21 Jump They Say #2
Dash goes rigid beside me. “You’re only spreading ashes, right?”
“Yes,” I breathe—a cross between a sob and a laugh. “You didn’t think I was gonna jump, did you? I’m enjoying this adventure a little too much to off myself.”
He rolls his eyes at my weak attempt at humor.
Eyeing the rotting boards, I thrust the silver urn into Dash’s hands. “Hold this. I don’t want to carry the damn thing all the way out there.”
His brows furrow. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” I unscrew the lid and plunge my hand inside.
Coarse sand spills through my fingers as I pull out a fistful of ashes.
It doesn’t escape me that only a few days ago, the mere thought had horrified me.
Now I’m practically playing in it like a kid in a sandbox.
I fill one pocket, then go back in for another handful and fill the other one.
“You want me to ...?” Dash nods toward the bridge.
“No.” I force a smile. “I need a minute. Alone, if you don’t mind.”
Still clutching Mom’s urn, he presses a quick kiss to my temple. “Be careful.”
“I will,” I promise as I take my first step onto the old boards.
Mom was right. The thick planks don’t meet, giving me a peek at the shimmering water below through the gaps. It reminds me of something straight out of an amusement park, but there’d be absolutely nothing amusing about falling through.
Once I reach the center, I gaze out at the lake. It must be at least fifty feet to the surface. How did they survive that fall? With a shudder, I peer over the side and search for the ladder Mom wrote about. The rusty rungs don’t look like they’d hold half my weight these days.
“Okay, Mom. I’m here.”
I wipe my slick palms on my shorts, then fish into my left pocket and scoop as much of the sand as I can into my hand, memorizing the rough texture of the grains against my skin.
Murmuring a silent, “I love you,” I toss the ashes into the air, where they catch a light gust and drift across the lake.
The boards beneath my feet vibrate and I freeze, scanning the horizon in both directions.
“Everything okay?” Dash shouts.
“For a second I thought—” Laughing, I shake my head. “It’s nothing. I’m imagining things. I’m almost done.” I drag the second handful from my pocket and raise my fist in the air. A whistle blows in the distance, and I go rigid.
The train.
Air rushes from my lungs as Mom’s ashes slip through my fingers, creating a dust cloud around me.
Dash shouts at me. “Zoey, get off the bridge!”
Paralyzed with fear, I stand in the center of the bridge, unsure of which direction to go. “Where is it?”
“Run!” Even from fifty feet away, terror shines in Dash’s eyes.
“Which way?” The boards tremble, rattling hard enough to shake dust into the air.
Nervous laughter rolls up my throat. Not dust. Mom.
The whistle blows again, louder this time, and my thoughts scatter.
The memories from her trip stitch themselves into the fabric of my mind until I replay her last moments on this very bridge in real time.
Ignoring Dash’s frantic cries, I scramble over the side and cling to the rusted rungs of the ladder, my breath coming out in sharp bursts. Terror races through my veins as I release the bottom rung and land on top of the concrete pillar alongside decades of graffiti and fresh bird poop.
Not even Mom’s memories prepare me for the train hitting the tracks above like a sledgehammer to my skull. My bones vibrate until I’m certain I’ll break into a million tiny pieces and blow away like Mom’s ashes.
I gape into the rippling water below, the concrete shuddering beneath my feet. And that’s when it hits me ... Mom stood right here.
A million questions swirl through my brain like fish in a bowl. What was she thinking at that exact moment? Was she scared? Was Dash right? Did she mean for me to find this place? My last thought replays inside my head, and suddenly I know.
This is why I’m here.
With Dash somewhere above me, screaming my name over and over, I squeeze my eyes shut and tuck my arms tightly to my sides. Then, inhaling one last deep breath, I point my toes and leap.
After falling through the warm air for what seems like hours, I slice through the icy water like a knife.
The murky lake presses in on all sides, and regret hits me almost immediately.
Jumping into a lake from a bridge is nothing like diving into the pool at the Y.
Instead of resurfacing right away, I keep going down .
.. down ... down, until I’m sure I’ll hit the muddy bottom.
But the lake must be a hundred feet deep, because I keep sinking.
My lungs burn and my skull threatens to cave in.
But still, I keep sinking. The farther down I go, the colder and darker the water is.
I’m going to die down here without ever having sex with Dash.
Oh God . . . Dash.
My heart hammers in my ears, the bridge a blur above me as I reach for the surface.
Stroke after stroke, I drag my arms through the dark water, my lungs screaming for air.
As soon as my head breaks the surface, I suck in a breath, then another, bobbing in the water while I find my bearings.
My pulse races like the world’s worst caffeine and sugar high, and I know the eventual crash won’t be pleasant.
“Jesus, Zoey, are you okay?” Dash’s voice cracks as he shouts from the shallows, wading in up to his ankles, gripping his hair in both hands.
Arms trembling from the effort, I swim toward him. “It was touch and go for a minute, but I’m alive.”
“When you jumped ... my heart damn near stopped.” He meets me knee deep in the lake and drags me from the water. “I thought I lost you.”
I barely find my footing before his mouth closes over mine and he’s kissing me senseless. This time when my lungs scream for mercy, I don’t complain. I’d gladly drown in his kisses. At least I’d die happy.