The Morning After Mirage

Studies have shown that near-death experiences can be surprisingly arousing. Actually, I don’t know if those studies exist. I just know that as soon as we landed safely, I had the overwhelming urge to sit on his face. Too much? I know. Unfortunately, it gets worse.

My gaze followed the rustled sheet winding through his athletic legs and drizzled romantically across his bare back. A sleeping warrior. Exhausted from battle and ravishing his spoils long into the night. My wrists were sore. His breaths slow. I leaned closer and could smell the whiskey that steered our night to incoherent bliss. Before I could kiss his lips to fully submerge myself in cliche, he burped and rolled roughly onto his side. Awww. Even his gas is cute...Oh shit. Stop it.

I was notorious for finding a “trip boyfriend” no matter the vacation. It drove my friends crazy. But I couldn’t help it if I were a magnet for companionship! Or according to my therapist suffering from acute isolophobia. Obviously, I just hoped I wasn’t the only one.

But I didn’t need to dread solitude because our babies were going to be beautiful. And not to mention they’d have dual citizenship. Thanksgiving and Christmases in DC, summers in Dubai. Stop it! Stop doting on your beautiful jet-setting nonexistent children!

It’s not like I didn’t know the proper morning-after-sleeping-with-a-stranger procedure. Get your ass up, tip-toe through the mind field of drunken tossed clothing, try to remember if you were in fact wearing a bra and promptly begin your walk of shame without waking whatever-his-name-is.

“Plotting your escape?” Even with a raspy morning voice, bed hair and blood shot eyes- my goosebumps returned. I started to reply, but my brain powered off and instead, I giggled. Like a tween reading her first, ‘Do you like me? Check yes, no, or maybe’ note. Ugh.

“No worries. Not the first time I’ve been used for sex” he quipped while gracefully stretching his naked body. Suddenly, I became super conscious of the few extra pounds I was sporting this summer.

“Are you jumping today?” My attempt at small talk as I slid my underwear across the floor with my foot while strategically covering my breasts and ass with the sheet.

“After getting pissed last night, not a chance.” Suddenly, he leapt over the bed and relieved me of my cover -up. In a swift motion, he wrapped himself inside the sheet and glued his body to mine. A gentle whisper tickled my neck, “Fancy a breakfast burrito?”

----

Jasmine rolled her eyes as I argued his breakfast burrito line was just as romantic as “You had me at hello.” My best friend’s patience grew short after hearing the story for the third time. “I’m glad you can remember your glorious overdramatized morning, but how about last night?” She quizzed while slapping my reaching hand away from her French Toast.

I shrugged. “It’s a blur after those shots…Do you think Devrin would be open to a long distance relationship?”

“Stop, right now. Devrin has a fiance! ” At this point she was waving her fork in my face like a switch. “You don’t remember? I think her name is Ashley...no Annie...or...”

“Allie,” I finished as my stomach dropped into my ass. Allie, an Australian blonde with big green eyes and tattooed sleeves, exuded badassness. I remember thinking she looked like a Playboy Playmate posing as a Skydive instructor. Devrin proposed to her mid-air at 10,000 feet. The video, captioned ‘Free-Falling In Love’, played on loop in the waiting area. The Ken and Barbie of Skydiving. Fuck.

My ears began to ring. Flashes of the night returned like a cheesy Lifetime movie montage. Music. Bad dancing. Belting out, “It’s Getting Hot in Here” at the top of our lungs. I needed air. Somehow we ended up on the roof terrace.

Alone. Talking and laughing at first.

“Today was insane,” I reflected looking out at the night view. The lights of Dubai sparkled like diamonds in the sand. It was as if the city had been buried in the desert for centuries and then suddenly emerged in all its spectacular glory. I breathed in the warm air. “ I feel like there’s nothing I can’t do. Like for real, I jumped out of a plane and lived!”

“Well I’d like to think I had a tiny bit to do with that.’” His laugh was big. Pure.

Then kissing and touching.

“What would your girlfriend say if she knew you were on the roof kissing some strange girl?”

“Fiance. But don’t worry, not for long.”

Water splashed my eyes. My best friend interrupted my fuzzy flashback with a flick of her straw. “Um, hello! Care to share with the rest of the class?”

With a napkin to my face, I froze. Jasmine’s eyes were big with anticipation. But I couldn’t speak. The replay was too frightening.

“But don’t worry, not for long.” His two fingers mirroring scissors cutting the air. His laugh once again big, but this time dark.

“He’s going to kill her.” Apparently, I whispered because Jasmine leaned in close across the table.

Suddenly my feet were moving. I ran faster with each new recollection. Fraying the cords, rather than a clean cut would look like an equipment failure. He knew just when to do it. Allie was a bitch. Secretly controlling. He was trapped. Today, he would cut the proverbial cord.

Still garbed in club attire, my bare thighs and arms drew quite a few stares on the train. Jasmine pulled me towards the Women and Children Only car. She whispered, “Maybe we should call the police!” I shook my head quickly. Considering alcohol consumption was illegal in the UAE, I was pretty sure they frowned upon murder. Besides, I could just imagine my “friendly tip” getting lost in translation and somehow ending up a confession signed by the dumb American that couldn’t read Arabic.

Two stops left. My knees suddenly felt weak; I collapsed into an empty chair next to a woman immaculately draped in a black abaya. She promptly moved to the other side of the car as if my slutiness were contagious. I cradled my face in my hands wishing tears could erase the sinister plot echoing in my ears. Jasmine squeezed my shoulder and made a chilling statement of the obvious, “Allie won’t be jumping alone.”

We burst into the Skydiving Center in a full panic. Screaming. Pleading for anyone to listen. I stopped when I saw him. Swallowing hard I dared to ask, “Where is she?”

Devrin smiled. “She gone,” he sang pointing up towards the sky. “Hope she has a safe landing!”

“He’s going to kill her! Somebody help!” I shrieked. Tears choking my voice. Tourists being suited up for their once in a lifetime experience looked on in horror. “Tell them to land the plane or Allie and whoever she’s strapped to is going to fucking die!”

We were pulled into an office that wouldn’t stop spinning. Asked to start from the beginning.

Offered water. I used the first sip only as a diversion to bolt out the door. Sprinting towards the tarmac and hurling frantic prayers at the sky. “Allie! Allie!” Security and a half dozen instructors on my heels, I stumbled wildly onto the landing area. I could see parachutes falling gently to the ground; triumphant jumpers exhilarated and alive. I imagined Allie’s skull shattering on impact. I lost my footing at the thought and landed chest first, hard. A coughing fit followed. Then vomit. Digging my nails into the dirt, I finally managed to pull myself up onto my knees. A figure blocked the sun.

“Are you okay?” The voice of an Australian angel. “Damn it Devrin! I told you to sleep with her, not scare the shit out of her.”

Another figure stepped into view. It was Ken, standing proudly beside his disgustingly perfect Barbie. I was relieved, but then suddenly utterly confused and unable to speak.

“You never let me have any fun, Allie! Gosh, you’re so controlling.” His laugh was big. Pure.

She joined, taking his hand. Their laughter a dark twisted harmony.