Strapped In

The smooth, elastic texture of the tightly-wound rubber bands rub against my skin, digging into my palm as I clasp onto them for dear life. My heart has successfully leapt into my constricting throat, pulsing loudly as I quake.

The rushing water smacks the surface of the dormant stream, mist spurting from the force of the contact. It obscures my vision of the lush, viridescent forest forming a dome around the waterfall, the foliage swaying from side to side as the wind snakes through the leaves.

My stomach is as high as the drop to the waterfall, and I visualize my body diving toward the waters as it splats from the pressure.

Calm down, Ashlyn. No one has died in this establishment, I tell myself. The memory of my sardonic older brother’s voice floats back up into my head.

Accidents are prone to happen in bungee jumping. One in five hundred thousand people die bungee jumping. You could be that one.

I shake my head violently, my knuckles turning white with the effort I’m using to hold onto the harness. I swallow, goosebumps prickling along my arms. Everything seems to be colder as I wait for the overseer to give me a thumbs-up.

A friendly, good-looking guy with salt-and-pepper hair is fastening the clasps on my stepfather Stephen’s harness, and I watch as they click into place. He tugs on the tightening strap, the cords clinging to Stephen’s skin.

My hand is dwarfed by Stephen’s, and he offers me a charming smile. “This is going to be your most memorable birthday ever, Ashlyn,” he insists, giving my palm a tight squeeze.

I feel nauseous, my stomach churning as the wind bites at my skin. Right. My best birthday ever, doing something that you made me do. The most I can do is force my lips to turn upward, despite the bile rising in my throat. “Yeah,” I manage, and Stephen grins as the fourteen-year-old next to him buzzes on his heels.

The overseer’s thumb pops out of his enclosed, four fingers, and the fourteen-year-old lunges forward. A scream tears from his lips as he plummets, and I’m watching the bungee cable anxiously, waiting for something terrible to happen.

Waiting for it to snap.

The fourteen-year-old is now a small speck, lost among the massive view of the waterfall. His body is cloaked in mist, and I strain to hear his cries as he vanishes from view completely.

The cord whips back, yanking him into view. His chin is tucked into his neck, his hands clasped far above his head. A bright smile is drawn on his face as he dangles by his feet, shooting back to the surface as he cackles hysterically.

He springs back and forth multiple times before the cable rights itself, his hair a soaked mop dripping pearled droplets of water far below. He is shivering, but he doesn’t seem to care as he grins from ear-to-ear.

The overseer reels him back up, treating the teenager like a fish as the supervisor unhooks the teen’s clasps and sets him back onto the ground.

“Towel?” queries the gruff voice of the supervisor, and the teen shakes his head, water flicking from his blond hair and catching on my skin. I eye him, but the teen doesn’t seem to notice as he darts away to his friend, prattling on about the thrill of the experience.

The overseer makes his way to Stephen, his hands navigating around Stephen’s harness as he ensures all of the strips of fabric are placed correctly. Stephen is beaming with pride, his ‘BEST STEPFATHER EVER’ T-shirt stretching across his chest.

The supervisor’s lips part, and he begins to tell Stephen about the proper procedure. “Dive head-first, and keep your hands above your head at all times,” he tells Stephen, pantomiming the gestures as he goes. I tune his voice out, clutching my harness as if I am the one to drop.

Stephen nods along to the supervisor’s words, and the supervisor steps back as Stephen faces the waterfall. “Head-first,” he mutters to himself, adding, “got it.”

Stephen’s knees bend as he rockets off of the platform, and my stomach seizes with anxiety. I clutch my hips as Stephen whoops from below, his frame veiled in the waterfall before he draws back, his eyes exhilarated as he shakes his head.

Water lands on my shoes, and Stephen guffaws before diving back down into the water. My head turns, and I don’t let my eyes shift to him until I hear his feet clank on the platform.

“Ash, you’re going to love it!” he exclaims, waiting for the supervisor to release him from his harness. I don’t reply, not in the right state of mind to force a smile. He gives me a small nudge, telling me in a softer voice, “You’re going to love it.”

My heart races like it’s trying to escape my chest as I feel the supervisor’s hands on my back. My sense of security is heightening slightly with every click of a buckle, and my breathing is labored as I squeeze my eyes shut.

I make my ears acknowledge the sound of the supervisor’s voice as he drones on, and I fidget with my shirt. What if I can’t dive head-first? I’ve never been able to do a dive above a pool, much less a waterfall.

“You can go now,” he finishes, and I take a few, uneasy steps before I raise my arms and vault off of the platform.

My stomach twists into knots, and a raw scream claws its way out of me, the wind tearing tears from my eyes. I want so badly to hug myself, but my hands are glued in position, desperately afraid from screwing up the process.

My head dips in the waterfall, water meandering down from my taut bun before I feel a pressure from my harness and I whiz back up. I catch a glimpse of my applauding father before the cord shoves me back down.

My body grazes the stream, the vapor licking me as I ascend once more. Somewhere in the fall, I forget to be afraid.

This pattern continues for what feels like an hour before the rope ceases its bouncing, leaving me suspended in the air.

“Please don’t snap,” I mutter repeatedly, relenting and clasping my hands together. I squeeze my eyes shut until everything goes black, then force them open. An employee jumps from his own cord, gathering me to the surface.

I gasp, my lungs filling with sweet, undisturbed air as I scramble to Stephen. He smacks my hand with his, and I find that a grin creeps up my face.

Stephen pretends to give me a spotlight, announcing, “And that, my friends, is how Ashlyn Knapp stayed strapped in.”