Saving Sullivan

by Sara Hubbard

  “What are you doing?” I ask, smoothing my hair back into a ponytail.

  “I told you—we’re going sky diving.”

  “You’re insane. Did you just wake up this morning and say, hey, I think I’ll jump out of a plane today?” I shove my hands in my sweater pockets and round my shoulders to steel myself against the nippy air.

  “Get in. I’ll turn the heat on.”

  I round the car and climb inside. He takes off before I can say another word.

  “Sullivan…I don’t know about this…”

  “It’ll be fun.”

  “Why did you ask me? Did your friends also ask you if you’re crazy?”

  “Ames is hungover and wouldn’t move when I kicked him this morning, and Dean took a drive up to West Point.”

  “What’s he doing in West Point?”

  Sullivan glances at me. “Why? You got a thing for rock star kids?”

  I roll my eyes. “You have the most annoying knack for avoiding all the questions I ask you.”

  “There’s an antique book store there and he’s looking for some old book. I don’t know. He said it was for his grandfather’s birthday or something. I didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying.”

  Sullivan heads for the highway. The top is up and the heat is blaring. When I see Sullivan’s forehead beading with sweat, I turn off the heat and thank him. I’m still a little chilly but warm enough. I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.

  “I can’t believe you’re up so early this morning. We didn’t get home until after one,” I say.

  “I don’t sleep much.”

  Huh. “Same.”

  “Yeah. What keeps you up?”

  The scene flashes before my eyes: the bathtub. The bloody water spilled out onto the floor on the once-white tiles. My mother’s eyes unblinking and vacant… “Nothing,” I lie.

  “And you said I was the one who wouldn’t share. I think you might have some secrets of your own, Abby.”

  I breathe in and out and stare out the window. The trees are thick and tall, and a few houses dot the roadside. He’s right. We both know it and it annoys me that he can easily see through me. I just avoided his question the way he always does with mine. It makes me feel hypocritical and I feel the need to say something, if only to show that it’s okay to be personal and to let people in.

  But it’s not easy. Not at all.

  “I…used to get night terrors. I don’t get them anymore—thank God—but I used to get them every night, so I guess I worry when I go to sleep that they’ll come back. Sometimes it takes forever for me to drift off.”

  “Were your dreams always the same?” he asks quietly.

  I turn my head and lean it back, against the headrest. “Yeah. Always the same, like a song on repeat.”

  He’s silent for a few beats. I can tell he wants to ask me about my reoccurring nightmare, but something stops him, perhaps his own dislike for sharing. For the first time since I met him I’m grateful for it.

  “What about you?” I ask.

  Creases grow on his forehead as he searches for an answer. “I don’t know. It’s not because of bad dreams or anything like that. I guess I’ve just never been a good sleeper. Not for as long as I can remember. I try to sleep, but after a while I get bored trying and just get up to do something else.”

  “Like what?”

  He blows out through pursed lips and flashes me a cheeky grin. I know I’ve lost him then, and nothing that follows will be heartfelt or real.

  “A good blow job is better than counting sheep.”

  “Have lots of girls on speed dial, do you?”

  “Of course. I’d added your number, too. Just in case.”

  Groan. Although inside I can’t help but imagine trailing kisses down his chest, kissing the tip of his erection. Shit! What am I saying?

  I shake my head at him as he continues to shamelessly flirt with me, and as much as I pretend to think he’s disgusting and a dog, I kind of love it. He makes me smile, to the point where my cheeks hurt—though I tend to glance away when I do it so as not to encourage him. I feel I shouldn’t, no matter how much I enjoy it.

  When we get to the jump site, we pull onto a gravelled road with a runway. At the end of it is a large hangar with another white building beside it. A plane sits on the end of the runway with a man leaning against it, smoking. This is such a bad idea. My body recognizes this when my heart rate picks up and I feel my pulse throbbing in the arteries in my neck.

  “Sullivan, I’m afraid of heights.”

  “What?”

