Page 33 of The Upside of Falling
Colby:Yeah. Everything I’ve been working toward will be validated today. If I worked hard enough, I made it, if I missed a step, it’s going to show.
Rory:I bet you make it. I just know it.
Colby:I hope so.
Rory:Does your offer of wanting to see me still hold true?
I pause and bite my bottom lip. I want to see her—badly—and I think it’s time I make that known, more than in the letter I sent.
Colby:Yes. Desperately.
The little dots on the screen bounce as she types, and my breath catches in my lungs waiting for her answer.
Rory:I legit just squealed. When? Where? I’ll be there.
Colby:Does tomorrow work? I’ll be done with classes for winter break and on my way to Stryder’s house.
Rory:Tomorrow is perfect. I have classes in the morning and massage appointments until two, but I’m free after that.
Colby:Meet me at Garden of the Gods, the main garden at three. Dress warm.
Rory:Can’t wait.
Neither can I.
Just as I black out my phone, Hardie walks through the door, freshly showered and shaved. “Today’s the day, man. Excited?”
I finish putting on my boots. “Nervous as shit.”
“You’re going to make it. You’ve had F-22s in your blood since you were born. If I don’t get put on helos, I might die. Hell, I went to the chapel last night and prayed for an hour.”
Hardie has wanted to fly helicopters ever since sophomore year. He switched from wanting to be a fighter pilot when he went in a helicopter and felt the lift of the machinery, how it careened into the sky. It’s a different feeling than flying a jet, and the minute he felt it, he was addicted. At this point, I couldn’t imagine Hardie doing anything else.
And for the record, Hardie isn’t a religious person. So his praying garners a huge eye-roll from me.
“You know it doesn’t work like that? God isn’t a genie waiting for your three wishes.”
“Well, like the dick I am, I treated Him like one last night.” Sighing, Hardie takes a seat in his chair as well. “I can’t believe we’re halfway through. It’s almost over, and everything we’ve been working toward is coming to an end. We either made it or we didn’t.”
And that’s what it really comes down to. These last four years have been a culmination of preparing us for this day. Hardie is right; we either made it, or we didn’t.
Let’s hope I fucking made it.
* * *
Ring. Ring.
“Please, pick up. Please, pick up,” I mutter into my phone as I sit in my car, affording me some much-needed privacy from everyone else, from the celebrating going on around me. “Come on . . .”
“Hello?” I let out a long, pent-up breath. His voice instantly soothes me, taking me to the good moments in my life.With Gramps.I wouldn’t have made it this far in life without him, without the good times we shared together.I miss him.
“Gramps?”
“Colby, my boy.” He coughs into the phone. “Excuse me. How are you?”
“I’m good.” My leg bounces beneath me, hitting the steering wheel, yet the pain doesn’t even make a mark on my numb body. “I . . .” My throat grows tight. “I wanted to tell you”—I choke down a sob determined to make its way up my throat—“I made it into flight school, Gramps. I fucking made it.”
I can’t hold them back anymore. Tears fall from my eyes, as I rest my forehead on my steering wheel, relief washing over me.
