A leap of Faith

Martin gazed down, his eyes locked on the water swirling a hundred yards below him. "I-I don't know if I can do this." He said, stepping backward. 

"It's just water, " his friend Miles said as the bungee jumping expert strapped him into the harness. "Water's not painful."

"From a hundred yards it is," Forrest piped up. "My Dad said it feels like concrete if you land on it. You'll explode, and like the continents of your stomach will like blow everywhere." 

"Well, the rope won't break," Miles added with a shrug. "My parents have been doing this for years and it never broke."

"I'm not so sure I want to do it," Martin said. I'm not scared or anything; I just don't really feel like it." The man who had just finished adjusting Miles' harness glanced at Martin.

"Bungee jumping is only fun when you're in the mood for it." He said. "I've done it on days where I didn't feel like it and oh boy, wasn't too fun. You have to get pulled all the way up the bridge again. It's kind of boring." He shot Martin the look that only grown-ups can do, the "I got you covered, no worries" look. 

"So you're not coming Martin?" Miles asked. 

"Nah. I'm going to stay here," Martin said, his heart beating rapidly, but he tried to keep his voice steady. Have fun, though."

"I will," Miles said. "You're coming though, right Forrest?"

"Yeah." The instructor helped the two boys up onto the rail. Miles' parents chattered a bit further back. They took out their phone to proudly film their son's first jump. Martin stepped back awkwardly, he didn't want to be in the picture. 

He felt sick to the stomach watching his friends jump off a bridge, so he turned around and admired the view from the other side. He could hear the instructor explaining the rules and whatnot but he tried to drown out the words. They could do it if they wanted, he wasn't going to. 

"I didn't jump until I was twenty-six." The instructor said, all of a sudden he was next to Martin who looked up at him.

"Really? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?" He asked.

"You're smart," the instructor replied. "But I mean it. I was fourteen just like you when my parents tried to convince me to jump. They were real adrenaline junkies if you know what I mean." Martin didn't. "Anyway, I knew I wasn't going to get out of it, my only thought was "Bill, you're not going to die today" so I did the only thing I could think of: I pissed my pants right before the jump. Then I was allowed to go home and change." Martin laughed at what the instructor told him. "My parents never apologized for pushing me, but I think it's alright. Because now I can usually tell if someone really doesn't want to, or if they're just nervous. But I'm proud of you for saying no, it's not easy when you're around your buddies. You handled it well." He clapped Martin on the shoulder. And for the first time in their trip to South Africa, Martin didn't feel embarrassed about missing out on one of the "fun activities" his Mom and Miles' parents had planned. Heck, he even felt proud for listening to the feeling in his gut. And that was all because of Bill the instructor, who'd managed to make him feel anything but embarrassed about it. Martin decided that when he was a grown up he wanted to be a grown-up like Bill. 

***

Martin lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He was a grown-up now. And he wasn't just eighteen, or twenty-one - old enough to buy liquor and head to strip clubs. He was in his early forties. He had a special military rank, a beautiful wife, and three beautiful children, one of who was just a baby. They weren't really his - it wasn't really his life, but he was currently living it. For the first time in his life, he thought back on the bungee jumping experience with a pang of regret. Maybe everything would have been different if he had jumped back then. Maybe he wouldn't be so anxious and unsure about what was coming.

But he knew that those were just anxious thoughts. It wouldn't change anything if he'd jumped. Seeking small bursts of adrenalin and boasting about having jumped off a bridge wouldn't have turned him into a fearless person. He would just be yet another man who was used to putting his life on the line for nonsense, someone who'd think that because they'd done that they could do anything. 

Even though they couldn't.

He turned around and looked at Marlene's sleeping face. Her expression was entirely relaxed. 

For the first time, he realized that maybe Marlene and Franz - whose place he'd now taken, may have been totally and completely convinced of and committed to the nationalistic regime. He slipped out of bed and kneeled by his nightstand. He started to open the drawers, being as silent as he could about it. It creaked softly but gave way. 

Two books smiled up at him. 

One was Mein Kampf - Hitler's famous book, and the other was a small, leather-bound notebook. In Martin's time a copy of Mein Kampf in somebody's nightstand would have been a dead give away for his or her ideology, but back then he figured it probably wasn't uncommon. He reached out and picked the notebook up. The first page already gave it away - it was Franz's journal. He clutched it to his side and slipped out of the room to go and read it in the living room. He chose the rocking chair and sat, opening the book on his lap.