Bridge of Hope

by Lisa J. Hobman

  She had a point.

  Mallory eventually became very quiet, and I could tell by the steady rhythm of her breathing that she had fallen asleep. Every so often I glanced over at her and I became very much aware of the sense of protectiveness that was beginning to surface from deep within me. I was going to have to be extremely careful. I was already losing what was left of my heart to her.

  ~~~

  I pulled up outside her cottage and switched off the engine. Leaning over I gently squeezed her shoulder to rouse her from slumber and her eyelids fluttered open.

  “Hey, sleepyhead. We’re home,” I whispered.

  Sitting up, she smoothed her hair and sheepishly lifted her eyes to meet mine. She smiled and opened the car door. As she climbed down from the vehicle, she inhaled a lungful of the evening air.

  “I won’t invite you in, if you don’t mind. I hope that’s not unfair of me. I have a job to do before I go in. Then I just want to go to bed and cry myself to sleep.”

  “Hey, no bother. You take care and give me a call if you need me, okay?” I hoped she knew that I sincerely meant that. I would be there for her no matter what time of day or night. The connection I felt to her, even if was one-sided, was deepening with every passing day; and although the thought of unrequited love terrified me, it was a price I was willing to pay just to help her.

  “Thanks again, Greg. I can’t express how much today has meant to me.”

  “You’re very welcome. I’m glad I was able to help. Goodnight, sweet Mallory. Sleep well, eh?” She smiled and I started the engine, turned, and pulled away. As I drove, I saw her walking toward the bridge. Another of her special places.

  In my heart I held onto the wish that someday the bridge could become more than a sad memory. More than somewhere to cry. I wanted, more than anything, for it to become her bridge of hope.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  During the following week Mallory and I shared a shift at the pub and she announced she was going down to Yorkshire to visit with Josie and Brad. My stomach knotted at the prospect of her deciding to stay there and not return, but I couldn’t voice my worries. It would’ve been completely inappropriate in light of our recent journey. It was already August and I was dreading the following weeks. It was probably best that Mallory was going away. She didn’t need to cope with her friend falling apart on her. I wished her a safe journey and kept my mouth shut about everything else.

  I walked around in a daze for a few days. There were photos of Mairi strewn over every surface of my house, and I’d taken to drinking whiskey again. Although I was no alcoholic, I knew I was walking a fine line and vowed that as soon as the anniversary was out of the way, things would change. I had hoped that the little beach memorial Mallory and I had shared would’ve made the anniversary of losing Mairi easier to deal with, but of course it didn’t.

  Then Mallory was due back in Clachan and I couldn’t bear to see her. I was a mess. I’d worked one shift at the pub but Stella watched me with eagle eyes the whole time. Every so often I’d pull my brow in and say, “Stella, I’m fine.” Of course it was a blatant lie and she knew it.

  To say I was confused was a total understatement. Here I was a year on from the death of the woman I loved, still grieving, but having all these intense feelings for someone who was incapable of loving me back. She just couldn’t see me that way. And I couldn’t blame her for that. I felt so guilty, like I was betraying Mairi’s memory by feeling anything for anybody else, let alone someone who was going through the exact same thing as me. How fucking stupid could I be?

  The answer? Plenty more fucking stupid.

  ~~~

  I was due in at the pub and Mallory was going to be on too. But instead of rocking up for my shift, I grabbed a couple bottles of whiskey, my tent, and a sleeping bag and shoved it all in the car as quickly as I could before I could think about changing my mind. Once the boot was secured, I climbed into the Landy, switched on the engine, and pulled out of my driveway.

  August twentieth. Exactly a year since Mairi was declared dead.

  One year of my life had passed since I lost her. One fucking year of pain, sorrow, and heartache. And all for what? I was so angry at her for being so desperate to climb K2 that she would leave and never return. Did I mean so fucking little to her? There was no real surprise that I was doubting her feelings for me. Sam never would have abandoned Mallory to go off and do something like that. He would’ve put Mallory first.

