ST2.1 | "Canary in the Coal Mine"
PROMPT: Nothing like success to breed hubris, eh? As we welcome 2024 to our doorsteps, send us your best story of it happening again, of characters emboldened by previous success, and how this new-found confidence might be the very thing that brings something—them, their job, others—to their knees.
CANARY IN THE COAL MINE
by Sally Milliken
“I’m the queen of the world,” I shouted to the sky with my arms outstretched. From the highest ledge above the old rock quarry, I reigned over everyone and everything. My long, wet hair fanned across my shoulders while my favorite bikini—bright canary yellow—reflected in the sun. I shook my head, the water droplets landing on the granite under my feet like a Jackson Pollock painting. I waved to my boyfriend, Hunter, who had been watching from the far side of the quarry with the cooler of beer and a small flock of high school friends.
I’d done it. I’d jumped from Tower Rock. No one in our generation had ever done it before. I’d gone off to college while the others stayed home—to work at fast food restaurants and mall chain stores—and I’d returned for the summer broke and exhausted, needing to prove that I could do anything.
I’d never forget that feeling of weightlessness as I fell through the air after my feet left the granite point, as if time stood still. I’d never felt so in control and invincible, like how birds must feel as they ruled the sky. I’d landed in the water with my arms tight across my chest to hold on my suit. My feet had cut through the surface with only a slight splash just as I’d planned. I’d forced myself not to gasp with shock from the frigid water hitting my face. After I’d popped up to the surface, I’d whooped. The audience had cheered.
I’d quickly swum to a shallow ledge and scrambled out of the water to bask in the praise from my friends. Slipping slightly in my haste when I’d stepped in a vein of mud between the rocks, I’d stubbed my toe on a sharp edge. I hadn’t even felt the pain.
The first jump was for them, the next would be for me. My friend Ava waved from below and toasted me with her bottle of suntan oil. The scent of coconut was strong and the smell hung in the air. I returned her grin and responded from my high perch with a matching toast with my bottle of vodka.
I wrapped my mouth around the lip of the bottle and took a long swig. Damn. It was empty. I tossed it over the edge, to join the other hundreds of bottles and cans deep down in the water-filled pit. Ava, Hunter, and I tried to reach the bottom one year, holding our breath dive after dive, but we never did.
“Aren’t you going next, Ava?” I yelled to her, waving my hand to encourage her. “If I can do it, you can.”
“Nah, I’m better with my feet on the ground. I’m not crazy like you.” Ava hugged herself, one hand dropping to cup her belly, a movement visible even from my height. I’d noticed a similar gesture a few days before and wondered if she was knocked up. She’d been vague for the past few months when I’d asked her if she’d been seeing anyone. I’ll ask her about it again later, I promised myself. We used to tell each other everything but since I’d been gone, keeping secrets from each other seemed to be another change in our friendship.
“Holy shit, you did it,” Hunter said, his eyes wide as his shaggy head appeared from the rocks below. After dropping our bags, he hugged me from behind, his arms encircling my body with a towel. “That was awesome. I can’t believe you did it.”
Turning in his arms, I grabbed him by the neck and pulled his face down for a sloppy kiss. I’d missed the warmth of his lips on mine.
“You look hot,” he groaned. He rubbed my arms and played with the strings holding on my suit. “No freshmen fifteen for you.” Taking a step back, he pulled a can of Bud from his pocket, took a sip, and then handed it to me. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me too. Long distance sucks.” I hugged him again, speaking into his soft flannel shirt. “Do you know what’s up with Ava? She’s not acting herself. I guess, quieter than usual.”
“She seems fine to me. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just adjusting to having you back in town.”
“That must be it.” I took another sip, grimacing as the bitter flavor slipped down my throat.
“Come on up,” Hunter yelled to the others. “Bring the cooler with you.”
Five minutes later, Ava pulled herself to the granite shelf. Two other friends appeared just after, struggling with the cooler. I could hear the cans sliding around along with the ice inside accompanied by cursing and laughter. Hunter snagged one of the handles and helped lower the cooler to the rock ledge.
I spread an old quilt next to the cooler. I pushed a beer into Ava’s hands and laughed as Hunter pulled me down into his lap. Ava sat on the other side of Hunter watching us.
“I’m going to try a backflip next time,” I whispered after I nibbled his earlobe.
“I’d like to see that.” Hunter gave me a long open-mouthed kiss. “You’re my hero.”
I waggled my eyebrows toward Ava as I curled my hands around Hunter’s warm cheeks to kiss him again. Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes and slid further away from us. I sighed and snuggled closer into his body for warmth.
My older sister was the one who had first told me how to scramble up the bank of Tower Rock for the right launch location. She’d described how to use the roots of a large tree as a handle to get out far enough over the water so that the jumper wouldn’t hit the rocks jutting out on the way down or the hidden rocks under the surface. It was just as she described. I’d had to sidestep along the ledge, using the root of a stunted pine as a handle, smoothed by all the hands that had gone before. Others had gotten that far and turned back. But not me.
“You going again?” Ava asked and began to chant. “Jump! Jump! Jump!” The others all joined in, clapping, and hollering.
Tossing off the towel, I kissed Hunter hard on the lips, took a large swig of his beer, gave a flourishing bow to the entire group, and made my way back to the launch spot.
Flattening myself along the cliff edge, I sidestepped slowly to the jump-off point. My heart pounded with adrenaline. This would be the best backflip ever. Epic, even. They’d be talking about it for years after. I’d become legendary, like the generation before us, the ones who’d first jumped from this spot. Turning to face the cliff, I carefully placed my toes in a secure niche, with my heels extended over nothing but air.
Ava counted down. “Three, two, one.”
I bent my knees slightly and leaned back. I was ready. Just a little more leverage on the branch and then…
My hand slipped. Where I’d been holding that hand-slicked root moments before, I now only grasped air. Weight already shifted back, I tried to grab again as I started falling.
Clawing frantically for a hold, fingertips brushed the cliff and the wood, and then nothing.
I heard a gasp. Was it me? Or someone else? As I fell, the audience went quiet. The forest went silent. No sound of birds. No branches rustling in the wind.
Time stood still once more. All I could do was desperately twist in the air and try to fling myself farther from the cliff wall. I felt the blood spurt from my head on the first hit. I tumbled down. And down. The last thing I remembered was the smell of coconut oil tickling my nose as I tried to protect my skull from bashing the unforgiving rocks below.
Sally Milliken writes contemporary and historical mysteries and crime fiction. She recently won First Prize in the Bethlehem Writers Group 2023 Short Story Contest. In January 2023, her first short story called ‘Trailblazer’ was published in Hook, Line, and Sinker: the 7th Guppy Anthology from the Guppy Chapter of Sisters in Crime. Sally is working on her first novel, a story set in 1882 and based in the coastal area of Massachusetts where she lives with her family. Follow her on Instagram @sallyhistorymystery or find her at sallymillikenauthor.com. Sally is a member of Sisters in Crime, Sisters in Crime NE, SinC Guppy Chapter, MWA, and the Short Mystery Fiction Society..