Before I Do(31)

“I do want to live every moment,” he agreed. “I don’t want to wake up in fifty years with any regrets. I think as soon as you stop wanting to learn, explore, change things, that’s when you get old.” Fred looked out across the park, then reached down and firmly clasped her hand. The intimacy of it made her stomach feel deliciously molten. “If this was our first date, what would you want to do?”

“Something unforgettable,” she said breathlessly.

He grinned and started pulling her along faster and faster until they were both running through the park.

Further south, beside the Serpentine, was a fairground. Fred led her straight to the Ferris wheel, where they queued for a ticket. They bought warm nuts, which smelled of hot sugar and cold days, to eat in the queue.

“A Ferris wheel? Nice, but it’s not exactly original first-date territory,” she teased.

Fred turned around to the queue of people behind them and said loudly, “She’s a harsh critic, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Shhhh,” Audrey said, pulling him back around to face the front.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “We’re not just riding it. We’re going to jump off it.”

She rolled her eyes, assuming he was joking. “Why would we do that?”

“Because it’s the best way to get to know someone.”

Fred left his umbrella at the ticket kiosk, stuffed his camera bag into his rucksack, and then strapped it to his front. They climbed into one of the red plastic bucket seats and pulled the chain across their laps. “Sometimes life feels like a hamster wheel. You get caught up in the practicalities of existence and all the joy gets pushed aside in favor of necessity. Sometimes you just need to jump off the wheel.” With this, he unhooked the chain across their seat, and for the first time, Audrey realized he might not have been joking about jumping. He stood up and reached out for the bar above them, launching himself out of the seat so that it swung, alarmingly, back and forth, and she had to hold on to the sides to keep her balance.

“What are you doing? You’re going to fall!” Audrey said, panic in her voice.

“When you get off the wheel, you see everything in a whole new way, and the ride you’re on—you stop taking it for granted.”

There was shouting from below, people yelling at him to sit back in his seat. Then he reached out a hand to her, holding his whole weight with only one hand.

“Come on. You’ll be fine, I promise. We’re at the top of the wheel now, I’m going to hold on to this bar for a few minutes, and then when we’re closer to the ground, I’ll jump. Do it with me.”

He was insane; there was no way she was getting out of the chair.

“Don’t you remember being a kid, being fearless, wanting to climb and jump and play? Why do we stop doing that? Look, we’re not far from the ground now; you won’t need to hold on for long.”

Audrey saw something in his eyes then, a calm confidence, like she needed to trust him, and she found herself standing up, reaching out for the bar too. More shouting from below; she didn’t dare look down. She grabbed hold of the bar, pushing off from the seat, letting her legs dangle beside his. She wouldn’t be able to get herself back into the chair now; she would have to hang like this until they were low enough to drop.

“I’m going to slip,” she cried, her breath catching in her throat.

“No, you’re not,” he said, and as she glanced down she saw a crowd gathering, a security guard approaching the ticket kiosk, people pointing up at them.

Her heart pounded, her arms ached, her palms were sticky with sweat, she would break a leg if she fell now, they were still twenty feet in the air. Why had she done something so reckless? She should have been in the library, reviewing Newton’s second law of motion, not testing it out. Would she be able to take her math exam next week if she had a broken arm?

The wheel had almost come full circle, but it was still a six-foot drop.

“Now copy me, just swing and jump,” he told her.

“I can’t!” she cried, her voice breathless.

“You can. Do it now. Jump straight after me, bend your knees when you hit the deck, then we run, fast, okay?” He turned to face her. “I’m not running without you.”

“Okay.”

He swung back and forth, launching himself over the edge of the balustrade, landing with a thud on the metal platform. He turned around, calling “jump” to her, and she saw she would have to face the angry ride owner if she stayed where she was, so she swung her legs to gain momentum and leaped, landing with a loud slam on the metal floor. She didn’t have a moment to pause for breath because Fred was calling for her to jump again, over the railing of the ride, down onto the grass, away from the security guard who was heading toward her.

She followed Fred, somehow clearing the railing. She saw him start to run, her legs throbbed, and she didn’t think she could catch up. She turned to see two men in safety jackets chasing after them, shouting, and her heart surged in her chest as she saw Fred stop to wait for her. He held out his hand, she reached out and clasped it, and they ran together. It was reckless and dangerous, and completely out of character.

Audrey had never felt more alive.





18


Four Hours Before I Do