“Yes, it has.”
My mother used to spend a lot of time with the Jasons. I remember coming home from school to the three of them hanging out in the afternoons, thankful for the distraction. Instead of the usual peppered questions about my school day from my mother, the Jasons would entertain me. We’d make cookies and sneak bites of the batter, or they’d put on skits, pretending to be animals, or sing me songs about glamour girls with their “hair so high.”
I never understood why they even liked my mother, but there is a part of her that I’ll never know. The part that people from the outside see. My view of her will always be tainted by our mother-daughter dynamic. With my dad, I somehow got both sides. He was my father, but I saw him as other people did, too. That’s what made his death even harder. Not only did I lose a father, I lost a friend, a hero, a partner in crime.
“Tell them I said hi.”
“Will do. What are you doing today?”
Maybe try and save another life, I don’t say.
“Probably hang out with Edge.”
“Sounds good.” Her eyes gloss over for a second, her face blank. I try to see what the Jasons see in her. The person and not just my mother.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, even though I don’t have a question in mind yet.
“Of course. I’m all ears,” she says.
“Don’t say all ears.”
My mother makes a noise. “Why don’t you write me a list of acceptable and unacceptable sayings?”
I smile and say, “Okay. It will start with Tee Tee.”
“I’ve been good about that!”
“You’re right, you have.”
I take another sip of the tasty sludge a.k.a. smoothie. I look at the background picture on my mother’s phone. It’s a picture of Larry on a beach, wearing one of those wide-brimmed hats. I hold up the phone.
“What do you see in him? I mean, besides that he has money?”
She makes a face, but I think my question is reasonable.
“You’ll find that even when the money’s there, it’s never about the money. Larry’s easy to be around… He doesn’t judge me.”
“Did Dad judge you?”
“Look, Tee…Tegan, it’s not right to compare the two. You and I both know they’re totally different people. Your father didn’t judge me, but I guess I judged myself more around him.”
“Why?”
“Well, I always felt I had to be a better person for him. He did so much for you, for our country, I always felt like I needed to do more. That’s why I started the nonprofit. I have no regrets about that, but Larry is good for me, too.”
“Dad wouldn’t have liked him. Just saying.”
We both smile at each other, and it feels like the first melted drop of an icicle.
“No, probably not. But it’s important that we grow and change. I will always miss your father—you have to know that. I get that it was a hard transition for you with Larry coming into our lives, but give him a shot. He’s okay.”
She starts punching numbers into a calculator, looking through receipts from the renovation, which is about to start.
“New husband, new house,” I say.
“New daughter, too, apparently,” she says, winking.
“Still working on that one.”
“You’re doing fine. How are the applications going?”
“I started my essay.”
“Great.”
My mother gets a text, and I can see it’s from her doctor’s office. An appointment confirmation or something.
“Is that for a physical?”
A flash of fear washes over my mother’s face, and I think, please, don’t ever let me see her name. “Actually, I’ve been waiting to tell you until I knew more. They found a tumor near my ovary.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you…you’ve seemed uneasy enough lately.”
She gets up and goes to the sink, rinsing out her glass.
“Mom…”
“It’s fine. It’s benign!”
I hear myself sigh, and keep breathing. If she only knew how close death is, how it’s all around us.
“But they’re going to remove it anyway. It’s a minor surgery, totally procedural. And Tegan…” She walks up and touches my new hair. “I need you to be there. When they put me under anesthesia, and when I wake up. It only takes two hours. It’s on Friday. Okay?”
“Of course, Mom.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, promise.”
She kisses me on the cheek.
“It’s nothing to worry about.”
“But your face, it looks worried.”
“Well, it’s a worrying thing, but really, I feel good about it. They’re simply covering the bases by getting rid of it.”
“How did you know?”
“I had some pain, and got it checked out. They gave me a CAT scan.”
“Ugh.”
“What?”
“Nothing, I just don’t think I could handle anything happening to you, too.”
“I’m great, Tegan. Honestly, I feel healthier than I’ve felt in a long time.”
She hugs me and kisses my cheek.
“Okay, okay.”
The doorbell rings, and Mom goes to answer it. The minute she leaves the room, I get that feeling again. That rush before it happens. My phone buzzes, and it startles me. I grab it from my pocket. It’s a text from an unknown number. It says jonah lee. With shaking fingers, I text back, Who is this? Some typing bubbles come up like they’re responding, but then the whole conversation disappears. What? My throat tightens and my heart picks up. My mother returns with her UPS package in her hand. I shove my phone back in my pocket.
“Honey, I know I’ve asked you this a lot lately, but is everything okay?”
No, I want to say. Everything is definitely not okay.
“I’m fine,” I say feebly.
She seems to accept my answer, but isn’t buying it fully.
“Okay, be careful. I’m here if you need me.”
“I will.”
