A City Bridge

A cool wind hushed through the window, flapping the curtains. Davie lay on his bed, not moving an inch. He was trying to focus on the sound of his heavy breathing while listening to the birds' chirp in an open meadow filled with roses. Why was he doing this? Because doing this is supposed to help people sleep. But it wasn't working. Davie shifted in his bed, but no matter which way he moved, it was uncomfortable. He moved one way, and his left arm became stiff. He turned to his right, now his right leg started to itch. He tried sleeping on his stomach, but then he had to turn his head to one side and his neck began to hurt.

Finally giving up, he walked to the window, yanking the curtains apart. Moonlight spilled into the room, illuminating everything inside. His harp stood next to the window, and he considered playing it. But as soon as he sat down, her face filled his vision. He shook his head violently. Must not remember. He cannot remember. The harp reminded him too much. Annoyed with himself, he got up roughly and went back to the window. Dust motes danced in the air, and Davie resisted the urge to sneeze.

He glanced at the streets below him. People walked by, unperturbed by the fact that it was two in the morning. The roadside shops were still open, dazzling passers-by with neon lights. Hot steam rushed out of food trucks selling freshly made soup. A few cars passed by, honking at every pedestrian. The starved dogs on the streets barked, each one louder than the last. Sometimes, Davie wished that the cities came with a mute button. You press it, and everything becomes silent.

As he gazed at the sight below him, he spotted a young couple walking hand-in-hand, laughing and chattering together. His heart felt heavy, and he quickly turned away. He had plenty of friends. They all cared for him, and he should stop taking them for granted. He picked up his phone again, glancing at his texts. Message seen, two days ago, and yet there was no reply from anyone. He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed. Yeah, he had plenty of friends. Not that they cared about him, but that's okay. His lips were beginning to quiver and he could feel water burning his eyes. He hated it.

His eyes wandered back to his phone. After a long debate in his head, he finally allowed himself to pick it up. He remembered last year when he and Clara would talk all day and all night. If she were here, they could have been texting this very moment.

Davie couldn't bear it any longer. He grabbed his coat, his phone, and his house keys, burst through the door, and rushed down the staircase. He shouldered the door at the front entrance open, flinching as the wind stabbed him like a thousand needles. He walked, and walked, trying to drown himself in the wind.

It had been six years. Six years since Clara passed away. And yet, he couldn't move on.

It was all his fault. Maybe, if he hadn't gotten angry and told her to give up the harp, she wouldn't have died.

Clara was the only one who could calm him. They both could be themselves around each other. Clara was the only one who understood him, and he was the only one she trusted. But that day, he had lost control for the first time in his life. He shouldn't have slapped her or threatened to kill her. And now she was gone, because of him.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he wiped them away hastily. He was in public, for God's sake. His mother had always told him that crying was for babies, and he was twenty-seven now. He shouldn't be crying. He's not that weak.

Davie wasn't sure where he was going. He just continued to walk, crunching the dry Autumn leaves on the pavement below him. There were people passing by every now and then; he was glad his hoodie could cover his wet face. He looked up and saw the stars twinkling overhead. He remembered something he had heard, that those who died became a star to light up the night sky. He wondered if Clara would be there. He stopped for a moment, staring up at the sky, and forced a crooked smile.

"Hey, Clara," he said, his voice hoarse. "I- I don't know if you can hear me but-" he paused, wiggling his hands inside his coat pockets, "-but I'm really, really sorry for what I did. And- And I don't expect you to forgive me," he added quickly. "But I just want you to know that if I could go back in time and stop what I did that day, I would have. And-" his voice cracked. He gulped and tried to speak again. "And I miss you. So much."

Another car passed by, its headlights catching Davie like they do to a wild deer. Davie realized how stupid he must have looked to an outsider. A strange man, lurking about, whispering an apology to someone who couldn't even hear him. Someone long gone. He looked around him. He was on a bridge, and a small river rushed by below. The crowded city waste had turned it brown, and plastic bags floated at the surface. Davie gagged. Even if he wanted to jump off a bridge, it would at least have to be a clean river. But on the other hand, he couldn't go on like this anymore. He stared at the gushing water below him. It couldn't be that bad. He walked to the edge of the bridge and started climbing up the rails. He couldn't believe he was actually going to do this. The height and the sound of the rushing water made him dizzy, but he liked it. He reached the top of the rails, took a deep breath, and jumped off, greeting the darkness like an old friend.