Page 188 of Shade
I remember staring at him and thinking, “Well hell, if he doesn’t care, then I’m not jumping.” I think I was only up there because my brothers were doing it.
And then he said one more thing to me. “Shade, if you say you’re going to do something, do it. Don’t think about it, because the moment you question yourself is the moment you bail. You may not physically give up, but a part of you has. Be all in or get out. There’s no room for half-assing.”
So I jumped off the cliff. I was four. I couldn’t swim by the way. But my brothers were there along with a bunch of other people to save my four-year-old self.
How’d I break my arm?
Tiller’s head. Landed right on him.
The point to the story?
Ricky wasn’t going to let me get away with walking away from this. Not when I said I was going to be the best and was determined to do just that.
“What if I can’t?” I ask, leaning my elbows against the handlebars, my words brimming with anxiety, regret, and self-disgust.
“You can.” He waits for me to look at him, and when I do, he smiles. “Somewhere in that fear is clarity very few will ever experience.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, do you?
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I’m in my pit, reporters hovering, fans asking for my autograph and yes, everyone knows I’m here.
Do you see me there? The hunch to my shoulders, the tension rolling through them?
I’m scared. I’m nervous. I’m. . . I don’t know what I am other than lost in a moment trying to decipher what it is I’m feeling and what Ricky was talking about.
Scarlet rubs my back and speaks quietly. “Are you okay?”
So she turns my head with her hands on my face, forcing me to be still, giving me no choice but to look at her. When I do, she drops her hands.
It’s then I see it in her face reflecting back at me. It’s all there, on every part of her. It’s her heart speaking to mine, telling me I can do this. Not for her. She’d never ask me to do anything for her. That’s the glaringly obvious difference between her and Rhya. It’s for me.
“You ready?” she asks, curls blowing in the subtle wind. She tries to contain them, but it’s useless, and she takes my hat.
I let her. It looks better on her, and the thought of her wearing my hat spikes my blood and softens my nerves.
“I think so,” I tell her, cool and relaxed, leaning into the bike and leaving my shades on. While everyone is optimistic, my anxiety increases with each person who asks if I’m okay.
But this girl, her “You ready?” spans further than the question.
It’s an “I love you, you can do this.” Assurance.
It’s an “I’m here for you.” Loyalty when it matters.
Cupping my face, she brushes her thumbs under my eyes and lifts my sunglasses.
She searches my face until our eyes meet. “If you’re afraid of falling, don’t look down.”
If you’re thinking to yourself, why’d she say that, you don’t understand the meaning of it.
“I love you,” I say, barely parting my lips over the words, and I know she’s never seen me this scared.
Pressing herself closer to me, my bike separating us, she fills her voice with confidence when she assures me she loves me too.
Did you notice that’s the first time we’ve said it?
It’s certainly not the first time I’ve felt it.
Pulling her lip between her teeth, she bites down suggestively. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and I wasn’t sure when to.”
