The air shifts into something heavy, like a bomb was detonated. Her smile fades enough as she barely whispers, “I didn’t know that. Does he know?”
“I’ll be honest,” I continue with my eyes glued to the road, “Noah’s one of the fastest guys who tried out, but he’s a little too raw. I wasn’t all that impressed with him at first, but you, you were…persistent.”
Out of my peripheral vision, I catch her frozen expression.
“But—” I’m smiling bigger now as I add, “yesterday at the diner, I saw how he carries himself. He has the work ethic to step it up, and the right attitude, but he’ll have to come in at one-thousand-percent.”
She stares out the window and her voice appears timid when she says, “So, why are you telling me this?”
“No real reason. Maybe I was hoping it would bring a smile to your face.” I shrug as I tug on the wheel, turning into a bend on the road. “I’ll call him after I drop you off.”
She turns back toward me, a playful smile on her face, “Well, in that case, take me home now.”
That deserves a chuckle, and I laugh genuinely. “I could do that if you really want, but we’re almost to the bridge.” Then, more softly, I add, “And I’m enjoying your company.”
It’s her turn to grow quiet, and I focus on the road as it curves down toward the river, and I ease the SUV to a stop on the shoulder. Snow crunches under the tires, as if it’s announcing our arrival. The old iron bridge stretches across the river like a dark skeleton against the sky, its reflection trembling in the running water below as if it’s holding its breath until it reaches its final day.
We sit for a moment with the only sound being the humming engine. Ruth leans forward with her eyes fixed on the bridge. “It’s crazy how for the longest time it just looked old. Now that I know it’s being torn down, I think it’s beautiful,” she says softly.
“It’s hard to imagine this river without it.” My eyes trace the familiar lines of the rusted beams. “It’s going to look empty.”
“Right, it was part of a lot of memories.” She points forward. “I remember floating on an inner tube underneath it. There’s a bit of a drop right there, where we’d always wipe out.”
I grin, as I can picture her doing that. “It sounds like you were a bit of a daredevil.”
“Maybe, or maybe I didn’t have the sense to know better back then.”
We both laugh at that as we stare forward. For a second, it feels like I’ve stepped backward in time to a version of me who didn’t have to think so hard about what came next. I glance over at her, and a glow lingers in her expression, making me wonder if she feels it too. I nod toward my door as I reach for the handle. “Shall we go for a walk?”
She raises an eyebrow. “You did see the snow, right? It’s likely knee deep.”
“It’s not that bad. The sun’s been shining. I bet it’s hard,” I counter, already pushing the door open. “Or are you scared?”
She scoffs and unbuckles her seat belt. “Never.”
The cold hits the moment I step out, and I shove my hands in my pockets as the snow crunches under my boots. I round the SUV, and she joins me, wrapping her arms tight across her chest.
Trudging down the path toward the bridge, our breath clouds in the air as our boots leave prints in the untouched layer of snow. I take in the way the bridge rises in front of us. It’s crazy how something man-made can seem to have a personality. It’s weathered but proud. “I used to sit on that ledge by the first support beam,” she says, not looking at me. “I would stare out, feeling like the world stopped spinning and nothing else existed.”
I glance at the spot she’s pointing at. I can picture her there with knees drawn up. “I remember,” I say, “I used to stuff my pockets full of saltine crackers to throw into the water, thinking I was feeding the fish.”
Her breath puffs out in a cloud as she chuckles. “I love saltine crackers, especially with peanut butter as a snack.”
We creep right up to the edge and marvel at the bridge stretching out before us. She looks up at it with a soft smile. “It won’t be the same when it’s gone.”
“No,” I agree, my voice low. “But I’m glad we came. It feels like I owe it a goodbye.”
Her eyes meet mine in the quiet pause. “I can’t believe we never bumped into each other. You’d think we’d have seen each other at least once.”
“Right.” I shrug as I point back to the trail, and we both move along, going even closer to the bridge. I pull out my phone, turn on the camera, and hold it up, taking a few shots.
“Good idea,” she says, following my lead, taking a few photos with her phone.
Turning my phone sideways, I play with the zoom, zeroing in so close I can see the dents in the steel. “Yeah,” I speak more to myself, “it’s probably time it goes. It’s not in the best shape anymore.” I zoom in even more and see a row of some of the largest icicles I’ve ever seen, hanging down like cave stalactites. “Wow, look at those.” I move my phone closer to her, with it still zoomed in on the icicles.
“They look like crystals,” she coos.
“I have an idea.” I quickly stow my phone back into the coat pocket and wave her forward again, off the path.
