by Lauren Rowe
Just before we were forced by the narrowing cave walls to start trudging right up the middle of the deep stream, Jonas retrieved harnesses from Miguel’s backpack and secured the thick canvass strappings around my thighs and waist.
“What the hell is this for?” I asked, my voice quavering.
“You’ll see,” he said, tightening a buckle on my harness.
“I’m scared, Jonas,” I whispered.
“I’m in charge, remember?” he said, looking into my face, the light on his headlamp momentarily blinding me.
“In the bedroom,” I corrected, shaking with cold and nerves.
He flipped up the trajectory of his headlamp so it wouldn’t shine directly in my eyes and placed his hands on my cheeks. “My Magnificent Sarah,” he said tenderly, looking deeply into my wide eyes. “I would never, ever let harm come to you. You’re too precious to me. This is going to be one of the best experiences of your entire life—the perfect metaphor for the indescribable pleasure I’m going to give you tonight. If you’ll trust me, completely, you’ll thank me when it’s over.” He leaned in and kissed my wet lips, and my entire body melted into his.
Well, then. A harness it is.
And now, here I am, a harness secured around my body, a rope attached to the harness, standing in jet-black water up to my shoulders, at the base of a subterranean waterfall in a pitch-black cave—and Jonas is casually explaining the best strategy for my climb up the waterfall. Miguel already climbed up the rocks of the waterfall like a cat in a tree so he could secure the rope attached to my harness.
“Even if you slip, the rope will catch you,” Jonas coaxes from behind me. “And I’ll talk you through the whole thing.”
I look up. The top of the waterfall is a good fifteen to twenty feet up, and the only way up is by grabbing rocks directly in the path of the cascading water.
Jonas is standing behind me in the deep water with his arms around my waist, speaking right into my ear. He points. “You see that crag right there?”
I nod.
“Just put your right hand there and your left hand slightly above, maybe there, and then just go slow and steady up, arm-leg-arm-leg, ‘til you reach Miguel. He’ll pull you up over the edge when you get there.”
I nod again.
“You ready?”
I nod again. I’m shaking.
He pushes me forward and up, out of the water, onto a tiny footing at the base of the waterfall, just to the left of the cascading water. The cave is pitch black, other than the small orbs of light cast by our three headlamps. I look up. I can see Miguel’s headlamp shining brightly down on us from the top of the waterfall, but I can’t see Miguel.
I reach down and feel for the rope attached to my waist. Yep, it’s still there. I’m clutching the rock wall, afraid to move. Water is sheeting down a few inches away from me to my right.
“You can do this,” Jonas shouts from the deep water behind me. “Just do it, and don’t think about it.”
I look down at him and almost lose my footing on the slippery rock I’m teetering on.
“You got this,” he shouts above the sound of the rushing water.
I look up at my destination at the top of the waterfall.
“I’m here,” he shouts. “And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Sweeter words were never spoken. I’m still shaking, but I’m suddenly determined. I take a big breath and shimmy to my right, directly into the path of the pounding water. Holy hell, the water is pelting me, pounding the top of my helmet. I reach up and find the crags Jonas designated for my hands, and then I find places for my feet. And I climb. Midway up, I have trouble finding a spot for my right hand, and I’m frozen. The water’s pelting me in the face. How did I get here?
“Move your hand up just a little,” Jonas coaches. He’s out of the water now, standing on the small footing at the base of the waterfall directly beneath me.
I do as he instructs.
“That’s it, baby. Damn, you’re doing great. Now reach your left hand up. That’s it, good.”
Before I know it, Miguel’s hand is around my wrist, and he’s pulling me up, over the lip of the waterfall. And not a minute after that, Jonas is already standing next to me, having ascended the waterfall like he was climbing a step stool.
Jonas clutches me. “You did it!”
I look at him and my headlamp illuminates his face. He’s beaming at me. He’s elated, triumphant. The waterfall below us is rushing noisily in our ears. But wait. That water-pounding sound isn’t coming from underneath us, it’s coming from above us. I tilt my headlamp up, and holy frickin’ fuckity fuck fuck, there’s yet another waterfall about twenty feet away on the far side of yet another deep pool of dark water yawning before me—only this waterfall is a good thirty feet high.
