When She Falls V2

Status: 2nd Draft

When She Falls V2

Status: 2nd Draft

When She Falls V2

Book by: graymartin

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Genre: Romance

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Content Summary


Just one month from med school graduation, Ethan Chase is about to start the life of his dreams, with a promising career and a supermodel-with-a-Harvard-degree fiancée. Problem is, he might want
something more, and he might have just found her.



Callahan Perrin is a young prodigy with a troubled past. Famous since childhood for her haunting and unique art, her gift is also her curse. Is she destined for a tragically short life like her
father or can she find another path?



I workshopped the first seven chapters of this WIP a few years ago. Lost the thread, but now I'm trying to pick it back up. Those of you who remember the story can pick up where I left off at
Chapter 8. Cheers, Gray

Content Summary


Just one month from med school graduation, Ethan Chase is about to start the life of his dreams, with a promising career and a supermodel-with-a-Harvard-degree fiancée. Problem is, he might want
something more, and he might have just found her.



Callahan Perrin is a young prodigy with a troubled past. Famous since childhood for her haunting and unique art, her gift is also her curse. Is she destined for a tragically short life like her
father or can she find another path?



I workshopped the first seven chapters of this WIP a few years ago. Lost the thread, but now I'm trying to pick it back up. Those of you who remember the story can pick up where I left off at
Chapter 8. Cheers, Gray

Author Chapter Note


Callie learns more about Ethan's heartbreaking secret.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 01, 2020

Comments: 4

In-Line Reviews: 6

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 01, 2020

Comments: 4

In-Line Reviews: 6

A A A

A A A

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1:30 PM

 

Callie

 

Sophie was right about the warm weather. The humid air had that muddy, after-the-rain smell. Callie shed her sweater and tied it around her waist, but she still had on too many layers. So did Ethan, with his Oxford shirt, beige dress pants and white coat. He looked like someone who grew up in New England prep schools, played lacrosse and spent his summers yachting around Nantucket and the Vineyard.

But most of those guys were arrogant pricks. She’d met enough of them at Exeter and Brown to know. Ethan couldn’t be more different.

Or was he? What if the puppy dog friendliness was just an act?

She gave him a sideways glance as they walked under a vine-covered trellis. Come to think of it, he didn’t look so cheerful today. He wasn’t his usual talkative self either.

“You forgot to shave this morning,” she noted out loud.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry about that.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “I overslept my alarm.”

“Don’t apologize. I like this side of you. A little bit” – She reached over to muss his hair – “rough around the edges.”

That got him to smile. “Hey, at least I remembered to shower.”

“Yay.” She patted his shoulder, which felt more jacked than she’d expected. “Gold star for Ethan.”

That was one more thing she liked about him, she realized as they walked side-by-side. He smelled like soap with a hint of cedar. It was the kind of woodsy smell you wanted to snuggle up to, like a blanket at a camp fire.

What the hell are you doing, Callie? She pushed all thoughts of snuggling out of her mind. He’s engaged, and even if he weren’t, are you really looking for more drama?

The gravel pathway squished beneath their shoes as they crossed a small sculpture garden. To their right, birds chirped and splashed in the basin of a marble fountain. When they came to a puddle blocking their path, Callie tried to jump over it but landed too soon.

“Hey!” Ethan laughed as muddy water splattered his white coat.

“Oops! Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t be. I hate this thing.” He stripped off the coat and folded it over his shoulder. “Had a feeling you were a puddle splasher.”

She grinned back at him. “Totally. Never could keep my feet dry.”

“Want to go back inside to clean up?”

“Nope.” She skipped through another puddle, yelling over her shoulder, “I want to get muddier!”

When she was done splashing around, they took a flight of steps down to the English garden, which was bathed in sunlight. Tidy rows of azaleas, lilacs and rose bushes lay dormant, but a few daffodil and crocus shoots poked through the soil, adding splashes of green, yellow, purple, and white. Callie sprawled out on a bench to dry off.

“Your mom.” Ethan squeezed in beside her. “She’s –”

“Don’t call her that.”

