Falling From the Sky (11 page)

Micah looks over at me and smiles. He doesn’t have to say anything. I know we’re at the real destination to cross the Fish Horse off our list. He kicks off his flip-flops and leaves them in the truck. I follow him through the sand to the water’s edge.

Micah wastes no time stripping off everything but his green swim trunks. I feel like a creepy stalker in a movie hiding outside someone’s bedroom window watching them undress. He tosses his belt onto the sand and drops his shorts next to it. Then he pulls his shirt over his head, and I notice all the little things about his body that I should never even think about, like how his ribs poke out when he inhales or how his skin tone is perfectly evened out all over his body although he spends a lot of time in the sun.

“You going to swim in your clothes?” he calls out to me.

My face flushes, and I hope he doesn’t realize that I was examining every inch of his being. I’m sure he knows. He likes guys, and he probably knows all the tricks and secrets by now. He doesn’t ever call me out on anything, though, and that’s a blessing. I strip down to the black swim trunks I borrowed from him. Who’d have guessed I would’ve needed mine for a summer of basketball camp?

Micah’s already in the water by the time I take my shirt off. He obviously has no problem swimming with the fish or river fungus or whatever else is lurking in that water. If he wasn’t so engrossed in what he’s doing, I’d question man-eating alligators or life-sucking currents, but I don’t even feel like entertaining all of my crazy scenarios today.

I shiver as my body wades through the water toward Micah.

“You’ll get used to it,” he assures me. His wet hair falls in strands around his face, and he seems all too relaxed. He points up to the bridge. “Ever jumped off one?”

“Are you crazy?” I ask. I listen to the clink-clunk sound of the bridge as a blue truck drives overhead. That’s how a robot’s heartbeat would sound.

“Maybe a little,” he says with an Abby smile. “It’s fun, though.”

I glance up at the bridge and try to imagine what it would feel like to jump from there, falling aimlessly into the water.

“No, I haven’t,” I say. “And I don’t plan on it.”

“It’s an adrenaline rush,” Micah continues. “The first time is kind of scary, but it’s really awesome. It like, liberates you, or something.”

Falling from the sky is the last form of liberation I need. I silently curse that stupid pop song from the crappy shoe store. I needed that rabbit’s foot before I ever went in there so I might’ve been lucky enough to miss that song and not constantly wonder all summer what I’d really do if I was falling from the sky.

I turn back around and look at Micah. “What would you do if you were falling from the sky?”

He bends his eyebrows. “Reach for my parachute?” He seems unsure of his answer, but I think he’s also unsure of my question.

I don’t say anything. A shiver rushes over my body.

“C’mon. You’re cold,” he says. I’ve adjusted to the water by now, but Micah doesn’t know it. He puts a hand on my shoulder and tries to gently push me from the spot in the water where I’m standing. “Ridge?”

My eyes meet his, and he looks concerned, almost scared. I just nod and follow him back to the sand. The sun is warm against my skin. I let it sink into my pores. I tell Micah I’m good and don’t need a towel, but he brings back a large beach towel from his truck and wraps it around my shoulders.

He’s starting to know me too well, and it scares me. He rubs his hands up and down my upper arms, over the towel, and I partially think it’s because he knows I’m going to remove it from my body the second he moves away from me. But part of me really thinks he cares and wants to make sure I’m warm.

“I wasn’t going to make you jump or anything,” he says quietly. “It’s just fun. I thought it’d be a new experience for a city kid like you, but I’d never make you do anything you didn’t want to.”

“I know,” I whisper.

I do know that. I believe every word that comes out of his mouth, and I shouldn’t, but he’s the only person I know who even makes sense. He’s the only one I really feel safe with, and I know that if I stop and pray for an airplane, he won’t tell me to “walk and pray.” He’d pull out a stop sign and direct traffic around me, and right now, that’s what I need. I look back over my shoulder. Micah shrugs his shoulders, and his body trembles.

“I think you need the towel now,” I tell him. I push my shoulders back and let the towel fall off of my body.

He shakes his head. “I’m not cold.”

“You’re shivering,” I tell him.

