Adroitly Imperfect

I stopped short when she began approaching the bridge. Maybe she is just testing me, I thought. I knew I couldn't give anything away too soon. This was something I should have been used to, but you don't get used to things like this. You just get numb.

"So you really think you can do this to me and just walk away, huh?" she cried out over the river. I could hear strains of desperation in her voice, and just a flutter of something else too--I couldn't tell what it was, yet. She'd have to speak again.

"Of course not, dear. I guess... I guess the problem was that I didn't think at all!"

"Yeah. You didn't."

Ah, there it was. Resignation. She had already given up. She had already made her decision. I would have to act now. And fast.

As she turned her back on me to face the water, I quickly rushed up the gravel pathway, little stones crunching beneath my worn sneakers. I knew it would be too windy up there, suspended over the water like that, for her to hear my approach. Suddenly, she turned back around to look at me. This wasn't one last look of loneliness. I saw fear in her eyes; I had been wrong. She wasn't ready. She was starting to tear up, in fact.

I slowed down. There was no rush anymore. She wasn't ready; she couldn't do it. She was only waiting for me now to escort her back to the car. I saw her look down at her feet and smile. It was a smile of relief. Before I realized what was happening, she quickly spun around, raised her arms as if she were about to fly away, and jumped. We were so high up, I didn't even hear the splash when she hit the water. She simply left a small white burst of silent fireworks that disappeared as quickly as they had materialized. I stood still for a very long time, wondering where my calculations had gone wrong. A piece of me is still standing there, wondering.

But the river rushed on under the bridge as if nothing had happened.

[Dedicated to Benton Hall and Anni Chen]