It’s Not You, It’s Me
IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME
“You can’t be serious.”
“What?”
We stood on the train tracks that once supplied lumber to the mill.
For the last mile, we practiced our balance like children as we followed the metal rails.
We talked about his app, and I told him about tracking reservations for guests.
It might have been small talk, but I couldn’t help but smile every time his face lit up.
He truly believed in his mission of helping people. He was so adorable it hurt.
“I’m not going out there.”
We followed the tracks to where they turned into a trestle over the river. I turned around, arms out. “I thought you’d be up for an adventure.”
We continued until we stood where the ground gave way to the wooden bridge.
Nearly a hundred feet below, the water swirled.
I learned as a kid that Firefly had little to do for teenagers.
Instead of causing mischief, I’d find myself a perch and get lost in my thoughts.
I was pretty sure this was where I decided to join the drama club and go for the lead role.
“I promise, it’s safe.” The bridge. Me. Both.
“No trains?”
“No, but if you hear a whistle, run.” His eyes widened at the joke. “I’m kidding! The trains stopped coming when the mill shut down.”
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the breeze. With Firefly behind us, the tracks vanished into the forest. I had spent days following them as I worked through my teen angst. I knew every junction and switch between here and Merryville. They were part of Firefly’s past. Mine too.
“This is where I used to come and think.”
“About?”
“School. Friends. Crushes. Which Star Trek captain was the sexiest.” I flashed him a smile. “The important stuff.”
He leaned forward, staring between the metal beams. With a single foot, he tested its strength. “I had a spot like that.”
“Top of a skyscraper?”
He chuckled. “I’m not a superhero.” With confirmation, he took another step. “It was an old oak tree in the park. It had the only branch low enough for me to climb. I’d go up there and read books. In hindsight, the change in perspective helped.”
We were a quarter of the way onto the bridge, and he still tested each step before committing.
I spun about facing him as I walked backward.
Shimmying and shaking, I made it clear that the bridge could support more than our weight.
The further out we went, the more my hips shook.
The wind picked up, and it was as glorious as I remembered it.
It wasn’t techno music and not quite the stage I had grown used to, but it was still a song I could dance to. Decades later, it still had an intoxicating effect. The possibility that I might plunge to my death made it more exhilarating. I wasn’t a risk taker, but this one, I’d take every time.
When I opened my eyes, I caught Sammy staring. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said with a sheepish smile.
I turned about and continued walking until I reached the middle of the trestle.
I stopped my dancing and took a seat, legs dangling over the river.
With the town behind me, I watched the water, following it to the passenger bridge.
Beyond that, it split around a small island.
On top of the world, there wasn’t a worry capable of reaching me.
“You did this a lot?”
Sammy got down on his knees before moving to my side. He opted for crossing his legs instead of letting them dangle. Hands resting on his knees, he closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, his spine straightened. When he exhaled, I watched his shoulders lower and his palms open.
“You really believe in it, don’t you?”
His left eye cracked open. “Want to try?”
Meditation had never been my thing. I surrounded myself with loud voices and places filled with music. For me, silence meant absence. I found ways to fill it. If there wasn’t noise, I’d be left with myself, and lately, it felt like I worked overtime to avoid that situation.
I went to pull my legs up, and he rested a hand on my knee. “Whatever’s comfortable.” I fought the urge to look at his hand and how his pinky verged on inner thigh territory.
“Close your eyes.” I did. “Breathe in through your nose.” He waited. “Out through your mouth.” We breathed in rhythm. I cracked an eye when he removed his hand. “With each inhale, imagine a string connected to the top of your head. Let it pull you up.”
I listened. My back straightened. I could almost feel my heart slow as my shoulders settled and the stiffness in my jaw relaxed. It felt invigorating, especially next to him. My mind wandered to when he lifted my shirt—
“Push aside stray thoughts and focus on your body.” The wood bit into the back of my knees. “Feel the surface beneath you.” The rail cut into my thighs, putting more weight on my tailbone. “With every exhale, let the tension ease. Every inhale, bring your surroundings closer to your body.”
My hands could feel the rough wood of the crossties beneath me, but I could only imagine the softness of Sammy’s skin. Meditation might be a powerful tool for him, but my mind wanted to replay the highlight reel.
“What do you hear?”
