by Shari Arnold
“Come with me,” he whispers, his words like magic dusting the air.
“Where?” I answer, not quite sure why I feel the need to whisper back.
“Does it matter?”
I hate him for this question. I hate that he knows the answer, and has asked it anyway.
With his hand in mine I instantly feel a heat move through my body. His touch isn’t as satisfying as a kiss, but it’s something. More than what I had a mere moment ago.
Meyer tugs on my hand, leading me toward the hallway. For a moment I follow, walking slowly behind him. Then it hits me. I can’t do this anymore. I have to think of Jilly. I could save her life. She is not a risk I can take.
“No,” I say, pulling my hand from his.
Meyer turns back, his expression confused.
“I can’t do it,” I tell him. “Not now. Things are different. I can’t go with you any longer.”
“What do you mean?” He moves toward me, clearly anxious to change my mind.
“No.” I walk backward toward the exit, holding out my hands to ward him off. “No, Meyer. I’m sorry. The game ends here.” I turn toward the staircase, looking to make a quick escape, but his words stop me cold.
“I’m leaving, Livy. After tonight you won’t see me for awhile.”
“What?” I turn back hesitantly, worried this is some kind of trick.
“I came to tell you goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” My hands are instantly shaking.
Meyer moves toward me until we’re once again facing each other. “This is it, Livy. Our last adventure.” He leans his forehead down, resting it against mine. “Won’t you take it with me?”
“Where are you going?” I ask panicked. “When will you be back?” But the Q&A portion of the evening is over.
“You must decide,” he tells me. You must trust me. The words are so clear in my thoughts I swear he said them out loud.
Meyer knows my decision the moment I make it. His smile is triumphant. I take his hand because I have to. My need to be with him is stronger than my need to protect myself. His grip tightens on my hand as though we are sealed, and I like the way it feels. He holds my hand like it’s his hand now.
We travel down hallways and stairs, and through doorways. Once we hit the street we’re running, leaving the hospital and everything I know behind. I feel free again, just like the first night I met him.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I call out.
“You’ll see.”
We’re sliding and stomping through puddles as we make our way across town. After a few more blocks we stop and I catch my breath while he ponders an old historical building directly in front of us. It is taller than the other buildings around. It nearly towers over the old church right next door. I don’t remember what it’s called and neither must anyone else because the sign went missing ages ago, and has yet to be replaced.
“We’re not going in there, are we?” I ask, still rather breathless from our run.
“Not in. Up.” Meyer points to the top of the building and says, “To the roof.” His eyes are sparkling — truth is, I’m pretty sure they always are — and that mischievous smile he always seems to carry around with him flashes at me under the streetlight.
I follow him around the back where a rusted wrought iron fire escape is still anchored to the side of the building. He climbs on but then thinks twice about it and jumps down, gesturing for me to go first.
“This way I can catch you if you fall,” he explains and just like that I’m worried I will.
I stare at the fire escape and the countless rungs that lead to the sky. “Are your friends up there?” I haven’t moved any closer to the ladder. My feet are planted in the muddy grass.
“It’s just you and me tonight, Livy,” he says and I hate that his words make my heart beat faster. I hate that I like that we’re alone. I am a traitor to my own self.
I wrap my arms around myself, fending off the cold. There’s this funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. It tells me what I’m about to do is bigger than Meyer’s other adventures. There is more at stake tonight. And yet I agree to it anyway. I move toward the ladder and begin my climb up to the roof. The iron is rough against my hands but I grip it like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
“All the way up,” Meyer says from just below me.
I nod to let him know I heard him. If I lose my focus, I’ll think about how high I’m climbing and that would end this adventure prematurely.
Why am I allowing myself to get caught up in his games again? And why do his games always test my comfort with heights? Why can’t we play, you know, on the ground? There has to be something we can do without using gravity as our catalyst.
I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts I don’t notice how far I’ve climbed until the rungs run out and I’m pulling myself up onto the roof.
“What do you think? Isn’t it beautiful?” Meyer is just behind me. He vaults to his feet like a professional swimmer emerging from a swimming pool.
I take a moment to look around and get my bearings. He’s right. It is beautiful. I feel like I’m back in my bedroom, staring out at the world, except this time I’m not trapped behind glass wondering what it feels like to be a part of the night. I have to admit this feels better.
“See that building?” Meyer points toward downtown Seattle where a large apartment building stands higher than any neighboring structures.
“Yes.”
“That’s our next destination.” He brushes past me, moving toward the edge of the roof and then right before I think he’s going over the side, he stops. “Are you with me, Livy?”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“Have you ever been roof jumping?” Meyer is gazing out over the city. “I think you’ll love it. It’s exhilarating.”
“You mean like jumping jumping? Like…” I use my fingers to illustrate a person running and then jumping to the next building.
Meyer slowly shakes his head. His lashes are lowered, his gaze intense.
“So then…” I look out at all the roofs in the distance, zeroing in on the one he pointed to earlier. It is so far away, much further than one could reach with a jump. “So then we’re going to run and…?” I point at him and then scrutinize the skyline. “We’re not jumping, are we?”
