be halted by the release of the parachute by now? Now I’m not at all happy with my lack of sight. I need to see how far from the ground we are. We have been falling so long my lungs are almost unable to accommodate the oxygen being forced into them. My heartbeats faster at my thoughts, my fear accelerates. If it is adrenaline Jeremy wants for me then he has certainly achieved it. I’m pumping, pumping, pumping, harder and faster. I feel like everything about me is in free fall during these seconds of my life, everything at risk, everything has the potential to be destroyed. And I am in no position to prevent it, to stop it, to control it. I have had many dreams like this before, of falling, falling, desperately waiting for the fall to end, to wake up, to be saved, whatever it takes to not hit the ground. In the dreams I always wonder how I happen to arrive in this position, what causes the free fall in the first place.
Have my conscious and unconscious mind finally collided? And is this the consequence, the conclusion? Were the dreams prophetic, or have I missed some warning? Where is Carl Jung when I need him!
Please, I pray, to myself, to anyone, please let nothing go wrong, please let me live to see my children again, please, please, please get me through this in one piece. I don’t want to die; I’m not ready to die … How can we still be falling? How high were we? 10,000 feet? 15,000 feet? Did we fly that high, higher maybe? I realise now I was too stressed and distracted to take any notice of anything else at the time, including the discovery of being on a plane in the first place. Surely we should …
We stop, abruptly.
Silence.
The harness pulls tight between my legs and it feels like we have come to a complete standstill. My ears are deafened by the silence after the pounding vibrations only seconds ago. We begin to float … softly, quietly. Thank you, I say silently, thank you. Overwhelming relief permeates my being.
I am very aware of my heart pumping blood through my veins, but the noise has calmed, the pressure has eased and my limbs are not being forced outwards. They fall limp as the tension fades. We are floating calmly, beautifully, wonderfully and freely in the world. It is so peaceful. My stomach resettles itself somewhere near my bellybutton, although I can’t confirm it returns to its original position. Close enough, though. I am smiling now, relieved and thrilled with the experience. I’m happy, free, exhilarated, overwhelmed to be alive. Warm tears flood my eyes as emotion releases from within.
Thump, thump, my knees buckle underneath me as the ground pushes up into my body with a jolt and then … nothingness.
Unsure of my consciousness, I find myself wrapped in a hug with my feet barely touching the ground. Arms securely around me. A hug. A real hug. I feel him unclipping me and turning me to face him. I bury my head deeply into the chest I know to be Jeremy’s and allow the intoxication of adrenaline and relief to wash over me. I shake. I bury my head harder. Arms tighten around me. I sob. And sob. I can’t stop. I’m overflowing. Trembling. Shaking. Long, hard, full body sobs. For a long moment in time.
There are no words shared.
The arms don’t let go, still holding on tight.
They don’t let go. There is no need to speak. These arms won’t leave me.
Breathing eventually returns to normal via deep sighs.
After a long time, a finger lifts my chin, lips lightly brush my lips and linger for a moment. The arm securely wraps around my body and leads me away, half walking, half carrying.
No words are necessary as our bodies move in unison. Then quiet preparation going on around me as I am lowered onto a blanket. The sun is warm, the breeze gentle. I am still blind. I know that I will be until the forty-eight hours are over. I’m at ease with it now. I no longer have the will or desire to fight it. I accept it. I am calm.
The preparation noise has stopped. I remain still.
No noise. No words. Just the wind, the birds, the smell of salt in the air, ocean waves gently moving back and forth to their own universal rhythm. My shoulders are lowered to the ground. A light touch on my cheek. I feel a body closing in on mine. I try to find a face. I do. I pull it close to mine and inhale its scent. I pull it to my lips, to my tongue. I need this face. I need to kiss it deeply, to penetrate its mouth. I need to convey the depth of the emotion I feel. To transfer the longing, the urging, the deep force within the core of my being which has lain dormant for so many years, so this face has some understanding of what it has done to me in the past, what it is doing to me in the present, of what I am going through.
My body is writhing and throbbing under his body. There are too many barriers between us, physical ones. I’m not close enough. It’s intense and it’s frustrating. I struggle to find ways in, to find some way to remove the barriers. I need closeness. I crave it. I can’t. I’m foiled. My hands don’t make it, they are lost, prevented, kissed. The throbbing continues deep within me. My hands are held tight, trapped under the weight of his body. Like the sobbing earlier, the throbbing also eases with time. My breath returns, my heartbeat slows, eventually. As does his.
‘You are overwhelming, all-encompassing, all-consuming.’ He slowly breathes into my ear. His words heighten the intensity between my legs as I again wait for the ache to subside. He could always trigger this pre-orgasmic feeling over the years with a look, a touch, a comment. But rather than being diluted over the years, it has now reached a concentration I never imagined possible.
‘Do you feel the same way?’
I nod, too overcome to speak, not daring to acknowledge the underlying truth in his words. ‘What have you done to me?’ is all I can manage to barely whisper.
‘You do know I love you, Alexa.’ His tone is serious, his voice overflowing with emotion.
‘Yes, I do. You know I love you, too.’
‘It’s strange, isn’t it, having a love like ours that isn’t based on traditional love per se.’
‘It always has been … strange between us … intense … playful … intoxicating …’
‘Our unexplained, unreconciled love …’
‘At least we understood that at a very young age.’ Or did we? I wonder silently.
Jeremy’s mood seems to have shifted. I’m used to him switching from playfulness to challenging, from forcefulness to reflection, but this is slightly different. He seems to be talking to me on one level and lost in his own thoughts at the same time. The dark undercurrent still lingers beneath his words. I don’t know if I’m unwilling or unable to explore further. Not being allowed to ask questions doesn’t help especially as I keep getting in trouble when I do. And now he says he loves me. My roller-coaster of blackness is becoming as much emotional as it is physical.
I feel exhausted, numb.
Alive.
Calm.
Intense.
Light.
Energised.
Overwhelmed.
Frightened.
Lustful.
Special.
***
I lie down on my back with my elbows propping
