Jump

            I squinted up at him. His tanned, dripping face spread into a grin. Eyes eager, thrilled, as if he’d just discovered snow or rainbows or freckles. I wasn’t convinced. Peering over his shoulder, I examined the cliff face. It seemed to extend into the sky. Even the water beneath, which I knew would be deliciously refreshing after our long hike in the northern California sun, seemed treacherous. It sparkled at me reassuringly and he winked, then leapt into the river. Water splashed up across my bare stomach and face, cold after my lazy hour in the sun. I wrinkled my nose and narrowed my eyes at him in feigned indignance, lips parted in a barely concealed smile. His head hovered just above the water and he stretched out one soaked arm as he tried to convince me in careful, hesitant English.
            “Come in. The water is nice. Not too cold, I promise. And the jump is not scary at all. Easy.” Maybe it was the Israeli accent that finally lured me in. Tying my wispy, sun-bleached hair back, I stepped out of my shorts. Straightened my bikini. The other girls were draped across the nearby bank, tempting skin cancer. He splashed me impatiently and I glanced back.
            “Ok. I’ll do it.” I slid forward into the shining water. A shriek of surprise at the cold. He laughed. I kicked water at him, then slipped forward towards the cliff side of the river. Grasping a knot of rock, I hoisted myself up onto the cliff face. It was much colder out of the water now. My hair trickled steadily down my spine. I shivered and kept climbing. Wet foot on the next ledge, handhold just above. The smoothness of the rock worried me. My dripping feet didn’t slip, and I reached the top.
            I’d been watching the boys do this all morning. They’d climb to the top of the cliff, maybe thirty feet, line up, then jump, one at a time, down into the deepest part of the river. This was generally accompanied by a final triumphant yell, and cheers from those still at the top or watching from the bank. There were six or seven boys, bare-chested and exhilarant, already at the top. They turned, staring at me in surprise. Exchanged looks. My beautiful Israeli boy emerged behind me from the cliff face. He looked straight into my eyes. A drop of water fell from his hair to land with a tiny splash on his golden cheek. I smiled nervously, biting my lip.
            “We’ll go together,” he suggested, reaching out for my hand.
            “All right.” I brushed a lock of soggy hair behind my ear. Adjusted my bikini top. The boys glanced at each other then parted, letting us to the front of the line. I would have waited.
            I stood with him, shivering, at the edge. Toes curled over the glassy gray rock. I leaned forward, peering down. Thirty feet below me, the endless blue sky shimmered invitingly. My gaze trailed from the distant water back up the rock face to my chipped-paint toenails. The scent of pine needles and sun was everywhere. I clung to his brown arm, burying my face in his shoulder. He’d be gone after the summer. Fighting in the Israeli army by age 18. He smelled of salt and grass and dirt. I nodded, stepping apart from him, our hands still clasped. The boys, gathered behind us, counted eagerly.
“One.” I glanced at the treetops below me, across the river.
“Two.” Looked down thirty feet. Looked back up immediately.
“Three.” Drew in my breath. Closed my eyes.
            We hurtled down through thin mountain air. We weren’t ever going to stop. My hair whipped around wildly. With a thundering crash, the sun-stained water embraced me, sliding around me. I kicked upward, broke the surface and drowned in freezing air. I saw him drifting a few feet away, blinking water out of his almond eyes, and realized that I was alive. Realized that I wanted to jump again. Realized that I loved it. I waved enthusiastically at the girls on the bank, who had paused in their gossip to watch my jump. I smiled for them, for him, for me, for the boys crowded at the top of the cliff, shocked that I’d actually gone through with it.