Bridge Over Troubled Water

by Alfonso Vaughn

  The other player slammed his fist down on the table and mucked his hand. No smile bigger than Jerry's as he dragged all the bills in.

  "You think I was calling with nothing? Well, that's a quarter of the horse paid off."

  His smile soon disappeared when his cell received a message. He retrieved it and studied the screen: the message read "ROOM 242." His smile reappeared once he realized that this time, it wasn't Ellie freaking out on drugs, religion or alcohol.

  Jerry stuffed the money into his pockets, stood up, and sunk the rest of his drink.

  "You boys have fun. I'm away to spend all your hard-earned cash."

  Helms shook his head.

  "Hit and run," he said. "Hit and run."

  Jerry shrugged his shoulders, bowed to all in the room and headed for the door.

  In room 242; a beautiful, blonde, voluptuous woman in her thirties, Amanda, answered the knocking at her door to find a drunken and untidy Jerry, who made his best effort at a flirtatious smile.

  "Hey, gorgeous."

  She grabbed Jerry by the jacket, forced him in and sealed the room from the outside world. A quick kiss. Jerry made his way to the mini-bar.

  "Still drinking champagne?"

  Amanda nodded. Jerry reached in and took out the bottle, poured the drinks. He brought the glasses to the bedside table and set them down. Amanda lay down on the bed and lit a cigarette.

  "How was the wedding?"

  "A gay old time was had by all."

  Jerry took off his jacket like a geriatric Chippendale, threw it over the TV. He reached into his pocket, retrieved a handful of bills, counted out a sum, and left it on the table. He then made his way over to the bed, lay down beside Amanda, and rested his head on her chest. She passed the cigarette, played with Jerry's hair.

  "How's Ellie?"

  "A screw-up. Just like her old man."

  "You wanna talk about it?"

  "Do you want to run away with me?"

  "No, Jerry, I don't."

  Jerry sat up, turned to Amanda and passed her the cigarette.

  "Tonight I'm gonna fuck you real good. And when we're done, I'm gonna fuck you in the shower. Then I'm gonna set my alarm for three-thirty; and you know what's gonna happen at three- thirty?"

  "You're gonna fuck me again?"

  Jerry smiled and kissed her.

  "You're too good."

  He struggled with his shirt. Amanda helped.

  Their actions were interrupted by Jerry's cell ringing in his jacket. His eyes alternated between the jacket and Amanda, who pulled her top off to expose her tits.

  "Leave it," she said.

  But Jerry couldn't leave it. He stood, moved to his jacket and took out his cell. Studied the screen and then answered.

  "Hello?"

  Jerry shook his head: why would he expect that nothing would ruin this night?

  "Ten minutes," he said before hanging up the phone. He screamed like a crazed fuck that had just dropped his ice cream on the hottest day of the year, moved to Amanda and kissed her.

  "Don't go anywhere. Stay right here."

  He strode to the TV, lifted his jacket and walked out of the room. Many a man would have stayed.

  Hello again, Golden Gate Bridge.

  Jerry exited the taxi and powered his way towards the crowd of people at the rail. Helms signaled to him.

  "She's on the pipe."

  "Name?"

  "Waiting for the information. You okay to handle this?"

  "You made it, didn't you?"

  Jerry took a coffee cup from the Bridge Authority guard's hands, drank a sip, and passed it back.

  "I need you and the police to move these people away."

  The guard nodded and set about his task.

  Jerry stepped to the rail and examined the environment.

  The woman standing on the pipe was the brunette eyewitness to Darryl's failed attempt at suicide prevention, the one who had been eavesdropping on Jerry and Helms' conversation. She tried hard to regulate her breathing.

  "Hello," called Jerry. "Hello?"

  She did not respond. Jerry mounted the rail as a police officer ran over and passed him a sheet with her information. After reading through it quickly, he climbed over, descended onto the pipe and edged towards her.

  "Lindsay. Lindsay, can you hear me?"

