Blindness(113)

When I pull away, she’s smiling again, her eyes blinking rapidly with embarrassment, because they just showed her face on the big screen. I kiss my thumb, and then press it to her lips one more time; she giggles. I carry that with me as I ride the rest of the way up the hill.

Once I’m at the top, all sound fades away, and everything looks just like home—I’m right back at the pits, only the lighting is better. I’ve done this—every single thing I have planned for today—at least 100 times over the last month. My nerves are like ice, and my bike feels like it’s just an extension of me. I can feel everything, but I also feel nothing. No pain. My leg is meaningless up here as I look down at the line of dirt and the giant gap between both sides.

I’m ready to fly. I know my grin is cocky as I open up the throttle, and when I feel the speed building as I rush down the ramp, and back up again, my body is overcome with the most amazing calm. The ground is rough, but my arms take every bump and melt it away until suddenly, there’s nothing.

It’s the same sensation you get when you’re a child, finally learning how to swing your way to be even with the bar of the swing set. That little bit of slack—the moment when the chains go limp, and you’re actually free falling, nothing there to hold you. Yeah. That’s what I’m feeling right now—and it’s f*cking glorious!

My first trick is simple, just a single flip on the bike. I land it clean, and I can hear the crowd roaring. I hope Charlie’s seeing this, because it’s all for her. Thinking about her only makes me push myself harder, and I make the turn for the next ramp and rev the bike for more speed.

God, I’ve missed that sound—the way it echoes off the building walls, off the crowd sitting in the stands. The next two hills are smaller, so I play with them a little, pulling my legs up and swinging my body to the side not once, but twice.

Damn, that felt good. It was easy. Like I just did this yesterday.

I manage to glance at the clock, and I still have 20 seconds left. I can pull off two more big jumps if I go for it now. I haven’t told Charlie about any of this, but Jessie knows. She was worried, but that’s her job. She’s like my sister after all.

When I’m back at the top, my body feels invincible. My heart is actually beating outside my chest, the adrenaline burning through my veins, and I go full speed down and up again, this time, twisting the bike totally to its side and kicking my legs in the opposite direction. My mom used to hate it when I did this trick. Dad made her come out to watch when I was learning, but she always left after this one. I wonder if Charlie made it through?

There’s no time to ride by and check for her. Not if I want to do one more. So I speed by quickly, my mind imagining her there, hearing her voice in my ears as I ride by. She’d think I’m f*cking nuts, I swear, if she knew how often I pretended to talk to her.

I get up to the top in seconds, and I know I have to go for it now if I want to make this last move count. I take a deep breath in and power forward, pushing the bike as fast as it will go, until I’m flying again, away from it all.

Here it is—this is the moment. I let go from the bars, and I turn with the bike, both of us 200 pounds, gliding through the air with no hope for safety—only my best jump and fate. It only takes a second, but that’s enough. I hear her voice in my head, see her face, her smile, feel her—it passes through my heart all at once. That little inkling that tells me I’m being stupid and careless.

“Jesus, Cody. Put your hands back on the f*cking bars,” I say to myself. And I do. I grip them, and my feet find their place, and I land the bike cleanly, but with enough force to slide it to the side until I come to a stop.

I went too far. That was too far—and I think I might have just lost her. I swear, if she’s still here, if Charlie is still in the building, I’ll never attempt this f*cking trick again. The crowd is literally screaming the roof off the arena, and the flashes are everywhere. I’m running through the loose dirt, trying to get to the stands, trying to find my girl, but this goddamned helmet is blinding me.

I hate this f*cking thing. I finally unsnap it and fling it from my head, tossing it to the ground along with the goggles. Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?

The purple flashes through the throngs of cameras and VIP sponsors along the wall, and I push my way through to get to it. When I see her there, her arms wrapped around Jessie’s bicep like she’s clinging for her life in the middle of a hurricane, my heart stops.

I will never attempt that jump again. Ever.

There are actual tears in her eyes when she finally looks up from Jessie’s arm. I reach for her and lift her over the wall to cradle her. “I know baby. I know, I’m sorry. I got carried away, but I’ll never do that again. I shouldn’t have made you watch,” I say, hugging her closely and pressing my lips to her ear. “God, I’m sorry, Charlie.”

She’s clutching my jacket, and I can feel the wetness of her tears along my neck. That was such a selfish prick thing to do, and I can’t believe I made her watch it.

Her grip finally loosens, and when she moves her head back to look at me, I reach up with my hand and smooth the hair away that’s matted to her face. All I can do is give her my stupid smile—the one that says, “I’m a total f*ck-up, but you love me anyway.” But before I do, she starts laughing, almost uncontrollably.

“That was beautiful, Cody,” she says. “You were amazing!”