Mirage (15 page)

He gives my shoulder a squeeze instead. “We'll be landing soon.”

“Will you stay with me?” My eyes dart to where she was. Her sudden absence is as much of a shock as her appearance.

He squats down on the floor next to me. “You bet.”

“No, wait. Don't. There's no seat belt.”

He shrugs. “I'll be fine.” His eyes squint with his reassuring grin. “We'll be fine.” I feel better with him here. He seems to sense the electric charge in the air and keeps talking, to reassure one of us. “When you've spent half your life jumping out of the confines of an airplane, you tend not to be so concerned with whether you're strapped in at all times.”

I slowly unclench my hands when I realize my nails are digging into my palms. “Why do you love it so much? This place? Skydiving? You're happier here than anywhere else.”

Nolan chews his lip, gives my question serious consideration. “Some people jump because they're addicted to the adrenaline, to the high. You're like that.” His eyes scan my face as if he's suddenly wondering if that's still true. Neither of us is sure. “But for me, it's not about the high. I've seen so much in the war and”​—​he casts his gaze downward and rubs his hands over his hair with a sigh​—​“
done
so much, I'm . . . My default is to be numb. Jumping is the only thing that makes me feel truly alive. Even though I've been close to death a few times, risking death now,
by choice,
makes me appreciate life more.”

“For some people, waking up to another day makes them appreciate life. That's enough for them.”

He pats my leg. “But not for people like us.”

In all the memories I can access, I can't remember a time when he has said we were alike.

“I blame myself for the fight we had when you low-pulled. Hell, I blame myself for your stunt. I know my wild child. I denied you a shot to prove yourself, so you set out to do that.” His nostrils flare. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.”

He shakes his head. “It's not. I realized something the day you kooked out on acid. I haven't been very good at, well . . . I think you were looking for my attention. Acting out.”

I heard what you said! You never wanted a girl. You said you weren't made to father anything but boys!

This recollection hits me full force. How did the ghost know before I did that my father didn't want me? It's like the dreams that have plagued me, only with different players. The shrill voice in my head rails at him, but I feel nothing but confusion: scattered memories blow in the wind, and I don't know which are real. There's no actual emotion behind the specter's very emotional words ringing in my ears. My father and I are alike in this way. I'm numb too.

He never wanted me.

“You never wanted me.”

His mouth hangs open like he's wishing an argument would leap from his tongue and refute what I've said, but nothing comes out.

Instead of staring at him, waiting for his reply, I find myself looking out of the glass bubble. It appears as though the earth is reaching up to us, but we're descending. I close my eyes as we drop, attempting to block out the world and to shut out the girl whose apparition sits in the enclosed space with her head on her knees. She looks so sad. There's a part of me that wishes he hadn't shown up right when he did. I can't believe I'm thinking this, but I want her to finish her sentence. I want to know what it is that she wants.

She haunts me, but I have to know what's haunting her.

If I knew that, could I put her to rest?

T
HE
B-17
ROLLS
to a stop. When the engines cut, it's like I've never heard silence this loud before. I have, though. I've been to a place where there are no sounds and no pictures but the memories in my head. I clung to them like a life raft. The night of the LSD, I was in a place so silent, it hurt.

My father helps me unfasten the clip on my belt, and I follow him out to the door. The stairs are propped against the side of the plane. Dom waits for me.

“We a go?” my dad asks him, to which Dom gives a thumbs-up. Probably another load of jumpers. I can't decipher this man-speak, but I'm glad to see that my father isn't blistering mad at Dom anymore. The drop zone is Dom's life too. He and his brother have practically lived here since their mom died. Their dad, well, he didn't want his kids either. It'd kill Dom to lose this family.

For the second time, I get a rush of loss like a hot wind that's blown through me. This was
our
life, together. Then the air inside me stills.

My dad walks away but looks back at us as he does.

“How've you been?” Dom asks.

I bite my lip, force a smile. “Been better.”