  She glanced over. "Stay away. I'll take you with me!"

  Jerry froze.

  "Whoa. Now that I was not expecting."

  "I mean it."

  "I don't doubt it."

  Jerry looked at the water 245 feet below. He wobbled, quickly regained his balance.

  "That's a long way down."

  "Short distance to end this shit life."

  "Come on, Lindsay. What about little Clay and Fred?"

  "Screw 'em. Little shits only remind me of that bastard."

  Jerry soon realized the complexity of the situation he faced, and wished he hadn't had that last beer.

  "You want to leave them motherless?"

  Jerry used the distraction of his question to steal an inch towards her, so she in turn stole one from the pipe's edge.

  "I mean it, back the fuck off!"

  Jerry obliged. A few cameras flashed, which irritated the crap out of him.

  "Get those reporters back!"

  "No, I want them to capture this," she said. "Then the guilt will hit that bastard."

  "Your husband?"

  Lindsay finally turned to Jerry and showed her battered and bruised face. She whipped off her blouse to reveal her entire torso covered in bruises.

  Audible gasps from the rail.

  She discarded the garment into the bay.

  "Is this any way to live?"

  "We can deal with this, Lindsay. The city has procedures to-- "

  "Some people aren't dealt a good hand," she interrupted as she inched closer to the edge.

  Jerry knew he was losing her.

  "You want to talk about fair hands, Lindsay? I have a daughter, not much younger than you, who was raped six years ago. Sent her straight to the funny farm."

  That got Lindsay's attention.

  "And if that wasn't bad enough, he impregnated her. I have a beautiful grandson that I only see three times a year, because some judge granted the rapist's family custody - because we weren't deemed fit to raise the kid. Can you fucking believe that? You want to talk about fair hands? I balance so much, and someone, somewhere, adds more and more to my plate. I don't have anything left to give, so life just takes. I don't need to have this on my conscience as well. So what do you say? How about we go have a coffee and help each other better our shitty lives?"

  Lindsay wiped a tear away, weakly nodded her acceptance. She edged back, side-stepped, but lost her balance and slipped.

  Screams and gasps from the spectators.

  Jerry sprang into action like an athletic 20-year-old, diving towards her. He managed to grab hold of her arm as she disappeared over the edge.

  "Don't let go!" screamed Lindsay as she dangled in mid-air. Jerry used all his strength to hold her.

  "If you go, I go. Can I get help here?!"

  Several police officers climbed the rail and moved down to help Jerry. After a brief struggle, they got Lindsay back onto the bridge, where the onlookers applauded and cheered vigorously. Paramedics moved in and took her away.

  Jerry regained his breath, slowing the adrenaline.

  A news team approached, wanting any sort of statement. Jerry barged through them, knocked a camera out of an operator's hands.

  "Get outta here, you vultures!"

  He walked towards the waiting Helms, who leaned against his car.

  "Quite the performance. Does my new hero need a lift?"

  Jerry didn't break his stride.

  "I always get the cheese. And I always need a lift!"

  They got into the car. It sped off.

  The perfect family start
er home. The serenity was interrupted by hard knocks on the door. A man in his thirties, Bill, walked past his two boys, Clay and Fred, who were both seated on the floor, engrossed in cartoons.

  Bill arrived at the front door, opened it to reveal Jerry standing there with an inquisitive expression cemented on his face.

  "Bill, right? Lindsay's husband?"

  "Yeah."

  Jerry kicked the door so hard it rebounded off Bill's forehead and nose simultaneously. He moved in close, punched and punched Bill until he knelt on the floor. The two boys ran over from the living room.

  "Daddy! Daddy!"

  Jerry ignored them and hammered Bill until he was flat on the ground, trying to assume the fetal position.

  He stopped his assault, but still towered over the bloody mess of a man beneath him. He kicked Bill in the stomach. And again - screw it - one more time.

  Jerry breathed in and out a few times. He addressed the two little boys.

