Stag Tales Moon Talk

FDAJ: The Father (Outtake)

March 22nd 2007

Georgetown, Washington

"I don't want to sound rude," she told him with a haughtily calm voice. "But you look like a fucking doofus standing there."

He felt the mean streak before he could control it. "I don't get why that's any of your damned business."

"You standing there like a lunatic looks... idiotic."

"I like hanging out here."

"On the edge of a bridge? You don't look like you're here for a quick dip in the lake."

He turned around then, the view of the dark sky void of any clouds at the corner of his eye, unable to tell her how much he hated the water and how much he hated swimming lessons as a kid. "Is that a problem? Is this, like, your spot or something?"

"It's not my spot, no."

"Good night, then." He shook his head, pushing the thought of swimming as far as possible from his mind. "Bitch."

"That I am," she affirmed as she stepped closer to the bridge, the quiet road far too quiet for something past midnight. "You wouldn't believe how many times people have called me that before."

"I'm guessing you've stuck your nose where it didn't belong before."

"Actually, I broke my ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend's windshield into pieces this fucking tiny." She held two fingers close together. "She wasn't very happy. I've been the school bitch ever since."

"When was that?"

"A week ago."

He didn't like how she spoke to him, like she could make him change his mind. "Go away, will you?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"My therapist talks about how I don't confront the right way."

He turned around on the ledge then, the bridge sturdy under his unsteady feet. Had he really been serious about this? With this girl talking to him, he didn't think he had to do this anymore. "Confront whom?"

"Anyone. Mom. Dad. Brothers. Sisters. Uncles. Aunts. Whoever, basically," she peeked at him from under her lashes. "Including pretentious looking snooty boys ready to kill themselves."

He watched her rock forward and back on the balls of her feet. "What would you do when confronted with the last of that list."

"I'd do exactly this." She told him. "I'd say the same things, too."

"You haven't said anything that's convinced me otherwise." He lied, trying to fool her, and maybe even himself. A subtly erotic tune played in the air from the car she'd parked so many feet away. Had she seen him and walked over to talk him out of this? The thought was comforting, and it wasn't all that easy to get used to, even if he repeated it over to himself a million times. His own flesh and blood didn't take his death threats seriously, so why should she? Who was this girl and what made her any different?

"What do you want, like a sign from the fucking universe? Let's look at this way. The universe is busy so here I am. Should I pull out my neon billboards about wanting to live life to the fullest before I convince you to do what, exactly? Can I even convince you if you don't want convincing? I can talk you out of this tonight but what about other nights, what about nights we don't end up meeting out of the ordinary? Wake up, Snooty!" She snapped her fingers. "You either jump this way or that, and really, no one's making you do anything, least of all me."

"Tell me something, anything. Tell me I'll be okay."

"If you don't believe it, you won't be."

"Why should I believe it?" he turned around, away from her.

A second passed, then a cricket chirped from the distant bushes, when she whistled. "I don't save people and all that. It's old school drama. It's like in the novels. I'm gone."

When he turned around exactly fifteen seconds later, she was still there, just as he'd known. He hadn't heard her walk away. He hadn't even heard her breathe into the deathly quiet night.

"I'm Rupa."

He wished he could have shook her hand. Placing his hand out in front of him, he could almost cover her entire form with it, like she hadn't come at all. Like none of this happened. But he could feel her voice resonate through his own, like they shared one voice. Like they were one.

"Samuel."

"Nice to meet you."

"I believe," he moved to get off the bridge, his dark and shiny footwear suddenly a stark contrast to the pale cream pants he wore. "The pleasure is all mine."