On a Bridge

On a Bridge
We met on a clear and moonless night. It happened on a bridge that simply arched from one bank of the river to other, as brings do.  Lampposts standing like silent soldiers lit the way as I approached in the calm of the early minutes after midnight.  There was no one to be seen, as I had hoped. The river was silent, dark and inviting.  No cars ventured down the road.  There were no trucks bringing their night time deliveries.  A light breeze lifted off the river bringing a chill to my neck which was damp from the sweat of my wandering journey through the city streets that had brought me here.  I stopped at the base of the bridge and put my hands on the railings.  The steel railing was cold and sends a chill through my fingertips. The smell of the city rose from the river.  It reminded me of an alley recently washed by a spring rain shower; there was a subdued scent of garbage, gasoline and stone.  The river was calm and the reflections of the street lights jiggled on its quiet surface.  I inhaled the serenity of the scene before me, taking it in like a drug and hoping it would calm the raging waters within my mind.  I found no relief.
In a few moments I turned to continue my journey up the rise of the bridge.  As the crest came into view, I saw her standing there, staring off into the distance, and looking, as surely as I must have appeared to have been a few moments before – searching the horizon for something which could not be seen.  I stopped and watched her. She was bathed in a cone of light that came down from the streetlight above. Her blond hair seemed to glisten as it waved softly in the river breeze. She was not aware of my presence. I felt like a voyeur watching someone's private moments.  I began to imagine why she was here at this time of night.  Was she lost; was she new in town; did she come here to forget someone; did she come here to meet someone?  Did she come here for the same reason that I did?
I liked the relief that this moment of fantasy gave me, so I let my mind toy with ideas of why this lady stood in the night on a bridge. She is alone, perhaps despondent and she has come to jump off this bridge. Perhaps, I will rescue her.  I watched her carefully as she turned her eyes from the lights of the city to the dark water below. She wiped something from her eye. Was she crying?  She sighed and turned her eyes to the cloudless sky above and stared at the stars that could be seen through the glow of the city lights.  After a moment, she looked down and turned her back to the railings and put both hands behind her as if she was going to lift herself up onto the railing.  I resumed my approach, deliberately letting the heels of my shoes announce my arrival.
As I neared she let go of the railing and turned slowly toward me, now leaning one elbow on the railing. A breeze lifted off the river and peeled her hair back from her face revealing a soft and flawless complexion.  Her warm blue eyes locked onto mine.  A slow Mona Lisa smile enveloped her face. “Hi” was all she said. While she was youthful and beautiful, I knew she was not a child. There was a feeling of comfort and trust that reached out to me.
“Hey, good evening”, I stammered for the right words, “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?”
"Yes it is. I love this time of night. It’s calm and quiet. The city is settling down for its evening rest.  One day is ending and another is about to begin." She rubbed her eye again. "You must excuse me, I think something has blown into my eye, but I think it alright now."
"It’s a bit late for a girl to be out alone, on a bridge in the big city; who knows what is out on the street at this time of night?"
"Oh, no, I come here a lot. I feel safe here. You could say it’s a spiritual thing for me. I meet the most wonderful people here. You would be surprised; this is a very busy place at this time of night."
"Really, it doesn’t look that busy to me." I said taking an exaggerated look up and down the deserted street and sidewalks.
"Well, you are here and we are having a conversation, so to me I am no longer alone, it’s another busy night."
I half smiled. "I guess you are right." I leaned forward on the railing, looking down the river as she still leaned with her back to the railing. "Tell me, what is your name?"
She turned around and leaned her forearms on the railing looking down the river and then at me with a coy smile. "I don’t give out my name on first dates."
"I didn’t know this was a date."
"Well, sure it is. Here we are. Two people alone, its late at night; a romantic view of the city; no one else around. It has all the ingredients of a date."
"I suppose, except for one, we did not plan to be here. Aren’t dates usually planned? You know, a boy asks a girl."
"I planned on being here tonight. I just did not plan on meeting you, although I was certain that I would meet someone."
"Well then, if this is a date, I should know your name."
"Not so fast. We need to get to know each other first." She said with the same coy smile.
