There's a moment, right after you jump, where one foot is still on the ground. You can still change your mind if you're nervous. I think that first jump could be the most precious moment in anyone's life. After you jump though, it's almost certain that you fall. And that first fall is just as important. It teaches you about the danger that comes just by living.
That's the only thing that keeps me holding Max's hand, and just watching as a tiny, black haired version of Max walks on her hands, giggling towards the edge of the cliff. Max is practically shaking with nervous energy, and I have to admit, if I was the kind of guy to show you know, emotions, I would be too. Both of us know that she has too many of us around to be in any real trouble, but I guess it's a parent thing.
Visions of hands slipping, fingers missing, wings colliding, and over all of it a tiny voice, shrieking as she falls. But we push the thoughts away, not wanting to ruin this for her. And we smile, kind of like Jeb used to smile at us, listening to the light tapping of her flipping over to stand on her feet, and correcting information people were giving, probably confusing her more than helping. But she can feel it out, flying comes naturally. And if it doesn't, catching is my second best instinct.
Phoenix takes giant steps backwards first, it's for a running start, then she runs full speed towards the edge, but less than a foot away she stops dead before taking baby steps forward and peering over the edge.
She turns back to me for some sort of encouragement, and I nod. I'm not going to push her. She has Max for that, gently urging her to try again, and she backs up again.
To be honest, I need her to learn how to fly. I want to fly with her before I can't. The synthetic wing behind me is jamming more and more often. Mostly it comes back before anything too bad happens, but I want to be part of this life for her before it's impossible. Max is worried about me, I know she is. And she has a right to be. But I won't share that fear with her either. I don't think she can contemplate me not flying anymore. Not after we ended up in a world specifically designed for those who could.
Max runs to Phoenix who has decided it's too scary and lain down in the dirt. She has Max's flair for dramatics, but she'll be on her feet in no time.
Max doesn't want more kids. Not for personal reasons. But she's pregnant again, just so Phoenix won't be alone… After everyone. She'll always have someone.
I figure it's time for me to help. Can't have her losing hope in herself already. So I do what I always do. Loop my arms under hers and pull her up, turning her around gently. She looks like Max. From large brown eyes that flick around sharply and brighten with the light of a smile, to her slightly crooked canines, and thick eyebrows. But she looks like me too. Dark haired, crooked smirks, and a perfectly straight nose that turns up at the end.
She holds herself up, looking thoroughly defeated for a six year old who's only tried to jump off a cliff once. We don't talk. She understands silence well, she can barely hear you unless you shout anyways. We've come to believe that her hearing's been fading since she was born. But she'll be okay, she knows a good bit of sign language already, from what we can remember, and the rest… we can just make up.
I kneel down to look her in the eye and she grins and leans her forehead against mine. And as always I smile back and put my hands on her head, and she puts hers on mine, and that's all she needs. I let go of her and a minute later she lets go of me. She flicks her hands at me to shoo me gently like her mother, and I pull Max back with me.
"We're not going to interfere huh?"
I don't bother responding to Iggy, settling for a smirk I realize he can't see. Phoenix is chirping away happily at Harry, looking up at Gazzy and Angel who are already swooping around above her and shouting encouragements, just for her.
A second time she runs forward before pausing and walking it back. Iggy laughs as he hears her skipping backwards, and takes his own running start, ruffling her hair as he ran past her and taking off to join Angel and Gazzy and followed closely by Harry.
She's watching intently, ready to be part of the play but nervous about falling. Not like we hadn't been practicing. When it was just me carrying her I'd drop her on purpose, just for a second, but I guess it's not as scary when I've already promised to be there. It's not a real fall. It's not as scary to her. Because she knows if she just says daddy no, the game is over and she can go back to her usual chatter. Now it's just her.
Max and I will stay on the ground, watching her and making sure she gets airborne, but I don't think either of us doubts it. And even if we did, Harry would be there the second it looked like she wasn't going to open her wings.
One step after another she picks up speed, laughing and spreading her wings ever so slightly to catch the air she was kicking up. Three steps away and Max shouts for her to jump and for the first time, the second foot is in the air. For a brief second there's nothing. And then she flies.
Everyone cheers. Of course they do. We're all so proud of her for finally jumping. Max takes a second to kiss my cheek and then throws herself off the cliff to join them. I settle for sitting on the edge and watching my family. All of it.
I think about how much has changed, how much each of us has changed. Somehow we've managed to hold it together this long, but I know everyone's fraying slightly. Behind closed doors and in quiet whispers each of us holds our own anger. Max and I just have the added benefit of getting to shriek it at each other because we're basically married.
I think someone should have told us that teenage love isn't necessarily meant for forever. I do still love her, but it's different now. It, like us, is older, and the only thing that's giving that love any sort of life is already flying away from it.
I still love her. When she's angry Max is, ugly. She's mean. She hates me. And I know that love and hate aren't opposites, but it's still painful to see. And she blames me. She thinks I've forgotten why I'm still here for her and Phoenix. Like I don't remember that I shouldn't be every time I flap my wings, every time I breathe and feel the false feathers shifting against my back.
I still love her and when she's happy, it's the greatest thing I think any of the flock has ever seen. And she's always happy around Phoenix. After she almost scared everyone away that is. We all know that it wasn't her fault, that she had been through so much. We all had. But when she snapped, she shattered. And it was terrifying. Every single one of us almost left her that night, and I almost took Phoenix with me. Ever since, she's been very careful when our daughter is around.
I still love her. I have no idea if she still loves me. I have to hope she does, and sometimes I think I can see it. When I'm holding Phoenix and she loves us both for a minute. When I have Advil for her when she has a headache in our post-apocalyptic world. Mostly when I'm doing things for her. But sometimes it just happens, and that makes it almost worth it. Almost.
Finally I stand up, and grin up at Nix, who's looking back down at me and urging me to join them. I take my own steps back, making sure she was still watching, and breaking into a run.
Iggy asked me once why we did stay, why we're still helping her through it. And I think he understands now. Because Phoenix looks at every one of us like we're the greatest thing we've ever seen. And no one needs to have that kind of love taken away from them. I thought I was ready for a kid when I was 18. I thought I could take care of her. But it's like nothing I ever could have imagined. The tantrums, the anger, providing for a whole other person on top of all of us. But when Phoenix looks at you like she always does, with hope and excitement and just bursting with happiness to see you… That does make it worth it. Every time.
And so I run to her, not thinking twice about anything anymore, and as soon as I'm at the edge, I push away from the cliff and there it is, the jump. And then the fall. And after all of it, I spread my wings, and flap, which is a better feeling than any jump you can ever take. Because it's just you.
At least until a six year old ball of feathers slams into you and you're both falling.