Chapter 20

Chapter 20

 

I wasn’t even sure how I got there. Somewhere in between my thoughts and the car stopping to a halt, there I was. Parked in a sketchy parking lot just before the old Ravenel Bridge above the Charleston River. The same river that once contained Alex’s dead body, floating above the murky water amidst the creatures lurking below the surface.

Slowly, I turned off the car and stepped out. There wasn’t a soul around me, but cars passed by continued to pass by. It was late, probably around two or three in the morning, but that didn’t stop traffic. Someone always had somewhere to go. Somewhere to be. Cars just never seemed to stop for the passage of time.

I strapped my purse around my shoulder, grabbed the bottle of wine, and began walking. My feet felt lifeless as my steps inched closer and closer to the bridge. My mind paralyzed as my body took control. Step after step until I stood at the center of the bridge.

I popped open the bottle of wine and chugged down a quarter of the bottle. The burning sensation tingled my tongue, but left a memorable aftertaste in my mouth. Usually bitter, but this time sweet. Like the taste of certainty.

I stood in the center of the bridge and held onto the railing, my back to the water. I watched the cars speed by and disappear into the darkness. Each one on a separate journey to God knows where. I made up stories for each car that drove by.

That one? That’s a man coming home from his third shift job. Eyes worn, ready to fall asleep at the wheel, but the cool air blasting from the vents managed to keep his eyelids open. That one? That’s a woman picking up her younger son from a sleepover. He got sick and insisted he couldn’t fall asleep unless he was in his own bed, even though he had already passed out in the back seat of the minivan. That one? A couple teenagers coming back from a party. Drunk and screaming off the ear of the sober driver as he tuned them out completely.

I did this for over an hour sipping my wine. And all that time, I realized not one person had noticed me. Not one. I stumbled over to the other side of the bridge and stared down below. The water was dark. Looking like a black hole in my mind. Once you’d go in, you’d never come out. The water filling your throat, suffocating your lungs. It’d only be a minute or two before you’d passed out completely. No more than five minutes before you’d lay there still. Dead. But that was all nonsense because the jump alone would be enough to kill you. The impact, the fierce collision of a human being and the monstrous river. One destructive instant and you’d be dead. The force would break every bone in your body, but you wouldn’t feel a thing. Shock would take over before the pain could, but it wouldn’t matter anyways. You’d already be dead.

I stood there for a long time. Watching the waves below me. One jump, and it’d all be over. Simple as that. God, I never realized how easy it really was. I always wondered how Alex could’ve done it, but I didn’t anymore. I knew how she’d done it. She stood on the ledge and jumped. Nothing more, nothing less. Simple really. Almost too easy. Like God was taunting us. Do it, he mocked as he laughed a hearty laugh. Knowing God well most people wouldn’t dare. But some would. Because they knew it’d be better than living through this torturous hell every day.

A little more than buzzed now, I climbed up onto the railing and sat, holding on tight. I didn’t dare slip before I was ready, and I wasn’t ready yet. I stared into the clearing, noticing its beauty for the first time. A wide gaping river with trees along side. It was hard to see in the darkness, but I could make out the image of a small dock down below with a boat tied up next to it. Similar to the boat Noah had taken me on. I watched it rock back and forth in the water, begging to be let loose from the post it was tied up against.

I imagined what this image would look like a few months from now, when the leaves began to change to reds, oranges, and browns. How mesmerizing this view would be, yet no one would take the chance to look. Such a shame how everyone driving by was so focused. So preoccupied that they missed out on something as stunning at this view. I wouldn’t be around to see it, but I figured I’d see it one day from the sky. And I imagined the aerial view would be even more enthralling.

Digging into my purse, I grabbed the letter Alex had written to Noah. I had stuffed it into my purse before leaving the beach. I hoped Noah wasn’t missing it too much. I held it between my fingertips reading the words printed in red ink. Once, twice, three times before they made me sick. Noah was prick. He didn’t deserve Alex. She was too good for him. I turned the picture over and stared at the image of the two. Slowly, I ripped it in half. One half contained Alex, and one half contained Noah. I placed the one of Alex down underneath my bottle of wine and stared at Noah.

