Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

16

Bennett

Four Years Before

Ruby & Bennett are Twenty-Six Years Old

“Again, again!”

“Wow, that was quick!” I take the playing cards from Lucas, who, still out of breath, shakes his head.

“I bet I can do it in one minute,” he says.

“I don’t believe you,” I tease. “That sounds really fast.”

His face scrunches in concentration. “I can!”

“All right then, superkid, you ready?”

Lucas’s fists clench by his sides as he bites his lip, nodding fast.

I squeeze my hand, bending the cards just enough to send the whole deck flying into the air. They rain over the little kid’s head, like in some dollar-bill cyclone chamber.

Squeals of laughter ensue.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” I rush as Lucas falls to his knees, starting to gather each individual playing card off the concrete workshop floor, his giggles echoing off the walls.

Ruby walks in and halts at the scene before us—her brother on the ground, scrambling to gather playing cards, while I lean against the workshop table, arms crossed with a timer in my palm.

“Fifty-two-card pickup?” she asks.

“It’s his favorite.”

“I’m gonna do it in under a minute,” Lucas says.

Ruby shakes her head, handing me one of the two honey iced teas in her hand before sitting on the spare stool I keep empty just for her. I pop off the drink lid and sip from the cup. Ruby slurps through her straw.

It’s a slow weekend at Honeywood, so I’m taking time to update the signage around the park. Normally, it’s just me and Ruby, but her dad and Miranda planned a last-minute cruise that prohibited children, so Ruby took on her usual role of babysitter to Lucas. The boy has more energy than a power plant.

As if on cue, Lucas trips over a crack in the concrete and falls.

“Oh boy.” I hold out my hand for Ruby’s drink.

She hands it to me, stepping off the stool and picking up her brother as his wails pierce the workshop.

She looks at me with wide eyes and a cringe before saying, “Shh, you’re fine, kiddo. You’re fine.”

Lucas sniffs into Ruby’s arms, and she kisses the top of his head. She’d be a natural mom, which almost stirs some sort of internal need-to-hunt-for-food, He-Man sex brain in me.

Almost.

There’s a moment in life, I think, when a biological clock starts to tick for most people. When you feel that overwhelming sense of desire to spread your seed and carry on your genetics or whatever it is people feel. But I’ve never heard that timer ding. I’ve never seen a family pushing a stroller in Honeywood and felt my soul pull toward that future. I’ve never felt left out because I don’t have a mini me.

It’s not that I don’t like kids. I love Lucas. That boy is my favorite person below the age of twenty-six. He’s hilarious, smart, and kind. Heck, he even scatters crumbs on the sidewalk because the ants need food too.

But being a dad of my own? I don’t know if I’d even be good at it. Though maybe it’s my issues with my own father leading that conversation. Kind of a chicken and egg thing, I suppose. Do I not want kids because I don’t have the urge, or do I not have the urge because my own dad was a piece of crap? Is it genetic? Or is it learned?

All I know is, the selfish part of me would prefer to spend all my time and money on someone else instead. And I’m looking right at her.

“Think you’d ever want kids?” I ask out loud.

Ruby laughs. “Oh God, no. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Sure you do.”

“No. I’m terrible at it. I have to raise my voice.”

“True. You hate that,” I tease.

She sticks out her tongue.

She sets down Lucas, who is already so over his breakdown. I swear kids have the memory of a goldfish. That, or they’re just psychos. I’m not sure which yet.

He runs over to tug on my sleeve. “Bennett, piggyback ride!”

I do as he asked because he’s too cute not to, loping side to side in exaggerated motions as he giggles. Lucas really is the cutest kid.

He starts to squirm, so I let him down, and then he runs off again to find more cards.

Goldfish memory, I’m telling you.

“What about you?” Ruby asks.

“Do I want kids?”

“Mmhmm.”

I inhale and exhale.

She laughs. “Well, there’s my answer.”

“No, I just … well, I like this more.”

“What?”

“Just hanging out with you,” I answer. Ruby blinks at me for a moment, and I scratch the back of my neck before adding, “I mean, I’d be a terrible father.”

“Why do you say that?”

“My dad was.”

Her face falls. “You’re nothing like him. You’d be great.”

