Good Days, Bad Days
2044 Words
Fallon
Some days, it hits me harder than others. Most of the time, I forget about it entirely. Every once in a while, though, I feel it everywhere—in my muscles, in my bones, and even in my blood.
That night, I feel it.
I don’t change for the next song when I get back to the dressing room. I don’t fix my hair or my makeup. I collapse into my chair and, when I miss it, settle for the floor. I tilt my head back against my dresser, close my eyes, and breathe as best I can.
“Fallon? Are you okay?”
My eyes open slowly, although if I were operating as I normally do, they probably would have shot open. It takes a moment for my vision to focus, and when it does, I can hardly believe who I’m seeing.
“Flint?”
He looks concerned—extremely concerned. From that concern, I gather that he saw me dance. There’s no way he would care this much about me if he hadn’t. If he saw me like this three days earlier, he wouldn’t have so much as blinked. But everyone treats me differently after they’ve seen me dance.
I wish he wasn’t so handsome. I don’t buy the concern in his pretty, green eyes, but I can’t ignore its charm. I like his hair, too—it’s cropped shorter and cleaner than Damon's, and it’s lighter—a sort of sandy brown. I like the thought of running my fingers through it, and I like the thought of touching his short, stubbly beard, too.
But I also like the thought of slapping him after the assumptions he made about me, so I ignore my silly little crush.
“How did you get in here?” I mutter.
“Twenty bucks to the doorman out back.” He sounds sheepish. “I was surprised it worked. Look, do you…do you need anything?”
He’s probably not going to get to the point as long as I remain on the floor, I realize. I force myself to rise and take a proper seat in my chair. Once I do, I turn back to him. “What do you want?”
“I…” He’s stuttering. He’s acting like a child. Has he never seen a mostly naked woman before? He certainly looks like someone who could easily get some action. “I came because of Lacey.”
For a second, I panic, wondering what’s wrong and what I’ll be able to do about it. But then I remember my conversation with Lacey about the musical, and I realize why he’s there. “Oh.” I grimace. “That.”
Frank, the bouncer who accepted Flint’s meager bribe, pops his head in. “Sorry, but—just a reminder, Fallon, you’re back on in five.”
I groan. I don’t have it in me. I wish I did, but…
What are my options? I can either snort blow right there in front of him, confirming his beliefs that I’m an unfit role model and a horrible influence for Lacey, or I can not snort blow, get on stage, and make a fool of myself. This job is too important for me to go out there looking like I’m half dead. In a way, it’s all I have.
I pull out my stash and start cutting.
“Whoa.” Flint takes a step back, then a step forward. I do my best to ignore him. “Are you serious?”
“I told Lacey this morning,” I say as I shape the dust into a line, “the answer is no. The last thing you want is a stripper teaching fourteen-year-olds how to dance.” I pull out my straw and inhale. “Not to mention, I do coke.”
His emerald eyes flash with anger. “I don’t get you. Three days ago, you stood there and said to my face that everything you do is for her. Now I see you dancing at a strip club, snorting cocaine, and refusing to do the easiest favor for her! How the hell am I supposed to believe you even give two f***s about her?”
I close my eyes and wait as the coke takes its hold on me. It’s such an unsettling feeling, and yet oddly soothing at the same time. It tastes bad, smells bad, feels bad—and yet, it solves my problems, giving me just enough to keep going.
When I open my eyes, I feel rejuvenated. I can say whatever I want. I can stand up. I can dance. I can fly.
“I don’t really care what you believe,” I tell him. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter.”
And I head back to the stage.
Flint
I have no idea what I’m doing, and I feel ridiculous for even trying.
What do I even know about dance? I grew up on a racehorse ranch up north, not some studio apartment in the city. I’ve never even been to a musical. I’ve only been to one real play, the one time I escaped to New York City. Admittedly, the Broadway show I saw changed my life. But I haven’t been back since.
I squint at my computer screen, trying to learn the various names and types of dance moves online. My struggles with search engines and dance websites are tiresome and barely get me anywhere; the only thing I have after an hour is a scrap of paper with garbled notes scribbled onto it that don’t amount to much of anything. I’m about ready to throw my computer against the chalkboard when they enter.
I nearly jump out of my skin. What time is it? School let out at least two hours ago. Most of the teachers, and surely all the students, are gone. But, sure enough, when I look up, I see her: Lacey. Lacey, and…
Fallon.
I stiffen instantly.
“Hi, Mr. Cooper,” Lacey says cheerfully, jogging over to me and sitting in one of the student desks in front of mine. “Fallon changed her mind. She wants to help.”
Is this a joke? After everything—Lacey asking; me asking; the argument we got into over hard drugs—now she wants to help?
“I thought a lot about what you said yesterday,” Fallon tells me, taking a seat on the desk next to Lacey’s. “I’m really sorry for the way I acted. When I’m at Atlantis… I’m just not really who I usually am. It’s better not to try me there. Like, ever.” She grins slightly, and it’s probably the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. She’s apologizing? She’s admitting defeat? Those are both two abilities I never would have guessed she’d have.