When I get to my room, I try rebooting my phone. The text is still gone. But the name is seared into my brain, like the others were. If I could only find out who’s behind this! I shake my phone and bang it against the wall a little, but nothing changes. I sit down and take a deep breath. And another.
I text Edge, whose phone has now been replaced.
Meet me at the Circle? Got another live one.
Okay be there soon.
Dupont Circle is scattered with the usual randoms, but also everyone else imaginable, because for late July, it’s actually cool for DC. Suddenly, it feels like fall. Like new beginnings. My heart dips and swells when I see Edge come up from the Metro.
We hug, and he kisses me quick. There’s no time for small talk.
“I googled the name,” I tell him. “There was a few that came up in the middle of nowhere in Virginia, which I wouldn’t be able to make it to in time. But the one I think it is…he’s a skydiving instructor. There’s a picture of him on the website. He’s done more than five hundred jumps.”
“Not anymore,” Edge says. “Where is it?”
“I called. His next jump is at 4 p.m. in Churchville, outside of Baltimore.”
“You think we can make it?”
“With some luck, yes.”
“Let’s do it.”
I grab his hand, and we head back down to the Metro. From there we go to Union Station and catch the Northeast Regional Amtrak with two minutes to spare. We settle in our seats as the train pulls away. I’m fidgety with nerves, and Edge must notice because he starts talking to distract me. He begins to tell me more about his family situation from over the past few days.
&nbs
p; “My aunt came back with some dude she picked up at a casino in Virginia. This guy was, like, super strung out. He was looking around at things he could steal from our house, not that we have anything valuable. Anyway, they took off again to some other casino. I constantly try to tell my mother that her sister is draining her bank account, but she doesn’t really care. I’m like, what about me? I have dreams and they aren’t to work as a busboy at Toki Underground. Although they have offered, and I’d get free ramen.”
I laugh a little too loud. “Or you could start a church landscaping business.”
“Yeah. Super big prospects.”
“Well, tell me.”
“What?” he asks, even though he heard my question.
“Your dreams.”
He sighs. Outside the window, the industrial buildings turn to fields and estuaries. The train conductor checks our tickets.
“I want to be a DJ,” Edge says. “But I need more equipment. I know college isn’t really an option, but most DJs didn’t go to college. It’s not exactly a profession you need a college degree for.”
“They don’t have a DJ degree?”
He smiles, but then puts on his serious face.
“No, but there’s an association I can become a part of. To try and get gigs and stuff.”
“Cool.”
“What about you? How’s the swimming going?”
“Yesterday I did a parachute swim. Coach was shaking his head. It would literally be stupid of me not to compete at regionals. I’m swimming faster than when I was training every morning.”
“So you are having a Wonder Woman moment.”
“I guess.”
“Are you gonna? Compete, I mean.”
“I think I am. Do you think I should?”
“Yes! I’ll dry you off.”
I laugh. It was a random thing to say, but it’s funny, and I kind of like the thought of it.
When we get to Baltimore, I get us an Uber. Larry installed the app on my phone for emergencies. I should have told him that I have an emergency almost every day at this point.
On the way out of the city, we speed by graffitied walls and kids skateboarding, rows and rows of low-income housing. There are lots of rusting, overturned kids’ bicycles and scattered trash in measly front yards.
I tell Edge what happened with Gwen, her coming to the pool in a mess of tears, and he shakes his head. “How does remorse look on her?”
“She looked terrible, actually. She’s totally freaked.”
“I would be, too. She should be appreciative, though, like, clean your bathroom for life.”
“Hey, what makes you think my bathroom needs cleaning?”
“If you’re anything like all the other females in my life, then…”
“You mean your mom and your aunt?”
“Yes, and my five other girlfriends.”
My stomach drops, but then I see his smirk. Why does love make you so gullible?
“Shut up. And my bathroom is clean.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” he says.
I try to picture him in my bathroom…and my bedroom. Does he wear boxers or briefs? Is he a light sleeper? Would our bodies nestle together like parts in a machine? What do they call it? Spooning?
“Well, you’re welcome to use my bathroom anytime.” And my bed, I don’t add.
When we pull up to the tiny landing strip, there’s a closed gate but it’s not locked. I tell the driver to wait for us, and we get out. I manage to open the gate enough for us to shimmy in. There are a few small prop planes with the seats taken out, and some people wearing huge backpacks loading into one of them. There’s a small booth set up, and an official-looking guy with a blue jacket that says American Skydiving Network. His name tag says Patrick.
Edge and I both start to speak at the same time, and Patrick holds up his hands. “Hold on, hold on.”
“Jonah. Is he here?”
“Yes, he is. He’s actually about to fly some folks up for a jump. How can I help you?”
The propeller starts on the plane closest to us.
“Wait, he’s flying the plane?”
“Yes. He jumps tandem, but he’s also a pilot.”
