Meaningless

iii.

Whenever we visited the city, we walked across the bridge together, hand in hand. She always hummed as we walked, a song I heard on the radio but could never remember. The city at night was beautiful. Gasoline fumes, the sound of human voices overlapping one another like waves, honking, sirens, footsteps, street food, bright neon signs, litter strewn over the street, all coalescing into a vivid, breathing metropolis. Sometimes we stood, overlooking this whirlwind of energy. Breathless. How could so many people squeeze into such a tight space?

We always found some excuse to walk the bridge at night, just to relive that spectacle. The warm breeze from the river below tickled our faces as we breathed in the city's air.

"Hey, did you know?" she said, tugging at my arm. "We're walking on the Bridge of Life." She pulled me over to the side of the bridge.

"Catchy name," I said as we stood in front of the railing. I rested my hands on the smooth metal, cool even during summer.

A  tiny smirk tugged at her lips. "Isn't it? Some insurance company invested in this, you know. Building heartwarming statues on the walkway, adding sensors to light up positive messages when people pass by. Wouldn't want their potential clients to die now, do they?"

"Maybe they needed some healthy PR," I chuckled.

But she wasn't laughing. She leaned against my shoulder as we looked out onto the dark, rippling water beneath us, reflecting the city lights like distant stars.

"This is wrong. So, so very wrong, in every sense. It's like telling people. Please kill yourself here to make a statement. Giving a meaningless death meaning."

I had never seen her so emotional. She always had some cold, calculated aura enveloping her, careful not to reveal her weaknesses. But here, she turned, pressing her face against my chest, wrapping her arms around me tightly.

"And the messages on the railing. Tomorrow's sun will rise? Of course it will! Who would care about some selfish bastard killing themselves?" Her body became rigid in my arms, her voice trembling. "Tell me I'm right! You really believe anyone would think twice while reading this shit?"

I said nothing.

Her sharp breaths slowed after a while. We stood, locked in embrace. Eventually her shaking stopped.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I shouldn't have let myself say those things."

"There's nothing to apologize for," I said. "I'm here for you. To talk to you and understand you better than anyone else."

She looked up at me with a small smile. "Thank you," she said. "But please, can you forget this happened? I'm not like this, you know that. Today was just..."

"If that's what you want," I said. "But I don't mind it, really. It's natural."

"I believe you. It's just me. I've always been conscious of how others perceive me." She pulled away, fixing her blouse collar. She looked away.

"You don't ever have to worry about what I think of you. You know I love you."

She said nothing and continued to look over the railing, at the river disappearing along with the city into the horizon.

I didn't know if she felt the same way, and it hurt that she didn't answer. But she had her own circumstances. She was next to me and not anyone else and that was all I cared about then.

"Except for when you had that perm," I said. "Who wouldn't have judged you?"

She started to laugh, her slim frame shaking, as if releasing the tension built up in her body. She finally turned and looked at me with those beautiful eyes. Her smile was genuine.

"Asshole."

She slipped her warm hand in mine and our fingers interlocked in the summer night. As we walked past the glowing messages floating in the darkness, her grip tightened. Like she was reaffirming my existence. But I only realized this later.