  “I said—"

  “Yeah, I heard. But I thought you were into outdoor sports and shit.”

  “Yeah, hiking and camping—not jumping out of planes!”

  “You think maybe you could have told me this an hour ago?”

  “You just told me I was coming! You didn’t give me a choice!”

  “You always have a choice,” he says quietly.

  I grip my seatbelt and force myself to root to the leather car seat. He pulls over in front of the smaller white building and gets out, coming around to my side of the car. He opens the door and stares at me. The corners of his mouth twitch likes he’s fighting a smile. He reaches out and tries to uncurl my fingers from the death grip I have on my seatbelt.

  “Abby, I promise you once you’re up there, you’ll be glad I pushed you.”

  “I promise you I won’t.”

  “You’re wound so fucking tight—you just need to let go. There’s nothing like free falling.”

  “Um. I’ll stay here and watch you go.”

  He chuckles and finally frees my seatbelt. He has my hands in his and he’s staring at me with those big blue eyes of his. I see a twinkle in his left eye. “Get out of the car, Abby.”

  “Not a chance, Sullivan.”

  He sighs and tries to pull me out, but I resist. “I’ve got forty-three jumps under my belt. We can jump in tandem if you want.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He turns me in my seat so I’m facing the open door. Then he squats down so we’re at eye level. “I’ll attach us together and you won’t have to do a thing. I’ll do everything.”

  “Sullivan…”

  He reaches out to place his hands on my shoulders. His smile is reassuring and he almost has me convinced.

  “I really don’t think I can do this—” I raise my hand up to my face and ferociously chew on my nails.

  “Are you kidding me? You’re the sassiest girl I’ve ever met. I thought you were a little more adventurous than this. Thought you were someone who’d welcome a challenge. Guess I was wrong.” He takes a step back and turns before heading for the building.

  “What? You’re just going to leave me?”

  He waves at me over his shoulder.

  When I draw blood at the edge of my jagged nails, I put my belt back on and cross my arms over my chest. Try to manipulate me? Reverse psychology only works on people who don’t realize they’re being manipulated. I shake my head and tap my foot on the mat. Crap! I unbuckle my seatbelt and jog into the building after him.

  When I open the door, he’s at a counter and the man hands him back his credit card. He turns and both their gazes are set on me. Sullivan is smirking at me and I desperately want to kick him in the ass. I probably would too if the man wasn’t watching us.

  I never even considered how much this would cost.

  “I knew you’d change your mind. I paid for you, just in case.”

  I groan as he takes a step to close the distance between us.

  Lowering my voice, I say, “Sullivan I already owe you money for the hotel.”

  He shrugs. “What hotel?”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Come on. We’ll have to do the lesson first since you haven’t jumped before.”

  The lesson begins with a video and some instruction, but it’s not long before we're getting suited up in black and red coveralls and doing a ‘mock jump’ from a makeshif
t plane outside, onto the grass below. This jump is only two feet and I’ll admit up until now I’m actually having an okay time. Our instructor has a good sense of humour and he’s had us in stitches this morning, especially with the banter between him and Sullivan. Apparently Sullivan jumps here frequently in the summers and is qualified to teach if he wants, which is why they’re letting him jump in tandem with me.

  After we’ve mocked jumped we head for the real plane. Sullivan adjusts himself and when I glance at him, he tells me ‘the boys’ are getting a little squished. Apparently, they didn’t have his suit in tall. For me, I feel like I’m swimming in my suit.

  As we close the distance between us and the plane my nervousness grows to epic proportions. My brow is covered in a layer of sweat and I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. Sullivan wraps his arm around my shoulders and I catch a whiff of his cologne and his soap. If I wasn’t so freaked out right now, I'd probably be leaning in for a bigger whiff because he smells heavenly.

  “Don’t worry. You’re going to love it.”

  “What if I pass out?”

  “Won’t matter. I’ll be pulling the cord.”

  “What if I vomit...?”

  “You’ll have your back to me, so I think I’ll come out okay.”

