On the Bridge of Existence

I am standing on the bridge once again. I feel the thrill of being alive coursing through me as I look at the picturesque view below.

Found in the middle of a Michigan park, a small band of stones connects the two halves of the park as it arches over a rushing river that splits the earth apart. The stone bridge reaches 20 feet up in the air before colliding with the murky water down below, itself being 8 feet deep… I think. I don't remember. It has been a long time since I last checked, but what I do remember is this bridge. The bridge, a reminder of mankind's existence interfering with nature, has been here for as long as I can recall, hidden within the park's core, engulfed by the numerous oak trees. There is Northern Red Oak, Pin Oak, Black Oak, and Sawtooth Oak. I've learned to differentiate them by now. This is how I spend my days, categorising trees. There has been no soul in sight for a long time. The bridge was once a popular attraction, especially for the couples, but has now become my solitary companion.

Until a couple of months ago.

For some unknown reason, a person had found their way to this little haven of mine. He was tall and lean, his skin sun kissed, and hair messy black, as black as the onyx stones found on the banks of the river. But that was as far as I could tell of his appearance, as I hid behind a tree on the other edge of the bridge from where he was standing, watching him. “Why is he here?” I thought. He walked towards the side of the bridge that was facing the setting sun, leaning against the stone railing, and stood there staring at the sun while the moon rose into existence. Once dark colours had completely painted the sky, he straightened up, whispered, what seemed to be, sweet nothings to the wind and then was gone.

But that wasn't the last of me seeing him.

Since then he has come to the bridge every evening, as the sun is about to set, he stands against the railing until the day bleeds into the night, mouths an invisible phrase and then he leaves. A never-ending cycle. But I don't mind. He has made my monotonous life somewhat interesting by observing him. I have something to await every day. However, he still doesn't know I exist. What could I possibly say to him?

"Hello there handsome, I'm June. I've been watching you come here every day for the past four months. Nice to finally meet you!"

He would surely freak out, run away, and never come back. I will go back to counting trees. But maybe that's for the best. He shouldn't be here, he doesn't deserve it. It's my haven, my bittersweet purgatory. I should scare him away, so he'd never come here again...and yet I can't. I enjoy the company. Truly. He would be the kind of guy I would introduce to my parents over dinner. I could just imagine how they would berate him throughout the whole evening with numerous questions, such as the wretched "What's your plans for college, son?" or "How do you feel about our daughter?"And then at the end, once he goes home, I would turn around and see approving smiles plastered on their faces. However, that would never happen. I would never want the approval of people who treated me like a closet case because I love the wrong person in their eyes. I hope they're dead. The world would be a better place without them, that’s for sure.

My hands would be sweating right now if they could just thinking of my parents, but there is no time for that. I’ve made my decision. He can’t be here. More people will end up coming and disturbing my peace because of him. I rummage through the mess of emotions swirling inside me and grab the one I need. Sadness. I walk toward him; his back is facing towards me, my presence unnoticeable by my footsteps. As I get closer to him, for the first time I notice that he is a head and a half taller than me. As he turns around, finally noticing my presence, I see the few blemishes on his cheeks signifying he couldn't be older than twenty, than me. It seems that we have more things in common than this bridge. His wide eyes take a good look at me, and immediately his tense form slugs back to its original position. His green eyes, filled with fear for a split second, now welcomed a feeling of curiosity for he only sees a girl of similar age. All alone. In an empty park. Dressed up in a red and white polka dot dress and Bouffant updo. His eyes clearly express that the way I am dressed is weird. But last time I checked this was the latest style.

He raises his hoodie-shrouded arm to awkwardly wave at me and say, "Um...hi."

"Hello." I take one step closer to him. He takes one step backwards.

"C-Can I, can I help you...with something?” he says. “You look kinda lost". He shifts from his one foot to the other. I take another step. He does too. His eyes never leave mine.

"I was looking...actually, waiting for someone." I reply. I take one more step closer. He doesn’t. He is within an arm's reach. I lift my hand up for him to shake.

"I'm June. Nice to meet you."

"Toby," he says and shakes my hand. The warmth of his hand soothes my cold one. “Wow! Um..Your hand is freezing. How long have you been waiting out here for?”

“A very long time,” I smile at him.

One more step.

"So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, who ar-are you waiting for, June?" he asks. His voice is a whisper, his cheeks rosy red; I can feel the moving of his erratic chest against mine. I can sense his heart beating harder and harder. He probably has noticed at this point that he can no longer move his body.

"Anyone." My arms snake around his neck in a vice grip and drag him down to me. My cold lips land on his.

I open my eyes, or I should say Toby's eyes, which must have closed when I kissed him. Inside his mind is fuzzy and disorganized, but that doesn't stop me from taking full reign of it. I am physically standing on the bridge once again. I feel the thrill of being alive coursing through me as I look at the picturesque view below me. Flashes of Toby's memories pass by as I try to get accustomed to his body. There are memories of him and his family throughout his life like a glitchy slideshow, but what catches my attention is the large number of memories that revolve around one girl. It seems that Toby and I do indeed have more things in common than just the bridge. From the way he delicately holds her against him in his memories it can’t be ignored that she must be his special girl. Though…With her willowy body, long pale legs, and short chestnut brown hair she looks exactly like her. My Lucinda. My first and only love. So much alike, and yet, they’re not. She has honey-colored eyes, instead of the icy blues that I haven't seen for what must be over 60 years. She has a small scar on her bottom lip and lacks the splash of freckles that covered Lucinda’s sweet face. This girl is the one Toby whispers sweet nothings to in the wind. The melancholic feeling inside his chest is all too familiar to me. It’s the same feeling that brought me to this bridge originally. I do not bother to look further into his memories. It’s obvious from the heartache that I’m experiencing that his feelings for her are no longer reciprocated. It’s ironic how both of our loves have put us somehow in the same situation, the same end. It’s not hard to force his legs forward. His mind has given up a long time ago, long before my invasion; why else would he be here at the bridge? I climb onto the smooth wall, and as I stand on it, ready to let myself go for the second time in my existence, I remember my last moments with her. My lips tingle at the old sensation. I forgot how great it is to be a living human. As we slip off the edge of existence together, I realize that I will no longer be alone in this purgatory.

I hear the splash of cold water before I feel it. The water hugs my temporary body and squeezes out all my breaths. My lungs slowly deform themselves as I sink further into nothingness. The feeling is so familiar, and yet so new.

My back touches the soft bottom of the forgotten river.

I do remember.

It is 8 feet deep.