“Yes, Livy.” Meyer strolls over to me, moving so slowly he must be afraid I might startle and run away. “Remember when you asked if I could fly?”
I nod my head slowly.
He stops once he’s in front of me. It’s so cold outside each word he says comes with a puff of air. “I thought I might show you how it’s done.”
“Show me what?” I whisper.
Before I can stutter out my thought he tugs on my hand, pulling me flush up against his body. “Don’t let go of me.” His arms wrap around me, and the nervousness I’m feeling doubles the moment he says, “Whatever you do, don’t let go.”
“Wait! Stop!” I cry out and he freezes. “I can’t do this. I can’t fly with you. It’s crazy!” My breath is coming fast now, tiny gulps of air that — this time — have nothing to do with how close we’re standing.
“You already have, Livy. How else do you think I got us down from that ride?”
“No! I don’t know!” I push at him, needing some distance and he gives it to me, albeit reluctantly. “It’s not possible.”
“What are you afraid of? Do you think I’ll drop you?”
“Well there’s that.” I start to panic just thinking about it.
“’Cause I won’t.” He moves a bit closer and I almost step back, preferring my distance from him, but then decide against it. “You can trust me, you know,” he continues. “I won’t let you fall.”
I shake my head, holding my hands up. “This is too much,” I tell him. “People don’t fly.”
“Some people do.” His eyes narrow upon my face. He appears offended.
I continue to shake my head. It helps to keep sa
ying no. It makes me feel more in control, almost as though I’m willing the world back to normal.
“How about this.” Meyer holds his hands out, showing me he means me no harm. “How about if I fly around for a bit so you can see how it’s done, and then we’ll try it together?”
“But I can’t fly.” Not sure why I have to spell that one out.
“You can!” His smile is so innocent, like a child’s. “I’ll show you!”
“Alright.” I brush him off, gesturing with my hand. “Go on. Go fly about. Maybe that will make me feel better.” Yeah, right. But I can’t concentrate with him just standing there, staring at me.
He gives me one last flash of a grin and then he leaps up into the air. And sure enough, he is flying. Meyer is flying. His body is moving through the air like a bird just without the flapping of wings. His arms are at his side while he moves in a forward motion around the sky. It doesn’t seem possible. Of course it’s not possible. But there it is.
“Holy… Wow.”
“See, Livy!” He calls down to me. “It’s not scary at all! You should try it!”
“No, definitely not,” I mutter to myself. “That is definitely not going to happen.” But I can’t stop watching him. He’s so graceful, and confident in the air. His movements are smooth like he’s gliding on ice. He does a little flip, showing off, and his laughter carries back down to me.
“Amazing,” I whisper, no longer focused on my fear, but instead caught up in what I’m seeing.
“I don’t understand how you do it,” I tell him once he’s back on the roof. His descent was so smooth and easy, it makes me wonder why airplane landings are always so abrupt. “It just doesn’t make sense. People aren’t supposed to be able to fly. It’s not possible.”
“Well, I’m not sure why you still believe that after watching me.” He points to the sky, his eyebrows lifted in challenge. “Should I have a go again? Will that convince you?”
“No.” There’s actually only one thing that will convince me, I just have to get up the courage to say it.
“Well, Livy?” he says, reading my mind. “You ready to try?”
“I’m getting there.” I cover my face with my hands and let out a nearly silent, little scream. “What are you thinking, Livy?” I ask myself. “How are you even considering this?”
“I won’t drop you,” Meyer says and without opening my eyes I can tell he’s moved closer.
“Drop me? Please, let’s not talk about that.”
“Fair enough,” he says and then he’s pulling my hands away from my face. “Come on. Trust me.” His eyes are pleading with me. He wants this so much I feel as though he’s the one with the greater risk.
“You’re going to wrap your arms around me like this.” He takes my arms and places them around his neck. “And I’m going to hold you like this.” He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close, and I close my eyes, pretending we’re dancing. Yes. That’s what we’re doing. We’re dancing. Not leaping to our death. Not thwarting gravity. I take another breath — desperate to relax — but he smells so good, and he’s so damn close, I can’t concentrate.
“All you have to do is say, down, Livy. That will be our safe word, alright?”
“Down,” I repeat, trying it out on my lips. “Down.” I nod my head, liking this idea. “Alright.”
“But give it a chance,” he begs. “Promise me you’ll give it a moment before you freak out.”
“I’m not going to freak out,” I tell him. “I’m already freaking out. But I will promise to stay up longer than a second. How about that?”
Meyer laughs and it’s a nice sound, rich and deep. I feel it lightly flutter my hair. “That’s all I can hope for,” he tells me softly. “At least for now.”
I look up and his eyes meet mine.
“Why me?” I whisper suddenly.
“What do you mean?” His mouth is so close, his expression heavy like the feeling in my stomach.
I blink up at him. “This isn’t part of the game, is it? This secret of yours, I can’t imagine you go around telling everyone. So why me?”
