And I miss Remington. So much.
I visited the shop where my phone was being fixed, and the supposed tech whiz said that he was waiting on a part, so it would be at least a week or more before he could recover my data. Every time I look at the fancy new phone that I’m still borrowing from Daisy, I ache to message Remington and I curse myself for not memorizing his number. But it will only be another week. And the truth is, I’m still embarrassed about the message and selfie I sent. Maybe a little space in our friendship is a good thing.
Besides, I’m not sure if I would have told him about Chase, even if I could. It would sound unbelievable. Remington might think I was making it all up just because he rejected me. That would be mortifying.
But I miss Remington’s ability to make me laugh. I need it more than ever. Last night when I popped into the deli for broken-heart-therapy fudge brownie ice cream, Chase was all over the tabloid display at the checkout. He’s shooting a new movie with Cassidy Reynolds in some far-off destination. Why are they always doing movies together? Are Hollywood directors playing matchmaker?
Intellectually, I know the weekend we shared is all we’ll ever have. But late at night, when I can’t sleep, I sometimes have this unreasonable fantasy that he’ll call. Just to check on me. Or maybe to declare his eternal love. Whatever.
I should be glad for the tabloids. It’s proof of just how unobtainable he truly is and how our lives couldn’t be further apart.
Because, while he’s frolicking in foreign locales with his maybe-ex, possible-girlfriend, I’m writing and working at the bookshop shilling coffee, restocking books, and eating delicious cinnamon buns—which is a fabulous comfort food for the lovelorn, by the way.
I’m also moving forward with my life by continuing to take a risk a day.
Today, Daisy is helping me over my fear of heights by taking me skydiving.
Sort of.
“Thank you for not forcing me to jump out of an airplane,” I say when we get to the indoor skydiving venue.
Daisy grins. “I figured this would be risky enough for you. Baby steps. But maybe, after this experience, you’ll work up to the real thing.”
I look at the people floating around the air tunnel dubiously. I doubt this will ignite a new hobby. But floating around in a somewhat controlled environment is much better than dropping from ten thousand feet, so I’ll take it.
“You’re up.” Daisy nudges me.
My hands get clammy and I freeze. “I was wrong. I’m scared of heights. I’ll puke in the tunnel, and it’ll get all over me. Or the wind won’t be strong enough to pick me up,” I say, quick and shrill. A hundred humiliating ideas of what could happen bombard my mind.
“Or you could do it, and it could be fun.” She hugs me quick. “Now, go, before I kick your ass.”
I know Daisy won’t let me get away with backing out, so I make the cross symbol even though I haven’t been to church in forever. And on shaky limbs, I force myself to walk to the tunnel.
The instructor is already in it, waiting for me. Earlier, I was briefed on hand signals and what to expect, but I could never have imagined the force of the air. Its strength steals my breath and pushes me up. All my senses are on overload as I attempt to recall the instructions on how to control my direction.
Floating madly, I lift my head against the pressure and look through the glass wall at Daisy, who’s already chatting up the guy behind her in line. Only Daisy could get hit on while wearing an orange jumpsuit and large plastic goggles. She catches my eye, grins madly, and gives me two thumbs-up as I try not to take out the instructor with my flailing arms.
The instructor points up. My eyes bug out as the wind whips around me. I want to shake my head, but I force myself to take both his hands as he spins us around, and then there we are, spinning up, up, up to the top of the wind tunnel before he sends us plummeting back down to the bottom on a circle of death. It’s scary, exhilarating, disorienting, and over too soon.
When I step out of the clear dome on unsteady legs, all I can do is laugh in sheer joy.
“You did it!” Daisy cries, taking my hands and bouncing up and down while I try to steady my heartbeat.
“I did it!” I can’t wipe the grin off my face. I faced my fear of heights and won. I skydived—sort of. And it was fun.
“And?” she asks with a tilt of her head.
I say the words I never thought I’d speak. “When can I do it again?” In the overall scheme of risks, it’s a small one, but I feel like I can tackle anything after this.