Mirage(51)

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

We all get on the airplane. My eyes meet the exhilarated eyes of a familiar guy. Only skydivers look exhilarated at eight a.m. He flicks a thumbs-up at me with maniacal happiness, and that’s when I see him in memory . . . Birthday Boy. I teased him one day, scared him for fun. Then I blew him a kiss as I fell out of the plane. I guess he came back for more.

My father once said, You don’t become a part of the skydiving life. Skydiving becomes part of you. Some people do it once, to say they did. Others do it and realize they were living a half life before that and they’ll only feel alive on the edge.

Half life. That best describes mine. It isn’t enough of a life.

Birthday Boy looks at me quizzically, and I turn my head toward the wall of the plane, focus on the dots of rivets holding the aluminum panels together. “Scared?” he asks.

“No,” I answer. “I’ve done this before.”

Only I know we’re not talking about the same thing.

The wind skims through the cabin; the air slapping our faces makes it real. I think I hear a song riding on its currents. It feels good to hum, to feel the vibration of my voice, so I do. But once I start, I can’t stop. This song rises from a deeper part of me than my self-control.

My song.

“Siren,” I say. “Of course you’re with me now.”

I’ll never leave.

“You don’t have to sing to me. I’m already yours.”

My song! she yells in my head.

Someone opens the jump door. The spotter signals the pilot, and the plane powers down. Everyone stands. I rise to my feet.

Birthday Boy places a gentle hand on my arm. “You’re talking to yourself,” he says, then looks at me closer. “I recognize you. From my first jump. You seem . . . different.”

We stare at each other. This stranger’s concern is a rope. I can’t afford to let him lasso me and reel me back in. “You okay? Maybe sit this one out?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I’m all in.” My heart thuds wildly as I lumber behind the other jumpers toward the open door of the plane. The song pounds so loud in my head, it hurts. I can’t shut it out. Only one way to stop it. I’ll go to the silence again.

Birthday Boy enters the doorway, poised to jump, but stops, holds himself from falling. Both arms are stretched out to each side of the open door. He looks back at me through his goggles with questions swarming his eyes. The wordless moment that passes between us is spoken in one of the most beautiful languages in human history.

I force a smile through trembling lips and blow him a kiss, and he’s gone. Later I will be one of his regrets. He will wonder if he should have done more. That makes me sad.

One by one, jumpers take to the sky like dandelion seeds swept away on their own wishes. I wonder about their wishes.

I have the wish to die.





Thirty-Two


I HEARD MY SONG!

Finally.

Heard the strong, tender melody in the stillness of the void. It kept me anchored to my body. Carried me back to myself whenever I felt the urge to drift into the light. The urge was never stronger than when Gran took my hand in that dark place. I sang to her a lot. With her sad, now-seeing eyes, she beckoned me to come with her. “Walk with me toward the love,” she said.

It was so tempting.

But instead I chose to watch her go to another place so I could stay in the dark and bang on the glass of my own life.

Watch, while someone else lived it.

Now she wants to end it.

I have to stop her.

I have the wish to live.





Thirty-Three


THE BLASTING SOUND of wind and the drone of the engines fade the minute I step into the doorway. All I can hear is my raging heartbeat and the relentless song ringing in my temples. My toes hang off the edge of the opening. My jumpsuit presses to my shins and arms as I lean forward.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

The earth is waiting to fold me back into itself.

I smile as I roll and plummet through the air in a tumbling heap. I’m leaping into her arms. She finally wins.

Hurtling through the air, I’m letting gravity wrap its hand around me and suck me down. Tracking away from the bare circle of the drop zone, I’m cloaked in a fear like I’ve never known. I’m trying to surrender. I’m letting go.



We fought once and I lost. I won’t lose again. It’s on!

Her fear and her surrender are the footholds I need.

She may have my body, but I’ve got something she doesn’t?—?fearlessness.

I am stronger than her fear. She’s willing to die, and she’s freaking terrified. That releases her hold on my body just enough to allow me back in.

Barely.

I’m no longer her specter. I’m her shadow, part of her, part of myself again.

I can feel the warm wind on my lips, and it’s the most delicious taste.

I want more.

I want control of my body. I want to reclaim it. I want to dance on the currents again. I want to taste warm mint on Dom’s tongue, feel raucous laughter shake me as it does when Joe and I joke around, know again the spoonful of spiked sugar that is sex, the sensual chill of skinny-dipping in the reservoir, the sweetness of my mother’s hugs.

I want my life back.