  Because this is all about you… I glare at him. “What if I have a heart attack?” I slow my pace, though he ushers me along.

  “Man, Abby, you’re acting like I’m asking you to commit suicide or something.”

  I stop dead in my tracks and stare at him.

  “What?” he asks.

  I open my mouth to speak but I have no words. He can’t know about my mother so I can’t fault him for his comment, and yet, I feel like I want to take a swing at him. He senses my irritation and perhaps my pain, too, as he narrows his eyes to study me. He doesn’t say anything for a beat; then he lowers his voice and looks away. “I won’t push you. If you don’t want to do it, that’s your call.”

  He walks backward a few steps, his eyes intent on mine before he turns and jogs to the plane. I’m left standing there, feeling stupid and upset and confused. I stare at the plane as the engine sputters, and the blades at the front begin to turn. The smell of diesel and hot metal fill my nostrils. It makes my stomach turn. I don’t want to do this. This doesn’t feel safe, but I jog ahead anyway. Live a little, my dad said. Fuuuuck! What am I doing?

  The plane climbs as Sullivan and I sit next to each other. The plane is noisy and the metal quietly rattles, making me glance around, wondering if it might fall apart at any minute. Some of the other jumpers are laughing and talking loud enough for me to hear over the engine. At some point, Sullivan reaches down and places his hand next to mine, so we're touching. It makes me feel as if taking his hand would be okay. I’m grateful for the encouragement and I take it without question. It’s like he’s my anchor right now through this crazy journey I’ve foolishly decided to embark on. Conquer my fear. I must be crazy. I squeeze his hand and his thumb caresses mine, calming me. When I look up at him, he’s smiling.

  “I’m scared,” I tell him.

  “I’m scared all the time,” he tells me, as he leans sideways to talk into my ear. “But you were strong enough to get on the plane.”

  I consider his words, wondering what he means, when the instructor taps his shoulder, snatching me from my thoughts. “You’re up, Sulley.”

  He nods and gives me a thumps up, which I reluctantly return. We wobble on our feet as we trudge over to the open door at the side of the plane. Todd, the instructor, fastens me to Sullivan and clutches my shoulder.

  “You okay?”

  I nod and tighten my helmet, as if it might save me if the parachute doesn’t open. Not frigging likely.

  I let Sullivan take the lead and focus on his words and the sound of his voice. As he leans forward I close my eyes, and we hit the sky, falling hard and fast. It jars me at first. The cool wind is in my face, blowing fine hairs against my skin. My heart is beating out of my chest, and I feel the urge to scream out loud or maybe cry, but I can’t make a sound. The sky whooshes around me, and my clothes make flapping noises as I spread my arms and legs out.

  He grips my shoulder. “Good?” he yells but I can barely hear him.

  I dare to open my eyes and I see the world below me and I’m…no longer scared…I’m amazed.

  “We’re flying!” I yell. “Flying.”

  I can see the world as we fall toward it. The mountains and water, the grass and the buildings. People moving around like ants. I can even see the resort in the distance. Adrenaline kicks in, heightening my senses. Everything is enhanced up here.

  Sullivan reaches one arm out and wraps it around my waist, making me smile. It’s as if he’s giving me support, trying to make me feel secure and I feel it. Against him, I'm surprisingly secure and proud. Proud I could take this leap with him, and thankful he gave me the push I needed to do it.

  We free fall for maybe a minute but it seems like forever. When the parachute opens, we jerk up into the air and then we’re floating. I tip my head back on his shoulder. Happy. The world is so big, so beautiful and I got to see it from a bird’s eye view. Below I see cars moving on roads. A tractor on a field, plowing. Another plane miles away, burning through the sky.

  The landing is jarring—not at all smooth. We practically fall over and roll across the grass until we’re on our sides. Sullivan disconnects me and I roll onto my back. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline rush or the euphoria it induces, but I burst out laughing and I can’t seem to stop. Sullivan starts to laugh too, with the cutest twinkle in his electric eyes before smiling at me. When my face grows serious he crawls over closer and props himself up on elbow as he lies beside me.

