At first, the angry buzzing of my phone doesn’t register. My whole being is vibrating with the intensity of being with Matt, of flying. He’s taking his turn when I notice it going off. Half a dozen missed calls from my parents. Crud.
Where are you? We are leaving for church in ten minutes. WHERE ARE YOU?
So?
So, it is time for church.
My phone rings. There’s enough defiance in me to punch DECLINE.
Reception is not good here.
Where?
Where I am.
Kermit.
What Matt said about the leap being a religious experience sticks with me.
I’m exploring spiritually in another way this morning.
Kermit. Home. Now.
By the time I’m there, you’ll be at church.
I don’t have to. They can’t make me. They have no idea where I am, and it’s not like they’re gonna report me missing and send the cops after me.
I don’t have to go back at all. Some people do it, I know. Leave and never come home. Run away and never have to explain themselves to anyone who wouldn’t understand. Disappear.
“What do you want to do?” Matt says.
“It doesn’t matter what I want.”
I don’t know why they have this power over me. Why them telling me what to do makes me do it. The consequences I fear are nebulous, just a blur in the back of my mind. And yet, it’s ruined now. This perfect place and moment.
“I have to go home.” Maybe because I’m not brave. Maybe because I’m a realist. Maybe because the devil you know beats the devil you don’t. Regardless, I’m tethered to this misery. Falling, but without a parachute.