Getting Home

Part 33

I remember the very instant of realization. His face starting hitching, his breathing suddenly gasping, his hand grabbing at his chest as his lips began to quiver and his eyes brimmed.

Sean burst out in tears.

He ran inside the house, bawling the entire way. Keep in mind—he was like thirteen at the time. Can you imagine? Mom worked nights, so it was just our Dad at home.

I followed gleefully behind Sean, the screen door slamming behind me as I did my best to hide my huge grin. I still don't know why—maybe because Sean was always so good at everything, it was just nice to see him fall flat on his face for once.

But I hate thinking I had that kind of stuff inside me.

"Ava, stop smirking," Dad said, rising from the recliner. "And Sean—stop it. What happened?"

"He fell off his bike," I said, excitedly swinging my Barbie around like a rocketship. "He tried to go over the thing and fell face-first right over on his—"

"Enough, Ava," Dad said, giving me a serious look. My Barbie deflated, drooping sadly at my side as my glee went away.

Sean only stood there, not sobbing anymore but sniffling and making little noises as his back hitched and he tried to hold back his tears. Dad went to the kitchen and came back with some large-sized band-aids.

"Face-first, huh?" Dad said, peeling the sticker off the back of the band-aid.

"Uh-huh." Sean sniffled. "On the ramp."

"You know why that happened, don't you?"

Sean shook his head.

Dad pressed the band-aid against the small scratch on Sean's chest. "You were leaning forward—that puts too much weight in the front. You have to lean back."

He finished pressing on the adhesive.

"Say you're making an old-timey movie with a car chase in it—and you want the cars to jump over a bunch of hills. 1960's means big, heavy cars—with even bigger, heavier engines. You blast one of those things over a hill and it's just going to crater nose-first the instant it gets airborne. Breaks the car—stunt looks like shit. The engine is just too heavy."

He settled back in the recliner. "You have to put weight in the back if you want to keep the nose up."

Yeah...

Dad watched a lot of TV.

Henry was looking at me weird as I reminisced. Guess I couldn't blame him—I don't know if I even remembered any of that correctly, but intuitively it made sense to me.

But more than that—

It felt right.

"We don't have anything to put weight in the back of the Civic," I said to Henry. "The only thing I can think of is if we go in reverse, the front will be lighter."

Henry still looked dubious, but he nodded.

"Alright, Ava. I believe in you."

"No pressure... although it's not every day I have a God believing in me," I said, giving him a big playful shove on the shoulder. That big, beautiful squinty-eyed smile broke out across his perfect face, and he gave me a playful little shove back, making me laugh.

And then I came back to reality.

No pressure.

We stood silently at the edge of the cliff a little longer, unwilling to move. Everything was so quiet; I looked down into the infinite pit of blackness, to the far side across, where the Path continued on. My thoughts from earlier echoed in my head...

What if we didn't make it? What if there was nothing in that black void? Would we just fall forever?

"I guess it's time," I said finally.

We automatically took each other's hand, walking silently back to the Civic. The bright blue sky above was beginning to fade to a beautiful, pearlescent orange.

I guess there were sunsets here, too.

Henry grunted in pain as I started the Civic, clutching at his chest for only a few moments before relaxing. Whatever was going on with him, he seemed to be getting used to it. As I slowly backed the Civic away from the cliff ledge, I realized I didn't even know how fast a car could go in reverse.

Would it be fast enough?

I suddenly turned the Civic in a different direction.

"What are you doing?" Henry asked.

I grunted, tightening my fingers around the steering wheel. "Practice."

It only took about five seconds into my first practice run to realize I had yet another problem—

I couldn't keep the Civic straight.

It took about six practice runs before I was finally able to keep the Civic straight—within seconds of trying to speed up going in reverse, the front of the Civic would began to shimmy, wiggling back and forth, subtly at first before getting more and more pronounced until it was a violent shake—

Then I realized if I stared straight ahead, instead of looking behind me I could keep it straighter.

Finally I was ready. Ready as I was going to be.

I think.

I lined the Civic back up on the Path, the rear-end facing towards the cliff ledge—facing towards our futures. The edge of the cliff in front of giant black chasm loomed in the rearview mirror in front of me.

"Are you?" I asked Henry.

He had been unusually silent the whole time—even for him. He had his normal anxious look... but at least he didn't look terrified.

"Huh?"

"Are you ready?"

He nodded, biting his lip.

"Buckle up," I said, pulling my seatbelt across and latching it.

I put the Civic in reverse.

Okay. Start slow from a roll. Press lightly on the gas—gently, that's right. The Civic smoothly began to pick up speed; the steering wheel began to lightly wobble.

Here we go.

I pushed harder on the gas, staring straight ahead, trying to keep the nose centered in the Path. The rear of the Civic began to veer towards the side—just gently correct, lightly hold the wheel to the left. The engine began to whine to a pitch I had never heard before, the entire car vibrating under our seats like an airplane roaring down the runway. I glanced up to rearview mirror, the edge of the cliff approaching quicker and quicker, getting closer and closer to that invisible point—

The point where we wouldn't be able to stop in time.

The point of no return.

I floored it.

The wind roared through the car and broken windows, my hair whipping around wildly like a mini-tornado, stinging my face and eyes. Looking out of the front of the windshield, it was like the world was racing away from me, like I was watching my own past being left behind, the old world unable to keep up with me. I glanced up at the rearview one last time—

"Henry, hang on!" I shouted over the noise.

We sailed right off the Edge.