I was captivated by this mystery lady on the bridge, in another time or place, I may have been swept up in her charms. The torment that brought me here still raged within me. But for the moment I was content to be sidetracked by this conversation and to pretend that all was well in the world. "Okay, no names. But tell me about yourself.  Do you come here often?"
"I do. You know, thousands of cars cross over this bridge every. They hurry from one side in the morning and hurry back in the evening not really knowing either side very well.  They don’t take the time to stop and enjoy the beauty of this view or to appreciate the power of this bridge as it sits suspended between the two sides of the city. I have met so many fascinating people by just standing here." 
"What kind of people can you meet at this time of night? The only people out are the muggers and winos."
"So tell me, are you a mugger or a wino?"  She didn’t wait for answer before continuing.  "Why just last night I met a most fascinating young lady; a student at the college.  She had been studying all day and into the night and had come out for a walk to relieve her stress. We had a long talk about how her parents want her to be a doctor and how she is struggling to meet their expectations, and she just hates chemistry and cannot see any way that she can pass her exams. And, poor thing, in the midst of all that, her boyfriend has left her for some other girl.  She was so unhappy. But I think she felt much better when we had finished talking."  It sounded like a simple story, but the look on her face told me that there was much more to the story. It was the look a mother would have when speaking with pride of their child.
"Is that the kind of people you enjoy meeting? People who come stumbling out into the night filled with the trauma of their daily life?" I said this while knowing that I was one of those people.
         "I am not into soap operas and I am not looking to take pleasure from someone's misfortunes. Everyone I meet has a fascination in some unique way. When people have been made vulnerable by a crisis, their soul is laid open for all to see, most of all, it is revealed to them. When they come to this spot on the bridge, if they stop and talk, then I get to meet their genuine self."  She said this with a wistful look down the river. Turning to me, she said, "And so I have told you why I come to this bridge. Tell me why you are here tonight."
A dagger pain struck me in the chest, as I knew that question was coming sooner or later. I had known I would have to answer that question to myself before the night was over.  Yet the lady of the bridge was here to ask it of me first.  My torment began to well up inside me like a tidal wave. I thought for a long time, then turned and looked deeply into her eyes. 
"Would you think I was joking if I told you I came here to jump off this bridge from its highest point into that river in the hopes that I would not have to face the morning?"
She peered into my eyes and I felt her begin to see my soul opening up. That curious smile came across her face.  "Would you think I was joking, if I said that I had heard that joke before?"  Turning away from the river, she looked up at the stars, "So tell me why you would want to kill yourself on such a beautiful night?"
At that moment there was no turning back.  I knew I was about to reveal my most innermost thoughts to a person I had only met moments ago after walking the streets randomly looking for a good place to die. I knew I could trust her. I wanted her to know my story. 
I sighed and could not help thinking that I wished I had not quit smoking twenty years ago; it seemed like a perfect time to have a cigarette. 
"I have had my share of hardships in life, but I am not some down-on-his-luck Joe who is coming to say good-bye to the cruel world." I began. "I have a good job. I am not particularly successful, but the bills get paid. You won't find me in the index of a history book. I have been happy most of time, so something must be going right. Most days can be pretty mundane and pointless, but probably most people find that to be true.  I have accepted that a long time ago. I really am no different than the crowd that fills the subways each morning or that you see crossing this bridge. None of that is what brought me here tonight."
The words were emerging from deep within me. My mind was no longer in control over what I was saying. My ears listened with intense curiosity of what I would say next.
"I guess you could say my life is pretty good, or I should say it was good. God, this is just tearing me up, I just don't understand what is happening." I pounded the cold steel railing and struggled to control raging pain within me. "I am not a rich man. I can't play music, so I wasn't going to be a rock star. I wasn't ever going to be a CEO and I can't shoot a basketball. But I learned that I could love and I could be loved. So that is what I gave my family and my friends. I gave them a part of me and they gave back a part of themselves.  The things we did together had no particular meaning or value. We have our family traditions for the different holidays and we pack the van every summer for a vacation.  Planning them, doing them, sharing them and remembering them gave value to who we were.  Our memories defined us. Now that has all changed."
