Page 17 of The Upside of Falling
What is he doing here?
Last time I saw him was at Dad’s funeral, where his arm was wrapped around my mom, whispering into her ear every time she let out a loud cry.
Getting to my feet, I brush off my pants, and quietly make my way toward the house. I stop halfway when I hear a booming voice come from the top of the stairs. Scurrying toward the door, I listen in.
“I thought all this shit would be gone by the time I got here. What the hell have you been doing all day?” Dr. Ted’s voice rises. So angry.Scary. “If I go in the garage, am I going to find the same mess?”
“I haven’t been able to go in there yet,” my mom’s weak voice answers.
“It’s not that hard. You just trash everything.”
Trash everything?Why would he trash everything of my dad’s?
My mind quickly calculates what’s in the garage that I might want to keep.
Dad’s baseball glove. It’s in the garage.
Heart pounding, not wanting to get caught, I rush through the house, through the laundry room and into the garage, straight to the sports bin where we keep all our gear. Sweat starts to drip off my forehead as I dig, frantically searching for the glove. It’s not here. Ted’s voice grows stronger and stronger as he gets closer to the garage.Where is it?
I have to find the glove before it’s thrown out with the rest of Dad’s things.
Where could it be?
Searching the space, my heart in my throat, I spot it on a shelf near the side door. As fast as I can, I run to the glove, bring it close to my chest, and slip out the side door just as I hear the garage door open and Ted begin to toss things around.
Why does he care about Dad’s things in the garage? Or in the house? I don’t understand.
Reaching into my pocket, I open up Mom’s cell phone. I stole it from her purse earlier when she started making me take boxes to the curb. Hiding behind a bush next to the house, I find Gramps’s number and dial him.
It rings.
And rings.
And rings.
When he doesn’t pick up, I listen to his voicemail and wait to leave him a message.
Tears in my eyes, clutching my dad’s baseball glove, I speak. “Gramps, it’s Colby. I . . . uh, I was hoping you would answer. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. Dr. Ted is here, Mom is getting rid of everything Dad owned, and I . . . I miss you. I’m sorry if I look like Dad and make you sad, but I really need you. Please come get me. Please come play planes with me.”
I miss Gramps. I miss his hugs, and the way he smells like mint and soap. Why won’t he come play with me? Why won’t he come and hug me?I’m so sad and need him so much. Please, Gramps. Don’t leave me too.
Hanging up, I drop the phone in my lap and let the tears fall.
Chapter Eight
COLBY
Forty.
Forty-one.
Forty-two.
The door to the pool house swings open, and without even waiting for a welcome, Stryder strolls in, coffee mug in hand, hair disheveled, and wearing nothing but a pair of black sweat pants and moccasins. He shuts the door with a push of his foot, keeping the cold air from spilling into my small space.
“Pushups? Don’t you think you should take a break?” Stryder steps on my ass as he passes by and takes a seat in a wingback chair in the corner of the room, legs spread, slouching.
Pushing up from my position, I lean back and start doing crunches. “What do you want?”
