The Cliff Dive

There are times in your life when going back, or going forward, seem equally impossible, but staying putt is unthinkable.

Since graduating as a fully-fledged grown-up, these situations mostly present themselves in the guise of mental dilemmas; choosing between the right thing and the easy thing. Whenever I have one of these decisions to face, I remember a time when I was truly stuck between a rock and a hard place.

I was fourteen and the summer holidays were more than half gone. I was making pocket money by doing odd jobs for neighbours and bringing in hay for local farmers. A few houses up the road lived a widow called, Mrs Ryan. Every Saturday morning, I would cut her lawn and earn fifty pence. It was only a small lawn and back then fifty pence would buy four bars of chocolate. This particular Saturday morning, when I pushed my Dads rusty petrol mower up the road towards Mrs Ryan's, I found that the normally empty drive was occupied by a brand new car with a Dublin registration plate.

New cars were a bit of a novelty, but the grass wouldn’t cut itself, and I had two more lawns to do. I pulled the ripcord and the mower spluttered into life. I was making short work of the lawn, racing up and down like a kid possessed, when I noticed her watching me. She was about my age or a year older, she stood taller than me, with shoulder length blond hair. She wore a Duran Duran tee-shirt, skin-tight jeans and white deck shoes. My heart spluttered, just like the battered lawn mower, and I was sure it was going to cut out.

I got to the end of my cut, stopping directly in front of her. A cool kid would have said, Hi, or waved, or something. I just turned and started another cut. The sweat was running down my back and my face was as red as a beetroot. I eventually got to the far end of the lawn and was forced to turn back. The excitement in my heart died, she was gone.

In the space of one strip of lawn, I’d fallen in love, ended up broken hearted, and alone. It took another ten minutes to finish the job, but she’d not reappeared. I was giving serious consideration to starting the job over again when she walked around the corner, with a glass of lemonade in her hand, and a snarl on her face.

"Gran said to give you this," she said, thrusting the glass at me.

"Thanks," I said, getting even redder.

"Is your name really Squid?" she asked.

"Yea," I said, not seeming to be able to say more than one word at a time.

"Gan said to give you this as well," she said and held out a fifty-pence piece. The tiny wage shamed me. I really wanted to say, keep it, but money is money.

"Thanks," I said, quickly taking the coin and making it vanish into my pocket. My fingertip brushed the skin of her palm and electricity jumped from my skin to my brain. It was like touching a piece of heaven. She must have felt it because she pulled her hand away like she had been stung.

"Is that your car, " I asked, finally getting my voice to work a little.

"It's my Moms. She made us come," she said with the hint of a sulk in her voice. "I didn't want to come, culchies are boring. It smells like cow shit here."

I was a bit offended but not enough to overcome the stars in my eyes. Actually, her comment just made her appear more worldly. I was quite literally, sunk.

Her name was, Denise, and she was not alone in her enforced visit to her grandmother, who seemed equally grumpy with the invasion of her house. Denise had two brothers, one older than her, one younger. It was great to have people my own age on my door step, it only took us minutes to make friends.

They were world-wise, big-city slickers, and I was the country bumpkin determined not to be left behind. The week seemed to slip by so quickly. We made a rope swings and tied it to the branch of the big pine tree at the end of the garden, we cooked potatoes in tinfoil by tossing them in a bonfire, they told me tales of the city while I tried not to stare at their sister too much. 

Towards the end of the week, Denise made a throwaway remark about how a black-tee shirt made a man look sexy. That night, I begged my mother to get me a black-tee shirt because, 'MY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT'. I’m sure she only wanted to make an eejit of the dumb cluchie, but I didn’t care, I was getting a black tee-shirt, come hell or high water.

The Saturday before they were due to leave, Denise, her older brother Daren, and myself, rounded up three bikes and headed for the ocean. Denise said she wanted to go out along the headland, it was a lovely day and Daren kept racing past, showing off. Truth be told, I wished he'd never slow down, or vanish completely. That hour, riding along beside this gorgeous girl, was perfect. For a time, she even forgot I was a culchie. Freewheeling down a hill, her hair spread out behind her in the warm summer breeze, she was beautiful.

We ended up out on the tip of the headland and abandoned the bikes to walk to the edge of the cliff. It wasn’t very high but standing on the edge, it felt high. I looked straight down into the dark green of the Atlantic Ocean and felt my toes tingle. It was only about twenty or thirty feet to the water, so we sat on the edge, letting the sun bake our already crispy skin.

"I bet you wouldn’t jump," Daren needled me.

"Neither would you, " I countered.

"Ok, I will, if you will," he said.

 My stomach bunched. I don't like heights, but I am a good swimmer. It looked so far down. Perhaps I was wrong about the height, it was growing by the second. I glanced over and saw Denise watching me. She was leaning back, her long legs dangling over the edge. I desperately wanted her to see me as something more than a geeky kid who lived next door to her Grandmother.

"Right, you’re on," I said. Daren and myself got to our feet and began stripping off. He went all the way to his y fronts but I kept my jeans on. No way I was going down to my underwear in front of Denise.

"You first," Daren said, standing back from the edge.

I inched forward, hooking my toes over the edge of the rock and looked out. My legs began to shake, I was sure I was doing something that could actually kill me. I was truly terrified; I could feel the sting of tears come to my eyes. How did I get myself into this? I was sure I was going to wet my pants. How could I get out of this without looking like a total prat?

I was frozen, behind me was a girl I was mad about, in front of me, certain death. That was when I felt a tear slip over my eyelid and escape down my cheek. That tiny tear set me free. There was no way that I would cry in front of her. I launched myself out as far as I could and plunged forever through the air.  The world was silent and even seemed to slow down. The water got closer and closer, but seemed to take forever to arrive.

Boom, it exploded around me, in a cloud of white bubbles. I vanished below the surface. At first, I sank, but when I realised, I was still alive, adrenalin coursed through my veins. I kicked for the light and exploded into the air. Two shocked faces peered down at me from above as I hollered and punched the air.

Then an amazing thing happened, she smiled at me and I was falling once more. Daren never jumped, and the climb back up the cliff was nearly as scary as the jump, but I had done it, and survived.

Then next day, she went back to Dublin. I never saw her again but that's not the point. For one second, nothing was impossible. In that look, I got a glimpse of paradise.