--Falling Away--

“I can hear them having sex, sometimes.” 

That got her attention.

“Your mom and Spencer? No way.” Meeting his eyes, Annie tried to shift her tone away from the excited shock she felt to the pained sympathy she wanted to convey. A pregnant pause. “…That sucks.” Nailed that one, Annie. 

Julian tried to smirk, but his perennially unhappy face only managed an angry grimace. The pair continued walking in awkward silence; Julian had waited too long to respond, and Annie dared not prod further. As quickly as this revelation had exploded into Annie’s world, it was rendered socially radioactive. Brutally unfair. You’re not the victim here, Annie reminded herself, repeating the mantra her mother had probably uttered upwards of a million times since she was a little girl. 

In this case, anyway, it was true. Annie looked over at Julian, who averted her gaze. He had it worse than her, no doubt. She had met Spencer a couple of times when she was at Julian’s place, and to his credit, he was an improvement on the previous men who had courted Julian’s mom. He wasn’t violent. He was occasionally charming. But to Annie, he seemed like a deadbeat. Danielle would spend hours preparing and applying makeup, only for Spencer to show up in sweats and a hoodie, reeking of weed. She was in her forties, so why was she dating a type of guy that only High School girls tolerate?

Don’t be so judgmental. Mom’s second edict. A rich one, too, coming from her. Annie tried to relax the tension in her shoulders. She exhaled, and noticed Julian’s breath escape his lips into the sharp winter air as he did the same. Towering, skeletal trees watched over them as they continued deeper into the woods. Annie decided to change the subject.

“Have you decided what you’re going to study at Harvard?”

“Ha ha,” Julian intoned sarcastically. You mean community college? And I’m not sure yet. Maybe engineering. Maybe math.”

“You’re not going to community college, Julian. You’re smart. You’ll get into lots of places.”

“Oh, so people who go to community college are dumb?” Julian put on his faux-outraged voice. “Not very open-minded of you. Not everyone has time to be the President of four different clubs and has parents who can proofread their essays.”

The banter had begun. Annie was relieved that the previous discussion was in the past.

“Ah yes, my incredible privilege,” Annie began. “Because it would have been so hard for you to put in the same amount of effort. You, who routinely sneaks out of class to do a cocktail of drugs in these very woods!” Her voice took on a mocking, sing-song quality. “You really are a victim, aren’t you? Like all those city kids.”

Julian laughed. “Yeah, that’s right! I’m misunderstood.”

“Oh, you’re misunderstood! You and every other moody white boy with self-diagnosed ‘anxiety,’ right? Oh, Julian,” her voice sickly sweet, “you’re so deep.”

“Ugh, I know,” Julian grunted, fully committing to the character. “It’s just the world, you know? It’s so fucked up.” That made Annie laugh.

“But seriously,” she said, dropping the pouty lips and doe eyes, “you’re going to get into good colleges. And if you don’t it’s their loss.”

“Thanks,” Julian said. “Obviously, same for you.” He paused. Annie could detect some discomfort on his face. “Hey, by the way, sorry about the other thing I said. I just sort of blurted it out.”

Annie immediately felt excited, and then ashamed for being excited. Gossip. “It’s cool. To be completely honest, I was dying to know more. But I assume you don’t want to talk about it. I wouldn’t, I mean. And I know how you feel about Spencer.”

“It’s just- I don’t know. She’s a person too. She’s allowed to have sex. But it’s just so depressing, seeing the way she works and works to try to squeeze commitment out of that guy. He’s a bum. And can’t they just have sex when I’m not there?” 

All good points, in Annie’s estimation. Typical of good guy Julian to talk himself out of the perfectly healthy and normal negative reaction to hearing his mom have sex. She’s a person too. Annie rolled around that phrase in her mind. 

“I’ve never heard my parents having sex,” Annie replied. “To be honest, I don’t think they do anymore.”

As they walked, the trees began to decrease in density and the path became more defined. Soon they reached a clearing, with a frozen pond in the center. A harsh wind tugged at Annie’s hair, and she became acutely aware of how chapped her lips were. Julian cut a stoic figure in his jeans and hoodie (he was a chronic underdresser), but Annie could tell he was cold too. She was amused at the idea of offering him her coat. So chivalrous. They stopped at the edge of the pond.

“Do you wish they did?” Julian responded. “And also, do you think the ice will support our weight?” He had a boyish smile, and Annie knew he would try it and probably fall through the ice like an idiot. 

“No and no.” The ice was obviously a little slushy, which wasn’t a good sign. And Annie could not and did not want to picture her mother as a sexual person. Also, she wouldn’t want to subject her poor father to that. If it was at all like their normal interactions, Mom would be sure to tell Dad about all his shortcomings.

“It’s all a moot point anyway,” Julian shrugged. “I’ll be far away from here in six months. Then it’s really not my problem.” He stood at the edge of the pond, staring down at the slushy mess that was allegedly about to support his entire weight. He looked like he was trying to convince himself that he could do it. 

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Annie replied. “How we’ve basically spent our entire lives here- or at least since third grade, in your case. And we’ve made friends and built our little communities. We walk the same routes every day. I bet if there was some kind of way to project every journey we’ve ever taken- by car, or on foot, whatever- onto a map, it would show an intense concentration of the same paths- the bus ride to school as a little kid, the drives you took to your friends’ houses, every walk we’ve taken in this park. We think our lives are these intricate series of events, a story, but really, it’s all routine. No one event really changes anything. Your story is in the stuff you do every day. I guess I’m just sad that those stories here are getting snuffed out.”