“That could be interpreted two ways.”

“Probably should be.”

Dom reaches up, smooths his hand over my newly cropped hair. Bumps of pleasure flare on my skin. “I never thought I'd say this, but you're even more badass without your hair. Gives you a rougher edge.”

“I feel softer on the inside. I mean, not because of the hair, but because​—”

His head cocks to the side. “I knew what you meant, babe.”

I look down at my feet. He doesn't let me linger in awkwardness. His finger tilts my chin up. His stare is a cocoon. “You've been through a lot. An experience like you had, nearly dying, it can
change
people, change their whole outlook on life.”

“That's what I've been trying to tell everyone. I
am
changed. I see life differently now: how fragile and
thin
this world is. People don't realize.” I reach my hand out to the air and touch nothing but the open doorway between this life and the next. “It's right there. We can walk right through it. I'm scared to walk through it again, so I'm being extra careful. But it's like nobody wants me to change. They don't want this careful Ryan. They want me the way I was. I see how reckless I was before. How careless. I would think everyone would be happy I've changed from . . .
that
. But none of you are.”

Dom's hand slides down my arm, and he gives my fingers a squeeze. “I'm not gonna lie and tell you that you made people feel comfortable. You've scared everyone you know at least once. Hell, you made my nuts shrivel up in fear with that low-pull jump.” He smiles and kisses my fingers. His voice softens again. “Thing is, you reminded everyone that the walls of safety they put around themselves are complete bullshit. By living out loud and full-on, you're a reminder that they aren't fully living, that they are too afraid. Baby, you're a mirror for their fears.”

Maybe I'm a mirror for my own fears.

My breath catches. Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe there are things about myself I don't want to see.

“Change scares people too,” he says. “You seeming so different scares the stones out of them. But I believe in your fire. It's still in there, just not raging right now, and that's okay. Gives people a chance to catch their breath.”

“Beautiful, the way you see me. The way you talk.” He's like Gran that way.

Impossibly, Dom's smile grows even wider. “It's like you don't know me at all. Ah,” he says, dropping my hand and pulling something from his pocket. “Which reminds me. I was going to wait until later, but now seems like the right time. Close your eyes and open your hand.”

I grin and shut my eyes with my palm upturned, waiting. Whatever he places there is light: a little more weight than the warm air swirling around us. “Okay,” he whispers.

There's an intricately folded origami tiger standing in the palm of my hand.

“I'm holding a tiger,” I say.

“I used to say that about you.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“Nah. Don't be. I'm glad we're talking again, like we used to.”

I turn the tiger over in my hand. He worked so hard on it, even painted it with minuscule strokes of color for the stripes and face.

“It's got a message for you,” he says with a sly grin, but places his finger over my lips when I begin to ask what. “You'll discover the message when you're ready. Keep it somewhere safe. Now let's go back to the hangar.”

He doesn't grab my hand or put his arm around me, which I'm grateful for. I'm happy to have had the quiet moment talking with him. He didn't make me feel bad for being different. Acceptance is a lovely thing when you know you don't belong.

I'm surprised to see the hangar doors closed when we approach. It's too early in the day to close. There were too many people around earlier to turn them away. This can't be good for business. Dom takes one side of the sliding metal door and heaves it open.

A single reckless white balloon escapes through the crack of the door and out into the daylight, floating up into the sky. Free.

I squint and watch it bob and soar on the currents until it becomes one with the sky, disappearing from view.

“Surprise!”

Music kicks in, people are blowing on kazoos, and the hangar is filled with balloons and streamers and people with happy faces. I look to Dom. “Happy birthday!” they all yell.

“It's . . . it's your birthday?”

With a perplexed tilt of his head he replies, “It's
your
birthday.”

I don't know what to say. My parents walk toward me with satisfied grins that they pulled off the surprise.

“You didn't remember your own birthday?” my mom says with a hearty hug and a laugh that doesn't cover the consternation in her eyes. Her brows cinch. “That's something coming from the girl who surprised
us
last year by throwing her own surprise party.”