I swing my face back to Jonas, ready to read him the riot act, but the expression on his face makes me laugh instead. Oh, he’s having the time of his life.
Climbing up the second waterfall proves much easier than the first, even though it’s twice as high. This time, I just do it. I don’t think about it. I don’t worry about it. I just trust the rope. And Jonas. And myself. And Miguel. I just let go. It certainly helps knowing this is the last waterfall (which Jonas swore) and that our destination (the “back door” mouth of the cave) is only about two hundred yards from this second waterfall (which Jonas swore to be true).
When I arrive at the lip of the second waterfall, my legs wobbly beneath me, I’m aghast. The only thing at the top of the waterfall is yet another small, dark pool of water. This time, thankfully, there’s no waterfall, just like Jonas promised—but the blackened pool is enclosed on all sides by low cave walls. There’s no trail. There’s no light. It’s a dead end.
I don’t understand. How do we get out of here? Is there some sort of underwater cave we have to dive down to in order to come up the other side and exit the cave?
“Wow,” Jonas says, easily climbing over the lip of the second waterfall, “you kicked ass that time, baby. You’re a natural. I can’t wait to take you indoor climbing when we get home.”
“Jonas, how do we get to the mouth of the cave from here?” I shine my headlamp on the nearby cave walls surrounding us. “Where’s the opening?”
“Oh, yeah. Um.” He looks at Miguel and they share another one of their oh-she’s-gonna-shit-a-brick smiles.
“You said the mouth of the cave is only two hundred yards away from this waterfall.” I can’t keep the edge out of my voice.
“And it is. The mouth of the cave is only about two hundred yards away from where we’re standing right now—but the trail to the mouth of the cave is right ... down there.” He points back down to the base of the waterfall.
“What?”
“Yeah. There’s a little trail off to right down there—we follow that, and—boom—we’re out. Easy peasy.”
“Down there? Then why did we climb up here?”
He smiles.
My stomach somersaults. “Oh no.”
“There’s no other way down.”
“No.”
“This is how we sacrifice you to the gods.” His smile is from ear to ear.
“Jonas, no.”
“There’s no other way down, baby. No other option. Contrary to what your brain is telling you, contrary to instinct, you’re just gonna have to let go and take a gigantic leap of faith into the dark abyss.”
I shine my light into the blackness below me. “It’s like thirty feet down!”
“Piece of cake.”
I grunt with exasperation.
“You want me to go first?” he asks.
I cross my arms over my chest, thinking. There was a high dive at the rec center pool growing up. One summer, when I was eleven, I jumped off it, just to prove I could do it, and I never did it again. I don’t like heights. I don’t like the feeling of my stomach leaping into my throat. And I really don’t like the idea of jumping thirty feet into a dark chasm below.
; “There’s no other way down,” he says again.
I glare at him. I’m pissed.
He’s anxious. “I wasn’t trying to trick you, Sarah, I promise. I was trying to surprise you.” His face contorts with worry. It’s exactly the look he flashed at his house when he told me he wasn’t treating me like a prostitute but, rather, like his girlfriend. This is the Jonas Faraday that melts my heart, right here, right now.
I grab his hand. “I know.” My knees are knocking.
His eyes are pleading with me. His intentions are pure. He’s put a lot of thought and effort into this entire trip—into helping me get out of my own way. He’s right. I need to get out of my head and take a flying leap. With him.
I look down past the rushing water at my feet into the darkness below. Even with my headlamp pointed down past the ridge I’m standing on, I can’t see the water below me—it’s just opaque blackness down there. I look back up at Jonas and my headlamp shines in his eyes. He squints and shields his eyes at the sudden bright light. I point my light just to the side of his face and he drops his hand. His eyes are earnest.
“You okay?” he asks.
My heart is clanging in my chest. “Yeah.” I exhale loudly. “Let’s do it.” I nod.