  “Not so bad?” He brushes a stray piece of my hair free from the hold my lips have on it.

  Without warning, I practically lunge for him and wrap my arms around his neck. “Thank you, Sullivan. Thank you so much. I wouldn’t have done that without you.” He clears his throat, and when he speaks his voice is quiet and hoarse. “That’s what friends are for.”

  Seven

  WHEN I WAKE the following morning, I’m still on a high from skydiving. It’s unbelievable to me, still, that Sullivan convinced me to jump out of a plane. How did he manage to do that, anyway? And how does he manage to make me feel so safe when every other girl who knows him seems to hate him?

  Today is my first day of work and, though I’m nervous, I can’t wait to get started. After yesterday, I know I can accomplish anything I put my mind too. Still, my stomach is in knots and I pee three times in the hour before I walk the trail to the lodge. The sun is out and shining in my eyes. I didn’t bring my sunglasses for fear I’d lose them and now I debate turning back to get them, but a glance at my watch tells me I only have just enough time to grab some lunch in the staff cafeteria before my shift starts.

  I pull my grey wool cardigan closed over my pink scrub top. The wind is chilly, probably because we’re in a valley. There are the mountains all around us. I imagine it’s actually warmer in Nova Scotia right now.

  Wish I was there.

  The cafeteria is about half full and the staff are spread out between the tables, with only a couple of them completely full. I don’t know anyone at first glance but then I see Sullivan sitting in a corner all by himself. Huh. Everyone loves Sullivan. His charisma is undeniable. He must want to sit alone. Of course. That’s it. Still, I gravitate to him. I really don’t want to sit by myself.

  I grab lunch first: grilled cheese, tomato soup, toast, a plate of fries and a plate of strawberries and pickles, sweet and dill. Yes. That should do it. When I reach Sullivan, I flash my most winning smile; when he doesn’t look up at me, I take a breath and say a quiet hello.

  He glances up, just for a second. His eyes are cold and there’s no trace of the Sullivan I jumped out of a plane with yesterday. This guy is grumpy and maybe a little sad. I guess I was right—he does want to be alone. I should take the hint…a normal
person would, but the redness in his eyes and the hint of a frown on his forehead have me second-guessing myself.

  “You want to be alone?” I ask.

  He stops eating, his fork full of salad hanging in mid-air. “No. You’re fine.” His voice is cold, his tone clipped.

  I almost sigh in relief. I didn’t want to eat alone. Living with a full house of rowdy brothers has made me kind of fearful of being by myself. It’s just not normal and it makes me miss home.

  “Yesterday was awesome,” I tell him as I slide onto the bench opposite him.

  “You were awesome.” The dark cloud around him lifts, if only a little.

  “I almost didn’t do it…but I’m so glad I did.”

  “I thought you might be.”

  “How did you know? We still don’t know each other well. How could you possibly know that?”

  “Because ignoring shit always make you feel worse.”

  I’m curious if he’s speaking from personal experience, and if so, what he’s referring to specifically. I want to ask even though I’m sure I won’t get the answer I’m looking for. “Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about jumping?”

  “I know what I’d like to talk about…”

  He glances down at my v-neck top and I press my hand to my chest, worrying he can see more than I intended. Man, he sure knows how to change the subject like a frigging pro. Rather than enabling him, I choose to ignore his manipulative flirtation.

  I set up my plates, putting the grilled cheese in front of me and arranging the other plates around it. He watches me curiously, his fork still hanging, his mouth open a fraction. “We need to go again.” I dive into my sandwich. The melted cheese falls in a string from the bread and I snatch it and pull it off before popping it in my mouth. He tilts his head to the side. I dip the sandwich into my tomato soup.

  “I don’t understand how you’re not two hundred pounds.”

  I wipe the cheese off with the back of my hand. “I have a healthy appetite.”

  “Healthy? I don’t know about healthy.”