The Fall Risk

by Abby Jimenez

My new neighbor. I hadn’t met her yet, she’d just moved in. Pretty, around my age, maybe twenty-seven, twenty-eight. Brown hair. Bear spray in her hand.

“We get paid to be trapped in our apartments.” “I’m usually trapped in my apartment for free,” she whispered.

“Listen to me,” he said, going on unfazed. “Do not, and I cannot stress this enough, spend the whole time talking to her about trees.” “I’m not going to talk to her about trees.” “Okay. Because you do that when you’re nervous. It’s all jacarandas and dId YoU kNoW mOsT tReEs aRe mALe.”

Someone knocked on my door. I set my terrible soda down and went to answer it. It was Charlotte. With coffee.

“The second I realized the stairs were gone, it was the safest I’ve felt in a year.”

“Women solve entire murders on their podcasts, you think I can’t find out all I need to know about some rando I met on the lawn?”

“Did you know that we have terrible allergies because most trees in urban settings are male?” I drew my brows down. “Seriously?”

“Female trees produce fruit. Fruit falls, it makes messes, it attracts vermin. So most trees planted in urban areas are male. They put out pollen with no female trees to absorb it, so it ends up in the air instead.”

“So you have a fish?” I asked. “Yeah. A betta fish.” “Oh. Does he have a name?” “He does. Swim Shady.” I barked out a laugh. “Is he the real Swim Shady or . . .” “All the other Swim Shadys are just imitating,” he said, totally serious.

“I never understand people who cheat in relationships.” “You want to hear the worst part?” “Uh, yes.” “She cheated on me with her cousin.” Her mouth fell open. “Noooooo.”

“You know, I couldn’t wrap my brain around it,” she said. “What? The stalking?” “Yeah. I mean, I know there’s a mental health component. The guy is definitely not all there. But why me? I’m not that interesting.” She was, though. She really, really was.

“So you have no advice for me then?” “I do. Don’t buy any more plants.”

“Cousin fucker really stays with you . . . ,” I said.

“Can I have the bear spray?” “You really want to keep me off you?” “Come to think of it? No.”

“Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.” I didn’t want her to suffer anymore.

Whether she knew it or not, I was in. And once I was in, that was it. I’d do anything for the people I cared about—and I cared about her. Probably more than I should.

“You give a guy an orange and ask him to peel it for you,” she said. “It tells you what kind of person he is.” “How?” “Because it’s such a small ask. If he complains about it or forgets, he’s probably gonna complain and forget to do other shit that’s more important.”

“Red flag guys aren’t your type. They’re your pattern.”

“Seth . . . you know how we talked about fall risks?” I said. “Yeah.” I paused. “I think you are a bit of a fall risk for me.”

“No. I’ll take that orange, though.”

“Can you peel it for me?” I asked. “Sure. So I was thinking about your balcony,” he said, working the skin off.

“Any hurdles I can clear?” No. They were way too high.

“Why are you this fit anyway, it should be illegal.” “Trunk strength is very important in my line of work.” “Tree puns. Of course.”

“Sometimes the start of something good begins during something bad,” he said. “We don’t get to pick when these things happen.”

“The oldest trees in the world.” “Yes. They get that way by supporting each other. They intertwine their roots with the roots of other redwoods and it gives them stability. A redwood tree alone would fall.” He paused. “You are not alone, Charlotte. Let me help.”

“A little hard to get close to at first, but worth waiting for.” I felt him look at me. “You are too, you know.” “What?” “Worth waiting for.”

“If you ever come back here,” I whispered, “you won’t find her, you’ll find me. And then no one will ever find you.”

My forest. All three of them, really. Our roots intertwined to give each other strength.