First Flight, Final Fall

by C.W. Farnsworth

His fair complexion matches his light blond hair. Either he spends little time outside or is liberal with his sunscreen usage. Since he’s a professional soccer player, I’m assuming the latter.

Evidently the last glare was just a warm-up.

I took an art history class freshman year and was bored to tears; mostly because the class was filled with pompous overachievers.

some pretty spectacular false advertising.

but we didn’t cover bar top construction.

“Don’t complicate things? That’s your advice? Poor Matthew Jr. These are the pep talks he has to look forward to?” Hallie ignores my heavy sarcasm. “I’m glad you brought that up. Let me grab him. It’s good for him to hear his family’s voices.” “Wait, what? Are you kidding? He’s a baby. He’s—Hallie? Hallie!”

“Hello, Matthew,” I state, feeling ridiculous. I have many talents. Conversing with a baby that’s a mere dozen weeks old is not one of them. “Your mother has lost it.”

“She’s younger,” he states. “What?” “My sister. She’s younger than me.” “Okay… not sure if that’s her fault.” His tone implies it is.

it’s common knowledge that Germany produces the best soccer players and Italy builds the best cars.”

hey now I love my German cars

“We drove all this way.” I have no idea how far, because Beck drives like he’s taking part in a car chase,

like we’re in a crowded movie theater rather than in the middle of absolutely fucking nowhere.

“I was just planning to play socc—football. That’s why I didn’t bother to learn any German. I wasn’t expecting to be around so many… Germans.” There’s a second snort beside me, and I jab Beck a bit harder this time.

I guess all of his cards by my third turn, mostly because Karl keeps flashing them at me. Either he truly has no idea how the game works, or it’s his attempt at flirting with me in front of his girlfriend.

And nice is the only adjective I’m capable of coming up with, apparently.

She brought a guy to brunch who can spend ten minutes describing his song about feeding squirrels.

I think he says he’s a medical student, but I’m only able to catch every other word he says, so I’m far from confident about that.

He asks what I’m doing here, or perhaps something about my hair,

Ellie’s latest text contained five question marks inquiring about my whereabouts. Sometimes just one won’t do.

“What are you doing?” Beck inquires. I could ask him the same thing. Instead, I reply, “Stargazing,” shifting my eyes back to the sky. There’s a whoosh of air to my left as he drops down beside me in the center circle. “It’s the middle of the day,” he observes. “I like a challenge.”

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Cressida comments, glancing around the messy living room.

“Come on, that moose was so cool!” “The moose was cool,” I admit. “It was also an herbivore.” “I could save you from a bear. We’d play it totally cool.” “I wouldn’t trust you to save me from a squirrel,” I retort. “Well, this is a low point in our friendship,” Emma replies, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

“Bye-bye, summer,” Emma mumbles, flopping down on the buffalo print covering her bed. I set my duffle bag on the dresser and unzip it to grab my cleats and shin guards. “All good things must come to an end.” “Did you change your major again? Philosophy this time?”

I huff out an annoyed breath. “I’m guessing that means Jackson is also staying at the house.” “He is my brother-in-law.” “Which makes the fact that he does nothing but hit on me all the weirder.” “Well, you’re not related to him,” Hallie points out. “Legally, I am.”

Jackson asked me out to dinner at your wedding, Hallie. That’s not just being friendly to your sister-in-law’s sister.”

“Well, excuse me for being surprised you know about a German soccer player considering you asked me how many touchdowns I scored last season.”

The unfamiliar weight of a miniature human settles in my arms. I clutch Matthew closer to my chest, terrified I’m going to drop him. He appears unconcerned about that outcome,

He yawns, and then brown eyes shutter shut. “Um, he seems tired?” I say. “Wow, he hardly ever falls asleep while he’s being held,” Hallie comments, coming up beside me. “You must be losing your touch, Saylor.” “Hilarious,” I respond. “I’ll inform all the other infants I hold.”

“Towels are in the closet,” Hallie informs me as she spreads mayonnaise on bread.

“How are your classes going, Saylor?” Sandra asks, chugging right along on the try-to-get-to-know-you train. We’ve already covered favorite foods, movies, and books.

She moves forward slightly, then shifts back, and the uncertain motion is worse than a bone-jarring hug. My own grandmother is apprehensive about showing me affection. Maybe I really am a cold-hearted bitch.

“Hi, Grandma. I like your dress,” I lie. It’s a horrid shade of periwinkle, accented with what I think is meant to be a fascinator but looks more like a bird nested in her hair that left a few feathers behind. Even so, I doubt critiquing her outfit is going to dissipate any of the tension hovering in the air.

“Who were you talking to?” Hallie asks as I approach her. “No one.” Despite the literal impossibility of my answer, Hallie doesn’t press.

what I love talking on nonexistent phone calls

We muddle through few mundane topics: the weather (different in Connecticut than Georgia, shockingly),

Anne is not-so-subtly looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “You really need to work on your surreptitious looks,” I inform her,

“I wasn’t—wasn’t sure why.” “Why what?” “Why you were calling.” “Answering would have been one way to find out,” he snaps. “I wanted—want—to talk to you, Saylor,” he replies, in a tone that suggests it should be obvious.

“You’re a slow driver,” he comments. “Law-abiding,” I correct. “Slow,” Beck insists.

“You’re equating me swallowing my pride and flying almost four thousand miles to being on the receiving end of a wayward kick?”

with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

ma’am seriously why are we reusing so many sentences maybe it’s a sign I’m reading too many of your books if I keep noticing

I shut the drawer. Hard. The whole kitchen is going to be in shambles by the time I brew myself a mug of glorified plant water.