Just under an hour later, I made the turn into the parking lot nearest the lake. The pit into my stomach felt like it had grown, like if it had started as an olive pit it was definitely a peach pit. Everything about the task ahead set my nerves on edge: yes, I was scared of the jump, but there was also the cold, the wet, the grime in the lake. I was not looking forward to any of it.
There was a pause before we started the trek up the side of the hill, one where we both looked into the water and imagined what it would be like to dive into that cold. For half a second, I thought about pushing pause; I didn’t want to skip out on my chance to face my fears, but I could wait until summer. There was no rush to jam all my life experience into one two week period. Before I could even give backing out a second thought, Lennox grabbed my hand, her fingers lacing through mine and began leading me up the well-worn trail.
“Might as well get this over with if we are going to do it,” she said.
It took me a moment to process what she was saying. I had assumed I would be on my own in this. That she would wait patiently at the bottom like I’d waited for my friends, maybe even get a kick out of watching me shiver my way back onto shore with rattling teeth.
“We?” I asked stupidly, making sure I wasn’t engaging in wishful thinking.
“Well, yeah,” she said with an exaggerated shrug. “You asked me to join you on your voyage. I’m not here to be a spectator.”
In that moment, walking side by side up through the bare grey woods, looking at the discarded soda bottles and occasional clothing items people had abandoned over the years, I felt more scared than I had felt at any other point that day, but suddenly the water and my impending leap seemed the least of my fears. Or maybe it was leaping that scared me, but it was going to be a different type of jump, one with a landing that might be much harder to brace myself for.
We made it to the top and across the smaller boulder to the one I had chosen for my leap. I pulled off my sweater and jeans and Lennox followed suit, revealing a cute, turquoise one piece bathing suit. Her legs were more muscular than her small frame implied, and she was very lean throughout. Our eyes met and my cheeks burned as I realized she’d noticed me checking her out. I tiptoed to the edge of the rocky surface and looked down into the choppy green water below.
“Shit. You know what?” I turned, looking back at her. “We should have left our clothes at the bottom. It would’ve sucked walking up here in our bathing suits, but it’s going to suck more walking back up here soaking wet.” Again I peered down at the water below. It was churning and foamy and I swear I could see how cold it was. “Maybe we should do that now. Walk our clothes back down there, I mean.”
Lennox didn’t answer my obvious attempts to stall the jump. Instead, she once again took my hand and urged me forward. We stood that way for a moment, feeling the chills spreading across our bare bodies in the December wind. My arms felt like they were lined with tiny razors from the sharpness of my arm hair standing on edge and goosebumps had covered pretty much all my available surfaces. Lennox’s fingers felt like icicles between my own, but even as hard and cold as they were, they felt like safety, too.
“One,” she counted. “Two. Three.”
Before I had a chance to protest, I was lurched forward by her jog and the pull from our connected hands. In under two seconds, we were airborne and her hand slipped from mine. Time slowed down and it felt like I was gliding through the air forever, my hair whipping my face as the wind ripped through it. Just in time, I held my breath. My body hit the water.
It was like everything I’d ever feared it would be; the water smacked my skin like a thousand tiny needles all over me. For a second, I had the thought that this must be what it would be like to get a tattoo if instead of ink there was ice water, but I was so cold that I couldn’t even follow that idea to the end of its trail. Arms flailing and feet all jerky movements, I did something that was a cross between dog paddling and jerking my limbs straight out from my body until I made it to the shore.
Like an idiot, I thought it would be better when I left the water. I mean, I knew it was winter and cold, but anything had to be better than the hypothermic hug I was getting when I was submerged in the water. Except for the wind: I didn’t factor in the wind. I didn’t think about it whipping against my bare skin, making the water droplets that dotted my body feel like they were going to immediately freeze until I was covered, head to toe, in ice. For a moment, I just stood on the bank of the lake and it was as if even my brain was frozen: it had shut off completely from the cold and wouldn’t send cues to my legs that it was time to move.
Once again it was Lennox who got me going. After I landed in the icy water, I had forgotten she existed and I certainly hadn’t looked around for her to make sure she was okay before I made my way to the shore. But suddenly she was beside me and she snaked an arm around my waist to guide me back up to our waiting clothes.
We were mostly silent as we shivered our way back to my car and when I made no move to leave the lot until heat started to accumulate, Lennox said nothing. Finally the heat kicked on and the hot blast warmed my frozen body. With my body warm, I was no longer distracted from the fact that I was starving.
I drove us to the local McDonald's where we both ordered large sized french fries. The grease from the french fries on our table felt like paradise after the cold walk back to the car and, in truth, even sitting across from Lennox in the Grayson, Kentucky McDonald’s I still had a deep chill. My hair was hanging like thick, tangled moss around my face and even though I’d brushed it, without product I could tell it was matting. Lennox was so lucky to have that short hair. Even wet, it was flipping up from her scalp and looked adorable. I had an urge to lean across the table and mess it up, but I showed restraint and jammed another fry into my mouth instead.
They were good: hot and salty like I liked them. They’d be better if I had a McFlurry to dip them in, but I was way too cold to entertain the notion of ice cream, so instead I had ordered the fries and a medium hot chocolate and it was shaping up to be a close second in terms of food combos. Lennox had ordered a black coffee and looked so effortlessly cool as she sipped her drink and surveyed the room. I think the slouch was part of it; she leaned against the booth with her arm across the back and crossed her legs in this way that just seemed so natural. Meanwhile, here I was, fiddling with fries, blowing on my drink, and just generally unable to stay still or relax.
Some kids were playing foosball about a foot away from us and I rolled my eyes as they argued over who was winning. Who ever heard of a foosball table in a fast food restaurant? Every time they moved their men, the whole thing jarred ensuring a constant din of clanging noises as we ate. It wasn’t the most peaceful atmosphere. Lennox caught my eye and smiled.
“Want to play a game when they finish up?” she asked.
I blinked at her. It was so hard to tell if she seriously wanted to play foosball or if she was teasing me since I was so obviously annoyed. Her arms were crossed, and her eyebrows raised and the expression could definitely read either as challenging or mocking.
“You really want to play foosball?” I asked. “At a McDonald’s?”
She laughed. “You’re worried about ruining the ambience for the other patrons?” she asked with an exaggerated scan of the restaurant. “Yeah, let’s play.”