Adrenaline: An Ode to Love and Heartbreak

by Sunniva Dee

  He grabs my hands, confusion and regret darkening his irises. He sits up against the wall and tries to pull me in, but I struggle to be free. “Ingela, please—no, I didn’t come in her, not like that, okay?”

  “Stop talking. I can’t listen anymore.”

  “Why did you ask, then? I mean, did you sleep with Bo in Talco? I’ve never asked you about that.” It’s a rhetorical question he doesn’t want an answer to. I get it. And he wants me to understand that what he did wasn’t worse than my actions.

  “That was different. Bo and I have a history, and I exorcised him from my mind and my body that night. It’s how I could return to you the way I did.”

  “By letting him touch you all over, every place that I just touched, every—”

  “Oh hell no. This is not about me, Cameron!” I roar. “You are not changing the subject right now, you slick bastard.”

  Cameron goes silent. Waits for me to stop yelling. I want to kiss him. I need to kiss him, but I also need him out of my apartment. I’m not sharing anyone again, whether mentally or physically. Ever. My chest heaves with stress and anguish.

  “Tell me everything that happened,” I finally huff out.

  “It was nothing,” he whispers. “Nothing. You left. I needed to fix how it made me feel. My first thought was to go base jumping, but it was late, and the only rush open for business during bar hours was sex. What better than finally having that threesome, I figured.

  “Tara was at work. Beth arrived too. We went to Beth’s house and fucked. End of story.” He chuckles a little.

  “What’s funny about that?” I sound hostile. I am hostile.

  “Nothing. They both faked it. Neither wanted to be there with the other, and neither had a real orgasm. It was the biggest hoax I’ve ever been a part of. Fucking ridiculous. Who came up with threesomes being what every guy wants anyway?”

  “Ha. Funny coming from you.”

  “I know. It wasn’t the rush I needed. My adrenaline rush is you. You’re it.”

  “Was. Not anymore.”

  Cameron’s stare finds me again. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just lets go with one hand to cup under my hair at the back of my neck. Then, he draws me closer.

  “Inga, don’t do this. I love you. We’re good for each other.”

  “Doesn’t work that way. When people cheat…”

  “No one cheated. Remember? Please be rational. I paid you back with what you were doing, probably in the very same instance, and neither of us had mentioned a relationship yet.”

  Be rational. That’s about the stupidest thing a guy can say.

  “Are you kidding me? Be rational? No, fuck you and your fucking cock. Until you can think with your actual head, forget it.”

  “Ingela, I am, I—”

  “I need a break. Why don’t you go do something else stupid in the meantime, dickwad. Go, um—just GO!”

  “You don’t mean that.” That beautiful, serious face. He should never be serious. I made him this serious. Smiling, funny, happy Cameron is sad because of me.

  Yeah, well.

  He did that to himself. I’m dying too, so he deserves it.

  Five minutes later, he’s at the door, stalling. Cameron is dressed, leaning against the doorjamb and waiting for me to change my mind. For every piece of clothing he put on, for each time he stretched a hand out to touch my cheek, my grief seeped in deeper.

  But I can’t do this right now. I can’t sleep in this bed with him, having him hold me and kiss me when all I see is the face he made while he came with other women.

  “Baby…” he murmurs. I keep my distance, just staring at him, eyes filling with tears.

  “I don’t know, Cameron,” I say, and Cameron drops his head and leaves.

  This is surreal. Why is she so upset over something that happened before we were even together? I don’t understand her logic. She completely freaked out in there.

  I need action, but I don’t know what to do. I’m sure as hell not heading to the dorm at seven in the morning on a day without classes so Dan can question me. I haven’t slept there in weeks because I’ve been busy becoming fucking symbiotic with Ingela.

  Might as well go to the library to study.

  Who am I kidding? No way am I going to be able to focus on physical laws and meteorology now. Bull. Shit.

  Meteorology.

  Winds.

  I stare up into the early morning sky. Something’s stirring up there. Clouds floating and thickening. Might or might not rain. No winds, though, at ground level. I wonder how Firam Peak’s looking.

