THIRTY-FIVE
ansley: jump
The old drawbridge that led from Peachtree Bluff to Pecan Beach had a very largeNo Jumpingsign when I was a kid. And all I can say is that it was a waste of taxpayer dollars, because no one ever obeyed it. Jumping off the Peachtree Bridge was a rite of passage, something that all us kids did at one point or another. But I, being the rule-following teenager I was, would never have even considered it. It was too scary, too risky, and there was asign, for heaven’s sake.
But one night, the summer I was sixteen and Jack was seventeen, Sandra, Emily, Jack, three of his friends, and I were on his Boston Whaler. It was past curfew, but there wasn’t really all that much trouble we could get into around Peachtree Bluff, and our parents never waited up, so we thought of our curfews as more of a suggestion than a rule.
I wasn’t much of a drinker, but sipping lukewarm beer out of red Solo cups was a summer tradition, so that’s what we were doing that night.
“We have a surprise for you,” Sandra said.
I raised my eyebrow at her.
“You’re not going to like it!” Emily sang.
I was sitting beside Jack, who was captaining the tiny vessel. He squeezed my shoulder. “Oh, yes, she is. She is going to absolutely love it.”
I was very, very wary then. And when he nosed the boat onto a tiny spot of sand right beside the Peachtree Bridge and pulled it up onto the beach, I got the sickening feeling that I knew exactly what this surprise was going to be.
“No,” I said, before we had even gotten out of the boat. “No, no, no, no.”
“Oh, come on, Ans,” Jack’s friend George said. “We’ve all done it. It’s fine.”
Jack took my hand and pulled me toward the bridge. I was trying to stand firm. We were all still in our bathing suits, and the night had turned chilly. The water would be freezing.
“Yeah, Ansley,” Peter chimed in. “It’s just a fifteen-foot jump. It’s no big deal.”
“Summer is for making memories,” Emily said, pushing me from behind, while Jack pulled.
Jack turned and winked at me, and I finally smiled. I didn’t want to seem like a wimp in front of him. I wanted to be brave and strong and independent. I could make my own rules, bridge sign or not.
The seven of us lined up on the edge of the bridge, Jack and me in the middle.
“We’re all going to do it together on the count of three,” Jack’s friend Marshall said, as Jack took my hand.
My heart was pounding, and my mouth was dry. But Jack was there. My best friends were there. It was summer. I was in my favorite bikini. I was invincible.
“Let’s do a cannonball!” Jack shouted.
Our friends counted. “One, two, three, jump!”
And then I did it, the thing I hadn’t thought I could ever do: I jumped. I screamed as I hit the water, and then I came back up. We were all shouting and laughing, and it felt absolutely amazing. I had faced my fear, and it had been fun.
Today, now, with my three grown daughters crowded around me in the guesthouse that had been dubbed “wedding central,” I realized that Jack was making me face my fear again. When Carter had died, I didn’t think I would ever be able to move on. There was no way. And now, here I was, in my white silky robe, Caroline putting flowers in my bun, Emerson swiping blush on my cheeks, and Sloane steaming all our dresses one final time.
“You look beautiful, Mom,” Emerson said.
I mouthedAre you OK?to her.
“I promise,” she said out loud.
Still, I knew today was hard for her. I knew she was trying to pretend it wasn’t. And honestly, that made me feel proud. I would always put my daughters first, but I liked to be reminded that sometimes they could put other people first, too, even just their old mother.
“Of course you look beautiful,” Caroline said. “No one has to promise that.”
When they were finished, I stood up and motioned for my girls to come to me. “Thank you for giving me the gift of this amazing day,” I said. “I am so grateful to all of you for your love and your friendship and your maturity. I wouldn’t be here without you.” I cleared my throat. “And I want you to remember that, with me, you always come first. Always.”
“See?” Caroline said, pulling away from us. “This is why you need champagne in the bridal suite. There needs to be toasts now, and there is nothing to toast with.”