I remembered everything. The first day I met him in the pouring rain at Alex’s funeral. His hand grazing my thigh when he had just lost his girlfriend. It didn’t belong there. I recalled the nights I slept under his arms. Confined within his arms. I shouldn’t have been there. The fishing trip at the cabin. His hand pulling me into the water. The same hand grazing my thigh. I was drunk. He had no right. And then Caleb’s house. Making love under Caleb’s roof. The way he moved, the way his body pressed against mine. So gracefully, yet a mistake. A ruthless mistake that I could never erase. All of it replayed in my mind like a movie. It never should’ve happened. Gently, I released the picture of Noah, watching it effortlessly falling until it hit the waves and was swallowed into darkness. I could smell the scent of rosewood was in the air and I wasn’t sure if it was real or just my imagination. Goodbye Noah.

I swallowed hard sipping on my wine. Thinking, wondering. Next, I reached into my purse and picked up the cross. It felt smaller than before in my hands. I stared at it, watching a glimmering effect bouncing off from the moonlight. I turned it over in my hands, tracing the three initials engraved into the back. Radiant was the only word coming to mind as I outlined the twelve sides in my hand.

I replayed our story in my mind. Seeing him face down on my desk. The copy of Catch-22 sitting behind him. Maybe one day in heaven I’ll take the time to sit down and read through a chapter or two. His eyes shooting up, seeing me. Me seeing him. A rare connection I had with Caleb. A love that was real, but it didn’t make any difference. It vanished hastily just the same. Slowly, I released the cross and watched it soar to its death. One steady fall that plopped into the river creating a small splash around it. Absorbing it. Goodbye Caleb.

I bit my lip, letting that one go. A tear fell from my cheek, but I knew I had to keep going. My mind was already made up. I needed to do this. Gradually, I finished off the bottle of wine and held it in my hands. The taste was sweet on my tongue, but hostile in my heart. This one was for my mother. A half-hearted tribute to her. For bringing me into this godforsaken world and destroying me before ever giving me the chance to live. I remembered seeing her for the first time. I swear I could’ve been looking into a mirror. And for the first time in my life, I admitted that we were the same. Inside and out. I was a coldblooded replica of her. A Siamese twin. Our heads connected as one with two individual bodies. God, I hated her. For everything she had done. And if I hated her, I might as well hated myself because our resemblance was too much the same. I finished off the last swig of the red wine. It tasted like blood in my mouth, my teeth stained red. I chucked the bottle into the river watching it splatter into the river, leaving behind a crashing splash. It floated on the waves under the bridge, completely out of sight. I left out a sigh of relief. This one was long overdue. Goodbye mother.

I looked up towards the moon. The clouds above me were finally beginning to dissipate into thin air. Underneath, the stars were revealed, shimmering bring in the night sky. Immediately I found the North Star, my father. I knew he’d come out tonight. I knew he’d be there guiding my hand as I pursued the path I was destined to follow.

I twisted the ring around my finger, eyeing the diamond on each rotation like I had done before. I thought of my father, my real father. No, not my biological father. He wasn’t the real one. He was just my DNA, and nothing more. Blood doesn’t make you family, just like family isn’t always related through blood. Just because I was his doesn’t make him a father to me any more than it makes my mother a mother to me. But she isn’t what I want to remember, and neither is my biological father. I want to remember my real father. The only one in this world who actually gave a damn about me. He dropped his whole life for me, and I wasn’t even his. God that hurt me inside. I belonged to him, I always had. But now I have nothing left of him except this little chunk of metal. I couldn’t even say his personality was mine because it wasn’t. It was a messed up mixture of two people who didn’t want me. But despite all of this, I was his. In my heart, he was there, and that’s all that matters. No one could take that part away from me. I slid the ring off my finger and kissed it gently. I set it down on the edge of the bridge.

Finally, I pulled out the picture of my grandmother and laid it there beside the other remnants. All in all, there was picture of Alex, the picture of my grandmother, and the ring. The only three people who wanted me. The only ones who needed me. All at once, I pushed all three remnant over the edge and watched them fall. The ring descended first, spiraling down into the unknown. The pictures followed, waving back and forth as they lowered into the realms of the waves. Goodbye world.