The lady on the bridge looked at me and I could see that she understood. Perhaps this was an old story to her.  She spoke softly. "Is it a divorce?  Many people go through a divorce and can create new life to replace the one they are losing."
"Oh how I wish it was so simple." I exclaimed to the stars. 
"You know, you don’t have to tell me."
"If I am going to jump off this bridge, someone should probably know why."
How odd that I should say this to a stranger, but this lady on the bridge has become something more than that, even though I don't know her name. As I realized I was about to share the horror that had brought me to this bridge. My heart began to race and my head began to swell as every ounce of my blood was being pumped into it. 
"Today. . . .  my son . . . . .  walked into a school with a 9-millimeter pistol and shot the principal in the forehead as he came out of his office. He then went into his home room class and killed the first girl that he saw sitting in the desk closest to the door.  He shot some more kids, killing some, wounding some; I don’t remember how many. He then sat in a corner while they lay dying until the SWAT team came.  His jeans were soaked with their blood when they took him away."
My ears clung to every word and could not believe what I was saying. The shock shuttered through my body as I heard the confession to myself for the first time of what my son had done. My mind was at once eager to hear more and fearful of what was to come.
"They called me to the police station; they told me what happened. I was sure it was not my son they were talking about. I asked to see the person they were holding.  They took me into a room with just a table and two chairs. My son was sitting in one of the chairs with handcuffs on his wrists. My son, whom I brought home from the hospital nineteen years ago next month, as my first child. Every memory of him from that moment until today was erased once I saw him sitting there. Those times we spent wrestling on the living room floor, playing ball, arguing over who was the best quarterback in the NFL, fighting over the mess in his room or coming in late from a party, are all gone. Wiped out."
I had to stop for a moment. The pain was cutting a hole in my chest as if these very memories were being ripped from me.
"I asked him if he had done it."  I paused and wrapped my arms around myself. "I will never forget the calmness of his reply.’Yes I did it.' That was all he said."
Crying was the only thing left for me to do and I felt the tears coming despite my efforts to keep them the lady on the bridge.  She had not spoken yet since the nightmare began to bleed from me.
"I asked him why he had done it.  And you know what he said?"
She did not speak, simply shook her head slowly.
"He said he did not know why he had done it. He said he woke up this morning and just felt as if he must kill someone and so he did. I cannot begin to understand it. That is not the son I know."
The lady on the bridge reached out and calmly touched my hand.  "I am so sorry", was all she said.
"I left him there in the cell. The questions from the police began immediately. They wanted to know everything about him; everything about our family.  We are just ordinary people, doing ordinary things on what was supposed to be another ordinary day. They wanted answers that I could not begin to give. Then there were questions of what kind of legal arrangements we wanted to make.  I began to feel as if someone had died and I was making funeral arrangements for them.  Then the reporters came and I had to leave.  I had to get home to my family, what was left of it."
These words just kept pouring out of me. My mind wanted to hear no more and said stop, but they would not stop. I had no control over them.  The lady on the bridge listened silently.
"I had to be the one to tell my wife and daughter, before they heard on the TV or from a neighbor.  When I got there, they had not heard. Moments after I arrived, a police car drove up to the house to protect us from the reporters and perhaps the citizens of the town.  I had no time to think of what I was going say.  I told them quickly and surely clumsily, and watched their life shatter before my eyes, as surely as if I had taken a gun to them myself."
"I am so sorry", the lady on the bridge said again softly.  "I can’t imagine anything more awful than having to do that.  Why aren’t you with them now? They must need you at this time."
"I had to get away. I have not had a moment to myself and my thoughts since it all began. We are a big family. They are not alone. Relatives have come as soon as they heard to try and give comfort and assistance.  They won’t need me anymore.  Our life together is done."
"How can you say that? This is a time when you are needed the most."  The lady on the bridge pulled her hand away from mine as if an electric shock had come from me.
"As I wandered through the streets for the last hour, I have tried to make sense of it all, if there is any sense that can be made of something like this. Look, my family and I had a world that we had built together.  I was the provider; I was the father and husband; I gave guidance and I was in control; I was supposed to protect the family.  We were happy. All of that ended today when my son pulled that trigger.  A new world began today for each us. That is why I came to this bridge."
