Authors: Stacey Wiedower
Then the pilot yelled, "Door!" and time seemed frozen in place. Erin didn't watch as the door was raised, but she became aware a moment later of a lightened passenger load—the solo diver not named Chad was gone, and so was one of the tandem teams.
"Let's do this," Stu said. "You ready?"
He'd had her shift onto her knees so he could strap himself onto her harness. Erin nodded woodenly and watched as another pair duck-walked toward the open door and fell through, immediately vanishing from sight.
The freaked-out passenger was still whimpering. Erin was glad she'd chosen to skip breakfast, because otherwise she and everyone else still on board might have seen it on the floor of the plane. She watched another team walk in humpbacked stance to avoid hitting their heads on the ceiling and fall through the open door.
"We're up!" Stu said, and Erin's feet did the work for her. Suddenly they were the ones waddling toward the doorway and scooting right up to the edge. For a split second, her legs dangled over the lip of the door and were blown sideways, caught by the 100-mile-per-hour wind. The city was amazing from this height, the barrenness of Texas' glut of land surrounding the massiveness of the metroplex breathtaking, but Erin couldn't process it. She crossed her arms tightly against her chest the way the video had instructed and held her breath as Stu leaned forward and catapulted them into a freefalling death spiral of awesomeness unlike anything Erin had ever experienced, or ever would again.
* * *
"What was it like?" "Were you, like, freaking out?" "Are you okay?" The questions rang in her ears, barely audible over the echo of the wind that had whipped her hair and tossed her body during the 12,000-foot descent. Erin allowed herself to be grabbed and hugged and pulled, a feeling not unlike the first few seconds of her fall.
She was grinning so widely it was as if the wind's force had permanently altered the shape of her mouth.
It was only after all the hugs were delivered and all the questions answered that the absence of the one person she most wanted to share this moment with dulled the excitement in her eyes and returned her features to some semblance of life on earth. She felt another flash of panic at this new reality—being in love, not being loved in return—and then replaced it quickly with the stoicism to face her next hurdle, like she'd done that morning with the dive.
She had a party, and a trip to L.A., and a potential meeting in New York with TV producers, and a weeks-long stretch of filming. Plenty to fill her life with, that wasn't Ben.
Sherri slung an arm around Erin's shoulders, interrupting her fierce monologue.
"Well, I guess our little party doesn't seem so exciting now, does it?" she said.
"Are you kidding me? It's the highlight of my day," Erin answered, plastering on a smile that felt even more fake in comparison with the true elation she'd felt moments earlier. Already the dive felt eons behind her, like she might have taken the jump not ten minutes ago, but ten lifetimes ago.
"Maybe I should be next," Sherri said, and for a second Erin was flustered, glancing down at Sherri's baubled ring finger and thinking,
You already are
.
"Where's Ben?" she asked a second later, and Erin realized she hadn't told anybody he wasn't coming.
"I was thinking the same thing," said Erin's mother, coming up behind them and placing one hand around the top of Erin's right arm. She kissed her cheek. "Your dad and I are about to take off," she said. "We're very proud of you, Hon. For today, for all of it."
"Thanks, Mom." She wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and then turned around and hugged her dad. She also saw off Hilary and Mark, happy to escape Sherri's question, at least for the moment. She hadn't yet told Sherri about Ben's altered evening plans. She wasn't ready to explain the complexities of their friendship, even to her. She wasn't sure she ever would be.
After returning to the hangar and depositing her gear, Erin walked to the parking lot with Sherri, wondering when her friend would be moving out of their place and in with Alex. Though she hadn't expressly mentioned it, Erin knew Sherri was already sending resumes to Austin. It was no surprise—Erin hadn't figured she'd wait around until the wedding. She knew how it felt to want to get on with life, already.
She inhaled sharply and asked the question…indirectly. "Have you had any bites yet on your job leads?"
Sherri paused for a beat, and Erin knew that was a yes. She breathed in again, inhaling the smell of change in the air and thinking she should be used to it by now.
"I have an interview on Tuesday," Sherri spit out in a single breath. "We did a phone interview late last week, and it went really well. I have a good feeling about it."