And she’s so…cute. I never thought of her as cute before. Sexy, certainly; unbelievably, even maddeningly so. But that tiny, little grin on her face—the one that seems to feel exclusively reserved for me—it’s something else entirely.
I have no choice but to accept her apology.
“I shouldn’t have bothered you there; I’m sorry, too. And thank you for apologizing. But, really, your help isn’t necessary. I’m doing a perfectly fine job of—”
Lacey snatches the scrap of paper from my desk, interrupting me mid-sentence. She bursts out laughing at the scribbled notes on it, showing it to Fallon with a smirk. “He definitely needs you,” she tells her aunt.
I sigh. I probably do need her, but it doesn’t change the fact that, sweet as she may seem now, all signs point to this arrangement being a bad idea. “I don’t—”
“Flint,” Fallon says. It’s strange, hearing someone in my classroom refer to me by my first name. But hearing my name on her lips is… nice. “I want to help. I mean it. Do you want my help?”
No. No, I don’t. At least, that’s what I’ve been convincing myself every second since I left Atlantis the night before. But, staring at her now, hearing her tell me that she wants to help…all that seems to matter is what she wants. Not to mention, her helping means I'll get to see her again.
I groan inwardly at my own inner dialogue. Seeing her again is the last thing I need.
Whatever the reason, I find myself surrendering. “Okay. Yeah—I do.”
Lacey squeals eagerly, jumping up and hugging me before I can stop her. “Yay! Oh, this makes me so happy. There was really no hope if you were the one choreographing… Well, I’ll let you two get started! I need to get home, anyway.”
“Hey,” Fallon says to her before she can leave. “Is Mel here?”
Lacey bites her lip. “No, but I can take the city bus.”
“You shouldn’t ride the bus by yourself.”
“It’s only five thirty!”
Fallon’s expression is that of the strictest mother; it’s clear that there’s no arguing with her. This woman truly keeps surprising me; I’m pretty sure my jaw has dropped to the ground at this point.
“Fine.” Lacey sighs. “I’ll find a classmate to ride the bus with. Okay? There’s gotta be someone around here still. Sheesh, you’re such a prick sometimes, Fal.”
Fallon laughs out loud at that; apparently she doesn’t take the strict mother act too far. “Get out of here, runt,” she says as she shoves Lacey playfully toward the door. Lacey sends me one last, eager grin before disappearing down the hall.
Fallon turns to me then. I wait for her to speak; I’m at a total loss for words.
“Well,” she says after a second, “should we get started? Do you have—”
“What made you realize?” I ask her. I can’t help myself. I don’t want to talk about the musical; we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it later. I want to talk about her—about how confusing she is. I want to understand what the hell is going on here. “You said you thought a lot and decided you were wrong…But why?”
I fear that my words will upset her all over again, but she seems patient enough. “Honestly, I’m wrong a lot. Seriously. I mean, what I told you about everything I do being for Lacey… It’s true, and it’s not. It’s almost funny, really. I mean, aren’t there easier ways? Couldn’t I just, I don’t know, take out a student loan, get some ridiculous business degree, and get her the hell out of this godforsaken town? Maybe everything I do isn’t for her. Maybe I stay here for some other reason. Self-loathing, masochism, I don’t even know what. It doesn’t make sense to me, either.”
I’m utterly floored. If this woman surprises me one more time, I might be in for a heart attack. How is it that one minute she’s completely closed off to me, and the next she’s pouring her heart out?
“So you don’t know why you stay here?” I ask her. “You don’t have a real reason?”
“Oh, I have plenty of reasons. Dozens. Lacey goes to school here. Her mother lives here, and works here, when she bothers to show up for work. My dad’s here, and he needs me. I mean, my boyfriend’s here.”
Well, that’s unfortunate.
I want to hit myself for even thinking that. Dating a woman like this would be the worst thing that could possibly happen to me. Not to mention, I don’t have a chance in hell with her.
“That is a lot of reasons,” I agree. “But some of them could change. Lacey could transfer. Her mom, your dad, your boyfriend—they could move with you.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “They aren’t going anywhere. Even if I’m not stuck in the vortex of self-loathing and darkness, they sure as hell are. And I can’t say I blame them. I mean, look at us. Look at this place. We fit in here—we belong here. Anywhere else, we’re… despicable.”
In that moment, I don't see anything despicable about her.
“Maybe it’s this place that makes you feel despicable,” I offer quietly.
She tils her head, looking at me curiously. “You don’t sound like you’re the biggest fan of Dodger, either. Why do you stay here?”
It’s a simple question—one I’ve considered countless times, over and over again. But, for some reason, this is the first time anyone ever asked me it.
“I guess… to do what I can for them. There are five hundred kids here, and I swear, there’s just a few of them who even care about learning. Lacey’s one of them. But in a town like this, with so many kids not wanting to learn, there are no real teachers for the ones who do want to. I guess I’m here for them. To make sure they still get to.”
If I’m not mistaken, I’m pretty sure I see her eyes sparkle. Then again, they’re already the color of diamonds.
“That,” she tells me, “is a beautiful thing.”
- Writer