"It’s a terrible thing that your son has done. I cannot begin to imagine what it feels like, but that doesn’t mean that everything that you have done up to now means nothing."  The lady on the bridge held my arm again as she spoke these words.
"You don’t understand." I said with growing frustration. "I am not saying that yesterday or all the days, months and years before did not mean anything. It did. You have no idea how much I love my wife and my children. I gave my family, friends, my job everything I had to built the world I knew up until today. That season of my life is over and I don't have the energy or the will to start a new one."
I turned with her and looked out across the river letting the breeze dry the tears on my face.
I continued breaking a long silence, "Is life so random that no matter what we put into it we won’t know what will come back to us the next day?  Surely the loved one of those that my son killed today are looking for answers and will want to know what I did to lead to their loved one dying today. They don’t want to believe that it is just random.  They need something to explain the pain.  How do I explain their pain? How do I explain my pain?  Is it just chance when we give our sperm to fertilize an egg as to what that child will become? Do I tell those parents that I am sorry but our children just met today in a cosmic collision nothing more than a meteor smashing into the desert? Is that what I tell them?"
My anguish continued, "I gave that boy love, guidance and education.  If in the end all my efforts make no difference, then there is nothing for me to continue on with tomorrow.  All that I thought was important in my life has no more meaning than a pull of the slot machine.  Today, I pulled that lever and some other people came up big losers. I don’t want to be responsible for that again."
"You have a wife and daughter and a son that need you today in a way that they didn't need you yesterday. There was a time when they were not a part of you. Then one by one, they appeared and you took them in. Your world changed then too, in wonderful ways. But what happens to us is not always wonderful. Your world has changed again and now you need to change with it just as you did before." The lady on the bridge said squeezing my hand.
"I just don't see how that can happen" The pain ripping at my chest was now moving up the back of my neck and my skull was pounding like a drum. "I love them so very much. But if this is the way life is going to be, then who is to say that despite the love and compassion I give them today and tomorrow, that the next day my wife won't leave for some younger man or that my daughter my not kill to steal another women’s child.  I don’t want to wait and see what horror might happen next."
The words stopped flowing out of me and I slumped down on my elbows on the bridge railing and stared down into the darkness of the river shimmering in the reflection of the city lights.  I had begun the night wandering the streets looking for a place to die and that had brought me to this bridge. It was not until this moment that I heard why it was that I wanted to die. It was not the pain of today, it was the fear of tomorrow that brought me to this point.
The lady on the bridge started talking gently. "I can't tell you that those things won't happen to you tomorrow. You are right that it seems as if randomness is the order of our life.  You say that you don’t want life to be like a slot machine, so do you want it to be like a vending machine instead?  Where you deposit the right amount of change and select which candy bar you want?  Is that how you wanted to raise your son? You wanted the script handed to you ahead of time so you could know the ending?"
"I did not raise him to be a goddamn mass murderer!" I wailed while pounding again on the cold railing. The night took on a lasting chill.
"No one does." The lady on the bridge said calmly after letting the tension of the moment fade in the chill of the night. "We only have the highest hopes for our children.  But do we want a world where the future of our children or ourselves is selected like a candy bar, or do we want a world where we have possibility of exploring our dreams, however ordinary or grand, and reaching the heights of human achievement, but at the risk that we succumb to the vilest side of being a human?"
"Look," she continued, "everyone wants an answer to those things which defy explanation. Some of us turn to God to provide the answer; sometimes we even blame it on aliens or conspiracies by unknown people to take away our dreams."
"Well, my dreams have turned into a nightmare." I wrapped my arms around myself to protect from the cold breeze from the lake.  "I just cannot face the possibility that something like this could happen again. If I die today, there will be no more surprises."
"No surprises, what a boring life that would be. The joy of life can be found in its uncertainty and unexplained mysteries. Within that uncertainty we also find fear of the unknown. But to take the randomness and uncertainty out of lives would take away from love at first sight, a child's delight on Christmas morning, the thrill of seeing our children master their first piano recital, and so much more. It would take from us the very reason we are humans."
