Chapter 3
Iinstinctively throw myarms around his middle and use my entire body to pull him to me, effectively steadying him. He grabs the railing once more and throws his other leg over. I, on the other hand, cannot bring myself to let go, fearing that the second I do, he’ll tumble back over the ledge.
“Hey, hey, uh, thanks for that, I’m on the safe side now,” he awkwardly laughs.
Still, I hold on for dear life. I’m not sure why, but I can’t let go of him. Maybe this pseudo-hug feels better than it should, considering I’m practically mauling a stranger, but the warmth radiating off his cold body surprises me. So do his arms when they hesitantly wrap around my shoulders. The one-sided creepy hug becomes so much more when he gives up his hesitation and holds me back.
His shirt is cold from standing in the wind for so long above the bay. I’m sure he probably feels cold as fuck right now, but I’ve never felt so warm in my life. I squeeze hard, my face plastered to his chest -- his veryhardchest. He feels like a rock, like lava rock: hard, unbending, hot, scary, and utterly safe.
Safe on this side of the railing, safe like a protector, safe likehome.
We stand there, holding each other, holding onto life as though it’s as fleeting as the San Francisco breeze blowing past us. I hold onto him, listening to his heavy breathing and pounding heartbeat beneath my cheek. It’s warring with the sound of my own, my heaving chest, the whoosh of air leaving my lungs. The thought that I so utterly did not wanthislife to go to waste barrels through me like a ton of bricks. I wanted to save this perfect stranger, one who brought me such heavy moments of terror, joy, and humor when I was so ready to throw it all away.
That my first thought was that his life had value and mine does not shakes me to my core. The minutes pass by and our heartbeats begin to slow, almost synchronizing. My breathing steadies and his quiets. I don’t want to release him; I want to give him comfort as much as I want to take it for myself. I inhale deeply, steadying myself to part ways, heaviness slamming into my chest at the thought.
Inhaling deep was a bad idea: the suicidal Greek god smells like a fucking aphrodisiac. It’s pepper, sage, and cedarwood, warm and spicy. I hold onto that smell, hoping to never forget it. Then I realize I haven’t showered in two days and woke up covered in sweat. I barely threw on sweatpants and a dirty hoodie this morning. There’s noreason to get dressed up for your own death. Except now, I wish I’d at least put on deodorant for the occasion.
I slowly pull my head back and tentatively look up to find his eyes closed. Sensing me pulling away, he cracks open his eyes and looks down at me. We continue to stare at each other, still locked in our embrace, sharing the craziest moment I’ve ever had with a complete stranger. His dark eyes seem to bore straight into my soul, and suddenly, I feel completely open and exposed to this stranger. I fear he may be able to see so deep that he’ll find all my secrets, all my shame. That worry breaks the spell. I let out a small cough to break the awkward silence and finally let go, stepping back and severing our connection.
“Ummm, stupid question, but are you okay?” I quietly ask.
He hasn’t stopped looking down at me, even when I moved away, and a tiny grin crosses his beautiful face.
“You know what? I might be. Surprising, isn’t it?” he laughs.
“I’m glad I was here to interrupt your moment of insanity. Well, actually, I don’t know you. For all I know, you could be insane all the time. This could’ve been a moment of clarity for you,” I joke with a grin of my own.
He laughs, but then his smile drops and he takes a step forward, eating up the small space I’d created between us.
“Were you really going to jump?” he asks, so quietly I barely hear him over the wind.
I’m not sure why, but I decide to continue with this raw honesty streak with a complete stranger.
“Yeah, I was. It’s what I came here for,” I whisper back, too ashamed to let the words come out any louder. I don’tknow why I feel ashamed, but in his presence, I do. I don’t want him to think less of me, which is silly because we basically met at a bar for suicidal folks.
“What about now? Are you still going to jump?” he asks, looking back and forth between my eyes, assessing me,peering into me.
I think about it for a brief second. The answer screams back at me so suddenly, I’m surprised by it.
“No, I don’t think I am, actually.” He stares directly into my eyes, searching for something. I think he’s gauging my answer, trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth.
He nods his head slightly, seemingly accepting my admission.
“Well then, let’s go,” he commands in his deep, velvety voice. His response throws me off balance for a moment, unsure what he means. My brows furrow with confusion. He holds his hand out to me, as if it clarifies that he means now, together.
“What? Go where?” I question.
“We’re getting the fuck off this bridge, together, now. I’m not jumping, you’re not jumping. You saved me, and now I’m saving you. We leave together,” he demands, as if leaving with a complete stranger isno big deal. I guess, after the last ten minutes of our lives, we’re not exactly strangers anymore. So, I do the only thing that feels right.
I reach out, and I take his hand.
Chapter 4
He looks down atour joined hands, my tiny hand swallowed up in his, and smiles down at me.
“So, how did you get here today?” he laughs.
“You’ll never guess, but I drove to my death today. How did you get here?” I laugh back. Making light of such a morbid situation seems fucked up, but at this moment, it feels like a tether to life.
