The Moment of Letting Go - J. A. Redmerski Page 0,132

not, you could die.”

“I could die walking out the door, babe,” he says with emphasis, squeezing my hands. “Death can happen at any moment. Life is finite, Sienna. The one thing we’re all destined to do, no matter what, is die. I don’t want to be someone always afraid of it. I want to live what life I have left to the fullest and have as much fun as I can while doing it.” His eyes soften on me, his head tilting thoughtfully to one side. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

No you won’t, Luke. Nothing you can ever say …

I want to say these things to him aloud, but I can’t. I can’t because I know Luke is still in a place where guilt and redemption have such a strong hold on him that it will take much more than my words to convince him of it. This he has to do on his own. This he has to realize on his own.

I look away.

“I … I just can’t do this.”

His hands fall away from mine.

“I’m not giving you an ultimatum, Luke. That’s not the kind of person I am. And even if you said to me right now that you’d give up BASE jumping to be with me, I wouldn’t change my mind. I wouldn’t because I know you can’t ask someone to give up something they love. Ultimatums come with consequences. And resentment. You might be happy with me for a little while, but sooner or later you’d miss what you gave up to be with me, and then you’d resent me for it.”

Luke takes a step back and puts up his hand. He shakes his head, looking downward at the floor, struggling to find words.

Then he looks at me.

“Sienna, please don’t say that.” A knot moves down the center of his throat. He takes a deep breath as if to compose himself. “Don’t say you wouldn’t change your mind either way—that means you’re giving up on us.”

“No, Luke, it—”

He moves toward me, cupping my face in the palms of his hands. Seeing the devastation in his eyes feels like a fist is collapsing around my heart, another one about my throat, choking me to death slowly.

“I want you to be in my life, Sienna.” His hands tighten against my cheeks. “Before you, my brother was my life—”

“And I said I can’t replace him,” I remind him. “Luke … I know you’re not doing it on purpose; I know with all my heart that you don’t see what you’re doing, but—”

“What am I doing, Sienna?” He looks wounded—it kills me inside.

I swallow hard.

“Instead of making peace with yourself,” I say, my hands trembling, “you’re ignoring what happened, ignoring the pain, the guilt you feel, and using me to forget about it—Luke, you have to face this.” I lower my eyes, sniffling back the tears. “And I wish I could help you—I want that more than anything—but I can’t do for you what you have to do for yourself, all on your own.” I just hope he understands.

He looks away.

Finally I say, “I think it’s best we just go our separate ways.” I swallow down my tears—it’s so hard to say these things without breaking down in a weeping mess. Because I don’t want to say them—I want to be with him.

His face falls, the sudden surge of determination becoming devastation in an instant.

Then suddenly he rounds his chin as if to gather himself, and his expression shifts to something more casual, but to me it feels like denial. He nods a few times, licking the dryness from his lips.

Then he looks me in the eyes, takes a deep breath, and says, “I’ll prove it to you then. After Norway, I’m not jumping anymore. I will give it up for you. And I’ll wait for you, Sienna.”

Shaking my head, I take a step to the side and away from him; his hands slide away from my elbows.

“I told you … it can’t be like that.” I stop with my back to him, my arms crossed tight over my chest. I can’t look at anything but the floor. And I treat this as if his answer were true, that he’s jumping for the right reasons—there’s no other way I can treat it at this point. “This is your life, Luke. It was your life long before you met me.” I turn to face him. “I’m not going to take you away from your life, from your friends, your passions. I