The lady on the bridge looked off in the distance at the city lights. "I come to this bridge with no purpose other than to see who may come by. Sometimes people stop and talk, sometimes they stop and just stare at the river before moving on, some never stop.  It does not matter to me; I am seeing a flow of life that fascinates me.  Each person I have met has given me a new glimpse into another corner of humanity.  I also know that anyone of them may be a mugger or rapist." 
"But you still come, even knowing that."
"I do because I don’t want to accept a tomorrow that does not allow me to be surprised."
"Something happened today," she continued, "That shattered your life and the lives of others. There is not good explanation for it.  That same cosmic encounter that led to this tragedy gave you your son and the joy you had once had with him, it also gave you your wife and created your daughter. And it gave you to them.  It seems to me that destiny now says that you should be there for them just as it has directed all that has come before to this moment."
"So destiny says I must endure a pain that I cannot even imagine bearing? Is that what it comes down to?"
"I don’t know." The lady on the bridge said as she turned towards the streets and picked up her purse that had been sitting beside her. "We all go through our lives accumulating a certain amount of baggage. We have our childhood and our relationship with our parents and siblings; marriages, good and bad; illnesses, fortune and misfortune, and all the other things that happen to us as we try to find our way through this world. We can either let that baggage drag us down and slow our journey, or like you are suggesting, we can let the weight of that baggage carry us to the bottom of the river. Our other choice is to figure out how to carry that weight; to not let it slow our journey and to take on the next mystery of life that waits around tomorrow's corner."
As she finished those words, a cab silently pulled up along the curb and the lady on the bridge stepped forward to get into it. She opened the door and turned to me with that coy smile. "It’s not safe for a lady to be out on the street at this time of night. It’s time for me to go.  I hope everything works out for you."
"Wait, before you go, please tell me your name, and what really brings you here every night", I pleaded.
"My name is not important. A long time ago I lost a child; a beautiful daughter.  She was run over in a crosswalk on her way home from school by a drunk driver. I came here one night shortly afterward, just like you to stand on the highest point of this bridge and jump into this river. I made my decision, now you must make yours."
I barely had time to murmur a good-bye before the lady on the bridge drove away. The street light above flickered and dimmed. I was alone on the bridge, the dark water below, the lights of the city on either side of its banks.
Thoughts raced through my mind. I took a deep breath. At last I was alone as I had wanted when I set out on the streets earlier. I can now do what I decided was the only thing to do. That did not give me peace as thoughts of the lady on the bridge, her smile and her words stayed with me. Could she be right?  Must we not start each day by opening the door to our world to rediscover what was there yesterday and to find what may be new?
I can't help but think of my wife, my daughter and son, and how many mornings I awoke filled with an unexplainable joy knowing that they were there with me. If I felt that, did they not feel it too? Will that feeling be there tomorrow and the day after if I don't jump?
The anguish of my mind counters. What right do they have to me? Must I endure pain and fear of more pain because they have some claim on me? Isn't it all random anyway? I stumbled upon them and them to me, they can find someone else to take my place and let me take away my pain.
No, that is not the way it is. That is not what the lady on the bridge meant. We don't know when joy is going to find us and we don't know when horror is going to invade us. To jump off this bridge means there will be no more horrors, but there will also be no more happiness. We have to take one with the other. They are partners, forever inseparable. Don't forsake the next joy that awaits you, just so that you avoid the next tragedy. That is what the lady on the bridge was trying to say to me.
Our life is not a journey of certainty, but rather one of ambiguity. Perhaps there is the certainty of our individual death, but between the time we are born and the day that our end on this earth comes, we never really know how much control we have. We never really know where the consequences of our choices will lead to. We never really know if we have found all the joy that there is to be found, or if we have endured all the sorrow that there is waiting for us.
The weight I was carrying when I came to the bridge was still with me as I walked down the rise back to the city streets. It did not weigh any less, but I now understood how to carry it.
I did not jump into that river that night or any other night. I never returned to that bridge, but I am sure that the lady on the bridge can be found there most nights standing in the glow of the light above, meeting more people like myself.