Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

52

Bennett

When I get home from the bachelor party, I enter through the basement door. There, I move one box to the side and search through the other. It’s in this one—the fifth—that I finally find it. My own box of buried treasure.

I flip through everything—the flyer for my first Honeywood summer camp, the treasure map Ruby made for my tenth birthday, her crayon sketches of roller coasters, our prom picture with awkward teenage grins and my hand on the small of her back, like always. There’s the blog post I printed, announcing Ruby as Dominion’s latest hire; my bulky plastic pirate belt buckle from Florida; the unopened seashell shampoo from the hotel; and the receipt for one soda water with lime and one shot of rum.

I’m sure some people save old baseball gloves their dad gifted them or movie tickets with a first date, but my favorite memories were always with Ruby. It’s inked on my soul and in my skin—my parrot, my anchor, her strawberry tattoo’s twin that settled along on my ribs. And then there’s our birthday constellation, dotted over my ankle in orange, like the freckles that exist on no one else but her.

I dip a hand deeper into the box, and nestled between an elementary school yearbook with Ruby’s signature written at least five times and our old PC game disc for RollerCoaster Tycoon is the pink string bracelet I removed two months ago.

I roll it between my fingers, feeling the weak string and roughened edges. And I think. I think and think and think, but the only things I imagine are playing pirates, high fives, bad jokes, climbing trees, and freckled smiles at sunset.

“Hey, Ben?”

Footsteps come down the stairs. I pocket the string and shuffle to close the box, hefting it in the corner before opening another.

“Ben?”

“Here! Sorry. I was looking for tax documents. Orson reminded me we’d have to combine soon.”

Jolene steps around the corner, her eyes darting from the discarded box and back to me.

“I’m leaving for the hotel,” she says.

“Already?”

“It’s almost eleven.”

“Oh. Must’ve lost track of time. Wait, why are you still here?”

“Keeping an eye out in case you got smashed at your bachelor party.”

“Ha. No. Very sober.” I ruffle my hair.

Jolene’s palm runs over my hair too. “God, I love it short. You should keep it this way.”

“If you want, sure.”

“So, crazy bachelor party, huh? Back before midnight and everything.”

I let out a weak laugh. “Crazy.”

Crazy in that my best friend essentially told me she loves me. Crazy in that, as I look at Jolene with her red eyebrows turned in and a slight smile, I know that I do love this woman right here. Crazy in that I don’t know what that means anymore.

Jolene sits down beside me, bringing her knees up to her chest and tilting her head to the side. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jolene this tentative in the three years I’ve known her.

My face falls.

“You all right?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she answers, tracing a line over her own freckles dotting the outside of her knee. “Can I ask you something though?”

“Of course.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You would do anything to see me happy, wouldn’t you?”

My head rears back in surprise, but I laugh it off. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“I know,” she says wistfully, tossing her head side to side. “Yeah, I know.”

I chuckle. “Where’s this coming from?”

Her smile is weak as she rips off a loose strand from her shorts. “I want you to know that I’d do anything to make you happy too.”

I place a palm on her knee, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I know that.”

Jolene would, and she has. She’s tried so hard to understand me, to do what she thinks is best for me and will make me happy. She tried to mend the relationship with my dad. She tried to get me to move on.

Sometimes, it’s worked. Sometimes, it hasn’t. Jolene always tries though.

But then my eyes linger on the box in the corner. The limb I was forced to cut off.

I wonder if Jolene will grow me a new one in its place.

I wonder if that’s even possible.

“All right.” She rises to her feet, slapping off invisible dust with a grin. “I’m gonna head out. Don’t stay up too late. You’ll oversleep and miss seeing me in a gorgeous dress.”

“Five a.m., max,” I joke.

Jolene claps me on the shoulder, but doesn’t continue the bit, like I’m used to. It’s just a one-liner. No high five. Nothing.

But that’s because she isn’t Ruby.

“I’ll see you at the altar, big guy.”

I reach out and squeeze her hand. “Yeah. See you then.”