Atop A Bridge

Two.

"Isn't it?"

The words make my heart beat even faster. No one should be here. No one was meant to see this. I shouldn't have paused.

"What are you doing here?" It's a simple question, but it's said with such ice you'd think I was channeling the river below me.

With a nonchalant shrug, the woman leans against the railing I'm sitting on and sighs before speaking, "I don't know. Ask the dog."

Beside her, sitting with the goofiest grin and a tail wagging like a propeller on the wrong side of the plane, is the most annoying little shit of a pit bull I've ever seen.

"So he's to blame?"

"Yup. She is."

Her tail keeps wagging. Her tongue is hanging out.

"Huh," I chuckle dryly, "The dog sent you. I can see the preacher now, 'Even the pit bull tried to save her. Even that didn't work.' Is that a good thing or a bad thing, I wonder?"

"I don't know," she says, her breath showing in the April wind. It catches a little as the bridge sways slightly. "Never liked heights, you?"

I can hear her teeth chattering. I can see her shake. "I've always loved them," I say, removing my jacket and offering it to her, "Take it, seems I won't be needing it for much longer."

"Keep it."

"I know you're cold."

"Then switch me." I give a nod and exchange my black puffy jacket with her thin pink one. "Thank you."

She looks much warmer. She looks too kind to see this. I'll wait until she leaves.

Pulling her jacket against myself in the cold, I tilt my head towards her, "So you just came out here because the dog lead you?"

"No," she says, "She pulled the leash from my hand and made it halfway to here. Then I saw you and kept going." She pauses for a moment before asking, "Who are you?"

"Why?"

This is taking too long. This shouldn't be so agonizing.

"Because I want to know what kind of person finds their way to the edge of this bridge at four in the morning."

She asks a lot of questions. She probably thinks she can help me. There's no helping me now.

"The kind of person that's had enough."

"What is enough?"

With an annoyed groan, I turn to her fully, swinging a leg over as I do so, "Look, I'm done with life. I've seen too much. I've suffered enough," I look out to the river below me and hold back tears, "I'm just done, okay! I'm finished. I don't want to do this in front of you. I don't want anyone to have to see this. So please, just leave me be. Just take your damn dog and pretend you never saw me."

The woman walks closer and wipes a tear from my eye, "Can't you just answer that one question?"

"Will you leave if I do?"

She nods, a hand on my leg, "But come down. I don't want you falling mid sentence."

Sniffling slightly, I do as she says. I tell her my story and by the end, I'm sobbing and shivering and she's holding me in her arms. And that dog, that dammed dog, is just lying there, her tongue falling from her mouth, nearly touching the ground. Her leash is sitting on the ground behind her, long forgotten by the woman sobbing with me and sharing in my pain.

Letting go of me and wiping my eyes for me, the woman smiles at me. "Do you want to get back on the railing, or do you want to come with me and Moke to get some hot chocolate? Maybe talk a little more."