Chapter Twenty-Two
I slumped against a mahogany tree, sweat dripping down my neck and soaking into my shirt.
Pouring some water from my canteen over my head, I let it run through my scalp and trickle down my back.
The course was mostly behind me, with just one last zip line left to conquer.
It stretched out like a giant silver ribbon over the mangroves and the turquoise ocean below.
Three stories up, but Keith and the guide kept insisting it’d be worth it.
“Hey, any space over there for me?” Matty asked, nodding at the patch of ground to my left.
I looked around, almost incredulous. “Are you sure one of the other millions of trees doesn’t look more appealing? I mean, that one waaaay over there looks like a beaut.”
He didn’t even hesitate, disregarding my very persuasive argument for literally any other tree, and dropped down next to me. “Are you planning to avoid me this whole trip, or just today?”
“You’re not supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be lounging on a catamaran right now.” I kept my attention forward, aiming for indifference.
“I switched when I saw you’d signed up for the ropes course. I figured, with any luck, we’d get tethered together and you’d have no choice but to talk to me,” he said with a smile that might have seemed charming to any other girl, but I knew better.
I stood up, brushing dirt from my legs. “Talk to you about what? I said everything I had to say to you last night.”
He flashed an easy grin. “Right, when you affectionately referred to me as Hurricane Matthew.”
“Consider yourself lucky. That was the mildest insult I had on hand.”
“I’m a regular listener of your radio show. Believe me, I know full well you were going easy on me.”
My head shot up. “Wait, you listen to my show?”
He shrugged. “I guess I realized it was the only way I’d get to hear your voice and kinda, you know, keep you in my life on a regular basis.”
I stared at him. I couldn’t believe it. Matty listened to Love Is a Four-Letter Word.
All this time, I’d been sending my heartbreak out into the airwaves, railing about love, railing about betrayal, spinning clever little monologues that were really just armor.
And all that time, he was out there, tuning in.
He knew exactly how I felt about him. He’d heard every word and come to Belize anyway.
The ropes instructor clapped her hands together. “We’re going to start harnessing up for the final part of the excursion, our zip-line grand finale, if you will. This one is also a tandem ride, so try to find a new partner and hop over to the line when you’re ready.”
I popped up on my toes, scanning the crowd for Keith even though it defied the instructor’s directive, but ever the rule follower, Keith was already suiting up with his nephew.
I turned, desperately looking for someone, anyone, who wasn’t Matty.
Like Noah’s Ark, though, it appeared as if everyone had already paired off two by two.
Shit.
Matty raised his eyebrows and gave a little shrug, gesturing between us, like, Well, here we are, the last ones remaining.
“I don’t think I’m going to do it,” I said, backing a step away from the harness station. “That one is really high up there, much higher than the last zip line, and I’m not feeling as brave as I was.”
“You? Not feeling brave?” he said, stepping closer.
“You’re the bravest woman I know. Have been since we were kids.
Remember when we wanted to see that band Vampire Weekend play?
But it was at that sketchy warehouse in Bushwick.
How old were we? Fourteen? I was ready to chicken out, but you navigated us through three subway transfers and a guy peeing in a shopping cart like it was nothing.
Even though we were way underage, you walked inside like we owned the place, and the bouncer didn’t even blink. ”
“That wasn’t bravery. That was a padded push-up bra and Ruby Woo Red Lipstick.”
He blushed, and glanced down. “No, you were brave. I used to be so in awe of you. I still am.”
The instructor’s voice cut in, calm and steady. “Okay, everyone, we’re going to start our climb up the ridge. Once we’re at the top, we’ll get you harnessed in for the zip line. For now, keep an eye on your footing. It’s a bit steep.”
As soon as we reached the top, the instructor shoved Matty and me together, tightening the straps of our harnesses with a determined efficiency that left no space for hesitation.
Suddenly face-to-face, we were so close I could feel his breath on my cheek, warm against the cooler air.
Our feet fumbled for balance, the rigging locking us chest to chest, no room to turn, no chance to look away.
I couldn’t help but notice that his frame felt different.
More solid. Muscular. Like a man. Not a boy.
He smelled the same, though, like Tom Ford Oud Wood.