My grandmother is perched in a lawn chair in the middle of the hangar, smoking a Swisher Sweet cigar. My mom lied about her being home alone. Fatigue draws at the wrinkled skin around Gran's mouth, but she's smiling and nodding her head to the music. Apparently, her not feeling well was all a ruse.

Avery leans against the wall under the flags in the back of the hangar. Her eyes find Dom before they turn to me, and then she smiles big and waves. I frown, not trusting a smile that looks like an afterthought.

Numerous skydiving friends and friends from school approach to wish me happy birthday. Too many faces and names compete for space. Too many jumbled memories. My eyes scan the room for a familiar comfort to anchor me. Joe's absence is a hole in my chest.

I have random conversations with friends who feel like strangers. Some have red cups of I‑don't‑even‑know‑what sloshing around inside. Word has obviously gotten around about my incident with the LSD, because people safely stick to benign topics like their jobs, what they've been doing over summer vacation, and how bad they don't want school to start again. Their mouths are moving and smiling, but their eyes are asking if I'm okay.

More than once, I catch people staring at the pink slash across my brown cheek.

“Attention!” The sergeant has everyone's eyes on him with that one word through the megaphone. “I've got a couple of announcements to make.” The music volume decreases. “For anyone who's doing tomorrow's Sierra Golf demo jump, take it easy tonight.” There's a chorus of good-natured mumblings and laughter. My dad quiets them with one raised hand. “The weather's spotty, but it looks like we're still a go. And I know you've all been anxious for news about the big-way. It'll be next weekend. Practice jumps have been ongoing and will continue tomorrow after the demo jump. Even if you are not participating in the big-way, come out and show support. The larger the crowd, the better we look, and I'm pretty sure you'd like them to pick us for the X Games.”

Everyone cheers. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Avery and Dom having an intense discussion by the bathrooms. He turns to walk away, but she fists his T-shirt and tugs him back toward her. The rage that shakes my body is enough for two people. I know I've been confused and conflicted, but no one likes to be easy to replace. And what kind of cousin moves in at all, let alone so quickly? Her pout makes me wonder what's gone on between them.

Dom looks up and catches me watching them. I spin around and head out the door to the lawn area. I want to be alone, but there are a few people out here ignoring the approaching summer storm, which has turned the sky over the mountains from blue to gray. It's still sunny overhead, though. A few people are swimming in the pool, partying on the lawn, and playing Frisbee. The wind kicks up, lifting the orange Frisbee and tossing it aside.

Dom calls my name. I don't want to talk to him. I'm chaotic. She is screaming inside my head once more, and I can't take it. I hear my name called again. I hear his name in my own head. I feel trapped from without and within.

There's a hand on my shoulder that I know is Dom's. I dive away from him into the sun-warmed water. Air bubbles tickle my bare scalp and skin. Muffled voices and the warble of water fill my ears. I wish I could stay under forever. I look up at the magnified feet dangling into the water, but then they rise up and disappear. I'm blissfully alone in a cocoon of peace.

A big splash sends the water shifting. I turn. Dom swims toward me underwater, his black hair undulating like burned grass in wind. His dark eyes are fixed on me. A memory flashes from the night in the trailer when his hair looked like waves, then flashes to our kissing in the mirror. I shove the memory away.

I push up from the scratchy bottom of the pool and kick upward, but Dom's anticipated that, and we bob to the surface at the same time, just inches apart. “This is a fun game,” he pants. His face is anything but amused.

“I don't want to talk.”

Hear me!
she screams within me.

His eyes squint in confusion. “You just said you don't want to talk.”

“That wasn't me!” I clamp my hand over my mouth. I can't believe I spoke her words. I'm possessed. She's controlled me, and I'm terrified and mortified. My body trembles so hard with fear that my teeth chatter and my head shakes. I'm out of control.