“Sorry, Elin. She’s nothing like you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is.  But when I watched a preview of your TV series Prodigy…” He paused. “I, um, hope you’re okay with that. It was on Netflix.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged and looked away. “Bet they’ve been promoting it like crazy since I scarfed down those pills. I’m surprised you didn’t bring it up sooner. Most guys I meet won’t shut up about that stupid show.”

“Did you enjoy filming it?”

“Not really, but I enjoyed the money.”

“It’s interesting. In the promo, you almost seemed like two different people.”

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. Here we go again. “Which one did you like?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, who would you hook up with? Slutty Callie?” – She yawned and stretched her arms above her head to show him a flash of bare midriff – “Or Brainy Callie?” She tucked her shirt back in and gave him a demure smile.

“Oh, I wasn’t…” His cheeks flamed like two red traffic lights. “I wasn’t looking at it that way. What I meant was, the blonde, bubbly you reminded me of Elin. Same body language. Same chirpy voice. Same laughter.”

“Right.” Callie crossed her arms. She didn’t like where this was going. “Before you get all med-student-trying-to-play-shrink on me again, I don’t have a split personality. It’s called acting. Here’s a news flash. Reality TV is an oxymoron. Everything’s fake. The dialogue. The relationships. The drama. It’s all scripted.”

“I know, and you’re a really good actress. I was just thinking… it’s obvious who inspired bikini girl, but the other side of you. The serious, artistic one. Did you base her on your stepmom Izzy?”

Callie clenched her jaw. Didn’t see that coming. The words ‘none of your fucking business’ sprang to her lips, but then she read his expression. He was only asking because he wanted to know what made her tick. At least he cared enough to ask the right questions.

She sighed. “Maybe, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. What should we do, then?” He smiled, but the carefree expression didn’t reach his eyes. He looked tired. Bothered by something. She remembered how he had mentioned the anniversary of his sister’s death the other day. Maybe that was it.

“Let’s talk about you,” she said.

“I’m pretty boring.”

“I doubt that. Besides, remember the rules. This is a two-way street.”

“Fair enough.” He leaned back. “What do you want to know?”

“Yesterday, in the rec room.” She traced a circle in the dirt with the tip of her shoe as she considered her next words. “When we talked about my dad, I asked if you’d ever known an addict and you said ‘yes.’ Were you thinking of your sister?”

He drew a long breath. “No. Abbie smoked weed a few times, and of course she drank with friends, but that was it. Just social stuff.”

“You guys were close, weren’t you?”

“Very.”

“What was she like? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

“That’s okay.” He lolled his head back and closed his eyes. “Abbie was sunshine. That’s what my dad used to call her. She made everything seem brighter. Better. She had this magical way of looking at the world. Even the smallest things, like an ant dancing on a blade of grass… they’d inspire some poem or epic adventure. She used words the way you use paint, Callie. That was her gift.”

“Sounds like I would’ve liked her.”

“It was impossible not to. She was brilliant, kind, and so damn funny. Not the sort of person to take herself too seriously, even though she had every right to. She published her first poetry anthology when she was fifteen, and a dozen after that. Got a full ride to Duke. Then won a scholarship to the Iowa Writers' Workshop." His voice grew raspy. "When she got that offer, I remember how excited she was.”

Callie put her hand on his knee. “You don’t need to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

“That’s okay.” His eyes dropped to her hand and he swallowed, then shifted away. “Two-way street, right? Anyway, over the next year, Abbie changed. I don’t know what happened, but she grew distant. Harder to read. We spoke less over the phone, maybe once a month instead of every week like before, and our conversations…”

He squinted into the sunlight, eyes watering. “I always looked forward to them. The way she’d crack jokes, or poke fun at our folks. How she’d tell these colorful stories about her friends and professors. She’d go on for hours and you’d be hanging on every word. But that all stopped around Christmas.”

“Did you see her over the holidays?”

“No.” He wiped his eyes with a sleeve. “She stayed in Iowa, supposedly with her new girlfriend. I should’ve known something was wrong, but I was too self-absorbed. It was my senior year at college and I’d just started dating Jess. Then there was the pre-med bullshit, all those applications and interviews.”

