One Moment in Time

She will forever remember the day her life was changed irrevocably.  She was driving home after a meeting when she saw him, poised at the rail of the bridge.  At first, her gaze swept past him but there was something in the way his body was tensed in anticipation that brought her attention skittering back to focus on the solitary figure.  As he climbed atop the rail, she hastily reached for her cellular phone and instinctively keyed in 911 without ever taking her eyes off him.  Surprisingly calm, she gave the emergency dispatcher her location and was assured that a unit would be sent immediately.  The dispatcher asked her if she could try and talk to the man and keep him occupied until rescue arrived.  Hanging up, she put her car in park, unfastened her seatbelt, and stepped out of her car.
         As she approached him, now perched on top of the rail, she was vaguely aware of passersby as they slowed down.  She was also aware that no one actually stopped.  She struggled to find the appropriate words.  All she could come up with was, “Hey, Mister”.  He seemed oblivious to any and everything and, even as she drew closer, she realized that she was poorly equipped to deal with the situation.
         She stopped about ten feet away from him and tried again to get his attention.  “Hey Mister!” she called, at which he turned and pinned her with a stare that was so full of raw anguish that she couldn’t breathe for a long moment.  In her peripheral vision, she noted the arrival of emergency vehicles and she prayed that their arrival would not precipitate a rash move on the stranger’s part.  She spoke the next thing that came to mind. 
“Can I help?”  He turned back to study the drop before him that would take him to the concrete highway below. 
Initially, she thought he might ignore her then she barely heard him say, “No one can”.  Moments later, to her horrified dismay, he plunged headfirst off the bridge.
         Unable to look away, she followed his descent most of the 300 feet but closed her eyes seconds before he made impact.  She felt her stomach protest, the bile rising in her throat and the tears filling her eyes.  Without opening her eyes, she turned her back on the scene, her ears filling with the sound of motorists screeching to a halt below her.  She sat down abruptly on the side of the road and laid her head on her knees.  As through a veil, she heard emergency personnel scrambling, sirens marking the arrival of more vehicles.
         She survived the questioning by police and was able to dodge being interviewed by the news station.  An hour later, she arrived home, thoroughly sickened by all that had transpired.  She took a shower then made herself a cup of tea, hoping it would settle her stomach.  Finally, she went to bed.  It was not until the following morning that she even learned the identity of the stranger with whom she’d had a brief, life-shattering encounter.
                    Three months later, the nightmares had stopped.  Sanita no longer woke up in the middle of the night bathed in sweat.  Then she received the letter.  It was both a letter of introduction and an invitation.  It was the name of the sender that struck her:  Brantley.  That was the name of the man who had jumped to his death a few months before.  According to the letter, it came from the brother of that tragic individual.  And the letter was inviting her to meet with this Mr. Brantley for dinner.  The letter briefly outlined how the surviving Mr. Brantley had been informed of her heroic attempt to intervene and the invitation to dinner would serve a two-fold purpose: for Mr. Brantley to meet her and for Mr. Brantley to repay her for her act of kindness during the last moments of his brother’s life.
         Sanita arrived at the restaurant promptly at the appointed time and was led to a table with a single occupant.  The man rose smoothly to his feet as she approached and immediately Sanita stopped as the shock of recognition hit her.  Standing before her was a living, breathing twin to the dead man.  She turned as pale as the ghost she assumed she was looking at.  It took her numb brain a minute to register that this was not Marvin Brantley, whom she had last seen plummeting off the bridge.  Noting her distress, Lawrence Brantley immediately took her by the hand and led her to a seat at his table.  After giving the maitre d’ instructions that they would need some time to choose what they would order, he then poured a glass of water, put it in her hand and softly commanded her to drink it.
         Sanita despaired of being able to swallow anything, even the cool water.  Visibly shaken, she searched her companion’s features, looking for something to distinguish the man sitting across from her and the man she’d watched jump to his death.  Lawrence Brantley silently allowed Sanita’s examination, privately berating himself for not considering the probable impact his uncanny resemblance to his older brother would have on this woman.  Had he considered it, he might have arranged for a less public meeting place.  Then he philosophically shrugged his shoulders.  What was done was done.
