HOLLISTER
On Saturday morning my eyes flew open before the five thirty alarm I’d set, and my first thought was that today I would fly. Either that or I would plummet to my death in a blaze of glory. Only time would tell.
I followed the Airborne Academy’s instruction sheet by eating a light breakfast and donning fitted clothing—spandex bike shorts and a workout tank top. They would be giving me a jumpsuit and goggles to wear when I got to the jump site.
Because I am the ultimate geek, I’d made a playlist to listen to on the way there. I got a few odd looks from other drivers as I drove down the road, windows open, belting out Lenny Kravitz’s “Fly Away” and Tom Petty’s “Learning to Fly,” but that didn’t faze me. This earthbound misfit was going to be airborne soon, sailing through the skies and living her best life. I actually leaned out my car window with the wind flowing through my hair and yelled, “Yeah, I said I’m living my best life! Suck it, Ben Rose!”
Although we’d found some common ground at the reunion, I still couldn’t shake the idea that he was my nemesis. My middle-aged life had been fueled for so long by resentment toward Ben Rose and my personal mantra YOLO—You Only Live Once. I often said YOLO in my head when I was feeling scared to try something new. Are you going to live with regrets, Hollister, or take a few risks? I knew YOLO was overused and cheesy, but it was also shorthand to remind me that life went by quickly, and I needed to enjoy as much of it as I could.
The only thing that would make this experience better were if Jenna and Bridget were in it with me. Jenna considered it, but she was saving every penny to open her own salon, and she wouldn’t let me pay her way. Bridget said that since the terrible car accident she was in years ago didn’t kill her, she didn’t want to tempt the gods by jumping out of a plane. Both of them offered to cheer on my landing, but I told them it wasn’t necessary. Saturday was the busiest day at the salon for Jenna, and Bridget worked hard all week as a buyer for a local chain of bridal boutiques. She didn’t need to get up at the buttcrack of dawn on her day off and drive out to an airfield. Airborne Academy was way out east on the island, where there were still acres of open green space. It made for a beautiful drive and a lot of time to think about whether jumping out of a plane at ten thousand feet was a terrible idea.
I was okay with doing this experience on my own. That’s what this list was all about—not waiting until the perfect time to do something. If there was one thing Bridget’s accident taught me was that you only have today. And today had provided blue skies and seventy-degree temperatures. What more did I need but a little bit of courage?
“Hey! She’s here!” It was none other than Steve Lansky, my potential future boyfriend, who called out a greeting to me as I entered the high-ceilinged building of Airborne Academy. The front space was made up of a group of offices and a waiting room. The back of the building was the hangar where they kept the planes.
I removed my aviator sunglasses and smiled at him with the bravado of Maverick from Top Gun. There was an unnecessary amount of swagger in my step as I approached the front desk and set my forearms on the counter.
“Reporting for my jump, sir.”
I didn’t choose Airborne Academy because Steve Lansky was a hottie. I wasn’t that kind of stupid. No, I chose Airborne Academy on the recommendation of my client Anton, a whipsmart millennial who said he’d researched the hell out of all the local places before making a decision on where to skydive.
“You’ll be in good hands today,” Steve said. “Jojo, one of my best teachers, will be jumping with you.”
“Excellent.” I leaned forward so I could drop my voice and not be heard by his employees. “Will you be around to see me stick my landing?”
Hey, Zoe told me to flirt with the man.
His smile tilted adorably to one side. “I sure will.”
I waved goodbye to him and headed to the waiting room where the instructors would come get us in a few minutes. There were only two other clients sitting in the plastic blue chairs, guys in their twenties who barely looked up from their phones to greet me. There was an empty seat between them, ostensibly so they could man-spread. Yuck.
Their lack of interest in me wasn’t a problem. Men gave me less attention after I hit my forties, and it certainly didn’t bother me that two guys young enough to be my sons ignored me. When men my age literally looked around me to check out a woman young enough to be my daughter, that stung a little. I imagined Ben Rose would be walking into the next reunion with a trophy wife at least a decade his junior, not that it mattered one iota to me.
