The Bridge, a short story

Michael stood in line behind about thirty other people, all of them waiting for the same thing, like passengers about to leave on a journey. Well, it was kind of like a journey, wasn’t it? It had to be.

He looked around. The view from this height was unbelievable. Marla must have noticed it when she came here too. He wished she could have been here now to see it with him. She always enjoyed the simple things in life, like her espresso first thing in the morning or a slow walk along the Embarcadero on a Sunday afternoon. Or sometimes they would go camping and just laze around the campsite reading books all day in their lounge chairs.

“It’s so relaxing, isn’t it?” she would say smiling over at him.

He would respond by clasping her hand for a few seconds, and then they would resume reading. He could recall now the way the sun shone on her face and how it made her blond hair light up like strands of Christmas lights. He felt the familiar lump in his throat whenever he thought of her.

He shook his head, as if trying knock out all thoughts of Marla from his mind, and looked at the woman in front of him in line. She was normal enough, meaning she was well dressed, clean, and didn’t seem to have anything out of the ordinary. There were a few strands of gray streaked throughout her hair, and he could see crow’s feet around her eyes, but if one stood far enough away, she was the kind of woman who looked much younger than she really was. She had that rare, eternal sort of beauty, like Marla used to have.

Michael cleared his throat. The woman turned briefly to look at him, a hint of sadness immediately melting from her eyes. In her hands she clutched a wedding photo, which she stuffed into her purse. Michael thought he recognized the bride in the picture as this woman in front of him now. Only she looked older now.

She smiled at him. He smiled back. A knowing look passed between them. Each confident in the awareness of where they were going. Each in control of their destinies. As briefly as the moment had come, it was gone.

The line moved forward.

Nearly forty minutes later, it was Michael’s turn. He filled out the standard forms and signed on the dotted line. The hardest part was trying to figure out who to leave his things with. He had no family nearby. Marla was all that he had. And she was, well, she wasn’t an option anymore. He finally decided donating his things to a charity was the simplest way. All he had to do was box up everything and label it.

“I’ve got you scheduled to come back on the twentieth,” said the woman at the booth.
She smiled and handed him copies of his papers.

“Thank you,” he said and left feeling truly happy for the first time in months. Maybe even a little excited. He walked back to his car and headed for home.

***

The twentieth arrived faster than Michael had anticipated. He taped up the last box. To make sure the new tenants could move in right away, Michael had cleaned the apartment from top to bottom. He would miss it here. Over in the corner of the living room sat Marla’s chair. She’d sit and look out the large bay window facing the city.

“We’re so lucky we got this place,” she would sometimes say.

It was half the price of a place in the city, and yet it felt like being there with its high ceilings and hardwood floors. It was a shame to give the apartment up, but it was time to move on.

He had his only suit dry-cleaned, so there would be no lint or wrinkles. It was a black Armani that Marla had picked out before she left. She knew he would need it once, but she could not have predicted he would have a chance to wear it again. He had taken his shoes to be shined, too. Looking in the mirror, he checked to make sure he looked his best. His slicked hair was in place, his face was clean and his eyes shone with excitement. It was the first good day in a long while.

Okay, time to go. Michael locked up the apartment for the last time.

He arrived early. Just like two weeks ago, there was a long line of people waiting to set an appointment. As Michael walked past them, he felt a special bond with each of them. He stepped into the shorter line this time. It was for people like him who had already been there before and made their appointments. The same woman as last time was in front of him. Like Michael, she had dressed up especially for the occasion. She looked great with a black cocktail dress and some pearls around her neck, probably her best pearls. She was wearing a light touch of red lipstick, not enough to look whorish, just elegant. Just as before, she turned to look at him.

“You look great,” she smiled, looking excited too.

“Thanks, so do you,” he meant it, too. Sometimes, women don’t look good, but you have to say it anyway because that’s what they expect. When he and Marla first met she made him promise he would never give meaningless compliments to her, and he never did.

Michael smiled back as the lady’s number was called.

“That’s me. Gotta go.” She gave Michael a hug. He hugged her back. It felt good to hug a woman again. She smelled nice too. He wondered if Marla had hugged a stranger before she leapt.

“Good luck,” he said as she pulled away and turned to go.

“Thanks, you too.” Her perfume lingered in the air as she walked away.

He watched her approach the designated spot. When she was ready, she got into position, took a deep breath and waved to him. He waved back. She turned and was gone.
“Number 678,” a woman at the booth called out. That was his number. He walked up and gave her his ticket.

“Just go to the same place. You can’t miss it, it’s marked,” she told him.

“Thank you,” he said and started walking.

Today it was foggy. Not as beautiful as the last time he was here. Nevertheless, he hadn’t felt this good since Marla had leapt. When she disappeared, he called her cell phone non-stop for two days. Finally, he began to resign himself to the thought that she had simply fallen out of love with him. How could that be? Then, on the third day of her disappearance, her letter arrived.

Since Marla had lost the baby, she had not been the same. The doctors said it was unavoidable, nature’s way of selecting the healthy from the unhealthy, but Marla blamed herself. She was five months pregnant, yet it was just like real labor, only too early. Michael felt so helpless when it happened. It was a girl. A beautiful little girl they would have named Violet, after Marla’s grandmother.

Michael stepped up to the spot. It was marked with yellow lines. He climbed the steps. There wasn’t anyone to wave goodbye to, so he just leapt. Falling through the air, he realized he had leapt from exactly the middle of the bridge. At the top it was hard to tell, but now that he was lower, and had made it through the fog layer, he could see the city and the water below.

Just as Marla had done six months ago, he too arranged with the Golden Gate Suicide Company to send a letter. Since his parents were his only living relatives, he had the letter sent to them. That way they wouldn’t have to worry about him. It took the mystery out of things. He wondered if Marla had been scared when she had done it and felt a little angry with her for not telling him how bad things had become. She wasn’t the type to complain, though.

Just as she had wanted, he wore the Armani suit to her funeral. How he had cried that day. Oh well, it would all be okay again soon. Maybe there really was an afterlife and Marla was waiting for him there. They would sit all day in their lounge chairs under a canopy of trees where he would hold her hand and admire how beautiful she looked when the sun shone in her hair. He felt his excitement grow as the water came closer.

“Here I come, Marla,” he said smiling and holding his arms out to greet her. He could see her smiling back at him from the water below.

The End