Erin smiled sadly. "That's really awesome." She linked her arm in Sherri's, thinking how much she was going to miss living with her and seeing her every day. "Soon we'll be tearing up the pavement on I-35."
They walked side by side across the lot, sunlight glinting off the windows of cars and reminding Erin of the sharp brightness of the world at high altitude.
"No kidding. I'll be back all the time." She paused and glanced over at Erin. "I'll help you find another roommate. In fact, I think I saw a notice on the board at work last week. I'll look on Monda—"
"No, no. It's fine," Erin said. "I'm ready to get my own place, anyway." The words surprised her, especially the truth of them. She thought about Devon and his quiet little house, his weekend projects. She wanted that, wanted the real independence she thought she'd had for so long, but she really hadn't. She'd had her parents and then the cocoon of college and then Sherri—and Ben, always Ben.
"Oh, okay," Sherri said and shrugged happily. She paused for a long moment. "God, everything's really changing, isn't it?"
Erin pulled away from her as they threaded through the rows of cars and reached into her bag for her keys. She shaded her eyes with one hand as she walked backward a couple of steps. Sherri's car was parked two down from hers.
"It really is," she said, clicking her door unlocked and feeling grateful she'd ridden alone, so Sherri couldn't see the emotions warring behind her smile.
A Year of Tomorrows
"Here's to Erin, and to hoping she finds success in a new TV career," Sherri said, and a chorus of voices echoed the well wishes.
"Cheers," Erin said, tipping back her glass of sparkling wine, the nicest bottle she and Sherri had brought home from California. "And here's to Sherri and Alex. To a long and amazing life of adventures." She nodded in their direction, and the toast continued.
The apartment looked better than it ever had—she and Sherri had strung small white Christmas lights around the living room and all other lights were off except a lamp in the corner and candles that burned on every table. The nearly mute TV played the second in a string of Oscar-winning movies Erin had running in the background for effect, a gesture appreciated by movie buff Dave, who kept glancing at the screen from the corner of his eye. His wife, Missy, glowed in the soft lighting, and Erin's eyes grazed over the small but visible bump that protruded from the front of her dress. She smiled to herself.
On small wooden easels on a table near the front door, Sherri had thought to display nine-by-twelve versions of everyone's lists who'd been at the party fourteen months earlier that had kicked off their adventures. Sherri's list was two-thirds checked off, which was fitting since she wouldn't be thirty for another four months. Hilary and Mark had halfheartedly worked on their lists and had several items checked off apiece, though Mark was almost thirty-one. Erin's list was completely checked off, save for an asterisk that amended her doctoral plan and a smiley face that made light of the glaring blank beside No. 23. Even more glaring was Ben's board, which was completely unchecked because he wasn't there to pick up a Sharpie and fill it out.
Several guests had expressed surprise at his absence—Hilary, Dave—but only Sherri's face registered concern. Erin had finally told her Ben wasn't coming, and why. She hadn't mentioned her other revelations about Ben, but she had a feeling she didn't have to. Sherri already knew.
"So, Erin, when will it be your turn?" Hilary's voice was innocent, and Erin wondered as she had a thousand times if her old friend meant for her words to be hurtful, or if her tactlessness was genuinely naïve. She'd never figured it out, and at this point she probably never would.
"We'll see," Erin replied vaguely, feigning great interest in her wine. "I'm fine with being the bridesmaid…you know me." She glanced up at Sherri, who was pressed into Alex's side.
"Will any of the thirty first dates turn into second dates now that it's all over?" It was Kyle's wife Becca who asked the question, so Erin knew this time the inquiry was well-intentioned. She chuckled.
"I don't think so. I went down that road with a couple of them, and it pretty much always ended in disaster." She glanced toward the sofa at Angie, who was smiling—thinking of Paul, Erin was sure. "Guess here's to hoping the Bachelor picks me." She winked, and everyone laughed.
Late in the evening, when the candles were melting into amoebic shapes in their dishes and the wine bottles were mostly drained, Dave and Missy left first, followed closely by Kyle and Becca, and then Erin's other school friends. Hil and Mark were last to leave. Alex was staying the weekend, and he, Sherri, and Erin were on the sofa talking when they heard a tap at the door.
