Table of Contents
"The Point"
By Rachel Henderson '06Written for English 241, Fiction Writing
It was as if I was watching the movie of my life; seeing not the Andy I knew, but the Andy I wanted to be. Her long auburn hair caught the wind, framed her delicate and creamy features, a fiery halo in the afternoon sun. With her head held high and her shoulders back, Miranda gazed out across the vast waterway. Her hand was shading her emerald green eyes as she stood admiring the dark green of the old cedar trees, breathing deeply and rhythmically with the rush of the waterfalls.
"Come on, Andy! Just jump, for cryin' out loud!"
I could feel the mist from the falls dampening my skin. Nate's shout of impatience made my cheeks turn red. I can stand here all day if I want to, thank you very much, I thought in retort. Granted, my head is anything but held high right now and that long auburn hair...yeah, well, let's just say my far-from-luscious brown locks could use some tending. Typical, for me to be worrying about my looks at such a climatic point in my boring little life. In my old teal tank top and maroon mesh shorts, I was making quite the fashion statement, especially compared to all of the girls in their little bikinis.
All around me people sprawled over the rocks, sitting on fallen trees, and lying on the rock slopes down in the water. I was standing on the tip of "the point," a mere five-foot, six-inch girl on a thirty-foot cliff towering above the Yaak River. My toes clenched the wet dirt and the sharp rocks pricked my feet. Everyone, save a few of my friends, seemed oblivious to the turmoil churning inside of me. I wanted so desperately to conquer my fear, not of heights, particularly, but of finally jumping off the damn cliff and showing my friends I could do it. She knew she wouldn't have forever to stand here on her cliffs. Miranda had a life waiting, a life full of sorrow and a family who didn't understand her and felt that only they knew what was best for her. Her slender feet curled over the cliffs' edge now, her long, tanned arms hung at her side, and as she looked into the heavens - SPLASH!
Nate, Matt and Cameron were diving off one of the lower rock overhangs; even though they were acting like clowns, as usual, I was impressed. It took no time for any of them to decide to hurl themselves from the cliffs. Nate jumped and as soon as he was out of the way Matt jumped and once he had cleared out Cameron jumped. They would jump and dive again and again, one after the other or all at once, always trying new diving forms. We were merely spectators; some of us jumped, but the guys stole the show.
"Hey, Matt!" He looked up at Jeni, who was standing behind me, and for a second I felt more daring, more superior than him because of my vantage point fifteen feet above his head. "Don't screw up! Haha! I can see it now...SMACK! 'Oooooohhhh, how's your stomach?!"
I could hear my friends down in the river. They were sunning on the rocks at the base of the falls, talking and laughing about the party last night, and in the background the tourists from Bonners Ferry, who I didn't know but were all at the falls swimming and drinking every day, were starting to get rowdy. I wasn't listening to them, though; I was too distracted with my own worries about the jump.
Would they even miss her? She was proud, too proud perhaps, to even care. Miranda's heart had been broken, and she wept for what she had lost.
My best friend, Rogan, had been diving off Swanson's Peak last summer, exactly one year ago today, and had landed on his neck wrong, ninety feet below. His spinal cord snapped; he died instantly; the doctors told us he hadn't felt a thing. As I stood on "the point," my mini-Swanson's Peak, images of Rogan rushed through my head like the whitewater that was rushing down below. He had been my first crush with his rugged good looks, chiseled body, and mischievous grin that was missing a front tooth due to a playground mishap in the third grade. He had taught me how to drive a stick shift, his eyes laughing the whole time. He had never had any fears to conquer; his life had been full of scaling across glaciers, diving into whitewater, and driving as if he owned the road. Everyone had loved him because he brought vivacity to life that was contagious. Of course, his hunger for adventure and his love of nature had finally taken him away from us.
I don't know what I was waiting for. The excuses were churning in my head. It's too cold. The sun is hardly shining. They don't expect me to really do this anyway. If I don't, they'll forget about it soon enough. I jumped. It happened that quickly, sometime between Brad's guffaws and Jeni's "supportive" peer pressure. Maybe Rogan had given me the last little nudge I needed.
Miranda jumped and as she soared through the air, memories of Colin and the life they could have had raced through her mind. She knew she wouldn't survive; the cliffs were too high, the landing alone would kill her.
I pushed from the wet, mossy rocks and plummeted until I was engulfed by the river. I forgot the free-fall; nothing raced through my mind. A scream escaped from my mouth as I landed on my butt in the water. At first, I panicked. Where was up? When would I get there? The seconds passed. When I finally surfaced, all of my friends were laughing, clapping and whooping. Rogan. Oh, Rogan. You must have known the landing was going to be wrong. You must have been so scared. I did it, Rogan. I did it for you, and for me.
"How was it, Andy?!" someone yelled down to me from the cliffs above. I didn't answer; the adrenaline rush still had me speechless, and the current had me concentrating on stopping myself on the smaller rock facing that jutted out into the ripple of water.
My heart thudded in my chest, my hands shook uncontrollably; I was too weak to lift myself up out of the water. Everyone was yelling at me, wanting to know if I was okay and had I liked it. I laughed nervously in answer.
A few minutes later, my feat was forgotten and the guys were back to diving off of the familiar cliffs, which they had been throwing themselves from for half their lives.