  "Don't ever turn out like your old man. Because if you do, someone like me is gonna come around here and beat the shit out of you, too."

  He sunk the boot into Bill one more time, moved to the boys, and held out his hand for a high-five.

  "Okay, high-five promise. Let's go!"

  More scared than anything else, the boys high-fived Jerry.

  "Now go do your homework."

  Jerry walked to the door, but couldn't resist one last kick before he left.

  "Touch her again, motherfucker, and I'll kill you. I swear to God."

  After he left, the boys' eyes fell onto their sobbing and moaning dad.

  Outside the house, a satisfied Jerry strolled down the garden path, opened Helms' car door and got in. He checked his bruised hands, flexed his fingers, leaned back in the seat and sighed. The few seconds of silence were broken by Helms.

  "Feel better?"

  "Like you wouldn't believe. Now bring me back to heaven; there's an angel waiting for me. Tits out."

  "You're unbelievable," muttered Helms as he turned the key. The engine roared to life.

  "And you're an accomplice to assault and battery, Captain!"

  "Will the wife-beating son-of-a-bitch be able to prove it?" laughed Helms in response.

  Jerry's cell rang. He rubbed his head, held back a scream of frustration, and sighed.

  "It just never stops."

  In the cleaner's storeroom at the Mission, an overwhelmed Ellie sat on the floor, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, sweating like a diarrhea-suffering Stephen Hawking. She held a knife in her hand. Her face was pure red, fear in her eyes. The knocking at the door did not help her fragile state of mind.

  "Just leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

  The door inched open. Ellie picked up a bottle of bleach and threw it hard at the unseen intruder.

  A hand appeared.

  "It's your dad."

  She relaxed a little and lowered the knife when she saw Jerry appear. He entered, closed the door, and edged towards her.

  "It's okay. It's okay."

  He took hold of the knife, which Ellie surrendered. Jerry discarded it, sat down and embraced her.

  "Where were you?" she whispered.

  "I stopped a woman from jumping off the Golden--" Jerry stopped himself, realizing that probably wasn't the best topic for discussion.

  "Why did she want to kill herself?"

  "Because she thought no one loved her. But when you have people that love you, that's not an option."

  "Will she be okay?"

  "Of course she will. She wants to be helped now."

  "The Golden Gate is beautiful. I've thought about jumping off it so many times."

  "That's what weak people do. We're not weak, right?"

  "You're so good, helping people like her."

  Jerry kissed Ellie's head and ruffled her hair.

  "So, what's going on?" he asked.

  "I don't trust them."

  "Who?"

  "The people here."

  "These people work for God. Would God employ bad people? People who can't help?"

  Ellie shook her head.

  "It's the drugs leaving your system. The withdrawal. You couldn't be in a safer place, sweetheart."

  She gripped him tighter.

  "I love you, Dad."

  Jerry kissed her head repeatedly. She struggled to keep her eyes open and finally closed down for a recharge. Jerry stopped ruffling her hair, looked up at God and silently pled for help.

  With a few light knocks on the door, Father Marcado entered with two nuns.

  "Let us take her, Jerry. The city needs you."

  The nuns lifted Ellie, supported her between them, and took her away. Jerry struggled to get on his feet, but managed it with some help from Marcado.

  "Do you want me to bring her home, Father? I can only imagine the disruption she's bringing here."

  "Don't you even think about it. This is the only place she should be right now. The Lord will bring her through this dark, dark time."

  Jerry patted Marcado on the shoulder in thanks.

  "I'll be back when I can, Father."

  There was little activity in the hospital's psychiatric ward: a couple of doctors went about their duties, and cleaners polished the floor.

  The automated doors slid open and Jerry marched in. He walked to the administration desk and took out his badge. The nurse detected his presence, stopped typing, and looked up.

  "Hi," Jerry said. "Lindsay Allen?"

  The nurse entered the name into the computer and gave him the room number.

