First Time Jumpers

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It’s June 1, we’re sitting on the back patio having cheeseburgers I cooked on the grill. We’re just talking about nothing in particular. Suddenly, out of the blue:

My husband says, “You know, my birthday’s in two weeks, I think I’d like to do something really different for my birthday this year.”

I figure he wants to go crabbing instead of fishing, or maybe fish in a different part of the bay. He’s really not one for varying his routine very much. I say. “Um-hm, what do you want to do, Hon?”

“I want to go sky-diving.”

After I can bring the paroxysms of laughter under control, I ask, “No, really?”

He kind of grimaces, and glares back at me. “I was serious about sky-diving. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. What do you think?”

“I think you’ve lost what little bit of mind I wasn’t sure you had in the first place.”

“Oh, ha ha, I saw in the paper they’re doing a class out at the local airport. I’m going to sign up. Do you want to do it with me?” he asks with a bit of an expectant tone.

I’m laughing so hard again that he just shakes his head and goes into the house.

The next day is Saturday. Jake’s an early riser, so when I get up he’s already out on the patio with the paper. I sleepily get myself a cup of tea and join him. He looks up, rolls his eyes at me and goes back to his paper.

I sigh, and say, “I’m sorry I laughed. If you really want to go sky-diving, go ahead. But I’m not going with you. I will stay firmly on the ground and cheer you on. And maybe take pictures as they’re loading you on the ambulance.”

He smirks at me and lays down his paper. “It’s supposed to be really safe, now. I’m going to call. Sure you don’t want me to sign you up, too?”

“Positive.”

I go along with him to the class for moral support. I have a couple magazines and a book to keep me company while he’s learning about his impending doom. He comes out to the waiting area where I’m sitting in a red jumpsuit and says they’re ready. There are two other idiots, I mean jumpers, going on this trip, too. He tells me where I should go to watch. A small field about a mile from the airport is the final destination. So off I go to go see my spouse jump from an airplane attached to a sheet. Sigh.

There are a couple of young girls and a middle-aged couple there when I arrive. They smile and I introduce myself.

The woman of the couple says, “My son is jumping today. I am so worried, but everyone assures me it’s all routine and I needn’t worry.”

“My husband said the same.” I tell her. “He’s jumping for the first time too.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” she asks.

I frown back at her. “No, not really, but that’s what he wanted to do.”

She continues to look shocked, so I turn to one of the young girls. A pretty blonde, she smiles and says, “I think it’s cool your husband’s jumping. I would be up there today too, but my doctor says it’s not a good idea when you’re pregnant. Jimmy’s jumping to celebrate the news, we tried for three years to get pregnant, and it finally happened. We met in sky-diving class, so it seemed like the natural way to greet the new baby.”

I am amazed at this news, but just then the plane comes into sight. The pregnant girl jumps up and down and points, laughing and waving. The mother stands motionless, undoubtedly praying and secretly hoping her son chickens out. I wait smiling. I know he can do it and will be great. I do say a little prayer though.

A figure appears at the plane’s hatch wearing blue, from the shrieks and jumping from the girl, this must be Jimmy. A moment or two after he jumps, a white jumpsuit hurtles from the plane. The mother covers her mouth with her hands, I can see the silent scream in her eyes. I knew Jake would be last, letting the young boys have their glory first. The white jumpsuit appears at the hatch, hesitates a moment, then joins the others just as Jimmy’s chute opens into a red flower, followed by the son’s blue one. The white parachute hasn’t opened. I see Jake seem to flail a bit with his arms. I gasp with fear. His chute’s not working. Oh no!

Then the white chute opens just as the other two did. I nearly collapse from the relief. Just the landing now. The boys land gracefully, running as they hit ground and whooping and carrying on. Jake lands a little less elegantly, but still safely. All the waiting audience runs to join the three men who have hugged one another and are having a ball congratulating one another.

I kiss Jake and hug him. “What happened up there? I saw you waving your arms, and the parachute didn’t open.”

He looks at me sheepishly and says, “Sorry I scared you, there was nothing wrong with my chute. My teeth fell out, and I was trying to catch them. I missed.” He then grinned at me with his toothless smile. This time I laughed even harder.

I say, “I guess that’s one of the hazards of sky-diving for your eightieth birthday.”

Jake starts laughing too, and we walk back to the car arm-in arm. Waving goodbye to the others, I turn to Jake.

I say, “Next year you’re not going to want to go swimming with sharks or anything are you? I don’t think I could survive the laughter.”

He laughs. “We’ll see.” He says as we head back home for a nice glass of iced tea.

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