I walk along the bridge. It’s raining, the river gushing in torrents beneath me. Through the darkness, I notice a car parked up ahead. When I get closer I see there’s no driver. I hear crying and as I glance over the side I see a young man on the ledge ready to jump.
Back off otherwise I’ll do it, he yells.
The rain rattles down around us and the river has flooded its banks. I remain where I am and keep silent. The young man watches me but sees I’m no threat. He turns to the river but can’t seem to focus.
Why are you here? he shouts.
I ask him the same question. He snorts. Says I wouldn’t understand. I say I probably wouldn’t, never been known for my brains, but something seems up.
Off? he says and shakes his head. This morning I lost my job. When I went home early I found my wife in bed with my best friend. I dragged him out and put him through a wall. My wife called the cops and now I’m wanted for assault.
The young man is gasping. He can’t go home and has no one to turn to. So he turns to the bridge.
I listen as the rain pours down and the river rushes by. The young man waits for me to reply and gets annoyed when I don’t. He asks me again why I’m here. I tell him he doesn’t want to hear my problems. He says I’m right and turns back to the river. I stay put. He’s shivering. Okay, he says, just tell me.
I ask him if that’s his car. He nods. I say I have a best friend too. He had a car just like yours, all shiny and red. Red ones go faster, I say. He looks perplexed. What’s that got to do with anything? he says. I nod at the pillar beside him.
My friend was drinking like usual and never wore a seatbelt. Thought they were sissy. Except for some reason that night he did. When the car crashed the belt bit into him as the bonnet ripped apart. Broke three ribs and took a year to recover.
So why are you here? the young man asks.
I give a sad smile. My friend wasn’t the only one in the car that night. He insisted nobody wore a seatbelt while he was driving and that included his beautiful wife and two little girls. Ally and Polly died in an instant but Doris, well she ended up in there.
I point at the gushing torrents. The young man looks down and nearly loses his footing. I jerk out my hand and grab his arm. He holds fast to the rail and shrugs me away. I stand back but I know he’s listening.
My friend tried to battle it for years, the guilt I mean. But every night their screams stopped his sleep. Not even the drink could drown them out. On the anniversary he’d come here. He’d stand on that exact spot you’re on now and he’d stare at where his wife flew through the air.
The young man didn’t dare look at the river again. But why are you here? he asks.
I guess I’m the only one who cares enough to try and stop him. Tonight’s the anniversary. It happened on the stroke of eight. Every year he comes walking along this bridge, steps over the rail and stands on that ledge. He keeps a photo of them in his jacket pocket and takes it out to kiss them goodbye. But every year I’d come to stop him from doing what I’m guessing’s in your heart to do too.
The young man checks his watch. Where is he then? It’s almost eight.
He’ll be along soon, I say.
The young man isn’t sure what to do. I see a mixture of emotions through the rain and tears.
Son, it isn’t any of my business but are you going to jump or not? You see my friend may try somewhere else if he sees your car. Besides, you’re young enough to meet another woman, make new friends and get a job that you love. Maybe even raise a family like the one my friend lost. It’s too late for him and I’m not sure even I can save him tonight. Let’s not fill that river with more bodies than needs be, eh?
I reach out my hand. The young man’s eyes flit between me and the river. His fingers entwine my wrist. I grab hold and drag him onto the bridge. The rain eases. The young man is kneeling and crying into his palms. I place my hand on his shoulder.
Go and check-in to a nice hotel. There’s one down the road. I take all the cash from my wallet. Here, that’ll help you get back on your feet.
He wipes away the water from his face and rises to take the money. As he stumbles to his car he stops and turns.
You saved my life. I hope you can save your friend again.
As he drives away I turn to face the other end of the bridge. There’s no sign of anyone. I walk to the spot of the accident and rub the metal railing.
Seven years ago tonight.
I reach into my jacket pocket. There they are, all smiling, all alive.
I step onto the ledge and hold the picture of my wife and children to my lips. With one final kiss goodbye, I jump leaving the bridge behind forever.
THE END