He smiles broadly and squeezes my hand. “I’ll jump first. And you come after me.” He smirks. “Ha! Of course, tonight we’ll do things in the exact opposite order.” He winks.
My cheeks flush. Oh yes, tonight. This crazy, beautiful madman has engineered this entire day as a prelude to tonight’s main event. I’ve never wanted anything more in all my life than to make love to this gorgeous man tonight. But I have to survive this ridiculousness first.
“You sure you’re okay?”
I nod.
He kisses me on the cheek. “Then I’ll see you on the other side,” he says. “Bye.” He leaps, hooting as he disappears into the blackness. I hear a large splash, followed by a cheer from below. “Awesome!” he yells up from the darkness.
After a few seconds, a small pool of light shines on the black water below me. “Aim for right here!” Jonas yells up. “Don’t think about it; just do it!”
I look at Miguel with my headlamp. His illuminated face smiles at me. He nods his encouragement. I look back down at the small pool of light below me. Jonas’ hand flickers into the small orb of light, patting the water. “Right here!” he calls up.
“Fuck it,” I mutter. I jump.
My entire body plunges into cold wetness. The water engulfs me completely, past my head. His strong arms embrace me. I’m clutching him, exhilarated, relieved, incredulous, shaking.
“So proud of you,” he’s muttering as he peppers my face with kisses. “So proud of you,” he says again. His kisses are euphoric. “My little virgin sacrifice.”
I’m clutching him like he’s a lifeboat and I’m drowning. I’m not sure I could command my arms to let go of him, even if I wanted to—which I don’t. I don’t want to let go of him ever again.
“I’m so proud of you,” he says again, in between kisses. “You did it.”
He swims to the edge of the water with me on his back, my arms around his neck. When he reaches the shallow part of the pool, he trudges out of the water, cradling me in his strong arms. His legs are under him now, on solid ground. He heads through an opening in the rocks to the side of the waterfall—I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before I started that second climb. His powerful legs are pumping, his arms sheltering me. I feel weightless. I feel safe. The lights from our headlamps are converging and leading our way out of the blackness. I nuzzle my dripping face into his strong chest.
“Do you see it?” he says after a couple minutes, his breathing labored.
I open my eyes and look ahead of us along the trail—and sure enough, there’s a faraway, glimmering light. The mouth of the cave.
“I see it,” I say. “Let’s run.”
He puts me down gently and grabs my hand, and we begin running, hand in hand, toward the light outside the cave. As we run, the light gets closer and closer and brighter and brighter and bigger and bigger; the cave walls become higher and higher and more expansive and open—and our laughter spirals into uncontained delirium. I don’t know why we’re laughing so hard, but we are.
Finally, we burst out of the cave and into the light together, hand in hand, breathless and howling with our mutual euphoria. The rain from earlier in the day has stopped, leaving behind a glistening, lush wonderland.
“Oh,” I say, finally collecting myself. “Oh, Jonas.”
He’s beaming at me. His face is flushed. “Beautiful,” he mutters, and his lips find mine.
Holy moly, this is the best kiss of my life. It’s electric. Who knew joining lips with someone could wreak this kind of havoc on an entire body, mind, and soul? His hands find my cheeks as his lips softly devour me. I’m floating, flying, reeling as his mouth continues its assault on mine. I reach for his hair—but my knuckles knock against the hard plastic of his helmet. He pulls away from me, his eyes heavy, and unlatches his helmet with an exasperated grunt. I follow suit. He tosses his helmet to the ground and so do I, and we continue our kiss to end all kisses. Ah, yes, my fingers revel in his wet hair. He pulls me into him, almost desperately, and I swear I can feel his heart beating against mine. After a moment, we pull apart, perhaps sensing Miguel’s imminent approach from the cave.
“Tonight,” Jonas says, his eyes blazing.
“Tonight,” I reply. My heart is racing. Goosebumps cover every inch of my skin. “Hellz yeah.”
He laughs. He cradles my back and pulls me close.
I’ve never felt so connected to another human being as I do in this moment.