We both start running toward the plane as the propellers speed up. Patrick yells at us, but we can’t hear him ’cause we’re both screaming, “Jonah! Jonah! Stop the plane!”
But we are too late. The plane gains momentum and takes off before we are even close.
We walk back, out of breath.
“Can you radio the plane?” I ask Patrick, and he looks at me like I’ve grown horns out of my head. This is a small-time operation, clearly. His booth is made of cardboard.
“Do you know Jonah?” Patrick asks.
“No,” we both say in unison.
“Then can I ask why you were running after the plane screaming his name?”
“She had a premonition,” Edge says.
“Well, would you like me to give him a message?”
“Tell him to be careful,” I say, and Edge grabs my arm and leads me away.
We get back into the Uber and watch the plane. Three different tandems jump out and three parachutes release. It’s beautiful, the moment the chutes collect the air and billow open. Like a gasp for breath, or the blooming of three flowers in slow motion. I can sense the weightlessness, even from the ground.
“Is one of them your friend?” our driver asks.
“It’s complicated,” I say, almost under my breath.
We watch the jumpers land in the field, one after another, each of the parachutes collapsing on the ground in an elegant rush. Then the plane curves around to starts its descent. The wings tilt and it looks as if the engine is sputtering. My whole body tenses. I look over at Edge, and his eyes are closed, as if he’s praying.
The plane lands with a spark and slows miraculously.
“Wow, tough landing,” our driver says.
“Could’ve been worse,” Edge says. We wait until the pilot gets out. He high-fives the jumpers, and they all have some sort of celebratory drink.
“It’s not happening here,” I say, “Maybe we have the wrong Jonah. But we should follow him in case, right?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Our Uber driver gives us a concerned look, but then makes a face like, Oh well.
After a few minutes, Jonah gets into a pickup truck, and we trail his car, a few hundred feet behind.
“What are we going to do?” Edge whispers.
“I don’t know, but we have to go with it.”
“Well, I can’t say being with you isn’t exciting.”
As we head back into Baltimore proper. Jonah turns into what looks like a trailer park, dotted with prefab homes.
“Isn’t exactly Beverly Hills,” Edge says, and our driver laughs.
Jonah pulls his truck into the driveway of a small tract home.
“Park across the street,” I say.
Jonah gets out and stands at the front door, taking what looks like a deep breath before he enters.
It’s silent for a moment, but then we hear a crash, and another, like someone’s throwing things.
“Wait here,” I tell the driver, grabbing Edge’s arm. “C’mon!”
We get out and creep up to the side windows so we can see in. There’s a woman who looks sick with rage, spinning around, yelling at Jonah, her hair all frazzled. She’s talking about pictures she found in Jonah’s phone. Jonah is saying he can explain. She grabs the closest thing to throw at him, which is what looks like a ceramic vase. He ducks and it just misses his head.
He tells her to calm down, and she starts crying.
“We should get out of here,” Edge says.
Jonah tries to hug her, and she pushes him away. She still seems angry and sad, but not
filled with the same rage as before.
“You think he’s going to be okay?”
“Yeah,” Edge says. “Let’s go.”
We run back to our Uber.
“You guys stalking that guy?” our Uber driver asks as we drive away.
“We thought he was someone else,” Edge says.
“Ah, well, where to now?”
“Train station,” I say.
On the train ride back, we’re stunned, frozen in our seats. If that wasn’t the Jonah I was supposed to save, then what happened to the one I was? After a while, Edge wraps his arm around me. It feels good.
“What pictures do you think were on his phone?” Edge asks.
“I don’t know, but that woman was unstable.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think she was capable of killing him.”
“You’re probably right. I only hope someone named Jonah in rural Virginia isn’t dying right now.”
“Yeah. What about the irony, though? The guy has one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, but his relationship with his wife seems more challenging.”
I didn’t think of it that way. He’s right.
“So what’s the takeaway?” I ask. “You never know when you’re going to meet your end?”
“Or choose your women wisely.”
“Is that something your dad told you?”
“Yeah. Speaking of, what about your dad? Did he…you know…have special powers like you?”
“Not that I know of.”
“I’m wondering if, you know…”
“Me too.”
When we get back on the Metro, we’re the only ones in the car. The rumble and shake of the train feels satisfying, like it’s finally settling after what was a very unsettling evening.
“I’m so glad I met you,” I tell Edge. “Please know that. Regardless of whatever happens.”
“You don’t even know,” he says, and we hold each other tight. Then we start kissing. It’s not like one of us kisses the other. We meet halfway. It’s completely mutual.
The world around us, even the sounds of the train, completely goes away. We enter the sweet, heady space that only two people who are connecting in a deep way can inhabit.
At the next stop, an old couple gets on, and I think to myself, I hope you’re doing what you want to do today. I hope you’re making the best of every moment. This is what we have. The here and now. Do your best, even at your worst.
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