I took a seat next to the young men and crossed my legs only to find that I was bouncing my knee nervously. My bladder was reacting badly to the idea of jumping out of a plane, and I decided to hit the bathroom one last time before my jump. Whizzing in my flight suit was not the impression I wanted to make in front of Steve. As soon as I stood up, another student entered the waiting area, and our eyes connected.
Ben fucking Rose.
My jaw hinged open like a mailbox waiting for a letter. Ben Rose couldn’t seriously be standing here in front of me looking smugly handsome and freshly showered. Not only did he copy skydiving off of my list, he came on the exact same day as me! I should have left his drunken ass locked out behind the high school for the vultures and maggots to devour.
When I regained control of my senses, I stalked toward him, my hands reaching out in front of me on their own volition. As I clamped down on his forearms, I hissed, “What are you doing here?”
There was real fear in his eyes, which were now the crystal blue of the Mediterranean and not bloodshot and watery, like the other night. He wasn’t afraid because we were getting ready to jump from ten thousand feet. He was reacting to me, the red-faced woman holding onto his arms with a death grip. Zoe said that when I get really angry, a vein starts to throb in my temple, and I was pretty sure I could feel that sucker pulsing.
“I’m here to skydive.” His voice pitched higher when he added, “Can you please stop digging your nails into my skin?”
I released his arms and he shook them out, but I didn’t step back from where I stood, inches from his face. He smelled a lot better than he had the other night. He smelled great, in fact, which only made me angrier because how dare someone so repellant smell like cinnamon and cloves, two scents that usually made me hungry, not enraged.
“You just happen to be here to jump on the exact day I told you I was jumping? You did this on purpose!”
He glanced over my shoulder, and I could imagine the twenty-somethings were more interested in me now that there was drama happening.
“You recommended this place,” he said. “You never said ‘do not arrange a jump on the same day as me.’ If you’d said that, I would remember.”
“Would you? Because you were pretty shitfaced that night.”
It wasn’t a kind thing to say, but he was out of line showing up here. I saved up for a long time for this experience, and I did not want to have it with my high school rival sitting next to me. Every time we were together, we competed, and that wasn’t what this was supposed to be about. It was about taking risks and having fun, finding joy in my life. YOLO.
He would mock YOLO, and people who mocked YOLO were not allowed on my adventures.
“I thought it might be fun for us to jump together.” As he studied me intently, his eyebrows inched closer together. “Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Very wrong. Totally wrong.” I looked over my shoulder at the twenty-somethings, and they quickly bowed their heads over their phones, pretending they weren’t eavesdropping on us. I turned my voice into a vengeful whisper. “I’m going to work hard to pretend you’re not here. I would appreciate it if you’d do the same.”
Then I strode off toward the bathroom where I sat on the toilet and fumed about the audacity of that man. Every time I thought I was over Ben Rose, he showed up again to prove that my rage was as bottomless as Olive Garden’s bread basket. The bizarre thing is that he seemed serious when he said he thought we’d have fun doing this together. As if! We might have bonded for a few minutes about our divorces, but that didn’t erase years of intense competition and discord.
By the time I emerged from the ladies’ room, four instructors were in the waiting room, ready to give us their spiel. I took a spot on the opposite side of the room from Ben and introduced myself to the only female instructor present, who I correctly presumed to be Jojo. She was everything I wanted in a jumping partner—muscular frame, confident posture, and a warm smile. Nothing about her suggested impending doom.
“Are you excited to do this?” she asked.
“Totally.” I smiled and tried to regain the good mood I’d been in earlier this morning.
An instructor named Mike, who was paired up with Ben, gave us the lowdown on how to exit the plane, arch our bodies during freefall, and position our legs for landing. We’d be in freefall for less than a minute, and then we’d have another five or six minutes with the parachute deployed to float down to earth. According to Mike, this portion of the jump would be quiet and peaceful, and the views of the countryside of Long Island would be spectacular. He finished his talk by saying that our instructors would have us practice the arch position for a few minutes and then get us suited up and into the plane.