She takes another sip from her straw, almost in a defiant way, like the drink insulted her mother or something. Though not that it would matter to her. But then her tongue whips out to lick the excess off her lips, and I have to look away because best friends don’t look at their best friends in that way.

“So, your dad,” she says. “Still writing him?”

My chest clenches at the question, but I answer anyway. “Yep.”

I dig into my pocket and pull out the most recent letter. Ruby takes it, unfolding and reading over the first few lines.

“It sounds so cordial.”

“Eh, it is what it is. I haven’t forgiven him though.”

“Should you?”

It’s a good question. I’ve been writing him for years now, and we’ve still never crossed the line into exchanging phone numbers or seeing each other in person. But part of me wonders if I should. If maybe I’m old enough to ask questions like, Why didn’t you ever see me? Or, Do we have a family history of literally anything?

That’s the more important question because I’m not sure I want to know the answer to the former.

When I raise my eyebrows, she shrugs. “I’m genuinely asking. I don’t know. You know what’s best for you.”

“You normally do too.”

“It’s a talent.”

I smirk. “I wonder if maybe it’s time,” I admit. “Time to forgive him. Or meet him. Or whatever you do with a long-lost dad.”

“Not really a handbook for all this, huh?”

“No. And why does part of me think that seeing him is just giving in?”

“It’s not.”

I sigh. “See? But how would I know?” I jab my chest with my thumb. “Not father material.”

Ruby walks closer, settling in beside me, nudging me with her elbow. “It’s okay to be unsure. Some pirate once told me it’s even okay to cry.”

I blow out air. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Is that a tear?”

“No.”

“I think I see a little wetness.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, your lip is definitely wobbling. Hang on …”

She wipes her thumb under my eye, and I laugh, placing a hand on her lower back to keep her close as she giggles through our bit. My hand on her is a safety net of sorts—it’s where my palm feels most comfortable.

We’re laughing together until, from the corner of my eye, I spot a familiar curly-haired woman popping her face around the corner.

“Is the gremlin here?” she asks, her big eyes peering around.

Ruby laughs. “I should have known you would find him.”

“I sniff him out like a bloodhound.”

Theodora Poulos, Honeywood’s Rides supervisor, moved to Cedar Cliff last year. Honestly, I’m not sure which day she started sitting at our trivia table or when it became habit, but suddenly, she was just there. She has this palpable energy around her, somehow captured in tight yoga pants, crop tops, and an infectious smile.

Our friend group chat grew from four to five quicker than I could ask, Who are you again?

Theo’s just compelling like that.

Lucas’s eyes widen, and he bolts, already giggling up a storm as Theo chases after him.

“C’mere, you,” she growls.

“Hey, no running in here!” I say. “There’re tools.”

“Oh no, not the tools,” Theo mocks, capturing Lucas and hiking him up onto her hip.

“I heard little-kid screams,” Quinn says, walking around the corner, wiggling her fingertips in Lucas’s direction, which has him yelling with a smile once more.

I cross my arms. “Is the whole gang gonna intrude on my work today?”

Then, Lorelei appears with an, “Oops, yes.”

And so there are five.

Lucas holds out his arms, and Lorelei swoops in to grab him.

The three of our friends are such naturals with kids. Ruby and I, on the other hand, sit to the side with our hands winding together like two uncomfortable kindergarteners who weren’t picked for the dodgeball team. I wonder if my dad was like that too. Maybe he was just a guy who hadn’t been made for kids, but had one anyway. Honestly, that makes me dislike him more.

I’m not sure if our letters have helped me reconcile the past or just made me more bitter. And with one look at Lucas bouncing between the arms of my closest friends, I wonder if he’ll ever get the male role model he deserves. Lucas’s dad is technically present, but I swear Ruby spends more time with Lucas than he does. It took growing up and seeing a range of different personalities to finally view Mr. Sullivan as the man that he is—selfish and ego-driven.

Would my dad have been the same? Would I be in limbo with him, like Ruby is with hers? Hell, am I in limbo now?

That—that—gives me pause.

An elbow nudges my arm, and staring up at me are the reliably curious eyes of my best friend.

“What are you thinking about?”

