really good at doing that,” I reminded him. “I want to trust you. I want to trust me.”

“You are still holding back with me, I know that. We can’t do this the right way if you do that.”

“I know,” I conceded.

We remained quiet for several minutes.

“Ask me,” he prompted. I let the tears trickle down knowing exactly what he wanted. It had been on the tip of my tongue and it was the only question I truly wanted an answer to.

“Why didn’t you keep your promise?”

“I was already engaged,” he said so softly that I had to strain to hear. I nodded, knowing that it was the truth all along.

“I’m fine...I already knew that.”