         Belatedly, Sanita realized that she was staring at this stranger.  She lowered her eyes and cleared her throat.  Reaching for her glass of water, she tried to relieve the dryness in her throat.  Before either of them could speak, the waiter arrived to take their order.  Turning her attention to the menu before her, Sanita was grateful for the reprieve.  Seeing Lawrence Brantley had stirred up feelings that she could not quite identify.  After taking their orders, the waiter left them alone.
         Reaching across the table, Lawrence Brantley picked up Sanita’s hand and said in a soft baritone voice, “We have yet to be properly introduced.  I am Lawrence Brantley.  I apologize for the initial shock.  Marvin was a year older than me and our similar looks had always been a trial for both of us.  And you are Sanita Thompson.  I am honored to make your acquaintance.”  And in a totally unexpected, ageless move that surprised even him, he carried her hand to his lips and softly kissed it.
         Stunned into immobility, Sanita could not even pull her hand away.  Finding her voice, she returned the greeting.  Then, as was her custom, she said the first thing that came to her mind.  “You look just like him”, at which he grimaced.  Sanita hastily apologized.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”  Realizing he was still holding her hand, Brantley gently laid it on the table. 
Shaking his head, he said, “Your apology is unnecessary.  People tell me that all the time.”  Pausing momentarily, he swallowed.  “At least, they used to tell both of us that.  It’s still hard to believe that Marvin took his own life.”
         The waiter appeared with the first course of their meal.  Sanita was grateful for the break in what had the potential to become an emotional moment.  As they both tackled the fresh fruit salad that was the appetizer, Sanita took the opportunity to surreptitiously study the man across from her.
         Tall, over six feet she surmised, pecan tan and handsome in a thoroughly intriguing way, the sight of Lawrence Brantley raised questions in Sanita that she believed were probably best left unanswered.  Like, is he single, and if so, why?  She mentally shook her head to clear it of such wayward thoughts. 
         As if he knew she was somewhat uneasy, Brantley made small talk as they ate.  His smooth voice and the neutral topics he chose served to put Sanita at ease.  He talked about his work as an information management systems consultant.  Since Sanita was a computer novice, she found the topic fascinating.  He explained that he has a bachelor’s degree in electrical engineering and a master’s degree in computer science.
         He drew her out, encouraging her to talk about her work as the clinical coordinator for a dual diagnosed residential treatment program.  Somewhat self-deprecatingly, he ventured to remark that her work was much more gratifying than his.  He went on to say that while she had chosen a worthy profession in helping people, his was little more than a glorified hobby.  Sanita could not help but add that it may be a hobby but it was definitely a lucrative one.
         Both Sanita and Brantley declined dessert but they both ordered coffee at the end of their meal.  Sitting back, Sanita marveled at how comfortable she felt and how easy it was to talk to this man, who had been a complete stranger a little more than an hour ago.  He seemed to grow increasingly discomfited and Sanita thought the time had come for them to discuss that event that had brought them together. 
         Sighing, Brantley leaned back and unbuttoned his jacket.  Softly he said, “This may be difficult for you but can you please tell me what happened that day?”
Sanita thought for a moment that this might be more painful for him than for her.  It was, after all, his brother who had taken his own life in such a dramatic manner.
Sanita proceeded to relate everything that had taken place from the time she laid eyes on Marvin to the moment he said, “No one can”. 
         Years of boardroom negotiations gave Lawrence Brantley the uncanny ability to sit acquiescently without any outward show of emotion as Sanita related those final moments of his brother’s life.  However, inside he was a seething cauldron of emotions, the least of which were guilt and remorse.  On a deep personal level, Lawrence believed that he had somehow failed Marvin, that he had not been available for his big brother when he had needed him the most.
