There’s a mountain of paperwork and scary waivers to fill out. Michael is hovering the whole time, dancing with impatience.
“It won’t be a real jump,” he apologizes. “You don’t have time to do the training, so it's going to be a tandem jump. The part that sucks is I don’t get to be your tandem. Something about a lack of experience on my part. Like I haven’t logged as many jumps as any of these guys.” The guy at the counter is shaking his head at Michael’s bravado.
Our trainer and the man who will be my tandem is retired military. He's probably as old as my dad. Michael calls him Sergeant Owens. Everything with him is straight down the line. I don’t think he cracks a smile once. He treats Michael like he’s a little kid, except that he calls him “Sir.”
I’m so freaked out that I grasp at every bit of information from our training session. After I put the gear on, I realize I can’t remember any of it.
I look up at him, panicked. “I can’t do this, Michael. I forgot everything.”
“Turn around,” he says.
“What?”
“Just turn around.” He wraps his arms around my waist. “Now bend your legs. Pull them up to your stomach.”
I obey him. I think he’s doing some kind of trick to calm me down.
“When you jump, keep your legs up, your knees bent. Spread-eagle in the air. That’s all you have to remember.”
“What if something goes wrong? What if one of those worst-case scenarios happens, like he said?”
“Don’t worry. It will only hurt for a second when you hit the ground.” He’s terrible.
“That doesn’t help,” I snarl.
He wraps his arms around me. “You’ll do fine. You’re one of the bravest girls I know. If something goes wrong, Sergeant Owens will talk you through it. Remember, I saved Matt's life during a jump. I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”
"I thought he said he saved your life?" I ask.
"Yeah, well, it didn't go exactly like Matt said. But either way, I've done this a lot and I've got you."
His reassurances just reinforces the idea that something bad could happen. I want to do this almost as badly as I don’t want to do this. I make it onto the plane. My legs are shaking, but I’m still standing. Michael holds my hand while we climb to altitude.
“I don’t think I can do this.” My voice sounds small and terrified.
“Think about it this way—there is no future, there is no past. All there is now, this moment. That’s what I always think before I jump.”
“You’re trying to tell me I don’t have a future? Sorry, Michael, but that doesn’t really help.”
He puts his hand on my cheek and turns my face toward his. “I didn’t say you don’t have a future. I just said don’t think about it. The past either. Just this moment. Then jump.”
The door opens. For a second, I expect to be sucked out of the cabin like in one of those bad plane crash disaster movies. Sergeant Owens is shouting last-minute instructions. I’m trying to listen, but the roar of the wind and the pounding of my heart in my ears are too loud. My harness is strapped to his chest. I fumble with the buckles, so Michael reaches over and helps. When we’re all set, he gives me a thumbs up.
This is all routine for both of them. Michael looks calm. Sergeant Owens stands up, and we walk to the door. I’m wondering if I threw up if we would still go on with the jump. Would it get sucked out of the door or blown into Sergeant Owens' face?
We stand at the doorway for a terrifying second. I clench my hands together to keep from grabbing the edge of the door.
Just this moment.
I’m both happy and terrified that I’m not the one deciding to step out of the plane.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pull my knees to my chest, and feel the safety of the solid mass of metal and engines fall away. My stomach lurches. I think I’m about to test my theory about throwing up. I clamp my jaw tight.
“Relax. Open your eyes, Jess.” I know Sergeant Owens is yelling so I can hear him, but his voice sounds calm and strangely soothing.
I open my eyes and see the world, a huge unending expanse, opening up before me. The rush of the wind hits me in my face. I spread my arms and legs. I’m flying. “It’s beautiful!” I yell.
Michael is next to us. Trying to get my attention. I look at him and give him a grin that probably looks more like a terrified grimace. He gives me a relaxed smile, reaches out, and grasps my outstretched hand.