  My car’s waiting with all the equipment ready to go. It’s one of my things, to have it all set in case I get a sudden urge to jump.

  Marek’s dropped out of classes this semester. He works a lot, though, in the kitchen at Hooters. Yeah, I’m not negotiating and listening to his complaints about late notice and early mornings right now.

  I hop in and pass by a fast-food joint for some greasy fixings. My phone goes off. For a brief second, I think it’s Ingela, and my whole fucking body reacts. I’m in so deep.

  It’s Arriane. “Cam, is Inga with you?”

  “No, she tossed me out.” I sigh. “She’s so pissed.”

  She cuts straight to the chase. “Why did you have a threesome, you moron? Tell me it wasn’t after you started dating.”

  “I don’t know, because it seemed like a good idea at the time?” It’s one of those answers that sounds like a question. That damn threesome was the lamest idea I’ve ever had. “And no, Inga and I weren’t together when it happened.” I rake a hand through my hair on the way out from the restaurant parking lot. “Ah, man. She’s got to forgive me.”

  “Honestly, Cameron. There’s no telling with Ingela. You know how she is.”

  “Yeah. Unpredictable as shit.”

  “The way you like her.”

  “Ahh, what should I do?” I groan out.

  I don’t have gloves in the car, I realize, as I hit the last traffic light of Deepsilver. It’s supposed to be springtime, but this morning is freezing. My hands are going to go numb if I jump without them.

  Who cares.

  “Do you want to come over? Have a chat with Leon or something?”

  “Leon?” My jaw tenses at the mere thought of talking with my boss about this. Yeah, he’s young and cool, but I’ve never shared anything personal with him. Hell, I’d rather not share personal stuff with anyone. “Why would I want to speak with Leon?”

  “Concoct a cunning plan?” She’s smiling—I hear it in her voice; the girl trusts him with everything.

  “That’s for chicks. You’re the ones who devise weird plans.”

  “Well, if you want her back, you better come up with something.”

  Firam Peak rises in front of me, and I’m done talking. I let the car shamble upward, past the Shisha Gardens exit, and onto the dirt road where stones and gravel hop to the side as the tires hit them.

  “What is Inga doing, then?” Arriane asks.

  Impatience finally claims me. “How am I supposed to know? She threw me out, remember? I just need a break from drama. She makes no sense. That threesome happened while you were in Talco, and probably at the exact same time as she was banging her ex.”

  “I figured,” Arriane says. Good. Not everyone thinks I’m a jackass. “You still suck. Damn you, Cam. Now that she was finally happy.”

  I close my eyes, absorbing that it wasn’t just me; Arriane noticed too. “You think she was happy? That I made her happy?”

  “Yeah, idiot.”

  “Not ‘cocksucker?’ Your insults are weak,” I say. I can’t stop a small grin from sneaking out thinking about my crazy girl. Incorrigible.

  “Douche-pack,” Arriane retorts, Inga-style. I grin wider.

  “She’s so crazy.” My eyes are burning. What if this is it and I can’t convince her? Maybe Swedes don’t forgive people—or at least not Americans.

  “She is. Don’t cry, Cam.”

  �
��No, screw that. I’m not crying. Gotta go, okay?”

  “Where are you?”

  Seriously? “Heading out for a jump. Firam Peak.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yep.”

  “No, Cam, you sound like you should be taking it easy. Don’t do this.” Arriane, man. She’s everyone’s mom lately.

  “I’ll be fine,” I say. “Thanks for calling.” Then, I switch off the phone.

  Damn, this place is gorgeous today. Clouds droop heavy over the stone wall, mirroring my mood, and I hurl a rock down into the ravine for the pleasure of watching it disappear. It bounces off a dwarfed outcrop and keeps flying, falling to its death below.

  I do my routine check of suit, wings, shoes, and parachute. I strap on my helmet and make sure the goggles sit snugly over my eyes. Only the gloves are missing. My broken finger stands out, slightly bent to the right. It thuds quietly, reminding me of my mortality.

  And there it is, the rush I need.

  I lean out over my favorite diving board. It juts only a few feet past the mountain wall, which makes this all the more thrilling. The last time I was here, I skimmed a shrub with my fingers on the way down. Scraggly branches appear about two hundred yards down. Pretty sure that’s where it was.