I want to kiss him again, but Miguel appears out of the mouth of the cave, shuffling toward us, dripping wet, his large backpack weighing him down.
“Well?” Miguel asks when he reaches us, huffing and puffing. He looks right at me. “How’d you like the cave?”
I look at Jonas. His eyes are on fire.
“Incredible,” I say. “But . . .” I motion to the awe-inspiring sights all around me—to the blue sky peeking out from the dense jungle canopy above, to the sun-dappled foliage that looks straight out of the Mesozoic era, to the bursts of color overloading my senses—and, finally, pointedly, to beautiful Jonas himself, standing next to me, his face aglow. “But this is pure beauty, right here.” I shoot Jonas a look of unadulterated elation, and he returns it.
Jonas pulls me to him and whispers in my ear. “The culmination of human possibility.”
Jonas and I are sitting in the backseat of a topless Jeep, being driven down the Belizian highway in the warm sunshine. My wet ponytail is whipping in the wind, variously bitch-slapping Jonas and me in our faces, making us laugh. Jonas hasn’t said a word to me since our exchange outside the cave, but he hasn’t let go of my hand, either. I suppose, though, even if he wanted to chat, it would be pretty hard to do, what with the wind blasting us like we’re ants in a hand dryer.
Our driver turns on the radio. The song is “Locked Out of Heaven” by Bruno Mars. He turns it up and Bruno Mars sings about sex with a girl who makes him feel like he’s discovering paradise for the first time. Jonas nudges me with his shoulder. I nudge him back and laugh. Yep, it’s the perfect song. Surely, up ‘til now, Jonas and I have both been locked outside the gates of heaven and didn’t even know it. But we’re inside the pearly gates now, baby—there’s no doubt about it.
That kiss outside the cave was ... wow. It was like our souls grabbed onto each other. It was magical. That was heaven, right there. Ecstasy—in the way the ancient Greeks described it, as Jonas would say. But it wasn’t just the kiss itself; it was everything that happened today that led up to that euphoric moment. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say today changed me. I feel lighter. Stronger. More sure of myself than ever before. Suddenly, I know exactly who I am, as opposed to who I’m supposed to be. I’m not a perfect little good girl—not all the time. And that’s o
kay. And I know exactly what I want. I want to be my whole self and nothing less, without apology, from this day forward. I want to be true to myself, to the real me, to my deepest desires.
And you know what else I want? I want Jonas Faraday. Holy hell, do I ever. I want to show him every part of me, without holding back. And I want to discover every part of him, too, no matter how damaged he turns out to be. I’ve never felt like this with anyone. I want to take a flying leap into the black abyss. If my heart winds up getting broken on the rocky crags below, so be it. It was worth it. No matter what happens tonight—whether I have a physical orgasm or not—I’ve already experienced a spiritual climax of sorts today. And so did Jonas. I know he did.
“Can we stop there for just a minute?” Jonas suddenly shouts above the din of the wind and loud music, pointing to a quaint souvenir shop along the side of the highway. Even from the outside, I can see it’s bursting with colorful beach towels and T-shirts, a real tourist-trap kind of place. I can’t imagine what he wants to buy there.
Our driver nods and pulls over.
Jonas hops out of the Jeep and turns around to help me down.
“You’re in need of a souvenir?” I ask.
He just smiles.
The interior of the tiny store is exactly as I expected—cluttered with mugs emblazoned with “Belize,” bars of handmade soap, handcrafted jewelry, T-shirts, wood-carved plates, and colorful tapestries. What does he want to buy here?
“Hola,” the old woman behind the counter says in greeting.
“Hola,” Jonas and I reply in unison. I smile at Jonas. His accent is adorably Americano.
Jonas moves toward a rack filled with touristy-looking jewelry and key chains, but then he notices something in the back of the store.
“Sarah, you’d look so pretty in that,” he says, pointing to the far corner of the store.
My gaze follows his sightline. He’s referring to a white, flowing sundress hanging in the corner, brightly embroidered along the neckline and straps.
“It’s beautiful,” I say. And it is. It’s stunning. But he’s already been too generous.