He tries to smile, but it comes across as one of those nervous smiles, like the kind you force when you find a hidden picture of your new friend hugged up on his ex-boyfriend while posing in front of a lake of flamingos.

“It’s not because of the water,” he whispers.

His breathing is too steady, and I almost feel his breath against me. He radiates warmth, even more than this burning summer sun, and I can’t imagine what could make him shiver other than the cold water that’s dripping from his hair and running down his bare chest.

I pick up the towel from the sand and turn back to face Micah. I drape it over his shoulders and tug at the ends of the towel, pulling him closer to me. His tongue runs over his lips, but this time he isn’t twirling blue rock candy in his mouth. I don’t know why I’m even noticing his mouth or how his tongue moves in circles or why I’m comparing this moment to the times he’s played with rock candy like it’s a tease show.

That toxic green elephant is back, and this time it’s named Tension instead of Taylor. I feel its trunk wrapping around me like a noose on execution day, and I wonder if it’s suffocating Micah the way it is me. My heart thumps in my ears just like the robotic clink-clunk of the bridge, and I bet Micah hears it too.

He reaches an arm out from under the towel and grasps my forearm. He pulls me closer to him, and everything in my brain says to fight him off, but my body screams out for him to just hold me close to him and not let me go. His other hand brushes over my bare shoulder, and I glance toward the sky to avoid eye contact with him. I see the towel fall from his shoulder out of the corner of my eye, and I know he’s inches away from pulling his bare chest against mine.

In this second of almost touching, I realize that falling for Micah – or any guy for that matter – will be a thousand times worse than falling from the sky. I have a girlfriend, and never in my life have I been attracted to a guy. At least not before now. No one has ever gotten to me like Micah does. His hands run along my arms, and I take the chicken way out.

“Will you jump with me?” I spit the words out quicker than I process them in my head.

Micah pulls back and inhales deeply. He’s not smiling with excitement or dragging me to the top of the bridge. He just stares at me with those sad puppy dog eyes filled with disappointment. He almost had me, and he knows it. That’s the point of a toxic green elephant – everyone sees it, but no one talks about it. However, he’s not talking at all, and the hurt in his eyes actually hurts me in return.

I look back to the bridge so if those brown eyes of his start pouring, I won’t see the raindrops. His hands leave my arms, and he steps beside me. He’s in my peripherals, but I don’t dare turn my head. It looks like he’s staring at the bridge, which means he’s either debating jumping with me or he’s refusing to look at me for the same reasons I won’t look at him.

“You sure you’re brave enough?” he asks.

I nod, even if he isn’t looking. “Yeah. As long as I don’t have to jump alone,” I say.

“If you jump, I jump,” he replies.

I really wish this hadn’t made me laugh. “Did you like
Titanic
?”

He laughs too, and I feel a world better. “I admit, I did…except for when Jack died. I mean, I get that it kind of made the movie, but I prefer happy endings.”

Hopefully this falling from the sky experience will have a happy ending for me, as in not smashing my head against a rock or drowning or being eaten by an alligator. Now is a good time to let my “what if” scenarios play out, and it’s an even better time to talk myself out of this.

I look over at Micah to suggest my many wild reasons on why I shouldn’t jump, but he’s smiling. Damn it. Why does he have to smile and actually
want
to jump off a bridge?

I’m terrified. The bridge is a lot higher when you’re overlooking the murky water. Micah puts an arm around my shoulders, and I instantly pull away from him. Someone might see us. Or he might push me over. Or I might just really love the way his arm feels around me and can’t risk getting too close.

“I’m not going to push you over,” he snaps at me. He pulls away before I can explain.

“I didn’t say you were,” I counter him.

He steps about three feet away and leans over the railing. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks.

“I just thought you’d feel more comfortable about doing this if you realized I wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to you,” he says.

“I’m just freaked out. It’s really high,” I say.

I step over to him and ease against the railing. My knees tremble, and I’m already thinking of how painful it’s going to be when my body is hurled off this bridge and slammed into the water.

Micah grabs my arm and jerks me toward him. “I’ll be with you the entire time. I swear.”

