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I’d had it all planned out for days now. The perfect time, day and location, even the playlist I was now listening to as I walked to the park. The sun was dipping toward the horizon, promising a glorious sunset with a beautiful crescent moon due to rise shortly after. The music of the spheres performing just for me.
I sat down on the grass and looked out over the water toward the Golden Gate Bridge, where the sun was hanging low, and I felt the first pang of uncertainty, but I quickly smothered it by cranking the music up one level louder. I was certain there’d be time for that later; for now I just wanted to watch the colours and enjoy the music I’d chosen. All my favourites one last time.
By the time the sky had grown fully dark, the park had emptied. I sat there for a long time in quiet contemplation before I pulled myself back to my feet and began walking, as if on autopilot, the bridge drawing ever closer. I didn’t feel fear, only relief. I’d made the decision. I wouldn’t have to wake up and face this torment again; it was over.
I made my way out to the centre of the bridge, ignoring all the signs plastered to the metal as I went. Despite living in San Francisco all my life, I could count on my hands the number of times I’d ever actually walked out onto the bridge like this. I’d come out here as a kid once or twice, and a few times I’d brought visiting friends from elsewhere out to see the view, but generally if I needed to cross, I’d be in a car or on my bike. Walking felt strange. I reached the middle earlier than I’d anticipated, and I hesitated.
Taking a deep breath I looked out over the side and down to the churning water below. I couldn’t really see anything, just darkness and the occasional flash of white as a crest of water caught the moonlight above. I swallowed hard; it looked a lot further away than I remembered. I suddenly felt scared, but I shook myself. I went back over everything, reminding myself why I was doing this. The utter lack of anything meaningful left in my future. The way my friends had nearly all turned their backs on me. I didn’t want to face another day of this. I couldn’t. It steeled my resolve.
I took a step closer to the edge. There was a metal railing in the way between me and the actual edge of the bridge that I’d have to climb over, but it wouldn’t be difficult. My playlist had ended, leaving me in silence, so I took my earpods out and put them in my back pocket, then turned off my phone and zipped it inside another one; it felt warm against my thigh. My learner’s permit, still not converted to a full licence, was slotted inside the case so hopefully someone would be able to ID me easily. Not that there was anyone left to care once they figured out who I was. Then I climbed up the railing and down to the other side.
I knew it wasn’t possible, but the roar of the water seemed so much louder on this side. There wasn’t much room to stand, and my toes stuck out over the edge. I clung on to the railing with my right hand and realised I was trembling. It didn’t look like a body of water below me; it looked like a yawning chasm, a pitch-black roaring void. I didn’t believe in an afterlife; I never had. So when I threw myself into that void, I would become one with it. Everything would stop. That was what I wanted, for it all to stop: the pain, the fear, the humiliation. For it all just to end. Wasn’t it?
“You’re a coward,” the voice in my head mocked as I stood there shaking, trying to will myself to let go and just get it over with. “All you have to do is let go of that railing, and you can’t even do that. You’re absolutely worthless, and everyone knows it, including you, but you’re still clinging on like the pathetic specimen you are.”
I realised I’d started to cry when I heard the footsteps.
I looked over expecting to see cops, but instead I saw an old man slowly walking my way. He stopped a little way back and held his hands up in front of him.
"I didn’t want to scare you,” he said kindly. I sniffled but couldn’t muster up any words. He gave me a sad smile. “Please don’t.”
I started crying harder.
"I don’t think I can,” I managed to get out. “I think I’m too much of a coward to do it.”
The old guy walked a little closer to me. He had messy black hair with grey highlights, a surprising amount of it for someone his age, and the kindest face I’d ever seen. He was wearing jeans and was wrapped up in a big knitted cardigan.
”I don’t think you’re a coward,” he told me. “I think you just realised it’s not your time yet.”
“I’m… I’m scared,” I admitted. The water below sounded horrifying.
”Let me help.” He came over and very gently took hold of my arm, and together, we got me back over the railing, where I collapsed on the floor, shaking violently. He crouched down beside me.
”You look cold; here.” He took off his cardigan and helped me put it on. It felt warm and comforting and smelt of cologne and old tobacco.
“Will you walk with me and keep me company tonight?” He asked. “The bridge and the water will still be there tomorrow if you change your mind.”
I nodded mutely and got up off the cold floor. We walked slowly in silence along the bridge and back to the park where I had been sitting earlier. He led me to a bench where we sat down beside one another. For a few minutes we watched the stars together.
”What’s your name?” He asked.
”Ryland,” I told him. I saw no point in lying about anything.
”How old are you?”
”26.”
He sighed heavily.
“That’s an awfully big burden you must be carrying at 26, Ryland.”
