His voice was unnerving. Celina stood at the edge of the footbridge, a bungee cord no larger than the size of her wrist strapped to her ankles, a blindfold covering her eyes. Although she couldn’t see the river twisting below her, she could sense the coolness of the water just as she could sense the sheerness of this height.
She clenched her teeth and waited for her instructions.
“I’m not comfortable with you wearing that blindfold,” the man standing behind her said. His name was Steve Simpson and his company, Vertigo Fever, owned the footbridge they were standing on. “No one’s worn one before- not Jack, not even myself. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Celina removed the blindfold and looked at the man. Although she was nervous about jumping, a part of her even frightened, she tried to appear calm. “That may be so,” she said. “But you’ve told me time and again that this sport is safe.”
“It is safe,” Simpson said.
“Then what difference does wearing a blindfold make?”
“Probably none. But you’re a beginner and it’s a 320-foot drop. I’m not comfortable with it.”
“So, I can’t wear it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I would feel a hell of a lot more comfortable if someone with experience put the blindfold on and jumped first-like Jack. That way I can see how it goes and hopefully feel more comfortable with it.”
Celina was about to speak when Jack held up a hand. He looked at Simpson and said with a grin, “I wish I could go first, Steve. But she won’t let me.”
“Won’t let you?”
“That’s right.”
“Why not?”
“Because we tossed a coin before we left the city and it came up heads. She jumps first.”
“I don’t believe this.”
Celina crossed her arms. For a moment, her fear of jumping was replaced by impatience. She wanted this over with. “Believe it,” she said. “Now, can we get on with this? I’m sure these other people would like a chance to jump.”
Simpson looked at the group of twelve other jumpers who were waiting behind them, saw the impatience on their faces and made his decision. “Forget it,” he said to Celina. “Either you jump without the blindfold, or you don’t jump at all.”
Celina felt her face flush. This was ridiculous! What harm was there in wearing a stupid blindfold? Before she could protest, a tall man with dark hair and sharp features stepped away from the group of other jumpers and said, “I have a suggestion.”
Celina looked at the man. He was wearing a black T-shirt, white shorts and dark sunglasses. He looked familiar to her, though she hadn’t noticed him on the walk up. “What’s that?” she asked.
“Why don’t I jump first? I’m experienced, you’ll still be able to jump before your friend and I’ll wear the blindfold so Steve here can judge for himself if it’s safe.”
Celina turned to Steve. “Well?” she said. “What do you think?”
“Depends on how long he’s been jumping.”
“Two years,” Vincent Spocatti said. “At a park in Texas.”
“My partner is in a raft anchored beneath the bridge,” Simpson said to Spocatti. “If you lean forward, you can see him.”
Spocatti gripped the footbridge’s wooden handrail, leaned forward and saw bobbing in the river an orange raft that seated eight. The man sitting in it waved up to them. Although it was difficult to tell from this height, the man looked half Spocatti’s size.
“You about ready?” Simpson asked.
Spocatti nodded.
“Take a deep breath if you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
Simpson had noticed this. Even experienced jumpers started to sweat a little when it came time to jump. This one would be wearing a blindfold for the first time-and yet he seemed absolutely cool.
“You sure you want to wear that blindfold?”
Spocatti glanced over at Celina, who was standing behind him with her arm around Jack. She smiled at him. He smiled back, relieved she hadn’t recognized him from the opening of The Redman International Building. He supposed the sunglasses, strapped to his head, helped.
“I’m sure,” he said.
“Then let’s do it.”
Simpson knelt, wrapped a nylon strap around Spocatti’s ankles, pulled it tight and snapped a series of buckles. While the bungee was being hooked to the strap, Spocatti glanced downriver. Parked in a discreet clearing next to one of the park’s many dirt roads, two of his men were waiting for him in a Range Rover.
Simpson stood and slapped him on the back, indicating it was time to jump. Holding onto the railing with one hand, Spocatti lowered the blindfold with the other. With the sudden darkness, his senses became acute. He could hear the river roiling beneath him, the cry of a crow flying overhead. Against his thigh, he could feel the small pocketknife he had zipped into one of his pockets.
If Celina gave him too much trouble, he would carve her a new necklace.
“I’m going to count down from five,” Simpson said. “When I’m finished, I want you to dive out as far as you can. Understand?”
Spocatti nodded.
The countdown began.
When Simpson reached zero, Spocatti pushed off the bridge without hesitation and plummeted to the river in a graceful arc. Celina moved forward with the crowd and watched. His arms outstretched, his head lifted high, Spocatti seemed to be flying-then the bungee went taut and cracked him like a whip.
He didn’t scream or yell or shout. There was no whoop of joy or exhilaration. He simply shot back toward the bridge and began to bounce. It was over in less than a minute. He was lowered to the raft.
When the bungee and blindfold were pulled back, Simpson looked at Celina. Her face was pale. She was squeezing Jack’s arm with one hand, swatting a mosquito with the other.
“I’m satisfied,” he said. “You next?”
“Is that even a question?” Celina asked. “Piece of cake.”
“Try to concentrate,” Simpson said to her. “Push everything from your mind and think only of the jump. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise you that. Soon you’ll be safe in the raft and wearing what we jumpers call the post-bungee grin.”
Although she heard little of what he said, Celina took a deep breath and nodded. Once again, she was standing at the edge of the footbridge, holding onto the rail behind her with tightly clenched hands. In the raft below, Spocatti and Simpson’s assistant were looking up. They seemed a thousand miles away.
Celina put the blindfold in place and wondered why she was doing this. Why did she always have to prove to herself and to others that she was every bit as strong, every bit as brave, every bit as smart as a man? So, I need therapy. Great.
She felt a hand on her arm. “Are you all right?” Jack asked.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“You sure you want to go through with this?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Want to have lunch with me later?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I love you,” he said.
Celina gave a start. She couldn’t have heard him right. But when he squeezed her arm and gently kissed her cheek, she knew she had. He loves me, she thought. If there’d been time, she would have told him that she loved