Erin and Sherri looked at one another in surprise. Sherri was tangled into Alex's long limbs, so Erin stood up. "I'll…get it," she said, wrinkling her brow. "Maybe somebody forgot something."
When she opened the door, Ben stood in front of her with a white rose in his outstretched hand.
"Happy birthday," he said, a sheepish half smile on his face.
Erin's mouth fell open in shock, and she glanced behind him to see if Catherine was lingering in the shadows. She wasn't.
"I…guess it is after midnight," she said. "I'm officially thirty now." She reached out to take the rose and then pulled the door open wider, stepping back to usher Ben inside. "Nice gift, filching a flower from the reception tables." She gave him a playful tap on the arm, trying to make light of the tumult happening inside her. The light touch sent a shockwave through her body and spun her stomach into a complicated series of somersaults.
Instead of joking back, Ben looked at her earnestly.
"I didn't take it from the reception." He took a step toward her and then reached back to shut the door behind him. "I didn't go."
"You didn't go?"
Erin's first reaction was surprise, and then she grew confused, her cheeks becoming hot. If he hadn't gone to the wedding, why hadn't he come to the party?
"No," he said. He walked all the way into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa—the opposite end from where Sherri and Alex still sat, silent and wide-eyed, watching. He didn't seem to notice them, his eyes intent on Erin. "I spent the night moving back into my apartment."
Erin had been about to ask the question on her lips, but her mouth formed into an
O
instead. "Oh," she said. She remained standing in the middle of the room, the rose dangling from her fingertips.
Sherri extracted herself from Alex's lap and stood up, pulling Alex after her.
"I'm glad you made it, Ben," she said, glancing at Erin and then looking down.
"Yeah, man, good to see you again." Alex fist-bumped him as he walked past, and then he and Sherri slipped quietly from the room as Erin watched in silence. Before she turned down the hall, Sherri looked back and grinned.
Erin shook her head, and then turned on Ben.
"What do you mean, moving into your apartment?" she asked, still standing in the same spot. She wasn't daring to hope. "I thought you cared about making an impression on Catherine's family. That you wanted them to come to your wedding." Her voice broke on the last word.
Ben laughed, a hard, one-syllabic chuckle. "
Catherine
wanted them to come to our wedding." His face twisted as he said it. "I think more that she just didn't want me being here with you."
"Did you…tell her? About us?" Erin asked, tentative. She finally unfroze from her position and walked to the sofa. She sank onto the edge of a cushion a few feet away from him, avoiding his eyes. Until now, neither of them had mentioned their night together.
"No," Ben said, his eyes remorseful. "I should have. I should have told her as soon as I could after it happened. But first there was her brother, and then all the aftermath of that, and then—" His voice cut off, and he took a long, shuddering breath. "And then it just got weird to tell her, like the time was never right, like I'd waited too long." He paused again and looked away. "I should have told her before I even came over here to see you that night." Erin watched as his face grew harder, determined, and she sat stock still, frozen in place, as he angled his body slightly more toward her and looked down into her eyes. "Because the thing is, Erin, I loved you, not her. I loved you before, I loved you then, I love you now, and I'll love you for the rest of my life."
She stared at him for one shocked second, her heart swelling to the point she felt it might burst. She opened her mouth to answer him, but before she could get a word out he lifted one hand. "I know," he said. His voice softened. "I know you don't feel the same way about me." He faltered and almost whispered the last two words. Then he jumped up and moved onto the sofa beside her, his thigh resting against the length of hers.
He took the rose that was still clutched in her fingers and set it next to her on the cushion as she stared at him in stunned silence, and then he gathered both her hands into his.
"I want to work on that, E," he said, his eyes locked on hers. "I think you can love me. I think we belong together. That night—" He was silent, and Erin felt almost knocked breathless. That night.
She studied him, her heart pounding a frenzied rhythm in her chest, and she wanted to throw herself onto his lap, grab onto his neck, and never let go. But there was something she still didn't understand, and she furrowed her brow, not sure she could trust her own perception of what was happening.