Carefully, I made myself to my feet and stood on the ledge, looking down. I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking if I had forgotten anything but, I knew I hadn’t. I had imagined my death a million times before, but I had never imagined it like this. I always thought I’d be hanging from the ceiling or pulling a trigger against my skull. Never this. Yet, surprisingly, I was calm. My heart beat slowly and my breathing was steady. I heard the hum of the waves crashing against one another and it reminded me of my beach. My sanctuary. My home. The only one I had ever really known.

For the first time in a long time, my mind was at ease. No thoughts were overcrowding my brain, no unwanted flashbacks were clogging my head. I realized how much of a blessing this agonizing depression had really been. It opened me, beyond what I had ever imagined possible. It allowed me to see things, others cannot. I saw how fake and guarded the world was. Afraid of following what they’re destined to do. Tormented by the judgements of others instead of reaching for their dreams. It’s heartbreaking really that we allow ourselves to be so closeminded to the endless possibilities surrounding our existence.

My depression showed me what life does. It breaks you. Into a million pieces. Shards of glass shattering your delicate skin. Leaving you naked and vulnerable among a crowd of unfamiliar faces, all blurring together as one condemning identity. Telling you what to do, where to go, who to love. It was all so superficial. Nothing but a long strand of lies threaded together like laundry on a clothesline. A strand so thin, but so durable, not even the strongest could rupture it. We pull and we pull but we cannot break it, despite offering up all our might. It’s only much later that we realize all we needed was a pair of scissors and snip. It’s gone. The lies, the privations, all gone.

But I guess I wasn’t there yet. God hadn’t yet granted me the scissors I so desperately craved because I was too young. Too naïve. And it was too strong to be cut yet for a couple of years, but I couldn’t keep pulling that long. My hands were already blistered and blood soaked from all the wounds. All the cuts from pulling all these years and God hadn’t healed them.

That’s the thing about people. We’re all different in God’s mind. Some pray for the strength to pull and God grants them scissors. Others pray for the strength to pull and God repairs their broken hands and gives them the strength to endure more. But I wasn’t like the most people. Never have been, never will be. I am a rare breed. I had prayed for the strength to pull and for the scissors to snip, but I didn’t receive either. Instead, God offered me a match. An alternative. A way out. For years I had watched the match flame glow. What a beautiful sight. But the longer I watched, the smaller the match became until the flare nearly went out. But before it went out, I decided.

And with one extended glance towards the sky and one brisk step off the ledge, I burned the hell out of that clothesline, leaving behind nothing but smoke and ashes.

Reviews

[Splatman73]

This is the best work I've seen here in my short time on the Cafe. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I love this story. The story is alive, even in the backstory that takes up much of the earlier chapters. Honestly I don't have a ton to say. Good luck with final edits and getttung this published.

(Actual rating is 110 but it won't allow me to put that)

[Sarah]

I'm glad you liked it! You read through the whole thing?

[Splatman73]

Yah. Sorry I didn't review every chapter. I was kinda invested in the story so I ended up only writing reviews on a few chapters. It was just really good.

[Sarah]

No worries! Thank you so much. If there's any more you want to talk about regarding my story, feel free to message me!

[Rebecca]

very powerful, inspiring, crushing last chapter, with a cliffhanger (what happens next? Caleb, Noah, Charlie in heaven because she went to church and prayed)? It was really moving how she dropped each object into the lake or river before jumping. sad story. I had hoped she would become christian but anyways, it was a well written novel. reread it and do some editting. it could be lengthened.

[Lorry]

Awesome, the finality of the step, but no splash, and the rest is taken over by the reader to wonder how everyone else woke up to that news the next day which is a way better direction to go than to try too hard in the final chapter and tie everything p. All the best books leave us wondering about the characters after the last page and this is no exception. I guess it was inevitable for Charlie to take that route out of her pain, almost poignant and in memory of her friend, who done the same earlier in the book.
You ended this with great aplomb and at the end, I guess it was inevitable that it would end this way, yet I never thought for a second it would, so kudos on that.
Overall, a great story, full of interesting characters and events, told well and well worth the read.