Julian stared at her. He was intense, but not in a mean way. “I guess I don’t share your nostalgia for a place you haven’t even left yet.”

When Annie had no immediate response, Julian turned and placed a foot on the ice, too heavily, with an urgency that Annie had come to expect from him. He started shifting his weight onto the ice, pausing when it started to buckle and creak. 

Annie watched her friend plug away at his fruitless endeavor. “I guess you have a point,” she said. “I can’t help but feel like it was all for nothing, sometimes. I probably won’t really see anybody from home that much anymore. Eighteen years of my life, spent on these people and these places. And then poof, its gone.” She suddenly felt sad; the melancholy that had laid dormant inside of her since the beginning of the school year had decided to attack now. “You know, we all say ‘I’ll visit you at college’ and ‘We’ll see each other on the summers,’ but how long does that last. A year? Maybe two? I feel like I can’t even enjoy the moments I spend with people now because I know it’s going to end soon.” 

In the time it had taken Annie to vent her feelings, Julian had managed to establish a precarious ceasefire with the frozen pond; as long as he didn’t shift his weight around or try to move, the ice agreed to support his weight. He grinned at Annie.

“Yeah, but that’s life, right? People float in and out. Things change.” He paused, sensing that that might not be exactly what Annie wanted to hear. “And besides,” he continued, changing course, “even if you lose touch with someone, you have the memories. They change you for the better, hopefully. And you don’t want to be in the same place your whole life, anyway. Especially not here. You’re too ambitious.” Annie fought a smile, but Julian could tell she liked hearing that. He decided to spoil her even more. “Also, I don’t know why you’re bitching about not being able to see your friends. Wherever you go, you’ll be close to home.” He paused. “Harvard is what, like a two hour drive? And on the, like, five percent chance you don’t get in there, Yale and Brown are only a half hour farther. You’ll be fine.” Another pause. “Unless, of course, you go to Stanford. Then you’ll never see me again. I’m sure you’d be devastated to end up there.” Annie smiled, sadly. She was going to miss Julian. 

“I guess that’s true,” she said, suddenly grinning. “If I don’t get into an Ivy, though, it really will have been for nothing. You think I liked being President of all those clubs?” That made Julian laugh, until a loud crunch sound made him freeze up.

“Don’t make me laugh, Annie. I’m not trying to get my feet wet.” Annie accepted the challenge. 

“I would have loved to spend my days out here, smoking with you and complaining all the time,” Annie blustered with exaggerated force. “And you know what the worst part is? We’ll probably both go to middle-of-the-road schools.”

            “Eh, you’re probably right,” Julian said in an aloof way, smiling at her. “By the way, why am I the one trying to make you feel better? Do you not remember like literally five minutes ago when I told you about my mom?” He smirked. “Where’s the sympathy?” He was joking, but Annie could sense the strain in his voice. She did feel guilty for making him manage her emotions, especially considering what he was dealing with. You’re not a victim, she reminded herself. As though he could sense her discomfort, Julian quickly added that he was just teasing, and that he was fine. He had known Annie long enough to know that she hated being an emotional burden. She was constantly going on about how she needed to be more grateful, and no, she didn’t need to talk about what was bothering her. If her parents ever bothered to ask if she wanted to see a therapist, Julian thought, she would certainly say no. But sometimes when she wasn’t paying attention, she would talk to him about how she felt. 

            “You were right about the ice, by the way,” Annie ventured. 

            “C’mon, join me. If it can support me, it sure as hell can support you.” To demonstrate his confidence, Julian took a few steps on the ice, towards the center of the pond. Annie stepped onto the ice, and slowly walked forward to catch up with him. Snow was drizzling down, and the wind made it look like it was coming from the side. Together they walked toward the center of the pond, gaining confidence with each step. 

            “I wish it wouldn’t get so dark so early in the day,” Annie lamented. Julian commented that he kind of liked it, since it was quiet and peaceful. Annie looked frustrated. She always had an opinion about how things should be. It bothered her that Julian was able to shrug off trivial things, things she should be able to shrug off too. After all, she had had the easier life. She was the one with the strong nuclear family and the good grades and the bright future. She supposed she really had no right to be upset about anything, really. But she really did wish the day would last longer. 

            “I’ll miss you, at college,” she said. “I know you’re right that it just is what it is, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

            Julian smiled at her. “I’ll miss you too. A lot. But c’mon, don’t dwell on it. Let’s just enjoy the time we have left. And you never really lose the real friends. In forty years, we’ll bump into each other, somehow, on a train or something. Or maybe by chance you’ll be my public defender.” That made Annie laugh. “But anyway, it’ll have been years since we had seen each other. But I have no doubt you’ll still be the same stubborn and clever person, and I’ll still be me. People don’t change. It will be like we never went our separate ways.”

             It was almost completely dark now. The sun had long since receded behind the horizon, and the final wisps of light from the sunset were themselves beginning to fall away. Annie and Julian walked to the far side of the pond, and looped around back to the path. The rustle of the trees and the whistling of the wind and the crunching of the snow beneath their shoes played a soothing harmony for the pair, to fill the perfect silence. Annie admitted to herself that Julian was right; it was peaceful. They had walked this path before, probably a hundred times. But this time was the best. They walked on, in silence, both filled with a melancholy that can only be felt at the end of something wonderful.