The wind had shifted, soft gusts coming from my side. “Breathing,” I whispered. Mother Nature exhaled with us, and every inhale brought the smell of his beard oil. I’m not sure I was closer to discovering the meaning of life, but it made me smile.
I cracked open my eyes and found him watching me again. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said with a smile.
“You’re going to give me a complex.”
“The rock.” He gestured to the empty air. “Here. They make you happy.”
Happy. I had been fixated on my escape plan, letting her go. It was almost comical how I retired her, and now she lived rent-free in my head. Letting go meant facing myself in the mirror. Not what I lost, but who I wanted to be. Maybe I had been asking the wrong questions?
“Do you trust me?”
He leaned back. “We’re about six inches from dying. What more do you want?”
I scooted back and got to my feet. He wiggled back from the edge, his eyes never leaving me. In the park, he asked the same question, and I had gone along with it. I’d do it again, even if it meant falling. At least we’d laugh.
I pulled my shirt over my head.
“What are you doing?” For a second, I couldn’t tell if it was fear or confusion stretched across his face. I enjoyed feeling his skin pressed against mine, but being on top of a bridge where all of Firefly could watch made it less than ideal for that kind of trust.
I tossed it to the tracks and kicked off my shoes.
“Mike…”
I peered over the edge of the trestle. “There’s something else we used to do as kids.”
“Oh. Hell, no.” He was already backing up from the ledge, shaking his head. “Are you mad?”
I was already unbuttoning my shorts. It wouldn’t be the first time a car passed to see a couple of guys in their underwear ready to jump. As kids, this had been a rite of passage, and I much preferred this to the Moxie alternative.
Sammy peered over the ledge. “You’ve done this before?”
“More times than I can count.”
“Are you sure?”
With a wiggle of my hips, the shorts fell. “It’s better than meditating.”
He climbed to his feet. Standing, he peered over the edge again.
I pulled off my socks while he debated his mortality.
I remembered the first time up here. It had been Sarge who coaxed me into doing it.
I remembered how red Rose’s face was when we walked in the door.
Our foolishness had not impressed the General.
Sammy pulled off his shirt. My eyes widened as he dropped it into the pile and went for his shoes. I didn’t think he’d do it. It was one thing to fall a few feet to the grass, but it was another to plunge into a river below.
“Consider me impressed,” I said. It was meant for the bravery, but the way I stared at his chest, he might have gotten another idea. “You know you don’t have to do it.”
“That sounds convincing.”
He dropped his pants and carefully stepped out of them.
The reluctance, the downright fear, was almost palpable, but here he was, stripping.
After the other night, I wondered if maybe he wasn’t ready to come out.
With this level of bravery, I wasn’t so sure.
Maybe it was a one-off vacation fling. I’d cross that bridge another time.
Right now, the only one that mattered was beneath our feet.
“Ready?”
No amount of exhaling relaxed his balled fists. We moved, toes dangling over the edge. With a quick smile, I waved.
The first second is disbelief. The second is a rush of adrenaline.
After that, I lost track of time as the whooshing of the air turned deafening.
Holding my breath, I didn’t feel the water wrap around my skin.
The temperature changed as I zoomed toward the bottom of the river.
I opened my eyes to see the murky light as sun rays danced through air bubbles.
Speeding upward, I broke through the surface.
The first breath was the most exhilarating.
Spinning about, I looked for Sammy, for air bubbles. When I didn’t see a disturbance in the surface, panic set in. I was about to hold my breath and dive under.
“It’s not you,” bellowed a loud voice. “It’s me.”
My eyes shot up. Standing atop the trestle, Sammy gave me a wave.
I couldn’t help but laugh as he stood there in his briefs.
Jumping a hundred feet into the unknown might have been a big ask, but he had considered it.
For me, I found a part of myself I thought had been wiped clean. It was a start… on both counts.
“Want to grab my clothes?” I shouted.
“What will you give me?”
I had some thoughts.
Bobby: Did anybody see the hot bear on the bridge?
Chris: The roar kind? Or the rawr kind?
Bobby: Rawr.
Nick: Photographic evidence?
Bobby: I was driving.
Nick: No excuse.
My toes sank into the sand as I willed the warmth into my body. An hour of swimming with Sammy had been exactly what the day needed. As the sun moved behind the trees, the air turned cool, and a shiver ran down my spine.