Falling

I left at five on the dot, waving my boss and coworkers a friendly goodbye. I made my way home via the local Co-op where I bought some salmon and various greenstuff; I'd been itching to try one of Emma's newly-invented dishes and I was glad to finally have a victim to test it on.

On a whim I bought a couple of bottles of white wine as well; it had been a while since I'd had a glass with a friend and I reckoned we both deserved it.

I spent a few minutes cleaning up the most obvious chaos in my small flat, and ensured all my cutlery and plates were clean so I wouldn't shame myself.

I'd just put the wine into the fridge when my phone pinged.

I'm here.

be right down :)

I scuttled down the two flights of stairs and opened the front door to the block as she hobbled up from the pavement. Her right knee was enclosed in a brace of some sort; she caught my quick glance and grimaced. "It was a bit worse than I thought," she said. "Two weeks of enforced inactivity. My God, I'm going to go mad. Hello."

"Hello," I answered, smiling. I let the door close behind her. "Um... will you be ok on the stairs?"

"Yeah, I'll just take it slowly."

"Shall I take your bag for you?"

"Thanks," she answered, grateful. She fought her way up to my floor, and sighed in relief as I let her into the flat. I took her coat and hung it up for her. "Couch or counter?" I asked.

"Couch, I think, if you don't mind. My knee is aching and I'd like to take this brace off."

"Can I give you a cold compress or something?"

"You know what I'd really love?" she said, softly. "Something alcoholic to drink."

"Then you're in luck. Wine?"

"Oh my God, you are a life saver and officially my new favourite person."

I eyed her as I unscrewed the top of the bottle. "Are you ok, Annabelle?"

"I... just have a lot of issues stacking up, so it's really nice to be able to escape them for a bit."

She undid the brace, and smoothed the fabric of her leggings out under it. "Oh, oh wow, that is so much better. That fold was digging into me from just after I started driving. Thank you," she added, as I handed her her wine glass.

"Normally I'd ask how someone's day was, but I can see yours wasn't much fun," I said as I poured my own glass of wine.

She gave me a rueful grin. "I slept on the couch like I told you I would. It was not a restful night. They seldom are, these days."

"I'm sorry. You should have talked to her when she was messaging you."

"There's a time and place for everything. Talking to her when she's in that mood is futile. Nothing helps except giving her time to cool off. Then there's a chance she'll be rational."

I eyed her. Even I could see she was hurting.

"You're not even remotely ok, are you?"

"No," she breathed. "Not even remotely." She sipped her wine and avoided meeting my gaze.

"Um... I'm a good listener."

"I don't want to burden what should be a fun evening. So... maybe later, if you still feel like being a martyr. But... for now, I'd really prefer it if you tell me how I can help. I love cooking but don't get to do it much. It will be a nice little bit of escapism for me."

"I was going to try to prepare a dish of my sister's design. It's going to be rather experimental, I'm afraid."

"That sounds like fun. I'm all in," she said.

"Lets me have some of my wine and then I'll phone her and put her on the speaker and she can instruct us."

"Won't she be busy?"

"Nah, she's never to busy to pass up an opportunity to boss me around. Especially if there's an audience."

.:.

We'd danced awkwardly around one another in the cramped kitchenette; I'd left her to sort out the greens as I dealt with Emma's haphazard, sometimes contradictory instructions. Em reduced both of us to helpless laughter more than once as she descended into amused, sweary rants about my inability to follow her "perfectly fucking clear" instructions - Emma's partner John had to mediate and calmly interpret her nonsense and guide us back onto the correct path.

The wine helped a great deal - it brought a wonderful shade of warm pink to Annabelle's otherwise pale cheeks, and smoothed away some of the rougher edges of her mood.

She was flushed and pink and happy, thoroughly entranced by the obvious bond between my sister and I.

I found myself watching the way she moved, the way she'd turn her head slightly when waiting for an answer from me.

And there was one brief moment where she put her hand on the small of my back to keep me in place as she moved behind me and I forgot how to breathe for a moment or two...

Somehow we managed to "Poisson ourselves without poisoning ourselves" as Annabelle put it (grinning unapologetically in response to my piteous groan at the awful pun), and we settled into a slow, gentle post-meal lethargy while the TV did little but feed us background noise.

"So where's your partner tonight?" I asked her at last, once we'd run short on small-talk.