I started to cry again.
“I’m James. You wanna tell me about it?”
”It’s complicated,” I mumbled wetly.
“You think I have anywhere better to be tonight?”
I managed a small laugh at that, and he laughed back.
”How about I take a guess? Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think this is about a girl – or a boy for that matter. I don’t know which way you swing. You just don’t seem the type to be this cut up over things like that. Money troubles?”
”That’s part of it,” I conceded. James hummed.
“Work?”
”All of it.”
”Why don’t you fill me in, son?”
The term of endearment unleashed a fresh wave of tears, and I wrapped my arms around myself, the warmth of the borrowed cardigan helping ground me.
”I… I was a biology researcher at USF,” I began once I’d composed myself. “I got my PhD last year and was working in a niche field that I loved.”
”A PhD at 25?” James whistled, sounding impressed. “You’ve got a smart head on those shoulders.”
I scoffed.
“I wrote a paper earlier this year; it was pretty out there, but I believed in it. I still do. But no one took it seriously. Important people started mocking me, ripping holes in my theories. I got defensive about it. I’d done the research, and I knew it was good, but they were all so concerned with upholding the status quo that they wouldn’t even listen to me. They all talked down to me because I’m so young, made out I wasn't old enough or experienced enough to know what I was talking about. I went to a conference in Denmark two weeks ago to present the paper, and it all went to hell. I was so angry. When the leading researcher in my field started picking my work apart, I lost it and called him a staggering waste of carbon. It’s all on the internet; just Google ‘UNESCO conference incident Copenhagen', and I’ll come right up.”
I knew I sounded bitter. I felt it. James didn’t say anything, so I carried on.
”I’ve lost everything. I was thrown out of the conference. I lost my job, my health insurance. My apartment was tied to the university, so I’ve got to be out of there by Friday. I’ve got no money, no friends; now they’ve all turned their backs on me. I just…” I started crying again. “I don’t know what to do.”
James hummed gently while I sobbed into the sleeves of his cardigan.
”I’ll give you, that’s a tough one,” he said once I was slightly calmer. I felt weirdly proud. Is it possible to get a good grade in Reasons To Be Suicidal? If so, then I’d just aced this. “No parents?”
”No.”
He nodded, my answer clearly expected, then looked up at the stars, which seemed brighter now the moon had set.
“You know what I think? I believe everyone has a destiny waiting for them somewhere. Some people’s destinies are laid out clearly from day one like a long line of string. Other peoples are twisted up and tied into knots that make it impossible to see where they’re leading. I think you’re right in the middle of one of those knots right now Ryland. A big complicated one that looks impossible to unravel. But once you’ve gotten it undone you might see where the next part of the journey is headed.”
“But how am I going to get there when I’ve got nothing left?” I asked hopelessly. “I’ve got less than $200 in my account right now, and in three days' time, I’ll be homeless.”
He rested his hand on mine.
”I wish I could take you home with me, but I don’t think the staff at my complex would take too kindly to that,” he chuckled. “But I don’t believe for a moment that every single one of your friends would turn their backs on you.”
I looked away.
”Tell me,” James continued. “Is there a friend who, if they knocked on your door in the middle of the night, you’d drop everything to help them?”
I looked back and nodded.
”They local?”
”Yeah.”
”Then go knock on their door and see what happens.”
”I can’t do that! It’s nearly 2am!”
”Would you care if they knocked on your door at 2am and told you they’d just tried to do what you were going to do?”
”No.”
He gave me a look.
“I just can’t face being rejected again,” I said.
”You won’t be,” he insisted. For some reason, I believed him implicitly. We sat a while longer, then he got up and stretched, cracking his back.
“You promise me you've got somewhere to go tonight that isn’t back onto that bridge?”
”I promise.”
”Good. Is it a long walk?”
I considered my answer. I’d never walked from here to Marissa’s house before.
”Maybe an hour?”
”Then we’d both better start walking,” he laughed. I managed to huff a little laugh of my own. “You take care of yourself, Grace. Maybe I’ll see you again some night?”
"Maybe," I agreed, but he was already walking away from me.
I got up and started walking in the opposite direction, then suddenly realised and spun back around.
”Hey! You forgot your…” I couldn’t see him anywhere. He couldn’t have disappeared that quickly, but my eyes weren’t deceiving me either; the park was deserted.
I frowned and looked down at the cardigan. Two foxes – my favourite animals – were knitted into the front panels. I shivered a little and zipped it right up to the neck. It was cosy and soft, like it had been worn for many years. Maybe I could come back another night to try to give it back, I thought, already suspecting I’d never find James again no matter how many nights I tried.
I started walking away from the bridge.