The Fall Risk: A Short Story

Seth took off the boot to get in the water. He did not take off his shirt.

“I can’t believe you’re still wearing that,” I said from my side of the kiddie pool.

“You haven’t unlocked this level yet,” he said.

“How do I unlock the level?”

“You know how to unlock the level.” He grinned.

God.

He was perfect.

The pool changed my brain chemistry. I couldn’t believe he’d done it. The most thoughtful, sweet Valentine’s Day—not for Valentine’s Day—gift I’d ever received. It was all I could do not to crawl over to him on my hands and knees and kiss him right there where he sat.

The carefree me of two years ago would have.

The me of today didn’t move.

“You want another drink?” he asked.

“No. I’ll take that orange, though.”

He leaned over to the little mimosa station he’d set up next to the pool and grabbed it.

“Can you peel it for me?” I asked.

“Sure. So I was thinking about your balcony,” he said, working the skin off. “What about fake plants?”

“That’s what I’m reduced to now?” I said, watching him peel the orange, a little sad.

“We could wrap the razor wire in plastic vines and fairy lights—unless you’re going for prison yard chic. If so, you nailed it.”

I laughed a little.

He finished the orange and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I said. Then I sat there, staring at it bleakly.

He eyed me. “Everything okay?”

“Just something Izzy said about oranges.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He picked up his drink. “Gabe and Izzy dropped off the pool for me this morning,” he said. “Izzy asked him for some money. He tried to give it to her, and she got upset.”

I scoffed.

“What?”

“Gabe is clearing hurdles he doesn’t even know exist,” I said.

I handed half the orange back to him.

He popped a piece in his mouth. “And what about you?” he asked. “Any hurdles I can clear?”

No. They were way too high.

My cell phone rang. Izzy.

“Speaking of the devil.” I leaned over and picked it up. “Hey—”

“Where are you?”

“On the landing.”

“Go inside. Right now.”

I immediately started climbing out. “What happened?”

“Just get in the apartment. Is Seth with you?”

“Yes—”

“Good. Take him with you.”

Seth was already following my lead, looking worried. The second we got in my door, I bolted it. I put her on speaker. “I’m inside, tell me.”

“Someone made a video. You’re in it.”

“What?”

“I think it was the downstairs neighbor or something? It’s viral. It’s about the missing stairs and how you guys set up on the landing. The address is on the building. There’s a clip of you sitting in a beach chair . . .”

My stomach tanked.

“I DM’d her asking if she can take it down, but she didn’t reply,” Izzy said.

Seth was already heading to the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Stay inside,” he said.

He grabbed the ladder, fed it down to the ground level, and was gone in less than thirty seconds.

I peered out the window and watched him disappear under the landing, heard him knocking on the door of the apartments under us. Muffled talking.

I closed the blinds and sat at my little dining room table. I was shaking.

“Look,” Izzy said. “The chances that he saw it are small. I’m sure that guy’s not sitting around watching Reels.”

“That’s not even the point,” I said, putting my forehead in my hand.

The point was that I lived in fear. Some silly video that I would have laughed at two years ago was about to give me a panic attack.

The point was that I couldn’t enjoy my life.

I was furious at the system that allowed this. The law enforcement and courts that didn’t protect me, the mental health support systems that weren’t in place to help George before he became who he was, the society that told me my job as a woman was to smile and be nice to a man who gave me the creeps until it went on so long it turned into this.

And I was so tired.

Sick to death of living this way.

There was such a real part of me that wanted him to find me. Wanted to get it over with one way or the other because I was so done being afraid.

I hung up with Izzy. When Seth came back five minutes later, he was limping.

He’d taken his boot off for the pool; then he’d climbed up and down a ladder on his injured, unprotected ankle. It was already so bruised, and now he’d probably exacerbated it. I felt bad that he’d been running around on it for me.

I felt bad for all of this.

“They took the video down,” he said. “I explained everything, they were very understanding.”

“Let me get you some ice,” I said, getting up to grab a sandwich bag. “I can’t believe you went down a ladder on that.”

“Well, I said I would,” he said, hopping to the table. “If I was properly motivated.”

I laughed a little.

He took a chair, wincing as he elevated his foot. He looked down at himself. “I’m dripping all over your kitchen.”

“I can get you a towel—”

He peeled his wet shirt off instead. He balled it into his lap, completely oblivious. I stood there, gawking.

Ooooh, for fuck’s sake.

There were eight.

The Ziploc I was holding tipped in my hand, and I dropped a few ice cubes. I bent over to grab them, and I kicked them instead, so I ended up chasing them all over the kitchen in my bathing suit. He watched this with amusement. “You okay over there?”

“Fine,” I said, my voice a touch too high.

I finally got the last one and dropped it in the sink. I did what I could to regain my composure, and I closed the zipper seal and handed him the bag. He was grinning at me.

I crossed my arms. “You know, you shouldn’t just pull those out without letting people know they’re coming,” I said.

“I need to announce them? Like the abs are entering the building—”

“Stop.”

“I mean, the ladies did soft launch them, it’s not like you didn’t get a heads up—”

“Stop.”

He started laughing. “All day you’re trying to get my shirt off . . .”

“Well, I wasn’t as ready as I thought I was.” I flopped into the chair across from him. “Why are you this fit anyway, it should be illegal.”

“Trunk strength is very important in my line of work.”

“Tree puns. Of course.”

He smiled at me, and my face softened the tiniest bit.

Seth.

The right guy at the wrong time.

No time was ever going to be the right time until all this was over.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a long moment. When I opened them, he was studying me.

“I don’t ever want the stairs to come back,” I whispered. “I want it to stay like this.”

“It can keep being like this—”

“No, it can’t. Not when he can get to me.”

“I won’t let him get to you,” he said. “He will have to go through me first.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I looked at him, my eyes sad. “I really like you,” I said quietly.

“I really like you too. And not just in a neighborly way.”

I had to turn away from him.

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

“I know. But I don’t think I can do this. And I don’t think I can stay here.”

We peered at each other quietly across the table.

“So I don’t really want to be that guy who always talks about trees . . . ,” he said.

I snorted. “But . . .”

“Redwoods,” he said.

I wiped under my eyes. “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.”

“How?” I asked. “What do I do?”

“You put down roots. You’ve got me, you’ve got John here, Izzy and Gabe nearby. All people who would protect you, look out for you, I can get to you in five seconds, and if I’m not here, John can. Stay.”

I looked away from him. Like staying wasn’t all I wanted. I wanted to put down roots. To stop running, to stand my ground. I wanted to keep living in the apartment we just painted with the friendly property manager and the cute boy across the hall.

But my location had just been compromised. George could be on his way here, right now. And even if he didn’t see that video, he’d find me eventually. He always did.

But then, if I knew that, what was the point? Why go?

Izzy was right, I’d never be more ready. I was trained, I was armed. And every time I ran, all I was doing was putting off the inevitable. I was going to come face-to-face with my stalker one day or another, he would never stop. It was going to happen.

So why not here?

And just like that, I made the decision. I was done being chased out of my own life. I was done locking my jail cell from the inside. I still couldn’t date Seth, my reasoning for that hadn’t changed. It was one thing to accept his help, it was another thing to make him a target. But if I had a neighbor who was willing to look out for me, someone aware of my situation who was just a few feet from getting here if I needed him—I’d take it.

He was right. A lone tree was a fall risk.

If George was coming, I’d be here waiting.