Beautiful Tears (Part 1)A Story by Not here“Please get down. Let’s go have some tea or… or just please get down.” My plea was carried away by the wind on top of the bridge. Even at nighttime when there was no sign of light, the wind remained. “I can’t,” she shouted back. Her voice slashed through the wind, straight to my ears and my heart. “I have to do this! Don’t you understand?” “Make me understand!” I put every ounce of emotion left into the words, until they were merely shrieks that I hoped she heard. “Come down and let’s talk!” “I… I need to do-” “We have all night. You can do… I mean you have hours upon hours left! It’s not even midnight yet. Please, let’s just talk.” The disheveled teenage girl turned to face me as she stood precariously close to the edge of the bridge. One wrong movement and her feeble body would fall. Tear stains had replaced the makeup on her face, and her skin seemed taut and pale. “Why should I listen to you?” Her words were fierce, and her voice accusing. “You’re just a homeless old witch!” I nodded slowly, afraid of saying the wrong word or using the wrong tone. “Maybe, maybe not. But even a homeless old witch has ears for you to talk to, unburden yourself to.” “Unburden?” She laughed, but it was bitter and hollow. “You… Who told you to… I don’t want an abortion!” She took a step away from the edge and then collapsed in the center of the road. To either side of us, the city lights were like stars on that starless night. I knelt beside her on the hard pavement and tried to lift her head. “Talk to me, please.” Her body shook as she began to cry. “You shouldn’t have come here tonight. I need to jump. I need to die.” “What makes you think so?” I asked, stroking the side of her face as I’d done many years ago to my own daughter. “I know teenagers. Most of what they believe comes from other people.” Her eyes turned upwards, and I saw her face clearly as the moonlight illuminated her tears like streetlamps. “My dad said so. He kicked me out.” Her lips quivered and her body seized up as the wet clothes on her back stabbed with icy knives. The wind picked up and made it worse. “Earlier, he told me to never come back. He said I was no daughter of his, and that he raised me better.” “Do you need a change of clothes?” I said just loud enough for her to hear. The wind died down and she relaxed a touch. “What clothes do you have?” “Just the ones on my back, but you can have them. The rest of mine are back in the… Well, at my home.” “Do you live in the alley?” she asked. I saw a child-like curiosity in her eyes, an innocence that she had forgotten. “I… it doesn’t matter.” I closed my eyes when the words came out, embarrassed that I was embarrassed. This girl had been through so much, and here I was worrying about my dignity. “Actually, yes, I do. It’s all that I have now.” She nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask.” Before I could say anything, she went on. “If… if I don’t jump… can I stay with you? I have nothing now, too.” I couldn’t help but smile as I shook my weary head. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t have enough to take care of you.” “But I could-” “No!” She sat up away from me wearing an expression of horror. “I can’t… I can’t go back! He said he’d-” “No, he didn’t.” I looked her carefully in the eyes. “He didn’t say anything about hurting you or making you leave again. Think carefully. Most of what you remember him saying was never said. You just felt it was.” Her lip began to quiver again. “But, but it was implied-” “No. Listen. He will take you back, I promise. I’ve… I’ve been through something similar to what you-” “But you don’t even know what I did.” She squirmed for a few seconds as the wind picked up and her lungs froze. On the bridge, it was always windy. That’s one thing I hated about walking it at night. I loved seeing the lights, though. They made it worth it. Tonight I’d found something extra. “I don’t need to know,” I said finally. “You don’t need to tell me. I still understand.” “How?” Shaking my head, I closed my eyes to push the memories away. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime, but not now. We need to get you back home.” “If we go there, will you come in with me?” I knew from her expression that she was also battling memories, or possibly fears. They were much the same thing. “Why?” She bit her lip. “He won’t… he won’t hurt me if you’re there.” “I can’t stay forever.” I stood up slowly, stretching my aching bones. The nights were getting colder every day now. Sometimes I thought I would freeze to death and never wake up. “Just a little bit,” she said, not moving from her seat on the ground. “We can decide on the way there.” I nodded and offered her a hand. “Where’s your house?” “This way.” Sludging to her feet, she led the way back to the mainland as we arched over the river. For a few minutes, there was silence between us. I glanced sideways at her occasionally and saw she was wrestling with some thought. When I thought she was going to turn back or run away, I put an arm around her shoulders. Slowly, silently, she moved closer to me as we progressed off the bridge and onto the sidewalk. “Feels nice not to have that wind,” I mused as we took our first steps on land. “Gets pretty bad up on the-” “I’m preg-” Her voice cracked and she buried her head on my shoulder. Tears formed a river down the arms as I held onto her. She leaned closer, pressing against my chest, and whispered, “I’m pregnant.” I could feel my own eyes watering. I tried to blink it away. “How old are you?” “Fourteen.” “I’m so sorry. What’s your-” “My name’s Ruby. I know you’ve been waiting to ask.” She shook her head frantically, like she was being attacked by flies. “Don’t call me that, though.” “What do I call you then?” “Alex.” My heart exploded. “That was my daughter’s name,” I muttered absentmindedly. “She was your age, too.” She looked up surprised. “What happened to her?” The tears flowed freely as she asked. “Nothing, nothing. I don’t wanna talk about it.” She nodded and returned her head to my shoulder as we walked forwards. “Well… if you’re not gonna talk can I?” “Are you gonna tell me your story?” “No.” There was a long sigh after that. It held so much in it. Perhaps that was her way of telling the story. In that one instant, she gave me all the background information needed. “I’m going to tell you the baby’s story.” TO BE CONTINUED.... © 2016 Not hereAuthor's Note
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