I sigh. “You’re never gonna believe me.”

“Try me.”

I suck on the inside of my cheek and shrug. “I think I wanna visit my dad.”

Those beautiful green eyes widen. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”

I laugh in response.

“Do you really want to?” she asks.

“Maybe,” I answer. “Is it weird if I do?”

“What are y’all whispering about over there?” Quinn asks.

“Uh, nothing,” I say. But when Quinn lifts an eyebrow, I shrug. “Just maybe visiting my dad?” I admit, and it feels weird to say it out loud, but maybe it shouldn’t. “Is that normal?”

I get a collective response of, “Nope,” and, “Totally fine,” and, “Ah, the ever-present daddy issues.”

Thanks, Quinn.

“Where’s he at now?” Lorelei asks.

“Florida,” Ruby and I say at the same time.

Theo gasps. “I love Florida. I mean, aside from the alligators and the humidity. I look like a poodle real quick.”

“Why do you want to see him?” Lorelei asks me with a wince.

“I don’t know. Closure?”

“You wanna see him just long enough to give him a punch in the face?” Quinn asks.

There’s another collective response of, “Quinn!” and, “Rude,” and, “I’d pay to see that.”

I snort. “I’m not punching my dad in the face.”

Quinn shrugs with her bottom lip out. “Just a thought.”

“Y’know, I think I heard about a cool pirate festival down in Florida,” Theo suggests. “Could be fun.”

Ruby looks at me the same time I glance at her. And like with most things, somehow, we’re on the same page.

“How do you feel about a festival, Pirate?” Ruby asks with a grin.

“I could do a pirate festival.”

“Oh, I love little festivals,” Lorelei says.

Quinn shrugs. “Lots of debauchery? I’m in.”

And then it hits me that they’re seeing this as a road trip of sorts.

“Oh, y’all don’t have to come with me.”

“We know,” Lorelei says. “But we want to.”

“For support,” Theo adds.

“Yeah, we stick together, Benny boy,” Quinn says.

I swallow, appreciating my friends for not the first time.

“I mean, I’d like to visit him alone, honestly,” I say.

All four women shrug, as if on cue. I swear we all spend too much time together.

“I want to go to the pirate festival anyway,” Theo says.

“Heck yes!” Lorelei raises a fist in the air. “So, we’re actually going?”

Ruby grins. “Oh, definitely.”

“Well, if Ruby is saying yes, then who are we to argue?” Quinn says with a mirroring sly smile.

“Ooh.” Theo bounces on her toes. “Bennett, you’ll fit right in too.”

I run a hand through my long hair and chuckle.

True.

By the end of the hour, Lorelei has a pen in hand and a schedule plotted out, all with Lucas in her lap. We plan it for next spring, and I try to imagine how I’ll phrase that particular letter in my head—how I can possibly propose this to my dad.

Hey, old man, want to finally meet your love child?

Maybe not like that.

The other girls get back to their jobs at Honeywood, but I tug on Ruby’s arm before she and Lucas can head out too. I pull harder than intended, and she lands into my chest. Sometimes, I forget she’s a lot smaller than me.

“Hey.”

She giggles. “Hi.”

“Thanks for that.”

“For what?”

“For making that decision seem easy.”

“I just let you do you,” Ruby says with a shrug. “Like you always do.”

No, she read my mind like she always does.

I trace my thumb over her shoulder. A rush of relief falls over me, like stepping into old shoes. Or like smelling the familiar scent of your home when you come back from vacation. Mine smells like sugar and sweetness. Like Ruby.

“I want you to see him with me,” I say.

Her lips—still so pink after all these years—part. “Really?”

“I can’t do it without you.”

Her hand reaches out to take mine. Our fingers entwine, our pink strings kissing at the seams.

“Well then, you know I’ve got you,” she replies.

I shake my head. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Her face flushes red. The freckles on her nose practically disappear.

“We just happened to have birthdays close together.”

“So, you’re telling me it’s fate then?”

That has her blushing more. I like it too much.

“Maybe.”

All I can think to say is, “Lucky me.”

The stars must have aligned when they made her my best friend.

But friends don’t make other friends blush and love it as much as I do.