  I breathe in deeply, enjoying how the high of almost-fear courses through my body and tenses me up. I’m ready.

  So fucking ready.

  I howl out my relief as I swing off the outcrop headfirst. I keep my legs together and my arms close so the wings can’t hinder the speed as I pummel toward the ground top speed.

  No Dan or Marek is above me to yell insults until I spread my wings. Yeah. Fuck everything, because this? This—

  Is reality.

  This is life. It’s happiness, death.

  It’s all I’ve ever craved.

  Bo has a sixth sense when it comes to me. I didn’t call him. He called me.

  At four in the morning, West Coast time, he should be asleep. Not even Bo’s up this late unless he’s been partying.

  Maybe he has. God, I don’t even care what he’s been up to. The recognition is so new, I gulp in air.

  “Hej, Bo.”

  “Hej. You up already?” The familiar silk of his voice makes me start crying again. It’s all I’ve done since Cameron left an hour ago. “I knew it,” he mutters to himself. “What’s wrong, Inga?”

  “It’s over between Cameron and me,” I sob out.

  “Why?” Bo isn’t a fan of unnecessary words when he wants to get to the bottom of something.

  “He cheated on me.” I flop on my bed again and bury my face in the pillow to stop from crying.

  Bo doesn’t express incredulity or outrage. He just soothes me with little shhhs and tsks the way he used to at home when I was upset.

  “Tell me what happened,” he murmurs.

  “The asshole went and had a threesome. He’s such a dick. I thought we were good together, and I was… really beginning to love him.”

  “I know you were. I’m so sorry, Inga. He doesn’t deserve you. I wish you didn’t have to go through that after everything you went through with me.”

  I sniff-laugh at that. “I’m too good for everyone.”

  “Yeah,” he chuckles low with me. “When was this? Yesterday?”

  I puff out air in an effort to calm down. “Yeah. Well, no. Yesterday was when I found out. It happened a few weeks ago.”

  “After the last time we saw each other?”

  “Mmmm. No. During Talco. He should rot in hell, and I want to go back to Sweden.”

  He’s quiet, and it’s annoying to know what he’s thinking. He’s not going to hold back either. “Inga.”

  “What!”

  “What were you doing after the Talco show?”

  “Same as you,” I clip out, and he chortles. “Yeah. You were. What does that tell you?”

  “Nothing, except that Cam is an asshole. Because with us it’s different.”

  “It is? Were you dating him when you were with me in Talco?” he prods sweetly.

  “No, but…” I huff. “Are you saying we weren’t special? That there’s nothing special with us? And do you think it’s okay for someone to just have threesomes left and right when they don’t even love those people?”

  “Inga, Inga. No, I don’t think threesomes are the solution to anything. Has he done it again or something?”

  “Maybe… He says he hasn’t, but who knows if he’s lying.”

  “So he’s been loyal to you since you started dating, you’re saying?”

  “No. Are you rooting for him now? ‘Go, Cam. Let’s test how far you can go with her.’ And guess what, fuck you, Bo, for not seeing that we were special and that what he did sucks balls and that he’s the… I’m—forget it.”

  Suddenly, the floodgates open. I can’t get a word out. I’m having a complete breakdown. I barely hear Bo on the phone, trying to comfort me, trying to make me think about something else. My entire life is coming to a crashing end. I can’t handle it. I can’t muster the strength to leave this conversation either. I’m just—

  Bawling. Bawling, bawling.

  “Inga!” he finally shouts to get through to me, and that’s when I manage to croak out an “I’m okay” and “goodbye” and hang up.

  Bo calls again. And again and again. So I drop my phone in the toilet and go to bed.

  “Snap out of it. You’re being pitiful,” Arriane says. I wonder how she got in. Oh yeah, I didn’t lock the door after Cameron.

  “Easy for you to say with your perfect boyfriend and family,” I tell her from within my pillows and duvet.

  “At least pick up the damn phone when I call. I can’t have you be like this, Inga.”

  So stern.

