pavement was dry, not icy. Dry with cold. There was no moisture in the air, only the cloud of my breath, as my lungs filled and then exhaled with the pace of my strides.
Maybe it was true. God, there were so many myths in the world. Like, New York City was the place to be. It still felt like new shoes to me, like it just didn’t fit.
The asphalt felt firm beneath my sneakers.
I looked forward, trying to increase my pace and energy, burning away the doubts and disappointments I’d felt since I came to the city.
At the end of the bridge there was a figure, caught in the middle of a beam of orange lamplight, like some illuminated angel. I generally only saw other guys jogging on the bridge path. It was rare to see anyone else.
It was Thanksgiving in little over a week and Christmas in a few weeks. Lindy was pissed I wasn’t going back home, but she’d made up her mind to come to me for Christmas.
Was that good or bad?
The figure was facing the Brooklyn Bridge, probably looking at the reflection of the lights glinting and shifting on the dark water. It was mesmerizing when you focused on it.
The Manhattan Bridge was never busy, probably because of the noise of the trains. The environment didn’t inspire pleasure, so it wasn’t a place for tourists. But it was a good path for running: long and straight, and normally empty.
I ran harder, my eyes focusing on the figure.
The person hadn’t moved. They held their hands up, gripping the metal grill above them.
The pose seemed odd. A little desperate. It wasn’t casual.
My imagination shifted, no longer picturing angels but a horror movie. The way the lamplight shone down on the figure was like they were in the sights of a hovering helicopter, or a beam from a UFO.
I thought of Christmas again, and ached for home. But I wasn’t going home. I had to conquer New York.
The light shining down on the stranger suddenly took the form of a Godly benediction once more. The person’s arms shifted, stretching out, similar to a crucifixion pose, hands wide and high as they looked upward.
I was getting nearer.
My fingers were numb with the cold, even inside my gloves, and my ears burned as the frost nipped beneath my hood. Running should’ve kept me warm, but it was twenty-one degrees Fahrenheit, way below freezing point.
Fuck, now I could see the person ahead was standing in a t-shirt. Their outstretched arms were bare.
“Hey!” My heart rate thundered as I ran on, wondering what sort of sketchy city-nutter I was running toward. What were they doing wearing a tee in this weather? It didn’t look like a homeless dude, but…
My breaths grew more uneven.
The guy ahead hadn’t heard me.
I pulled my earphones out. “Hey!”
Still no recognition. It was like they were in some sort of trance.
My feet pounded on the concrete.
It wasn’t a guy, it was a girl. I’d seen the long hair way back, but hadn’t been sure. Plenty of guys had long hair. But now, I could see.
I knocked my hood back. I didn’t want to scare her. “Hey!”
Nothing. Not a single sign of recognition and I was only yards away. She was wearing skinny jeans and sneakers with her tee.
Her hands moved, catching hold of the wire like she was going to climb it, then her foot lifted, seeking a grip on the railing.
Her arms bracing her weight; her other foot lifted. What the hell was she doing? Trying to go over the wire? Did she want to jump?
“Hey! Wait!”
I ran harder.
Fuck. She looked serious and she carried on climbing, searching out hand and foot holds.
“Are you crazy? Stop it!”
As I ran the last few yards her gaze finally turned to me. I covered the distance in moments, watching her clinging on the wire, Spiderman style.
God knows what she saw in my eyes. I could see nothing in hers except maybe fear. They were huge, and dark, staring at me like I was the weird one.
I wasn’t the weird one.
My music continued playing muted sounds and air rasped into my lungs as I stopped. I lifted a hand, palm up, offering to help her down. “Come on…” My breath fogged the air around us. “Nothing’s that bad…”
She held still. Her eyes had no depth. It was like looking into mirrors, reflecting back the electric light. She looked a little mad.
“Let me help you.”
She was panting as hard as I was. She didn’t come down.
She was only a couple of feet off the floor, I could pull her down, but I didn’t want to scare her.
My fingers instinctively lifted and touched her lower back. I could feel the breath pulling into her lungs. “Look, seriously, you don’t want to do anything foolish.”
She didn’t move.
“What’s your name?” Shit. My heart was still racing like I was running. I looked along the bridge path, but there was no one else here to help.
“Honey, come on down. I can’t let you do it.”
She was just staring at me.
What the hell did cops say to persuade a person… “You must be cold, you can have my hoodie. I’m not going to leave you here.”
This was like some TV drama.
My hands were trembling from the blood burning in my muscles. I’d gone from running hard to standing still. A weight of responsibility fell on me suddenly. This girl’s life was in my hands. I’d been running wrapped up in my own world and now… Shit. “Really. Please… Come down.”
Pleading obviously touched some nerve in her, as one foot came back down onto the concrete, her cotton t-shirt catching on my glove and crumpling up, revealing the pale skin of her lower back. My gaze dropped to her plain white sneakers, as the next foot touched the ground.
Relief washed through me on a wave as I lifted my hand so her t-shirt slid back down. I looked up and met her gaze. It was still blank though, and her fingers gripped the wire.
I touched her shoulder. It lifted as air pulled into her lungs, before slipping back out. I didn’t know why I was touching her, but I just… I needed to know she was okay. She didn’t seem to know where she was, or what she’d been doing.
A dark smear marked her face, and whatever it was, it stained her hair too.
Every