His eyes narrow and I worry he’s not going to answer. Without thinking about the consequences I lift my hand up and touch his face. Instantly he freezes. His arms are tight around my waist, his eyes on mine.
“This is too big a secret.” My voice stays soft. “You can pretend this is just a part of the game, but I know better.”
Meyer remains still as though he’s barely breathing. His expression so dark he appears dangerous. “Is it that important to you, my answer?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
A flicker of doubt crosses his face and then it’s gone, hidden where I can’t find it.
“I want—” He stops and then starts again. “It’s just that …” He looks away, a heavy scowl marring his normally smooth complexion. I’ve never seen him so at war with himself. It’s rather off-putting. And a little bit exciting. It’s pretty clear that whatever he’s feeling, he doesn’t want me to know.
“You’re right,” he says, still scowling off at the night. “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never taken someone flying here.”
“Here?” I whisper, not wanting to interrupt, but needing clarification.
“Just you.” His scowl softens when he looks at me.
I can’t stop the grin from erupting across my face. Apparently it’s contagious because Meyer smiles back. It’s a simple smile, not crooked or mischievous like his usual ones. This one is… sweet. Heartfelt. I like this one best.
I stop myself from asking anything more, even though I would love to dig around inside his feelings until I feel reassured and comfortable. But seeing how I actually got him close to answering one question, I really shouldn’t press my luck.
“Thank you?” I say, and Meyer laughs.
He pulls me in close again and it’s everything I can do to keep from sighing. With his hands around my waist I feel safe. Well, perhaps not safe, but protected. Less alone.
“I’m going to count to three and then you’re going to feel us rise above the ground.”
“Right now?” I jerk away, or at least I try to. Meyer’s grip is steadfast.
“Right now.”
My heart slams against my chest. I worry I might pass out.
“And then what?” I ask, squeezing my eyes shut.
“And then we’ll be flying.”
“But what if I start to slip or you can’t hold onto me?”
“That’s not going to happen, Livy.” He sounds so calm, I wish I could borrow some of that composure.
“How do you know? I’m not the lightest thing you could carry while flying. What if I’m too heavy? What if you can’t hold onto me?”
“Well, here’s the thing,” he tells me as my feet rise up off the ground.
“What? What is it?” My toes are dangling, not touching anything at all. I point my toes back toward the ground, stretching them as far as I can. But it’s not enough. I’m still above the ground.
“I don’t actually need to hold onto you like this.”
My head snaps up and I stare at him. “You don’t? What do you mean?” I’m not really following what he’s telling me. I’m just waiting for the moment when he propels us into the sky and gravity takes us over.
“I can make you fly with just the touch of my hand.” His warm breath brushes against my ear when he whispers, “I just thought it might be more fun if you held onto me.”
With that we ascend into the air. I watch the roof that was, a mere moment ago, beneath my feet get further and further away.
“Holy crap!” I scream and squeeze my eyes shut. The air rushes around us, coming from every direction.
“Livy! Open your eyes!”
I take a breath and then I do it. I open my eyes. Meyer is still holding me around the waist while I cling to him, deathly afraid to let go. Our faces are so close we could be two lovers caught in an embrace, except that one of us is holding on out of sheer fr
ight.
“How does it feel?” he asks me. “How does it feel to fly?”
I look down and see the roof about ten feet below me. “This is flying? Because it doesn’t feel like flying. It feels like hovering. Why are we hovering?”
“I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to panic on me.” He studies me for a minute, his gaze more intense than normal. Then he smiles. “Do you want more?”
This question is so weighted. Yet the answer is suddenly clear. Do I want to believe he can fly, that such a thing is even possible? Do I want to accept that there could be something more than the simple life I lead? Do I want to rise above it all — with Meyer — and feel like this… forever?
“Yes.”
His arms tighten around me and then we’re moving again, flying through the air. I feel a scream bubble up inside my throat as I press closer to him, my face buried against his chest, and then with a light thud we’re back down.
I hear the crunch of an old tar roof under my feet just before I open my eyes. In the matter of a few minutes we’ve traveled three blocks closer to downtown Seattle. I can hear the traffic near Pike Place Market. And we’re still so high I can see it.
He drops his arms from around me, slowly taking a step back. “Well? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I touch my hands to my heart, feeling it beat rapidly inside my chest. There’s a look about Meyer right now. He seems unsure, hesitant.
“Well, Livy? What did you think?”
What did I think? Hmm. Good question. What did I think?
“Let’s try it again,” I say, and that trace of hesitance in his expression falls away.
“Really?” he says. “Are you serious?”
“I think so?” I start to laugh, and then realize I mean it. I do want to try again. “So, I really don’t have to hold onto you?”
“No, you really don’t.” He looks a bit bashful all of a sudden and I like this look on him. It’s not like his other looks. It makes him appear vulnerable.
“So then. why did you…? Why did we…?” I feel my cheeks grow warm. I can’t bring myself to ask this question, but he gets it anyway.