  “You’re not the only one who’s hurting, okay?” she continues. “I talked to Cam this morning.”

  I sniff.

  “He told me. It happened while you were busy with Bo in Talco. Really, you finding out should change nothing between you two. You’re letting Tara ruin a great relationship with old news you just didn’t know about.”

  “It’s not that easy,” I yell.

  “Who used to talk sense to me when I didn’t want to take my chances with Leon? You. If it weren’t for you, Leon and I might not have been together right now. Love made sense to you back then.”

  “Your situation was different,” I mumble. “Why’s everyone on my case today? Bo too. I can’t catch a break. What happened wasn’t my fault.”

  “Maybe it was, Inga. How do you think Cameron felt when you scrammed to meet up with your ex? Like Leon, Cam’s a man of action. He always does stuff, right?”

  “Crazy stuff. Fucking adrenaline junkie,” I whisper.

  “Exactly. You were worried he’d be hung up on the details, remember? You hoped he wouldn’t ask what you’d been up to with Bo in Talco, and he never did. He took the high road.”

  “Whatever that means.”

  “He decided to overlook it because he was happy with you and didn’t want to spend time rehashing stupid events from the past.”

  “He should have told me what he did!”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Who the hell knows with you, Inga. I’m sure he was afraid of your reaction. Why take chances when things were good? Anyway, he’s at Firam Peak, now, out on one of his stunts.”

  I duck out from my pillow. “What? I didn’t know he was jumping today.”

  Worried, violet eyes meet mine. “Yeah. I’m not an expert on extreme sports, but my guess is you’re not supposed to commit impulse jumps—especially when you’re upset. And he is. Inga, he sounded like he was about to cry.”

  I tip up on my elbows. Look around for my clothes. “Why would he do that? He’s so stupid. Oh God, what if he gets himself hurt? He better not be up there alone.”

  “He is.”

  “I’m going to kill him!”

  Okay, Inga, breathe. Cameron is an experienced athlete.

  —With a death wish.

  On
our way to Firam Peak, the skies open. It rainforest-pours so forcefully, Arria and I scream to hear each other over the pummeling against the roof.

  Despite the last three hundred yards of road being unfit for motorized vehicles, we drive until we find Cam’s hobble-mobile at the top of the mountain. There’s no sign of him up here.

  Arriane eases the truck as far out on the edge as she dares. We still can’t see down into the ravine, but judging by the steep granite of the opposite wall, this little piece of purgatory isn’t for beginners.

  “He wouldn’t jump in this rain, would he?”

  I nod that he would. “It’s Cameron. Freaking daredevil.”

  “How would he get up here to the car again, then?” Unconsciously, she presses a finger to her forehead before adding, “Eh, he probably always rock-climbs back up.”

  I erase her bleak reassurance because it fuels my anxiety. I concentrate on not panicking while Arria jerks the truck to a halt.

  “Cameron,” I yell out the window. An icy splatter of rain rewards my effort. “Hold on, Arriane, I’m going out.”

  Once there, I squint trying to distinguish movement or a splash of color at the bottom, but the abyss is a shower I can’t penetrate with my eyes. I’m soaked. It’s probably nothing compared to the man who threw himself over the edge in this weather, though. I startle when Arriane’s fingers curl over my shoulder.

  “Ah, Arria. How many times has Cam gotten himself hurt only in the last six months? This is nuts. He thinks he’s invincible.”

  “I know.”

  The cascade of water subsides enough to distinguish a small outcrop resembling Cameron’s “diving boards” at Red Boulder Canyon. I walk over. Stomp wet feet into the dirt and peer down. I scour the ragged rock below us, praying I won’t find him hanging off of a ledge, beaten bloody.

  “I bet he jumped from here.”

  “Maybe, huh? I don’t see him. That’s good,” Arria mirrors my thoughts. She too is drenched, sweater and thin jacket plastered to her body.

  “Is that a path?” I ask.

  It’s only a few hundred yards from where we’re standing so we get there quickly. Over the years, a man-or-animal-made trail has been carved out in the dirt, winding downward and disappearing from view. Relief causes a small spasm in my chest; I can picture Cameron using it to return to his car.