I thought I could hear the sound of roaring water, but it could have been the blood rushing into my ears. I knew I was five hundred feet above the Snake River, a few more if I climbed on top of the railing, where I would balance for a few seconds, and then—whoosh. I’m surprised I didn’t ask God to intervene. But I didn’t think of Him in that moment. Instead, I thought of the people I knew who had thrown themselves off the Perrine Bridge, including a friend of Chris’s who was so ashamed after learning that he didn’t make the varsity cross-country team he leapt to his death. I was smart enough to know that I would black out before I hit the water, or die on impact. But the wind was so strong, I worried it would push me before I was ready, or worse; blow me back against the railing. I didn’t want to climb onto the railing and be at the mercy of the gusts. I wanted to leap of my own volition and fall like a sack of potatoes, both heavy and weightless at the same time. I wanted to know that I was in charge of my own destiny, like Wonder Woman, who could ward off evil villains with a one-two shot of her power bracelets.
