it off and gives me a thumbs up. “You did good, I’ve had people start speaking in tongues and shit.” I laugh at the visual and use that moment of levity to force myself to step onto the gondola.
It’s even worse than I thought it would be. Windowless and glass bottomed with a six-inch-wide opening that divides into two separate compartments, it offers no refuge from the view of the surrounding expanse. My fear takes a backseat to my awe at the wild blue yonder above and the craggy faced valley that surrounds us. It’s like being at the top of the world. I can see all the way to the Sea of Cortez and the horizon has never been so far away; it really does look like the edge of the world.
I peer over the side just as Stone says, “Don’t look down.”
It’s too late and I get a glimpse of the 300-foot drop. I yelp and slam my eyes shut and try to catch my breath but all I see behind my closed lids is the seemingly bottomless drop to the river below. There’s absolutely nothing between me and the canyon floor.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter, and turn away and head back to the cable car. My trajectory is stalled by a pair of warm hands cuffing my forearms in a comforting but firm grip.
“Hey,” his voice is deep and melodious, but my nerves are skittish, and I just want to get off.
“It’s dangerous,” I offer my feeble explanation to the dark grey cotton stretched across his chest. I can’t meet his eyes. I’m afraid of the disappointment I might see there. It’s clear that he’s a born adventurer who only needed a small push to discover that. And here I am, having another meltdown.
Stone leans down and presses his lips to my ear. “You do not have to jump if you don’t want to. I won’t give you shit if you change your mind. You aren’t a coward if you don’t. If I had any doubt that this wasn’t safe, I wouldn’t have brought you. And this is your chance to rewrite your own history. Prove that the story you’ve been telling yourself about what you’re capable of, is incomplete. Fear doesn’t rule you, Regan.” I lift my gaze to his.
His eyes are a calming swirl of molten dark earthy brown, flecked with gold that have a look of such certainty in them that even before he starts speaking, my anxiety slows down. I’m safe.
“If I die, I’ll haunt you.”
He laughs. “I’ll hold you to it.” He grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around to face the door again.
I’m actually going to do this. Buoyed by the first real flare of exhilaration I’ve felt since we got in the Gondola to ride up, I walk over and get strapped up.
The patient instructor makes quick work of putting me in my harnesses and binding my ankles. He shows me all of the safety protocols and explains each of the ropes, and clasps as he fastens them. “No one will push you and you can’t just fall out; you have to jump.”
“Leap of faith, Goddess,” Stone calls, clapping like a sports fan getting worked up as his team takes the field.
I turn around, press my fingers to my lips and raise them in the air in a salute of solidarity and a wish for good luck. Stone lifts his hand, palm open. “I’m pretending you blew me a kiss.” He mimes catching it and pressing the closed fist to his chest.
I burst out laughing. The door creaks open and I know it’s time. But when I turn to face them, it’s giddiness, not fear, causing a riot in my heart.
“You’re all set. Don’t close your eyes on the way down. The view is part of the experience,” the instructor says as I line my toes up to the edge of the door.
I’ve been so afraid of dying, of failing, of being alone that I haven’t taken a risk in ten years. While I was busy being careful, the whole world has passed me by. This feels like making up for it all at once.
The countdown begins, and I clear my mind. When they get to 1, I launch myself off the gondola, and the whole world rushes up to embrace me. Is this what it’s like for newborn babies taking their first breaths?
The thumping pulse of my steadily increasing heart rate becomes one with the wild symphony