She sloshed her wine gently around her glass, and gave me a sideways glance.

"Mm. Freya's at a work event tonight. Some magazine launch. I'd have cared once... anyway, she's out for the evening. So I got to play my get out of jail free card."

"I've... never heard it referred to as that."

"It sometimes feels like that's what it is," she said, frowning at her wine.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to..."

She turned slightly so she could face me.

"Are you still in the mood to listen to me whining about my lot?"

I eyed her. Then I topped up both our glasses from the bottle beside us. "I can't do advice because I'm rubbish at it, but I have a great sympathy face. And I do listen really well."

"You're sweet," she sighed. "Inviting me over and letting me just be me like this."

"You look like you need a friend. So do I. Match made in heaven."

She smiled and slightly clinked her glass to mine.

"So... what's got you so down?"

"There's a long list. But... lets start with the elephant in the room, shall we? Let me whine to you about... Freya. Then... maybe you'll understand enough about me for now. The rest will come... in time, I suppose."

She took a long, slow sip of her wine.

"We met two years ago," she sighed. "I was at a climbing exhibition for some sponsors. I mean, obviously," she added, ruefully. "Where else would I be, after all? I was... lonely is a good word for it. Lonely and disillusioned and... starved of attention and any form of human touch. I'd have sold my soul for affection from anyone, I didn't care from who."

"She was an intern; she was working on her first solo piece - reporting on the event for the magazine. She was young, and gorgeous... and attractive... and so... enthusiastic about everything. And... very eager to please and be pleased. It was like sparks jumped between us. We didn't even speak about it - she just came home with me afterwards. And... and she kind of never left."

"So what happened - it sounds like it was great?"

"I sometimes feel like she was too immature for a serious relationship... like she had skipped some critical stages of young adulthood. She was twenty two when I met her. And... inexperienced. Quite naïve, too. I think she would have benefitted from a lover or two before me. Maybe that might have helped. Or maybe not. But... I loved her intensity. Her passion for me. And... her body..." she added softly.

She sighed.

"It sounds... nice. To be wanted like that..." I added, trying not to think too hard about my own past and the still-tender scars I carried with me.

"I think I thought I was in love; that I loved her. But..."

"But..."

"But lately... I feel like I was in actually in love with the idea of her. Of someone young and tall and glamorous. Someone who was... easy and willing to please and be pleased. I'm only twenty six, she's twenty four... but sometimes it feels like the gap between us is a century or more in terms of how we approach life. I'm methodical. I need a plan. Like I plan my route on a wall or a boulder. She's... not like that at all. She's... chaotic. Random sometimes. Unconstrained. Wounding," she added, softly. "And as a result, far too easily wounded. She's impossible to be honest with; she explodes at the slightest provocation. So... I go still and silent and hide from our issues."

"That's..."

"Awkward," she said.

"I was going to go with... tragic."

"You're kinder than I am. I have no illusions about myself. I've hurt her, and myself. It would have been better for both of us if we hadn't met..."

"Oh come on. You can't help it. People change. We all grow and mature and metamorphose throughout our lives. You can't dislike yourself for a change in who or what you are. Oh... hell. Listen to me, being all adult and stuff," I muttered. "Em would laugh herself silly."

Annabelle snorted. "Meanwhile, Exhibit B is sitting here like an angsty teenager, spilling her guts to a brand new friend about the deeply personal things that she is too scared to speak to her partner about. The one person I should talk to about them. Literally the one person I should be able to talk to about them. And I can't... face her."

"Sometimes it's easier to talk to people who... don't share the history."

"I wish she was as reasonable as you. It would be much easier. Can I get you to give her some lessons?"

I laughed. "Ask Emma about how reasonable I am when I feel I've been wronged. I think I'm still banned from a couple of pubs in Reading. You have to talk to her, you know. You can't let it fester. It's not fair to her. Or to you, either," I added softly.

"I know. But... I needed a night where I could just... feel like I wasn't walking on eggshells, if even for a moment. She gets these moods, you see..."

Her phone pinged.

"Oh for fuck sakes," she sighed. "See? That will be her. Her ears must have been burning. Two secs."

She fumbled for her phone, and grimaced as she read the message. "She's home early and wants to know, and I quote, where the fuck I am. Here we go with round two. Christ, all I wanted was an evening of peace..."