[Sarah]

Thank you for taking the time and reading this in its entirety. I really appreciate all of the feedback throughout! Hope you enjoyed!

[Christopher Miller]

Well, I admit I didn't see that coming. The whole bridge scene was done very well. I mean, extremely well. Having a relic from each of just 3 people she cares about, all dead, lends a certain logic to her conclusion. The final lie, the lie by omission about who her father was, driving her over the edge works as well. I do think the previous chapter could use a bit more about why she didn't stay and listen to Caleb. I'm imagining her asking, then seeing something stupid in his expression that makes something inside of her snap and suddenly, no she doesn't want to hear it. Doesn't want another thread added to the clothesline. At this point, why should she expect the truth? Even if she got the truth of who nobody told her, what other lies and revelations would that uncover? I think it could be explained very satisfactorily, that sentence 'it was too late' from before just needs to be expanded on. Wondering why not was a distraction for half of this chapter.
Since this is where the image of the dying came back, so I'm wondering, did she know she was going to do this since that night in the church? How is her behavior since then explained? Why go on with trying to tell Noah how she feels about Caleb, or figuring out the situation with her father?
I had been hoping she wouldn't choose Caleb (because of the car accident) or Noah (because of his opportunism, quickness to grow overly familiar, pressuring her about her mother, and now the weakness of character displayed by not granting his dead girlfriend's dying wish). I guess I technically got my wish, on that front.
I was wondering how the title would figure in, when I saw you added that. I think it's perfect. It works on multiple levels. And the comparison to a clothesline... Tough yet thin, the idea that that's all life consists of, at least in her eyes (and not without reason).
We'd talked about how she'd know her mother's history, I don't think that's needed now. This story was told from the beyond. Why wouldn't all be revealed?
It's a powerful realization that this is told as she looks back on her life with omniscience, and doesn't feel any regret. No concern for how anyone left alive will take her death. Just that it's all superficial, and now it's all gone. As a reader, I'm not left with caring about anyone's feelings, except perhaps her biological father. Hard to say, without knowing more about their conversation. What did they talk about? Did they plan to meet again? I was sure for a bit that her mother and he would get back together, and that little girl would have a mom and big sister again.
I kept waiting for the sparrow to come back, but it never did. What would it have said to her on that bridge, I wonder.
This is very impressive for a first work. Better than I was in my early twenties, I can say that. All my work from then and earlier has been aborted, for the most part. Get all the feedback you can and polish it up, and definitely put this out there!

[Sarah]

Thank you so much for reading this through its entirety. I greatly appreciate it, and I realize I do have a ton of work to do. But overall, your thoughts and questions while reading are really going to help me make this into the book I want it to be. About the title, which are you referring to? Because I changed it last night, and I'm not sure how I feel about either at this point.

[Christopher Miller]

Oh, you did! I was thinking of the first title when I said that. I like the new one as well, quite a bit. It reminds me of a song by The Gathering called 'Home', I'm probably the only person (that I know of anyway) that thinks that song's all about dying. Couldn't say which I like better, but I will say that if you go with the first, then her meditation on the flame at the church should be expanded on, as well as what she was actually thinking afterward.
I'm glad you're looking forward to the work, and feeling encouraged. You should.

[Mifa]

Is this the end? Cause if it is then...then I have only one word for you..."print this out and get a publisher". Yeah yeah...that's way more than one word but, you have to forgive me for that error. You have taken me on a journey with this story and I have to say a big thank you for that. If this is your first project then I marvel at what more you could do when you've eventually gotten a grip of your style.

I loved the adventure looking through the eyes of Charlotte and sad as it seems, maybe, maybe she was right to burn the hell out of that clothes line. I look forward to reading something new from you, preferably a short story to whet my appetite as we await another masterpiece.

[Sarah]

This is indeed the end. But it was one hell of a journey, wasn't it? Bittersweet for me to see it end, and indeed, this was my first piece of work. I do plan on getting it published, but for right now, I'm going to edit and clean it up first! Thank you so much for reading through the entire thing. Not many people here give it a chance after the first chapter because of the length, but I'm grateful that you did! And I will definitely start something new soon!