I remember when he picked out the cologne at the big Macy’s in Herald Square.
I told him I liked that scent best, and he bought it without a second thought.
“You know, you smell the same. Like vanilla. Like the way you always did when we’d hug and you never wanted to be the one to let go first,” he said.
I’d forgotten that. Now I was the girl who always let go first. Who pushed people away, who left before she could be left.
“Alright, you two, step up onto the platform,” the instructor called, tugging on our shared harness one last time. “I’ll give you the countdown, and then you push off together, hard. Got it?”
Matty and I stood with the toes of our sneakers touching, our feet edging the side of the platform. My eyes locked on his, and a cold fear washed through me. “I . . . I’m not sure I want to—”
“Three . . . two . . . one!” she called.
Before I even knew what was happening, the guide gave us a little shove as Matty pushed us off with both feet, and suddenly we were flying, air whipping hair into our faces. His chest was warm against me, and for a split second, it felt like nothing had ever gone wrong between us.
But then, we started slowing . . . maybe a hundred yards shy of the landing platform. The world tilted slightly, and the zip line jerked to a stop, leaving us dangling in the open air over the jungle below.
“Matty! What did you do?” I shrieked.
“Nothing. I didn’t do anything,” he said, his voice tinged with defensiveness.
“Oh, c’mon. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? For me to be stuck here, alone with you? I mean, it’s why you didn’t go on the catamaran, isn’t it?”
“You’re the one who wouldn’t help us push off. We probably didn’t have enough momentum to make it all the way across.”
“Well, now what happens?”
“Wrap your legs around me. Maybe we can swing and get this thing started again.”
Reluctantly, I complied. We rocked back and forth like two amateurs on a broken carnival ride.
Nothing.
“I don’t think this is working,” he grunted, still trying.
“Oh no? What was your first clue? The total lack of movement or the fact that we look like a pair of horny koalas mid-coitus?”
Suddenly, a voice called up from down below. “Try not to panic. This happens at least once a month. We just need to get the tow line from the shed and find another instructor to help out. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Don’t go anywhere?! Where does she think we’re going?” Matty mumbled.
And I couldn’t be sure if it was the altitude or the adrenaline, but suddenly the absurdity of the entire situation, me tandem-harnessed to my ex, stuck on a zip line at least one hundred feet off the ground, struck me as ridiculously funny, and I burst out laughing.
“What could you possibly find funny about our current predicament?” he asked.
“This . . . you and me . . . stuck like this. I mean, I swore I would never speak to you again in my life, and now here I am, tethered to you like . . . like . . . we’re in a rom-com written by someone who hates me almost as much as I hate you.”
He pulled back as if my words had slapped him, the mention of me hating him seemed to hit him harder than the whiplash of the zip line’s jolt.
He drew in a breath, his eyes contrite when they met mine.
“I messed up. Big-time. And I know I broke your heart. But I didn’t think .
. . I didn’t think you hated me. I mean, I wasn’t in our relationship alone, El.
You have to admit that a part of you was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Our whole future was standing right in front of us, and I couldn’t get you to meet me there. And I—”
“Oh, so this is somehow my fault now?” I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut through the humid air. “You cheated, Matty. You lied. And now you’re saying what, that I somehow pushed you into it? Made you fuck . . . what was her name? Hannah? Because I didn’t trust you enough?”
He didn’t answer right away, but I could feel the tension radiating off him like heat from the steel cable we were suspended on.
“Don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t try to rewrite history just because you suddenly feel bad about how it ended.
You don’t get to call my walls the problem when you were the one who proved I needed them in the first place. ”
“Hey, up there!” a voice called from far below, breaking the moment like a pin to a balloon. “We’ve got the tow line and should have you moving again in two shakes!”
Neither of us responded.
I looked out over the canopy, the view blurring with unshed tears I refused to let fall. Part of me wanted to scream at him. Another part wanted to vanish completely. But mostly, I just didn’t want to be here, suspended in midair, in every sense of the word.
Stuck.
With Matty.
With the ache of who I used to be. The vulnerable version of me I thought I’d long left behind, but who had apparently just been waiting for the right moment to resurface.