"You should call her."

"And tell her what? That I'm out to dinner with my nice new gym girlfriend and that I'll be home late? I'm not that brave or that crazy."

"Your nice gym girlfriend, hmm? Is that my label?"

"Oh, don't be like that. You know what I mean."

I smiled to hide the ache of the sudden tension in my chest. I hardly knew her, really, and had no real claim to her other than the scant hours we'd spent together...

So instead I watched her, pondering her choice of words as she slowly typed a brief response and sent it.

She bit her lip nervously. "There. I told her I'm with you. Three... two... one..."

Her phone pinged again, then lit up like New Year's eve as message after message flooded in.

"Yes. There we go. She's got a couple of drinks in her. Buckle up, it's going to be a wild ride."

I watched her, wide eyed. "I'm sorry. That's... quite a response."

Annabelle sighed. " I know that I have to go and face this. It's just going to get worse the longer I leave it. I've learned that the hard way."

She gave me a haunted look. "I just... really don't want to. I'd far rather... stay here with you where it's nice and warm and pleasant and, above all... calm. Where I feel... safe."

She took a breath, then let it out slowly. She squared her shoulders.

"Thank you for your company, Isla, and for the wonderful dinner. I really appreciate it. Please thank your sister as well."

"Here, let me help you up," I said. I put my glass aside, stood, and took her slender hand in mine. I leaned back and gently eased her up; she took a stumbling step, caught her balance, and gave me a long glance before she released my hand.

"Sorry for ending our evening on this note."

"We can do it again, sometime... if you'd like to?"

She stared up at me, seemingly unsure. "If you're serious... I'd really like that. I've... I've really enjoyed this completely normal evening with you."

"I am. Serious, I mean. And I would love to do this again, too. It's nice to have a girl... a friend with similar interests to me. It's so nice to have... to have you. To spend time with I mean."

I felt the blush crawling up my throat, and cursed myself silently for being so useless and flustered.

"Well then," she said, softly. "That gives me something nice to look forward to, assuming I survive tonight that is."

"Here, let me get your coat. Shall I police it for my hairs, just in case?"

She laughed at that - a warm, deliciously throaty chuckle. "It's not worth the effort; there's little I could do right now to sink lower in Freya's opinion of me. If your hair is on my coat I'll take it as a good-luck charm and keep it as a ward against evil."

I blushed hotter at that.

"Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she said softly. "I'm a big girl. Got lots of experience of looking out for myself."

I helped her down to her car, and stood there waving until she'd turned out into the road.

Then I made my way back upstairs and closed the door behind me. It was nearly eleven, but I knew Em would still be awake.

I was deeply unnerved by my strong reaction to Annabelle and I needed to hear my big sister's voice to help ground me.

.:.

Emma sounded like I'd just woken her up, and I felt a brief pang of guilt.

"Izzy, peanut? It's late. What is it? Everything ok, love?"

"Yeah, everything's... ok. Sorry for calling so late. Did I wake you?"

"Nah. Was just dozing on the couch with a book on my face. Is your date over already?"

"It was not a date!" I protested, flushing guiltily. "She's a... a friend and that's all!"

"Uh huh. Given your luck with guys, you should maybe give girls a try again..."

"Em! Stop it. That's not fair, or funny. You know how that wound still hurts me. And anyway, she's taken."

"Sorry, sorry. I'll stop pushing that button. But you know... you could do a lot worse than your new 'friend', Izzy. She seems decent. She's the one who ran your stalker off, right?"

"Yeah."

"I like her a lot, Izzy. A lot. But she's quite intense, isn't she?"

"Yeah. But she's wonderfully chill and so lovely once you get to see beyond that. She wanted me to thank you for the lovely dinner," I added. "Clearly the executive chef gets the credit while the sous chef gets nothing."

"You're not the sous chef. You're the pot-girl."

"Oh, you bitch," I retorted, and she laughed loud and long.

"So what's up, poppet?"

"Just... really out of sorts, I guess," I said quietly. "Feeling lonely and weirded out and... unsettled and... I wanted to hear your voice again before I turn in. I miss you terribly now that you've got yourself a man."

"I miss you too. On that note, though, we're doing drinks at the Huntsman on Friday evening - it's Bruce's birthday. Why don't you come along?"

"Mm. That might be nice."

