There were ten items on Coke McDonald’s to do list on June 17, but jumping off a cliff was not one of them. And yet, there he was, falling through the air; anger surging through him at having been put in such an impossible situation, but there was also fear and even a sort of cruel humor.

Coke had this day planned for weeks and it seemed like for once, everything was going to work out. But then, the call came, and it ruined everything.

“Coke? I lost it,” his sister’s voice came through the receiver desperately.

“Lost what?”

She didn’t respond.

“Mary, what did you lose?”

“The ring.”

It was the one thing, the only thing that had been asked of her, and she blew it.

“Mary, all you had to do was keep it in the box, and keep it at your apartment,” Coke responded tensely. 

“I know. I know, Cokie, and I’m sorry,” Mary said. “I had it, I did. I didn’t even open the box. I set it on the kitchen table, right in the middle so I’d see it and not forget. But then…”

“Then what?”

“Well, it’s just… well then some friends came over and-”

“What friends?” Coke interrupted.

“Ben and - and Kev and Cici.”

“I thought you had stopped hanging out with them.”

“Well I had, but then… then Kev reached out, and I hadn’t seen them in so long. I didn’t see any harm.”

“Evidently,” Coke sighed.

“I’m sorry, Cokie.”

“I know you are, Mary, but this time it’s not enough. They took it, give me an address so I can go get it.”

“No. No, Cokie. I can do it.”

“You can come with me, but I don’t want you going alone.”

“Let me do this one on my own. I promise, I’ll get it,” Mary wanted fiercely to prove herself.

So, once again, Coke gave his twin sister the benefit of the doubt.

It’s hard to determine the exact moment which marked the beginning of the end for Mary McDonald. Mary struggled from a young age with neurosis and borderline personality disorder, which worsened as she grew older. She was always either under focused and distracted, or over focused to the point of obsession. It was Coke who kept her sane. In that great sea that was her, it was him every time who held her hand and kept her from sinking below the surface or being caught up in the ocean winds and swept away.

At 19, a new kind of stronghold entered Mary’s life in the form of Kevin Cain: six feet, two inches, curly red hair, dark eyes, and a smooth voice which promised and deceived again and again. If Coke was her stillness in the storm, Kev was her storm. He was that reckless ocean wind, which swept her away with the force of a typhoon and let her go for moments at a time.

After two years of being tossed around and as many months of being back in the safe house that was her brother, the winds had started back up again.

The evening before that regretful call, Coke sat down at his dorm room desk and went over the list of things he needed to do the following day.

Three months before, Coke’s dad had called him, excited.

June 17 marked 30 years to the day that Coke and Mary’s parents had met. Cynthia Franklin’s car had broken down on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, Maryland. Walking down to a fishing pond nearby, came Kurt McDonald, pole in hand. He fixed the problem temporarily, and they went their separate ways. It was more than a year later that they met again; and the rest is, well, what it is.

The plan for the surprise was simple: just like every summer for the last 26 years, the couple would take a road trip and pick their two young adult children up along the way. Their planned route would have a slight detour taking them down a long forgotten country road where they would stop at the place they had first met: Cokeland, Maryland. There, Kurt would propose with the new ring his daughter had picked out, down on one knee as he had done two and a half decades before.

Coke had checked and rechecked the list.

1. Make dinner reservations for the family at Monte’s

2. Pick up pastries from E. Claire’s

3. Get bouquet from Beautiful Blossoms for mom

4. Be at Mary’s BY 9:30!!

The list went on, mapping out each step that needed to be taken that day in order to make his dad’s surprise proposal an absolute success.

Satisfied with what he read, Coke folded the list, turned out the light, and went to bed.

“Dad? There’s a bit of a problem,” Coke said gently the next morning. “Do you think you could hold off coming into town for a couple more hours?”

“Is everything okay,” his father asked uncertainly.

“Yeah, it’s fine. There was just a bit of a mix up, and if you guys come at 10:00, we won’t be ready.”

“What’s the mix up about?”

“It’s nothing, really. Being taken care of as we speak,” Coke assured him. “We just need an extra hour or so.”

“Alright then, I’m sure I can convince your mother to stay a little longer.”

Relieved, Coke hung up.

Mary had called him moments after, telling him she had got the ring back.

“It was just a joke. Kev was just messing around.”

Coke became hot with anger and tried to control his voice. “If that’s how your friends play, Mary, you need new friends.”

“He gave it back. He was going to give it back,” Mary replied.

“They aren’t good for you. They aren’t good for themselves.”

“We aren’t kids anymore. You can’t just tell me who I can and can’t hang out with.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, Mary.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes, ending with Mary’s declaration that she was a grown woman and as such, did not need her brother’s protection.

An hour later, Coke was at Mary’s apartment door. After three minutes and no answer, he opened the unlocked door and went in.

After confirming that Mary was not there, he tried her cell. No answer.

Walking over to the kitchen table, he saw the blue velvet box in which the ring later meant for his mother sat. Weighted down by the box was a handwritten letter in Mary’s rushed scrawl.

Coke,

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Everything keeps falling apart. I thought I could make Mom and Daddy proud. I couldn’t. I thought I could be better than I was, than I am. But I’m not. I keep thinking the next thing will be the right thing, and it never is.

It’s not about the ring, or our phone conversation. It’s about everything. Every time I invest myself, it crumbles. It’s like my entire life has been building up to this moment and now there’s this giant banner in front of me screaming, MARY ELIZABETH MCDONALD IS NOT ENOUGH. And worse, MARY ELIZABETH MCDONALD IS TOO MUCH.

It seemed like everything was so much better there for a while. Like I was better. But I’m not, Cokie, and I’m kidding myself, we are kidding ourselves to believe I am better, can stay better. I promised myself that if I messed up again, I’d clean it up. Really clean up the mess.

I love you, Cokie. I love Mom and Daddy.

I’m ready to fly.

Coke called Mary.

“Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.” Voicemail.

“Mary Elizabeth, don’t do this. Pick up. Talk to me. Please.”

Where would she go?

“If I could choose how I die,” Mary had said months before, “I’d want to fall from high up and land in water. Somewhere surrounded by trees. It’d be like I’m flying before it all ends.”

“That’s completely morbid,” Coke had said disapprovingly.

Jay’s Peak.

Coke called the police as he frantically drove to the peak.

“It’s my sister. Mary McDonald. She’s going to kill herself…”

Coke was just moments from the peak when he had called for help, he could hear sirens in the distance.

He ran to the top and there she was. Right on the edge, ready to jump.

“Mary don’t,” he screamed.

She didn’t look over her shoulder, or turn around. She just took the final step off the edge.

There were ten items on Coke McDonald’s to do list on June 17, but jumping off a cliff was not one of them. And yet, there he was, falling through the air; anger surging through him at having been put in such an impossible situation, but there was also fear and even a sort of cruel humor.

All of their lives, Coke had tried. He had tried to take care of Mary then, now, always. It was all he had ever done. It was all he could do. It was all he knew to do.

Saving Mary, forever and always.