The Bottom of the Stairs

This is my short story that I wrote…

The Bottom of the Stairs

 

            I don’t know how it got like this. Well, I know how, but it isn’t supposed to get to this. We were in love. Not real love, I guess. We were the high school couple, playing up our roles. I thought Bry was perfect. Smooth skin, tight brown curls, deep, brown eyes. Deep, brown eyes that don’t even look at me anymore. A deep, sultry voice that’s stopped calling me. It’s my fault, though. I couldn’t even get the pills. The worst part was telling him. I didn’t want to, but what was I supposed to say? “Oh, yeah, just gained a few pounds.” Right. He’d believe that. He and everybody else. But I didn’t really care about everybody else. Just Bry.

            The past few weeks I have spent my mornings throwing up my dreams. Into the toilet. No more university, and no more of last night’s dinner. My mom has been asking questions. I guess I’ll have to tell her soon. That’ll be hell, for sure. I don’t really care about that, though. My mom has to love me, but Bry doesn’t. I wish he did.

            We have been dating for five months this Thursday. If we’re still dating, that is. I’ll have to talk to him, convince him this isn’t such a nightmare. I’m planning to corner him this Friday at Steph’s party. Steph always throws the best parties. Her brother is legal so he is always more than willing to buy booze for her and her friends. Plus her parents are often out of town on business trips. Not that they would care, anyways.

            I have been shopping to find an outfit that would catch his eye. I got a low-cut shirt that’ll go great with my favourite jeans that hug me in all the right places. I’ll top it off with my beautiful and lucky necklace that Bry gave me as a gift last Valentine’s Day. That must mean something to him, so I’ll wear it just as an extra.

            It is Friday and all day I’ve been checking my cell phone for times and texts from Bry. My inbox keeps telling me he’s done. My last text from him was two weeks ago. Ouch. The bell rings finally and I run down the halls. I don’t know why I run, my bus leaves at the same time and this won’t get me home faster. Nevertheless, the hope that it will today isn’t absent from my thoughts. I go home and straighten my hair to its full potential, the style that Bry so much loved to run his fingers through. I put on my makeup like a pro artist and stare at myself in the mirror.

            Is this going to be enough to get him to listen? I just don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing. Maybe he’ll just want to listen anyways. Maybe he won’t listen no matter what. Maybe bigger earrings will work. And heels.

            I slip into the party that is well under way. Drunks are already swaggering down the halls. I crinkle my nose in disgust. I haven’t been sober at a party… well pretty much since my tenth birthday party. That was lame. This will be too, I know. I stalk the party, edging my way around the house, my eyes wide open hoping to see the boy I care so much about.

            I finally spot him. That bastard! He is flirting with Lindsay. I can’t believe it. I can see it from all the way across the room, he is being so obvious. I feel my face flush red with fury. I stamp right over there and grab his arm.

            “Excuse me,” I say not too politely to Lindsay as I drag him towards the stairs. He is so surprised that he isn’t fighting back and I’m able to pull him up into one of the bedrooms. I discover a couple making out on the bed. I’m disgusted. “OUT!” I yell.

            “Where do you come off flirting with another girl?” I scream at him. “You can’t just ditch me! Didn’t you hear me last week? I’M PREGNANT… There’s a baby inside of me? And you’re the father! You heard that, right? God, are you kidding me?”

            I admit I’m a little bit pleased by the shock appearing on Bry’s face. Good. He deserves a beating, even just a verbal one. I owe him one. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. His stutters are lost before they even reach me. I try not to glow with pride at overpowering him.

            “Well? What’s our deal?” I say, a little more calmly.

            He looks at me with disbelief and concern in his face. Is he playing the cute card? “Well, I thought you said that you could raise a child on your own. So I thought you didn’t need me anymore.” Is he kidding me? He is blaming this on me? I can feel my face turning red with fury.

            “You have got to be joking! We were watching a fricking Dr. Phil with a mother who is self-obsessed and retarded, so yes, I said I could raise a kid by myself better than she could. That does not mean that I want to do that! I can’t believe you sometimes. You are such an idiot.” It feels good to rag on him a little.

            “Look, Linds was just asking about you and how you were feeling. I wasn’t flirting. Really and for truly, Ash.” He just called her Linds. I can’t believe that. No one calls her Linds. I’m so furious I don’t even see his puppy dog act, being all cutesy. I’m beyond it.

            “No. That’s it. Seriously, it’s over. I’m so pissed. You’re a frickin’ asshole.” I storm out, unable to control the tears flowing from my eyes. My rage is drowning out the sound of his footsteps on the carpet behind me.

            Bry grabs my arm at the top of the stairs, telling me to wait. Half-turning to pull him off of me, my three-inch heel gets caught on the edge of the rug and I’m falling.

            Falling.

            Falling.

            My head hits what feels like nearly every stair. I’m being rolled and shaken. My elbow slams against the railing. The pain is excruciating, but my crying has stopped from shock. I hit the bottom for a final blow and am unable to get up. I’m throbbing, suddenly crying again, my vision is blurred. Someone is holding my elbow tenderly. It’s Bry. He’s calling out, “Someone! Call an ambulance! Call 911! Shit!”

 

*          *          *          *          *          *

 

            I’m in the hospital.  Feel better, but am still really stiff and bruised, and I have a broken wrist, but I’m going to be okay. Bry and I are going to be okay, too. I was so pissed at him that I just wanted to shoot him, but he was so sweet and has been taking such care of me since I fell. Yeah, we’re going to be okay.

            Not everything is okay, though. The baby’s not. I lost it. Apparently rolling down stairs isn’t really ideal for sensitive little babies. I should be happy I guess, no hell from my mom, and now Bry and I don’t have to worry about a kid. I’m not really, though. I feel like a horrible mother, and I wasn’t even one yet. The baby had no chance. Boy it got a screwed up life. Guess it’s better that it ended quick, but I still cry about it all the time.

            On a happier note, though, Steph’s having a great party and I get to drink again. It’ll be my coming home party and so I’m the guest of honour. Her brother’s getting some classy drinks for us and her parents will be in Arizona. It’ll be a pretty big deal. It will be hard to go back though. What I lost down those stairs will always be with me.