"You can bring your date."

I swore.

"She is not my date, Emma, for God's sake! I'll fucking kick you if you call her that in front of her. And... stop putting impossible ideas in my head. Please. It's hard enough being me as it is without... without having to dream about unattainable women on top of that."

Em made some sort sorry-not-sorry noise, and I muttered to myself.

"And anyway," I added tartly, "She's already spoken for, and her partner wouldn't approve, and it sounds like there's more than enough strife there for Annabelle to have to cope with. Don't go and add more. Please. For me. Ok?"

"Spoilsport. All right. But ask her along anyway. I like her and I think she'll be amusing. Plus... Izzy, I can hear it in your voice, you know. Deep down, I know that... that you want her to come along."

I sighed.

Em had always been able to read me like a book.

.:.

I had a quick shower and washed my hair, then eyed it ruefully in the mirror, wishing it were as long and glorious as Annabelle's was. I had a brief but vivid fantasy in which I asked Annabelle to see if she could do something with it...

Then I shook my head, irritated with myself, and pushed the thought away.

I dug out my battered hairdryer and quickly took the worst of the damp out of my mane, then bundled myself into bed, where I lay - staring at the dappled shadows cast by streetlights through the screening branches of the block's perimeter evergreens.

And again I found myself thinking of Annabelle, of the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled; the way she'd touched me - and the breathlessness I'd felt when she strayed too close.

My phone pinged.

Home safely. Forgot to tell you. Thank you for the haven. Wish I could have stayed.

I sighed. I was glad she was home, though I doubted she was having a good time.

Good luck. Sleep well when you do. See you soon I hope. x I replied.

I found that I missed her.

.:.

When I eventually managed to fall asleep, it was not for long. Less than an hour had passed by my bedside clock when I jerked awake from the bizarre, somewhat erotic dream - her, me, a house and a hanging bed looking out towards the sunset...

I lay, taking slow, deliberate breaths as my heart-rate slowed.

I was puzzled and confused and... very disappointed that it had ended.

I didn't dream often, and when I did it was usually fractured fragments - bears piloting starships, tall-masted sky-pirate cutters harpooning cloud sharks, that sort of thing. This had been altogether more real, and intensely surreal despite its realism; I pondered the significance of it as I nestled in my shampoo-scented cocoon.

We'd been on holiday, I remembered. She'd just won something... important. She was ecstatic and needed to share that with me. She'd grabbed me and... her lips had tasted of tangerine when she'd kissed me...

I groaned, and made a mental note to swear at Emma again the next time we talked for seeding my dreams with such awkward and unhelpful impossibilities.

"Go to sleep, idiot," I told myself.

I yawned, rolled over, and went hunting sleep once more.

But the night was not restful; visions of her intruded frequently in many comical and not-so-comical situations, and by six in the morning I ceded victory to my fertile imagination, gave up on hopeless cat-napping and got an early, unenthusiastic start to my day.

The Annabelle of reality that I found that evening, however, was nowhere near as happy and vibrant as my dream version of her had been. She was sitting at a corner table, injured leg outstretched, staring solemnly into the middle distance over her half-empty cup.

I kept an eye on her as I ordered myself a coffee, then made my way over to her. I gently touched her shoulder as I brushed past her and she sighed, shaking her head to banish whatever thoughts she'd been lost in.

"Hey," she said. She gave me a wan smile.

"Hey. Is this seat taken?" I teased.

"It is now," she said softly.

"How are you?" I asked, as I dropped my bag and flopped down next to her.

She shrugged. "I've been better. It was a rough night, and the couch was cold, lonely and miserable as always."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? It's not your fault, you had nothing to do with it. It's my own lousy decision making skills that put me here."

"Technically I did. If I hadn't had you over for dinner you'd probably have been ok."

She shook her head, setting her braid dancing.

"I prefer this outcome. I got to spend a couple of lovely, peaceful hours with you as opposed to staring at a wall, waiting for her to come home and pick a fight with me over something trivial."

I reached over to cover her hand with my own, and hers twitched under mine.

"Thank you," she breathed, after a moment. "Thank you for being here... and there. It's... hard."

"I'm sure. But I'm here for you if you need me. Okay? Any time you need me, you just call me. Okay?"

"Okay." She let out a soft, shuddery sigh. "Thank you, Isla."