My excitement returned, and I smiled at Jojo as she handed me my jumpsuit and goggles. I was determined not to let Ben or anyone else ruin this experience for me if for no other reason than it was more expensive than those secondhand Louboutins I ordered off a fashion website and wore to the reunion. In my little world, three hundred dollars was a significant chunk of change to drop on anything, and I was going to get my money’s worth of fun today.
After I was dressed in my jumpsuit and harness, Jojo and I stood together, her front to my back, and I practiced arching my spine. I made a point of keeping Ben out of my line of vision. No doubt he was sucking all the joy out of this prep work, trying to do everything perfectly and mechanically. He was like a bad pair of underwear. Even when I couldn’t see him, he still chafed.
Finally, it was show time. Jojo and I walked side by side out to the tarmac to board the small white plane waiting for us, and I was dying to turn to an imaginary camera crew and give the double thumbs-up. I was a goofball at heart. Maybe I should have had my girls come with me after all. They would have loved to pretend to be a film crew documenting my first jump from ten thousand feet.
The eight of us squeezed into the back of the plane, four on a bench on one side and four on the other. I was happy to be seated at the opposite end from Ben although I did sneak a peek at him once or twice. Bastard looked relaxed and ready to go. He was Maverick now, and I was feeling more like Lucille Ball, ready to climb on my instructor’s lap and beg her for mercy.
No surprise he was calm. Ben was an orthopedic surgeon. Skydiving was probably nothing for someone confident enough to cut people open and mess with their innards.
It only took us about fifteen minutes to reach altitude. As the first to jump, Mike opened the door and hooked himself up to Ben. They stood there for a moment, the wind blowing their hair, and before I could frantically wish Ben well—I didn’t want his freaking death on my conscience—they were gone. Vanished into thin air, literally. In our high school years, I’d dreamed about throwing Ben from a window, but seeing him fall out of a plane door in real life made my stomach lurch. I found myself thinking about his kids and praying he’d make it down safely. Even that butthead deserved to live.
One of the twenty-somethings and his instructor were next, and as I watched them jump into the void, I started to worry I might be having an anxiety attack. My whole body was sweating, and my breathing was shallow. Why did I do this? What if I died today and Zoe was left an orphan? Technically, her dad was still alive, but he was a deadbeat loser and didn’t count. Who would make her favorite coconut cake for her birthday? Who would remind her to get mammograms? Who would—
“Let’s go!” Jojo shouted into my ear.
There was no time for further rumination, which was probably a good thing. If I didn’t do this now, I wouldn’t do it at all. We hooked together, lined up at the doorway, and before I could panic, her hand was pushing on my forehead, reminding me to lean back. And then we were airborne.
Freefall was even more exhilarating than I’d expected. I felt like Tom Cruise again, this time in a Mission Impossible movie, gliding through the air on my belly. The wind whipped in my ears while adrenaline coursed through my veins. I was an eagle in flight, wild and free. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and it took my breath away.
“This is awesome!” I yelled.
Jojo held out a thumbs-up signal in response.
Less than a minute after we jumped, she pulled the cord to release our parachute. Within seconds we’d slowed down significantly and were floating and drifting down to earth. The patchwork quilt of green fields below were beautiful, but I didn’t spend too much time sightseeing. Instead I focused on enjoying the floating sensation and the lightness in my body and mind. I was able to be still in a way I’d never experienced on earth. Maybe that “no mind” Zen stuff Bridget was always peddling wasn’t nonsense after all. If this was what meditation felt like, I was all in.
As we approached the landing site, I remembered to lift my feet as I’d been instructed. Unlike Cruise’s Mission Impossible character, we weren’t going to land in the action hero running position. Jojo and I were going to cruise onto the grassy field on our butts, a safe, soft landing.
As we came within a few feet of earth, there was a sudden shift of weight, as if we’d been blown sideways by a strong wind. That’s when I panicked.