I’m sure as hell not going to bend to the world’s will.
This defiant declaration is poised on my tongue, but I don’t say it. Instead I fall into the arms of the person who gets me because he’s so much like me. While Dom may be a calmer version, we both have unpredictable storms inside us. We both follow our hearts. We both get high off pushing the envelope. I admire that about us. If no one ever went outside of acceptable limits, we’d never know what we’re capable of. I know I’m capable of doing this jump, of helping my family, of earning my dad’s respect.
“I want to be part of something special.”
“Look in the mirror, Ryan. You are something special.”
The mirror . . .
“I don’t want to look in any more mirrors today.”
Remorse hits me. He probably thinks I’m talking about his idea to play in front of the mirror. “I don’t mean us,” I try to explain, but I can’t possibly explain this. Especially not when I’m attempting to convince him I can do the big-way.
My reflection is supposed to be mine alone. Now it’s like someone else is trying to step out from it. I hope this day was a glitch in the wiring, some kind of temporary mental speed bump. There’s the live-life-on-the-edge brand of crazy and the seeing-spirits-in-the-mirror brand of crazy.
I’ve felt more cold fear this day because of those searching, ghostly eyes than I did with pulling my chute at a thousand feet. That thrilled me but scared everyone else.
Better to be feared than fearful.
Seven
Dom pulls the car into my driveway, shuts the lights off, and turns toward me. “I’ve got something special you can be a part of,” he says. “Mauricio’s planning a party. You want to go on a little trip in the motor home?”
“My folks are never going to let me go off on a trip with you and your brother in some stranger’s abandoned motor home. Where do you guys think you’re going?”
“Nowhere . . . everywhere . . .”
I pinch his arm. “No hablo mysteriously vague.”
“We’re gonna do LSD.”
“LSD? As in peace, love, and sixties? LSD as in dancing like a chicken in a blender with your top off in the rain? That stuff’s still around?”
“I know! It’s old-school cool. Mauricio’s done it a few times, says it’s the ultimate mind trip, totally expanding. He said he never experienced anything like it.” Dom lifts his camera and snaps a shot of the frog-legged underside of a giant June bug on the windshield. “We’re having a small, private party tomorrow night in the motor home. It won’t leave the hangar. We figured it’ll be a safe, isolated place. Contained?—?in case anyone wigs out.”
“Wigs out?”
His face lights up like an explorer. “I’ve always wanted to try it, to see for myself how mind-expanding it is. It could be great for my art. Feel like doing it with me? It’d be another first for us.”
My insides warm. Dom and I have had many firsts.
The porch light flicks on, and my father’s silhouette fills the doorway. He points at the ground directly in front of him. I guess I’m supposed to run right over there and stand at attention like a good little soldier. Or his dog.
I clench my jaw, lean over to kiss Dom’s cheek, and whisper, “What the hell. I’m in. You only live once.”
My dad starts up before I’ve even reached him.
“Where have you been?” His eyebrows are so pinched I bet I could store a quarter in the grooves above his nose.
“You grounded me from jumping. I didn’t realize you grounded me from life.”
“I want to talk?—”
I shove past him through the front door. “Oh, now you want to talk to me? That’s novel. You took jumping away from me, the one thing I love to do more than anything. Punishment has been meted out. Go back to your regularly scheduled programming and leave me alone.”
“Don’t give me your smart mouth, Ryan. Jumping isn’t the only thing I can take away from you.”
“In less than one month I’ll be eighteen, and you won’t have a say in what I do!”
He steps forward, gets all up in my face. “That’s right. In one month you can move out, support yourself, screw up your own life, and be responsible for the fallout. But for now, your ass belongs to me, and you will obey me. Got it?”
“My ass belongs to no one!” I rage back. “You’re so shortsighted, Dad. Take away skydiving?—?go ahead. I’ll get my kicks some other way. It’s my life!”
He jabs a finger toward my nose. “Don’t threaten me, kid. I’ve dealt with worse punks than my own surly, stubborn daughter.”
“Enough!” Mom yells. It’s so rare to hear her raise her voice that it shocks both of us out of our trenches. Her face is a black storm, threatening rain. “What is it about the two of you that rattles each other so? You’re like a couple of spitting roosters, dancing around with your chests puffed out. I don’t like this fighting, this disharmony in my home. Stop it, now!”