Will You Catch Me If I Fall?

The smooth rolling of the bus as it travelled along various roads and highways had long become natural to me. I didn’t feel various bumps of potholes or chips in the tarmac roads and no longer woke in the middle of the night, in fright of where I was. As long as Trace’s strong arm was tucked around my thin body, and I was snuggled perfectly into his side in the small bed we shared, everything was fine. And I was safe. Nothing could hurt me, except for myself.

I sat on our bed, my legs Indian style and holding a large bag of Oreo cookies between them. My face was hidden behind a book, which was probably just as well. A large spot had erupted on my nose and I looked like the Wicked Witch of the West.

The noise of the boys loudly playing video games came from further down the bus but I shut them out as well as the occasional high laugh of Simara as she watched them enthusiastically. I had become engulfed in the words my eyes were scanning before me, words I had read thousands of times but everytime I read them, they had a powerful attractive force that hit me over and over again.

In ways I could sympathise with Holden Caulfield. His character, written out on the pages so I could easily form him in my mind was close to me. I felt a connection with his hateful attitude towards the crooks and phonies that walked the earth. All the people that faked happiness, and faked niceness. The people that were selfish and greedy.

Holden Caulfield wanted to live in his own perfect world. In a world where Isolation was his only companion, a world I wished existed. I could be my own best friend and my own worst enemy.

Holden Caulfield hated the world and the world hated him back.

Just like me.

“If a body catch a body coming through the rye,”

We could save all the children of the world, me and Holden, we could save them from the evil corrupted society that had ruined us and everybody around us. Save them from a society, a world that had made me the person I am today.

“If a body catch a body coming through the rye”

The words replayed in front of my eyes and I could hear Holden whispering them in my ears. His seductive voice was encouraging. If a body catch a body, we could run away together. We could end it all. If a body catch a body.

I never heard Simara appear in front of me and say my name several times. I was talking with a fictional character. I blinked as I noticed her in front of me, and slowly my gaze focused on her and not of the shadows around her, enticing me to follow them. I turned away from Holden and focused on Simara. Not today Holden. Wait.

I think I’m going mad.

“Hey…Addison.”

I shook my head and looked again at Simara “Sorry” I muttered “I drifted off”

Simara laughed softly, a sweet friendly laugh “It’s okay, we all do that”

She stood awkwardly in front of me before I realised she wanted to stay…and talk with me. O God, I hope we weren’t going to have one of those girly heart to heart chats. Or that she was going to attempt to have one with me. Cause I wasn’t into that sort of thing, unless I was under the influence of heavy spirits.

I moved over slightly and she smiled again, ducking her head and climbing into the bed space. She was taller than me and her legs hung over the side uncomfortably, a lot like Trace’s did if he attempted to sit like this. He had once and never did it again.

She peered at the page I had open “What are you reading?” she asked

I flipped the book over to show her the title, the front wrinkled and folded with use, the page dog-eared and brown with fingers running over them, examining and analysing every word “The Catcher In The Rye”

She nodded “I haven’t read that one”

“You should..it’s..good”

She nodded again and we sat for a moment in an awkward silence, not looking at each other. I really wanted to move but it would be rude.

“I heard you talking to Mason the other day,” she told me, her voice quiet.

I looked at her, wondering what she was saying “I didn’t really talk to him much” I admitted, Trace had arrived back and I had scrambled back over.

She smiled “I know…it was nice hearing him say he loves me to another person. It makes it a bit more special, don’t you think”

I could feel my eyes harden at her words and I shrugged “I suppose…but there’s no doubt he loves you Sim”

Her face brightened and I eyed her strangely “ What?”

“You called me Sim. You haven’t called me that before…you haven’t really talked to me at all actually. I was afraid I’d done something to upset you”

I looked at my hands clasped over the cover of my book, wondering how I could answer that. No, she hadn’t done anything but I still didn’t want her close to me. I couldn’t allow her in.

“No Simara…you haven’t but it’s just me. I…don’t have a lot of friends, and it’s hard to keep them.” I looked straight at her “It took a long time for Trace to break me down, and he didn’t even do that completely. This is all new to me”

I blinked in surprise at my honesty to her. I barely knew her yet I had just said that. But there was something so honest and trustworthy about Simara, it was hard not to tell her everything.

She smiled at me, understanding “Okay,” she whispered “But if you need a friend Addison, if you need someone besides Trace, I’m here.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, trying to swallow the lump that had appeared in my throat. There was a silence between us again but this time it was a silence of understanding, a silence of thought. Then Simara spoke again “He loves you, you know”

I think she felt my body freeze and her face paled a little as I flicked my eyes to her. I looked away and shook my head “No, he doesn’t, he doesn’t know me.”

She moved a little, facing me “You love him Addison.”

My nails dug into my skin as my hands turned to scared fists. I shook my head again. I don’t do love. Love doesn’t exist for me anymore. “No…No I don’t Simara. I don’t love anyone.” My voice had dropped to a whisper and I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing she had never started this conversation. Wished she would put away her hammer, and stop trying to crack my walls.

I jumped when her soft hand rested on my own, causing it to unclench. I looked at the older girl, and for a very painful moment, witnessed in her eyes, a patient understanding I had only ever seen in Stephanie’s eyes. It was a look a girl gave to her younger sister.

Her eyes turned to pity and her voice dropped so low, so only I could be able to hear her “What happened to you Addison?”

My breathing was shaky and my hands were trembling. Why was she doing this to me? Asking me to relive the most painful moments of my life to her. Moments I hadn’t even shared to Trace.

I turned away from her “Nothing, nothing at all” and raised the book to my face, signalling the end to our conversation and for her to go away.

Later that night, I slipped out from under Trace’s arm and tip-toed away from his sleeping form. I reached my bag and put my hand inside, finding the familiar hard picture frame. I took it out, and traced my sister’s smiling face in the moonlight that streamed through the window.

I stopped loving people a long time ago. Because it hurts too much when they leave you.