The Bridge: Short Story

            It was a warm summer morning in the year 2004 when I met Sammie. We were both 4 years old, and the gender difference didn't matter. Her family moved down the road that year, but I never knew much of them. She never really did want to talk about them, so I never dare to ask. Throughout that first summer, Sammie and I slowly grew into each other's lives. My momma always said that we were practically joined at the hip. We did everything together, from learning to ride bike, to loading up my mother's kitchen with mud-pies and worms.

I will admit, I always was jealous of Sammie. She had so much freedom, and it seemed as if she had no care in the world. "C'mon Johnny-boy, just jump!" She cried from across Dead Man's Creek down the road from both of our farms. I stared at her, dumbfounded. Her two long, black braids dazzled in the sunlight.

"I-I dunno, Sammie. What if I fall in?" I mumbled, taking a step back from the rushing waters.

Sammie grinned, flashing her two missing front teeth. "I won't let you fall."

Even then, I knew I could never forget those words. And as I leapt across, my eyes shut tight, Sammie grabbed my arm and gave my body more momentum. When my feet connected with the earth again, I was in awe. "Holy Cheesesticks, Johnny-boy, you did it!" Sammie exclaimed, shaking me roughly.

When we were ten, Sammie and I would bike down to the new bridge that was built over Dead Man's Creek for the county tractors. She and I would sit on the edge, blowing dandelions into the distance for hours, talking about school or whatever came to mind. One rainy day, Sammie showed up on my porch. I heard her as I sat in the living room, watching cartoons. "I-Is Johnny-Boy home?" She mumbled to my mother. Then, I ran to her, immediately throwing on my jacket. She had a fresh cut across her cheek, and I figured it was from the barbed-wire fence. Sammie would often crawl through as a shortcut to my acreage.

Together, we ran to the bridge, but I noticed something was off about her. Her eyes had a dull look to them, and her hair was down in its natural waves. Silence crept over the two of us, apart from the rushing waters yards beneath our feet. "Sammie?" I asked.

Then, as she turned her head, I noticed something besides raindrops on her cheeks. "Are you crying?"

Sammie stepped up on the bridge, peering over the edge. "Do you believe in God?" She asked quietly.

I nodded, and Sammie's blue eyes met mine. "Do you think if we prayed hard enough, I could fly away?"

I laughed, but her eyes told me she was serious. "Yeah. Maybe." I said, giving her a reassuring smile. Sammie peered back down at the water.

"Johnny-boy, I'm gonna fly far away from here. Maybe God'll make you a bird, too, and we can fly together." I smiled and stood next to her.

When we were both fourteen, Sammie's mother had moved out so she could go to college. At least, that's what Sammie had said. She didn't seem too fond of it, but I didn't say anything. It was the summer before freshman year, and outside of me, Sammie didn't have any friends. Nobody wanted to be around the girl who was constantly bruised or cut up in fear that she would bith their heads off. "Johnny-boy, you want to go to the creek?" Sammie asked, standing from her spot under my mother's willow tree.

We walked slowly, kicking rocks as we went. And when we sat on the edge of the bridge, I gained up the nerve to ask a question I had been holding in. "What's your father like?"

Sammie stared down for a minute, just before glaring at me. "He's no father to me. You understand me, Johnny?"

I never asked that question again. Something about Sammie had snapped that day, and I never wanted to see that side to her again. And that same night, as I laid on my bed reading, I heard a tap on my window. Sammie was peering in, sitting on the branch outside.

"Sammie, what are you doing here?" A black bruise sat on her cheek, covered in salty tears.

She kept her eyes down, stepping into the room. "Can I stay here tonight, Johnny-boy? I-I promise I'll leave before your mom comes up here in the morning."

My mouth fell open. "I-I- Sure?"

Sammie nodded and started to get to the floor. I sighed, "Take the bed."

Sammie's eyes filled with tears, and she threw her arms around me. "Thank you." She whispered.

I never mentioned the sniffles I heard throughout the night. When I awoke the next morning, Sammie was gone, my bed sloppily made. She left a crumpled note on my Star Wars pillow saying, "Meet me at DMC. –S"

After I got in my clothes and combed through my hair, I hopped on my blue bike and road as fast as I could. Sammie was standing on the edge of bridge, her fingers brushing the guard. "Sammie!" I shouted, huffing and puffing as I jumped off my bike.

I hopped on the edge, but my foot had slipped and a sharp gasp escaped my lips. Sammie screamed and grabbed my wrist. "Johnny-boy, what in the Sam Hill do you think you're doing?"

My feet kicked the bridge, hopelessly attempting to lift me up. Sammie grunted as she tried to pull me up. It seemed like hours before I halted. "Sammie."

Sammie glared at me. "Sammie, I-"

"I won't let you fall, Johnny-boy." And with one final grunt, she used all of her strength to pull me back over. Once again, silence became our new friend. We laid next to each other, breathing heavily.

Then I heard her sniffle. "Don't ever leave me, Johnny. Please."

I frowned. "I won't."

"You can't."

By the time we were both seventeen, I had met a new girl. Sammie and I would still go fishing or walk around together here and then; aside from that, we were no longer joined at the hip. I refused to speak to her at school in fear of my friends making fun of me. Everyone knew about her home life, just no one said anything. One evening, as my friend Jessica and I sat at the kitchen table, Sammie knocked on the screen door. "Johnny-boy."

Quickly, I rushed over and closed the door behind me. Sammie had fresh cuts on her face. I winced. "Johnny-boy, we need to go to the bridge. Now. Please."

I turned my head. "Sammie," I sighed, "Now's not the good time. I-I hate to leave you like this, but Jessica and I are getting really close."

Sammie's eyes fell, and she forced a smile. "Y-Yeah. I get it."

I frowned. "Are you sure?"

Sammie nodded. "Mhm. Have fun." She turned and started to walk towards the bridge.

"I'll talk to you later?" I asked.

Sammie froze for a minute, but she kept going. And the minute I went back into that house, I would regret it the rest of my life. That night, the police had come and informed me Sammie had jumped into Dead Man's Creek. "Did Sammie ever mention anything about this?" One officer asked.

Keeping my head down, I shook my head. And the next morning, I went to the Willow tree. I cried, a lot. After a few hours of just sitting there, I lifted my head and shouted into the sky. "I'm sorry!"

But then something caught my eye. A Bluejay flew from the tree and towards the bridge, and at that moment, I realized God had answered her prayers.