No, damn it!
I call to him again, but my voice is too soft for the landscape and the wind. River doesn’t look over at me.
Suddenly, I’m terrified he’ll jump before I can talk to him. He must be completely desperate. He needs me, and I owe him everything. He saved me and gave me back everything I had lost—not only my words, but somehow also Dad, James, and Arizona. My future, my laughter and tears, my whole life. At this moment, I’m filled with such love and gratitude for him that I could cry again.
I have to do it.
I slowly pull my dangling legs up and place my bare feet on the slackline. Inch by inch, I straighten, pushing through my knees while my heart gallops away with me.
And then I’m standing on the line, a thousand feet above the ground, my life hanging on a leash that now seems thin and fragile to me. I’m dying. I’m definitely dying today. River hasn’t prepared me for this kind of fear of death.
He’s still standing on the edge, looking as if he’s waiting for the right wind to fly away.
F-L-Y-I-N-G.
I take a step when panic grips me again.
Breathe.Find your center. Don’t be afraid, but show respect, Sweet Alabama.
The abyss gapes beneath me like the green soul of the mountain, which absorbs everything without releasing it again. My instincts and my mind scream at me not to go any further. What if the eyelet is worn out? Or the belt?
I take a deep breath and concentrate on the feeling of the slackline under my soles and the cold against my arms as I stretch out. I feel the air beneath me, the air that brushes against me and makes the line vibrate like a guitar string.
Just move, don’t think.
I feel my consciousness changing. Suddenly, everything becomes clear—sharp, yet distant. I put one foot in front of theother. I am focused on the coolness under my feet, the taut rope, and the wind at the same time.
Adrenaline floods every cell of my body. I am wide awake. Now. Here. The panic follows me like a shadow, but I can’t let it in.
Oh God, it’s so high!
Find a fixed point!
I fix my gaze on the dark figure with the rolled-up trouser legs, and River finally turns.
He sees me!
The moment is as intense as the first cry of a newborn, which is also the first breath it takes. It almost makes me fall.
River stares at me.
His face shines brightly in the morning light, as do his bare forearms and calves. “Tucks! Have you gone mad? Go back immediately!” His words are carried to me by the wind. Anger resonates in them, but also fear.
Hesitantly, I shake my head, as if any sudden movement could make me stumble. Now River does something absolutely insane. He comes back to the line, crouches down, and slides over the straps and supports.
Don’t do that!But the scream stays in my head.
He nimbly stands up and stretches his arms out to the side, balancing himself. “Go back! Immediately!” With dark eyes, he glares at me.
I want to start crying, but I’m too scared. What if I stumble and he falls?Stay away! Go back!
My whole body tenses up, which can be fatal when you’re supposed to stay soft and flexible.
“You never should have come here,” he calls to me. He’s a good runner and moves just as well as without a harness. The line descends downward because he’s getting closer, and then, all of a sudden, he stops. His eyes widen. He looks like he’s seena ghost, and in a moment of shock, I fear he’s hallucinating and thinks I’m June.
“What is it?” I whisper, but of course, he can’t hear it. Maybe his dad or a ranger team is standing on the rock plateau.
For a few seconds, he’s paralyzed, and then he slowly shakes his head and puts one foot back.
