Home > The Moment of Letting Go(62)

The Moment of Letting Go(62)
Author: J.A. Redmerski

“What are we doing here?” I ask somberly, unable to take my eyes off the sign as we pull into a parking space. It’s obvious what we’re doing here, but surely he knows that what I’m really saying is, Are you crazy? There’s no way I’m getting on a helicopter.

Luke shuts off the engine, breaks apart his seat belt, and turns on the seat to face me. As always, his smile alone is enough to calm me down, but this time it’s not enough to make me get out of the car.

“Imagine seeing Kauai from the air,” he says. “Imagine the photos you can take that you’ll never be able to take from the ground.”

“I’m fine with taking photographs from the ground.”

He smiles and regards me quietly for a moment.

“You got on the plane,” he says to make a point, “and you sat by the window—”

“Yeah, but this is much different,” I argue.

“You’re right, it is,” he says. “It’s a sight that you’ll never forget, and if you do it once, I guarantee you that you’ll want to do it again.”

I highly doubt that.

I shake my head and face forward, peering out the windshield.

“I got on the plane,” I say in a quiet voice, “but this is so much smaller, and I dunno, Luke, but I might feel claustrophobic in something like that and freak out worse.”

“Are you claustrophobic?”

“No …” I admit.

“Then you won’t freak out because it’s smaller.”

That was an excuse, I know, and he probably does too.

I feel the warmth of his hand on my bare thigh and I turn away from the windshield and look at him, his hazel eyes filled with everything that threatens to make me trust him: protection, unimaginable strength, adoration. A part of me really does feel like nothing could ever happen to me with him at my side, but still it’s not enough to quell the fear.

“OK, think about this,” he says, switching gears. “Helicopters are safer than planes, in my opinion, because the pilot can set them down just about anywhere with a flat surface. He can lower it to a safer height if he has to. A helicopter can hover in one place. An airplane, although generally safe, can’t do any of those things.” His strong fingers curl around my unsteady ones. “If you can get on a plane, you can get on a helicopter.”

What he said makes sense, and I think on it heavily. I think about my camera in the backseat and of the beautiful shots I could capture. I would love to expand my portfolio, to go on to the next level and see and shoot things I’ve only ever dreamed of. But more than anything, I really do want to break this fear. And for the first time in my life I’m in the presence of someone who truly understands it and seems to want nothing more right now than to see me free of it.

His lips fall on the corner of my mouth and my heart pounds against my ribs. I turn slowly to face him, our noses almost touching. I get lost in his eyes as they search mine and then he kisses my lips softly, causing my eyelids to become heavy with a warm, relentless tingling sensation. “You can do this, Sienna,” he whispers. “Fear is just the part of you that wants you to fail. It’s all of your regrets and your pain and your failures wrapped up into one emotion. It’s a weakness, nothing more.” Slowly I open my eyes and he’s still there, so close I can feel his breath on my lips and it takes everything in me to keep from tasting them. “We’re all stronger than our weaknesses,” he says. “Sometimes we just need someone else to help us find that strength.”

“Who are you, really?” I ask.

His eyes soften on me in a curious manner, and his mouth turns up slightly at the corners.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know … I mean, how is it that you can make me question just about everything?”

He seems genuinely surprised by my confession, so much so that he doesn’t seem to have an answer or a comment.

“You make me question my job,” I go on, trying to grasp my own words as much as he appears to be. “You make me question the amount of time I don’t spend behind my lens. I question my future. Where will I be in ten years? What will I be doing? What do I want to be doing?” I laugh lightly. “And every day now I question …”

After a moment, Luke says, “What do you question every day?”

I smile, the kind of smile that borders reflection and confusion, looking down at my hands in my lap. But I can’t answer him because I’m still not sure of the answer myself.

“I’ll get on the helicopter,” I say. “Not because I feel forced, or because I’m trying to do what you want me to do, but because I want to do it for myself. I need to do this.” It was difficult to say that, but it made me feel a little stronger.

His lips spread into a wide, close-lipped smile.

“That’s my girl,” he says, and my heart utterly melts into a puddle of hot mush.

The helicopter ride was terrifying at first, with the floor-to-ceiling glass that gave me more of a view than I initially thought I could stomach, but eventually I came around. My hands and legs stopped trembling. The tears dried up from my eyes. A look of awe and fascination replaced the expression of dread that I knew I wore as obviously as my clothes. The scenery literally took my breath away. The multicolored sea cliffs with sharp ridges and deep valleys. The majestic waterfalls and rolling green mountains. I was surprised how quickly I became comfortable with the height, and I don’t know if it was because the beauty made me forget about being afraid, because Luke was sitting beside me and I felt safe, or a combination of both, but … well, Luke was right—after I did it the first time, I wanted to do it again.

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