He Wanted My Parachute. My Future Self Called.

Glen's hand froze in midair. His face darkened at once. He stared at me as if I'd lost my mind. "At a time like this, you're still throwing a tantrum?" He lowered his voice, irritation bleeding through. "Beth has always been frail. Her chute's broken. Am I supposed to stand by and watch her die instead of giving her yours?" My nails dug deep into my palms as I forced myself not to dwell on the call I'd just received. "What about me?" I asked quietly, looking him in the eye. Glen answered as if it were obvious. "The instructor will jump with you. You'll be fine." He was sure I wouldn't dare jump alone. He was just as sure I'd give in for his sake, as I had countless times before. I turned to the instructor and clipped my harness to his attachment point. The cabin door stood wide open, wind roaring in. I closed my eyes and leaped with the instructor. The instant weightlessness hit, I opened my eyes. Glen was holding Beth tight as he jumped out of the plane with her under his own reserve chute. Even as he jumped, he gave me a cold look, as though waiting for me to regret my choice and beg for help. The emergency landing didn't go smoothly. A sudden strong gust blew us away from the planned landing zone. To avoid a huge boulder, the instructor swerved sharply. We crashed into a patch of thorny brush by the narrowest margin. A broken branch went straight through my left forearm. Blood gushed out and dripped from my fingertips onto the dead leaves. The pain made my vision go dark. Gritting my teeth, I pressed my right hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. Glen and Beth landed nearby. Beth twisted her ankle on landing. She dropped to the ground with a cry. Glen took off his outdoor jacket, carefully wrapped it around her, and knelt to massage her ankle. His voice was impossibly tender. "Don't be scared. It's over. I'm here." I leaned against a tree, cold sweat soaking through my clothes. Blood had stained half my sleeve red. When Glen's gaze fell on my bleeding arm, he visibly paused. He opened his mouth, as if about to come over. Just then, Beth tugged gently at the hem of his jacket, her eyes reddening. "Glen, my foot hurts so much. Do you think it's broken?" Glen immediately looked away and turned his attention back to Beth. "It's just a sprain. Don't be scared." He didn't look at me again. The only rescue supply truck arrived 30 minutes later. Glen scooped Beth up and settled her in the smoothest seat in the back of the cab. I dragged my bleeding arm to the door. Glen put out a hand to stop me. "Celia, squeeze in with the supplies in the truck bed." His tone was calm and left no room for argument. I looked at him, pain from my wound spreading along every nerve until it reached my heart. "I'm still bleeding," I reminded him. Glen frowned, impatience flashing in his eyes. "Beth's had a terrible fright. She's fragile right now and needs quiet. Yours is just a scratch." He shut the door without giving me a chance to speak. I stood there watching through the window as he bent to wipe Beth's tears. I didn't argue. I climbed into the cold, jolting truck bed instead. My knees buckled as I turned, and I had to grab the edge of the truck to steady myself. Wind streamed through the gaps, cold enough to make my teeth chatter. It was late at night when we reached the town hospital. I carried a first-aid kit to the surgical examination room by myself. After getting Beth settled, Glen finally remembered me. He appeared at the doorway and saw how pale I was. His voice softened a little. "It was an emergency. I had to take care of the more vulnerable person first. You've always been understanding. I'm sure you get it." I looked at him. "I understand," I said. Glen sighed in relief and reached toward my hair. I turned my head away. His hand stalled, then dropped. Thinking I was only sulking, he turned and left as if that settled everything. "Get your wound treated. I'll go check on Beth." In the middle of the night, the agony in my arm woke me from a feverish sleep. I struggled up, intending to get a glass of water from the nurses' station. The door to the neighboring room stood slightly ajar. Glen sat at the bedside, humming a familiar tune under his breath. He'd written it especially for me once. Beth's eyes were closed, a smile on her lips. Glen patted the back of her hand gently. "Go to sleep. No matter what happens, you'll always come first with me." I stood in the corridor's shadows and watched. The catch in my future self's voice on that call had taken on a shape I could see. Without a sound, I turned, returned to my room, and locked the door.