         Some subconscious insight told Sanita that Lawrence Brantley was not as calm and as poised as he appeared.  To the trained observer, there was the tell tale tension around the mouth and the nervous habit of running his hand across his close cropped hair.  Other than those two things, there was absolutely nothing to indicate that Lawrence Brantley was anything other than the confident, suave, high powered executive that he appeared to be.
         When Sanita was done, she leaned back and made a conscious effort to relax.  At first, Lawrence Brantley sat silently trying to absorb what Sanita had just recounted for him.  His mind reeled with the thought of the level of despair Marvin must have sunk to and the abject horror the woman sitting across from him must have experienced.  Visibly pulling himself together, he tried to cast a reassuring smile in her direction but couldn’t quite pull it off.  The pain was too great.
         Sanita watched his struggle and her heart went out to him.  She reached across the table and clasped his hand in hers.  “Are you all right?” she queried.  He cleared his throat and with his free hand, picked up his glass of water and took a long swallow. 
Clearing his throat a second time, he quickly apologized.  “I’m sorry, Ms. Thompson.  It is difficult even now to try and imagine what my brother must have been going through to make such a decision.  It seems as if he saw no other way out.  He wouldn’t even come to me for help.  I guess that’s what hurts the most.”
         There was such a wealth of emotion in that well modulated voice that Sanita shivered.  Releasing his hand, she wrapped her arms around herself as if to ward off a chill.  Lawrence Brantley continued.  “You would have to understand how it was for Marvin to constantly live in my shadow, always having my achievements held up in front of him as an indicator of how far he fell short.  It didn’t matter what I did to try and support him.  He was so bitter and resentful that he couldn’t see that I loved him and I wanted to see him succeed.”
         Without thinking, Sanita murmured, “It’s not your fault, you know.  Whatever demons were driving your brother, they were his own.” 
Lawrence sat back.  “Maybe you’re right, Ms. Thompson.  But right now, it doesn’t feel good.  I wasn’t there when Marvin needed me the most.” 
Sanita leaned forward to emphasize her point.  “Mr. Brantley, there was no way you could know what your brother planned to do.  People who intend to take their own lives do not advertise.”
         Sanita was shocked at her temerity and expected a sharp response from the man sitting in front of her.  Instead, Lawrence Brantley merely sent her a weary smile and motioned for the waiter to bring the check.  Sanita could have kicked herself for being insensitive, but Lawrence Brantley had another surprise. 
After dispensing with the check, he looked directly at her and said, “I have a request to make of you, Ms. Thompson.  My family would like to meet you.  They asked me to invite you to dinner next Sunday.  It will be just the immediate family.  But I should warn you that in addition to my parents, there will be my father’s sister and her husband, my brother’s wife and you may even get to meet Marvin’s children.”
         Sanita was at a loss for words.  She didn’t think that she could handle all of the emotion she was sure to encounter at such a gathering.  In her line of work, she understood the impact grief could have.  It had only been a few months, after all.  Sensing her hesitation, Lawrence Brantley reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card.  Turning it over, he wrote several numbers on it.  He then handed the card to Sanita. 
“Take a day or two to think about it, Ms. Thompson.  It would mean a great deal to me and my family.  You can reach me at any of those numbers.  My home phone number and my cellular are on the back.”
         Sanita took the card and slid it into her purse.  “I’ll think about it and I’ll give you a call.”  Lawrence Brantley stood and pulled her chair out as she rose to join him.  He walked her to her car, and after handing her into the vehicle he leaned down and kissed her cheek. 
“Thank you”, he said softly before turning and walking away.
         Sanita drove home trying to absorb this very unusual evening with this very attractive, very charming and very troubled man.  She wondered about Marvin and the demons that had possessed him, speculating whether or not she would meet some of those demons should she accept this second dinner invitation.  She also speculated on how involved she wanted to become with this family tragedy that seemed to be pulling her into its swirling depths.  The clinician in her knew there was a need for healing and that’s what was pulling at her:  the opportunity to facilitate healing.  Getting to know the handsome Lawrence Brantley might prove to be a pleasant plus.