Barry goes first. Jumps out backwards, already filming. Shirley screams Fuckin Eh and jumps out after him. Mary takes a few seconds, steadies herself, gives one last tug at her helmet and she’s gone.

I pause and wait. I feel Michael pushing me with his eyes. I have a thought. One about me back home in Connecticut, waking up in the middle of the night and watching Donna do that thing to herself I used to call “Mr. Finger,” and feeling disappointed when she tells me to just go back to sleep. And I think about a push. A slight soft push from behind, almost imperceptible, but a push all the same. The floor of the airplane drops away and I’m out, falling.

I see sky, then ground, then sky again. I pull my ripcord hard as I can.

Nothing happens.

The cold metal handle is loose in my hand.

The thought of a backup chute crosses my mind only briefly. I remember Donna on our wedding night, the kind of soft gentle sex you can wrap a lifetime in. I think of Ritchie’s hand as he holds mine tight during a walk. I dream of cardboard ships and Saturday morning cartoons, and I remember that he needs me. That I can’t leave him with her, that she is a terrible person and I am decent and good and loving.

The ground is running to meet me.