Jumping (35 page)

“How were they? Happy? Sad? Scared? Did they say anything?” Monica looks up at me, and I know she's seeing it as a love story, the kind of love story Monica would like to be part of someday. I guess I could see it that way, too, if I tried.

“I'd say they were quietly happy. I saw no tension, no nervousness, no worry. They just went about their business. They said something to each other, but I couldn't hear it. They were very calm.”

“Oh my god,” Lonnie says. He gets up from his chair and starts pacing in the front of the room, having left the back of the room to Kevin. “Oh my god. I can't believe it. I couldn't have stood watching them. I don't know if I can stand hearing about it now.”

Lonnie is still feeling the after-effects of his recently departed fear of falling.

“It wasn't for them what it would be for you. They'd planned it for quite a while. You could see that in their calmness. They came ready to do it. You all know that. You know how well they know the Void, how much they've studied it, what Duncan Robert told them. They were prepared. They were not afraid.”

“But, why? Really?” Donal asks. “Why did they do it?”

“You know that, too.”

“What happens now?” Donal asks. “Do we do anything, notify anyone, get any help?”

I look at them, wondering if I've been expecting too much of them, wondering if I shouldn't have told them. They look back.

Then Nathan says, back to staring out the window, “No, there's nothing for us to do. Except wait.”

I sigh with relief inside.

“Well, I know of one more thing we can do.” We look at Kevin, surprised. “Think about it. What would he tell us to do?”

Lonnie sighs and nods, thinking of Miles. “Write about it. While it's still fresh.”

I wait, wondering.

They look at each other.

“We need to go there to do it, don't we?” Lonnie shivers.

“Yes, we do.” Nathan, turning from the window, says it firmly.

I feel a new tension in the room. This isn't about what somebody else did now. It's about what we'll do. They know it, too. They shift uncomfortably.

“Well, okay,” Donal says, stepping up, as he always does. “Let's do it.”

“Now?” A note of anxiety cracks Lonnie's voice.

They break into a discussion of the reasons they can't do it now—too late to plan it, other responsibilities, no writing gear or any other gear, not ready to write. Only Nathan and I remain quiet.

“Okay.” Donal stops their noise. “Tomorrow.”

They quiet immediately, most of them looking down, at their hands or shoes or the floor.

“Do you think they're dead?” Kevin breaks the silence again.

“No, I don't,” Donal says, “but that's something you can write about—why you think they are.”

“I don't think they are,” protests Kevin. “I just don't know what to think.”

“I know.” Monica now has a catch in her voice. “Even though I didn't know them that well, I miss them.”

“Me, too.” Nathan smiles and adds, “At least we've got each other,” in a fake-sincere voice, though I know he means it.

They laugh. Kevin throws a wad of paper at him, which he easily catches and lobs back. It's a nice moment, and I'm grateful to Nathan.

Donal gets them to talk about what time to go, where to meet, what to bring. They make their arrangements, gather up their things, and head for the exit.

“I'm not going to sleep tonight!” Kevin says, as he goes to the door with Monica.

“Come stay at my place. I'm not going to be sleeping, either. We can watch reality shows.” She moves through the door ahead of him.

“Have you got room for one more?” Lonnie asks. “I'll spring for pizza. I don't want to be alone thinking about this.”

“Sure.” The three of them go out into the hallway.

“I've got to get home,” Donal says to me. He smiles. “Brogan's waiting for me to read to him.”

He turns to me at the door. “You'll be there tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it. Thanks for doing the arranging.”

“Thanks for telling us. I wouldn't miss it, either.” He lifts his hand as he goes out the door.

Nathan moves from the window and comes up to the desk, where I'm still leaning. He stands in front of me and takes both my hands in his, surprising me. I look up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You're an interesting woman, Carrie Jean.”

I have to smile. “Am I?”

“Yes, and I wouldn't miss it, either.” He smiles back at me.

“I think you're the interesting one, Nathan. You've conversed with an angel.”

“I think you have, too.”

“Don't let my Granny hear you say I've been talking to angels. She'd think I abandoned my heritage for sure.” I laugh, and he laughs with me.

He lets my hands go with a little squeeze. “I'll see you tomorrow night.”

After he leaves, I sit for a moment, staring out the open door into the empty hallway in the quiet building, mostly deserted now. I'm glad the telling is over. I've done my part, delivering the message, without leading or directing anyone. And I think, overall, it didn't go too badly. They didn't run from it. The next time we see each other, we'll all be at the Void. I wonder how many of them know now that they're going to jump. I suspect they all do.

Jane Peranteau has worked, written, and lectured in public health, community development, and communication for more than twenty-five years. Jane currently lives and works in Mountainair, New Mexico.

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