He lets go of me and throws a leg over the rail, straddling the metal bar and waiting for me to join him.

I ask the obvious question. “Is it going to hurt?”

Micah half-shrugs. “Somewhat. It stings the first time, but after that, it isn’t so bad.”

I don’t know what makes him think I’ll actually do this a second time. It’s hard enough to convince myself to do this once, much less venture back up to the top of the bridge and plummet into an alligator’s mouth after so gracefully dodging it the first time.

Micah pulls his other leg over the rail and sits on the metal. There’s still at least a foot of concrete protruding past the railing.

“Come sit with me. You can even sit on the other side, back to the water,” he offers.

That’s one of the most reasonable ideas he’s had all summer. My left shoulder parallels his right shoulder. I’d rather just sit here and stare at the pavement than the looming river below. Silence blankets the air, and I refuse to look over because I’m afraid the unmentioned giant will start poking its tusks at me for some sort of reaction. I can’t acknowledge its presence.

We spend a good five minutes and three passing cars without speaking.

Then Micah speaks. “I’m going to jump with or without you.”

“Don’t,” I say.

He only laughs in response. “Look, I get it. You don’t want to jump. It’s cool. But I want to, so I’m going to show you how it’s done.”

Visions of him falling through the air, disappearing under the water, and never resurfacing scare me more than actually jumping. I’ve played out the plane crash in my head enough to feel like I was actually there and somehow escaped as the lone survivor. I don’t need to witness Micah’s destruction as well.

I spin around and throw my legs over the railing. I’m shaking again.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” he asks.

He must think teasing me will make this better somehow. He goes as far as reaching his hand out, all the while laughing at me.

“Yes,” I say, accepting what might not have been a real offer.

I grab his hand before I overthink this situation.

He takes two side steps closer to me. “Are you really that scared?”

What the hell do you think, Micah? Yeah, I’m really that damn scared. That’s why I’m standing on the wrong side of a bridge’s railing holding the hand of a guy who likes guys, and all the while, that elephant named Tension is behind us poking at me with its trunk waiting for me to take a leap of faith…in more ways than one.

“I’ll be fine. Just don’t let go,” I tell him.

I’m waiting for him to bust out with another
Titanic
quote, particularly the one where Jack makes Rose promise to never let go. Luckily he spares me the sappiness and answers with a simple ‘okay.’

“Want to count down?” he asks me.

My legs still tremble. The breeze sends chills throughout my body, and the cold water is going to sting like a thousand needles pricking every inch of my skin.

But there’s no turning back.

“Three…” I say.

I look at Micah, whose smile wraps his face. “Two,” he says.

I inhale and squeeze my eyes shut. “One!”

The grasp of Micah’s hand tightens as I feel my body fall forward. Wind rushes through my hair and encloses me. It’s not my brightest idea, but I open my eyes…just in time for the water to rush up to my face. My eyes burn with murky brownness, and a thousand needles stab through my skin and into my organs. I throb all over and kick to the surface. Micah’s grip was ripped away the instant we hit the water, and I don’t know where he is.

Oxygen surges through my lungs when I reach the surface. I choke on muddy water and gasp for air simultaneously. I’m going to cough up one of those clouded lungs any second. I debate swimming over to the edge of the water and climbing ashore, but I don’t see Micah, and I’m worried, even if it’s only been about ten seconds.

Water splashes behind me and Micah’s arms wrap around my waist before I can turn around.

“You okay?” he asks. He leans over my shoulder, resting his chin on it.

I nod. “I’m okay.”

He lets go and pushes himself off of me and then swims around so we’re face to face. He pushes my bangs out of my eyes and looks at me.

“You’re never doing that again, are you?” He sounds sad again.

“Not today,” I answer.

I hate how Micah has this way of always being right. Jumping off that bridge, feeling gravity suck me into dirty water with no idea what would happen to me, was such an adrenaline rush. It was liberating, just like he said it would be. Deep down, I really do want to jump again. And maybe even again after that. But right now, it’d just be too much.

“But ‘not today’ means ‘another day,’ right?” Micah asks.

I confirm his hopes. “Yes. Definitely another day.”