  Jerry approached the door to the private room. A female physician came out and was surprised to see someone there.

  "Family members only..." Then she recognized him. "You're Jerry Craig, right?"

  "The one and only."

  "My brother-in-law was a hostage at that bank robbery. Thank you."

  "Just doing my job. Lindsay Allen in there?"

  "She's asleep right now."

  "Any other information? Just between us."

  "She's showing no signs of guilt. No shame. We don't see that much."

  "Is she being committed?"

  "I wouldn't think that's necessary. We'll keep her here until morning and test her again. But everything looks fine to me. It was just a cry for attention."

  She showed concern as she noticed Jerry's haggard appearance. "I've got five minutes if you need to talk about anything."

  "Just checking in on her."

  He nodded his thanks and started to walk back up the corridor.

  "Jerry?" the doctor called after him.

  He stopped, turned back to face her.

  "Take a few days off work. Recharge your batteries."

  Jerry's arms rose like he was addressing a sold out crowd on Broadway.

  "The world would fall apart!"

  He managed a smile, then a wink, and left.

  Ellie lay on her bed, hugged a pillow tight, and stared into space. Marcado left a glass of water on her bedside table and headed towards the open door.

  "Why didn't my dad stay?" she asked him.

  "Your father is a busy man, Ellie. Are you sure there's nothing else I can do?"

  Ellie shook her head and turned her back to the priest.

  "Goodnight, then."

  And with that, a pained Marcado left the room.

  Ellie listened as his footsteps faded into the distance. She got up, walked to the wardrobe, and opened it. She reached into her bag, took out a purse, and sat down on the bed. Opening the purse, she retrieved five tablets and placed them beside the water, then used the glass to crush the tablets into powder. She mixed the powder with the water, drank it all in one go, and set down the glass. She licked her finger, ran it over the remains of the powder, and sucked the digit dry.

  She reached under the mattress and took out a photo of Logan, then lay back down on her bed, focusing on his angelic smile. She started to hum "
Rock-a-Bye Baby."

  The next day at the precinct, Jerry walked past the work stations with dark sunglasses on. He did not acknowledge anyone; no hellos, nothing. He arrived at his desk, took a seat, and stared at pile after pile of paperwork, stacked high. He yawned. Then he heard a female voice.

  "Hi, Mr. Craig."

  Jerry looked up, happily surprised to be facing Lindsay, who was carrying the flowers and a box of donuts.

  "Hi," he managed.

  She handed over the gifts.

  "Thanks," he said. "The donuts are always welcome, but I don't think I can accept the flowers. Not in this city."

  She laughed.

  "They'll brighten up the office."

  Jerry tried out his best smile.

  "How about you brighten my day and buy an old man a coffee to go with these?"

  "Sure, I can do that."

  In a busy coffee shop, Jerry sat opposite Lindsay. Two mugs of coffee were on the table. The eye contact was constant. The comfortable body language indicated a desire to open up to each other, both more than at ease on their "first date" than most would be.

  Lindsay filled him in on recent events.

  "He was gone before I got home from the hospital. Left the kids with my mother and went."

  "How are the kids?"

  "They'll probably need therapy. And never open a front door again."

  "Oops, sorry."

  They smiled. Broke eye contact before their emotions became blatantly obvious.

  "How's your daughter?" Lindsay inquired.

  "Trying to get that junk out of her system. For about the tenth time."

  "Heroin?"

  "As well as marijuana, Valium, Klonopin, Nordiazepam, uppers and downers...hell, you name it, she's on it. I blame that bitch walking out when she was just a kid."

  "Your wife?"

  "Ex-wife. Left when Ellie was twelve. European banker. Living in the land of chocolate and cuckoo clocks."

  "You stay in touch?"

  "No. I hope she dies in a ski accident. Is that wrong?"

  Lindsay laughed.

  "Not at all. I went through similar issues as Ellie. It might help her to hear the problems of someone else. Another woman."