“What about your parents? Didn’t they realize something was wrong?”

“They were worried, but she hid it from them. My mom… it’s easier to keep the negative shit away from her. She means well, but she’s got this way of making things worse. And Dad? He’s all about his work. Break a bone and he’s your guy, but don’t turn to him for emotional support. I was the only one who could’ve helped her. But I didn’t.”

“You were a senior, applying to med school. It wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s not true.” He stared past her, the color draining from his face. “I was the last person she talked to before she died.”

 

*

 

Callie gave him time to gather his thoughts. Her heart ached from what she’d just heard, but it also swelled with gratitude. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this. To step out of the spotlight. To escape from her own drama and lose herself in someone else’s story.

“It happed five years ago, in late March,” he continued. “Abbie told our parents she was spending the week at a friend’s house in Rockport. That’s in Cape Ann, about an hour north of here. We later learned she took the trip alone. Checked into this old Victorian inn on a bluff by the sea. The shoreline there is rocky. Rough surf.”

Callie gripped the bench railing, afraid of where this was going.

“I think her original plan was to use the trip as a writer’s retreat. They found her laptop in her room, along with some notes on the fishing industry, so she must’ve been researching a book idea. But it’s also possible she just wanted it to look that way.”

“When did you speak to her?”

“On Saturday night, right before it happened. I’d just gotten into med school, so she called to congratulate me. She sounded so distant, like her mind was a thousand miles away. I should’ve known right then.”

He clenched his fists at his sides. “But I was too busy partying to notice. Too busy getting fucking wasted with my friends. I must’ve talked to her for five minutes, tops. Don’t even remember what we said, except that before hanging up, she told me she loved me. That was it.”

He staggered to his feet and Callie followed him.

“Her body washed up on a jetty the next day. A nor’easter had moved through earlier that week, so the surf was dangerous. The innkeepers thought she might’ve been out on the rocks at night, maybe stargazing or checking out the full moon. It’s possible she slipped or got swept up by a rogue wave. Since there was no suicide note, the cops called it an accident.”

“It could’ve been.”

“Maybe. But I can’t get that phone call out of my mind. The way she sounded so far away, like part of her was already dead. Worst thing is, I don’t even remember what we talked about. She could’ve been begging for help, but I was too wasted to hear her.”

“Hey. Listen to me.” She held his hand. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s what my therapist told me, but those are empty words. I mean, I don’t even remember that last phone call. What if I could’ve saved her, but I didn’t?”

“Nothing could’ve saved her.” She squeezed his hand tighter. “Just like nothing could’ve saved my dad. Depression is like that. Take it from someone who knows. It’s a black hole, sucking all the light out of the universe. Get too close and you’ll be sucked in too.”

“Right.” His gaze dropped to the ground between them. “That’s what happened. After the funeral, I lost it. Took Dad’s Porsche for a late-night drive around the reservoir. What I remember most is the rage. I mean, I literally saw red. I screamed and punched the steering wheel ‘til my fists were bloody. Then I hit a straight stretch of road and just floored it.”

Callie’s eyes widened. “You tried to kill yourself?”

“No. I had no plan. All I wanted to do was kill the pain, and the speed… it felt like another way of screaming. I must’ve been going around 120 when I lost control. Tried to slam on the brakes but hit a guard rail and flipped over.”

“When I came to, I was in intensive care. Had five broken ribs, a collapsed lung, and a shattered right leg. The pain…” He winced. “Every time I moved, it felt like I had a thousand razor blades inside my knee. It took three surgeries and six months of rehab to walk again. Another six months to lose the cane. And the pain… I’ll be living with that for the rest of my life. It got so bad those first few months that I couldn’t sleep or think. Pain killers were the only thing that kept me sane. Morphine in the hospital. Then Oxy and Fentanyl. Of course, my doctors tried to wean me off, but there are other ways to get what you need.”

Callie recognized the hunger in Ethan’s eyes as he spoke. She’d seen that look before in her father. He’d been a master at hiding the disease that eventually killed him.

She let go of his hand. “So when you said you knew an addict –”

“Yeah.” His shoulders sagged. “I was talking about myself.”

 

***


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