By 12:34 in the afternoon, as Jane read, she had finished 26 emails and was about to send a long report to her boss in regards to her status. Eight hours ago, Jane was booting up her computer, leaving her sleeping boyfriend in their bed, strangely comforted by the machine’s hum, as though it was breathing. She was confident that she had lost three shades of her tan from the luminescence of the screen, but her under-eye bags began to look like darkened bruises. At the rate she was typing, she predicted, she’d get arthritis by the end of the month.

At 10:16, she had heard Marcus in the kitchen by the clink of the beer bottles he attempted to sneak a swig from. She saw him lean over the kitchen sink, the sun draping itself across his bare tan chest as he tapped the neck of the bottle with his index finger, looked almost pained. Jane didn’t have time to tell him off, so she allowed him to sip quietly again.

“Jane-y,” Marcus drawled from outside her office door at 12:56, “Come see what I got for my little pumpkin!”

Jane sighed, partially turning her head toward the doorway as she slowed her typing. “Can it wait? I have an important –“

“It certainly cannot, my lovely,” he interjected, still remaining behind the doorframe. Jane caught a glimpse of his muscular shoulder before it disappeared, leaving her staring at her heavily furnished living room.

Jane stifled a groan. She quickly typed up another sentence. Marcus was just too much these days; she had wanted to call their relationship off for the longest time, but she couldn’t even think about how Marcus would crumble. Her thoughts were pulled from her fingertips, and she soon forgot about Marcus through the tap-tapping of her keyboard until he called out again.

“Janey-poo?”

Jane sighed, attempting to run her fingers through her tangled bun atop her head. She let out a desperate groan, ripped her fingers from her head and slammed them on the desk, her small headache soon spreading like an epidemic. “Marcus, I—“

“But Jane!”

Nope, I’m done. How quickly can one person pack a whole house? Jane swung around in her chair and bolted up, but stumbled into the arms of a beaming Marcus. He held her side stiffly against his chest and reeked of beer. Jane scowled.

She shook out of his grasp, parked a hand on her hip, and jutted out her jaw.

“Well?”

Marcus held a crinkled packet of papers to his chest, his deep brown stubble brushing its edges. “Well,” he almost mocked, “I got us something.”

“’Something?’”

“Oh yeah.” He grinned and excitedly shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Jane let out a long breath as she fiddled with some of her brown curls. Jane knew she had to stop whatever this was before it started. Holding up a hand, she began, “Wait, Marcus, I have to tell you—“

“I’m taking you skydiving!” Marcus disregarded Jane’s disbelief and attempted to spin her around, but settled for dancing around her when she wouldn’t budge.

Jane wasn’t sure what to think. She was caught between a gasp and a not-very-convincing grin. She yearned for the simplicity of a monotonous work day, -- the palms of her hands itching for the keyboard and the warm hum of the processor – definitely not this mess.

“W-Wow, Marcus,” Marcus shoved one of the receipts in her face, making her smile stumble when he lowered it, “really?”

“Yeah. I know it’s something you’ve wanted to do for a while, Janey-poo.” He gave a small smile. “I wanted to do something a little special.”

Jane was mortified. Marcus ran a hand through his long blonde hair. “So, what do you say? Wanna take a leap of faith with me?” He laughed harder than he should have, sloppily folding the papers and slipping them into the waistband of his sweats.
“Uh,” The poor guy just spent all this money, and she was about to break his heart? Jane took a deep breath. “Sure. Yeah, it’ll be fun.” She forced another smile as he pumped his fist in the air, which Jane thought may have been better suited for a hit to her gut.
“Cool. Yeah, no, awesome.” He pointed at her as he backed out the office. “Yeah, cool.”
“Marcus, are you okay?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, babe. You do your work, I’m going to head to the grocery store to, eh, grab stuff.”

Probably more beer, Jane supposed. She wondered if he was drunk. “Alright.”

“Be back soon, love you.” The sound of his dangling keys was lost by the closing door, and his words lost by the sound of Jane’s typing.


Jane was not afraid of heights. And at 12:16 the next day, that’s exactly what she told the trainer, who she was afraid of.

“Really, now?” Carrie’s country twang made Jane cringe. She couldn’t reply before Carrie flipped her blonde hair in Jane’s face and turned to Marcus. Jane was spitting out cheap hair dye when Carrie chimed, “How about you, honey?” She lowered her voice and raised her chest. “Got any fears?”

Jane was positive she would hurl, and the plane hadn’t even moved yet.

“Nope,” Marcus replied coolly, “none other than this one.” He wrapped an arm uncomfortably around Jane’s shoulders as he and Carrie laughed. Jane pressed her scowl into Marcus’ forearm, his chest and side tense with his morning drink.

“So,” she coughed after Marcus released her, “You nervous?” Carrie had strutted into to cockpit to check with the pilot, so Marcus buckled himself next to Jane. The plane’s mental interior gave Jane chills, but she remained stoic as Marcus nervously rubbed his legs. She tapped her boot on the metal floor plates, the slight echo rippling across the width of the plane.

“No. No, definitely not.” Jane watched him clench and unclench his fists.

“You sure? We can back out.”

“No, never. I would never.” He swallowed. Jane knew he wanted a drink.

“Let’s fire it up!” Carrie called from the cockpit. The engines began to hum, steadily increasing into the continuous roar of a mechanical lion. Marcus hesitantly put a hand on Jane’s knee as she buckled up, gently rubbing it, because he felt he needed to comfort her. Carrie began shouting orders as the door closed. The small plane sped along the runway, seemingly gliding atop the asphalt as Carrie, Jane, and Marcus put on their gear. Their heads bounced in a choppy rhythm with the weight of the currents as they slowly ascended. The forests and hills began to minimalize, shrinking into what reminded Jane of a scale model. She forgot how small she was sometimes.
“Alright,” Carrie shouted over the winds’ roar as the door opened, “Ya’ll get ready, we’re nearin’ the jump!”

After unbuckling, Marcus wrapped his arm around Jane as they slowly made their way to the door, Marcus helping Carrie put on Jane’s before his own. Jane’s curls whipped wildly, the sun seeming cooler and hotter than it has ever been, all at the same time. Marcus’ long blonde hair whipped just as hard, seeming to catch onto the fields of grain below them.

“Jane!” Marcus leaned in, and even shouting, she could hardly hear him.

“What?”

“I have something important to ask you!”

“Now?”

“Yes, now!”

“Couldn’t this have been better planned?”

“Never!”

“Y’all better hurry!” Carrie interjected. She pulled Jane by the arm towards the door.

“Marcus, this has to wait!”

“No, Jane, I have to ask you something!” He yanked her other arm, making her stumble back into him.

“Y’all, c’mon!” Carrie ushered them toward the door.

“Marcus!” He clutched both of her arms and looked at her almost blankly.

“Jane – will you marry me?”

Jane stopped. Carrie stopped. Marcus waited. The wind almost cried. Jane almost vomited. “Oh, Marcus, I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

“I-I, no. My answer is no!”

“W-What?” Marcus’ smile dropped faster than any falling human body could, his sharp jaw clenched hard enough to kill a man. He slipped a small box that Jane didn’t notice back in his pocket.

“I mean, I tried to break it off yesterday morning, but—“

“We gotta jump, now.” Carrie refastened their harnesses and pushed them together. Marcus sniffed. He didn’t feel alcohol’s pull any more. Jane swallowed. She thirsted for impact with the Earth. Their hands locked, but his hands felt cold, distant. She couldn’t recognize the dips and curves of his palm. A push from Carrie, and then they jumped, the horizon yanking itself upward as they dragged their fingers across the mountains and forests in the distance, winds circling around their bodies in a dance of gravity, strangers’ fingers intertwined.

At 12:34, memories seemingly fell faster, wind swept away their history, a finger without a ring, long-term sobriety, their first and last leap of faith.