  As I drove I flicked through my music to find something to listen to—I needed something angry that I could scream along to. Something that would help me to express the pain of unnecessary fucking loss. “Without You” by Hinder echoed around the car and my heart ached as I tried to sing along and release the tension in my body. But as I continued on my journey, anger was replaced by sadness. Tension became a deep knot of despair that I felt right down to my bones. My stomach twisted as I focussed on where I was driving to and why. Seether’s “Broken” became the anthem to my lonely journey.

  After a couple of hours I pulled down the lane that led to the Buckle. The sun was beginning to set and the colours all around were changing from green to grey right before me. My heart ached as it always did when I saw the place where I met Mairi.

  Pulling into the usual layby, I grabbed my sleeping bag and the whiskey and dragged them under the bridge. Once I had left my sleeping bag there, I took the bottle of Lagavulin and walked down to the little rock that gave me the best view of the mountain, and there I sat watching the sunset cast shadows that mirrored the one hanging over me and my wounded heart.

  The temperature dropped but thanks to the whiskey I didn’t really care. I kept on drinking in the hope that my pain would be numbed.

  She was gone.

  My beautiful, red-haired beauty with the musical laugh and big heart was gone. Lost on the snow-covered face of a giant monolith that most people would be incapable of taming. Mairi too had fallen foul of the beast that had claimed so many lives before hers. Her light had been snuffed out far too soon. Would we have lasted? Who can possibly know? All I did know, sitting there as the evening air chilled my damp cheeks, was that losing her was the hardest thing I’d ever endured. My unfaithful wife betraying me had stung, but the pain I had felt at losing the woman I had dared to give my fragile heart to was a physical pain like nothing else.

  As the alcohol continued to reach every nerve ending, my thoughts became disjointed and fuzzy.

  “I miss you, Mallory,” I slurred. “I miss you so fucking much.” Even in my drunken stupor I realised my mistake and anger broke free once again. “Fuck! Mairi. I mean Mairi. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” The scream ripped from my chest as I picked up the empty bottle beside me and launched it across the road, hearing it shatter into a million tiny pieces and along with it went my last shred of hope.

  Leaning forward, I picked up the second bottle and broke the seal; swigging down the amber liquid and feeling it burn as it made the fast journey to my rolling, empty stomach. My sobs rent the night air and I was past caring. If there were others around, they’d be unlikely to approach me and I doubted that anyone would care enough to call the police.

  “Why?” was the next question to be thrown out into the universe as loud as my raw throat would allow. It was a clichéd question, but I wished I knew the answer nevertheless. I became silent once again and noticed a set of headlights slowly travelling toward me. Oh, fuck. Police.

  I heard a door slam but I was too far gone to worry. Everything echoed and seemed unreal now. When I moved my head, the scenery followed on a split second after. It took lots of effort to open my eyes again once I blinked them shut. I was suitably numb. I thought I heard someone calling out my name but decided it was just a dream and so I stayed silent. I didn’t want or need to be rescued. I just wanted to be alone.

  Alone.

  A word I no doubt would have to become accustomed to, seeing as my past relationships had always rendered me that way. Perhaps it was my destiny.
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br />   “Greg!” came the voice again. I chuckled to myself, thinking my ability to conjure up Mallory’s voice was fucking amazing considering the state of my mind. Something very bright stung at my eyes, making me flinch. What the fuck? I dropped my head forward and closed my eyes again as footsteps approached me.

  “Greg. Are you okay?”

  I didn’t speak, still unsure whether she was a figment of my warped, alcohol-addled mind.

  Something touched my chin, and my head tilted back involuntarily. “Greg, it’s me, Mallory.”

  I made the effort to open my eyes a little and stared up into the bright blue eyes of a beautiful Yorkshire lass.

  With her face highlighted by a torch, I could see the worry in her eyes, and I frowned. “Mallory?” Was it really her? “Oh, aye, Mallory, my bestest friend in the world, Mallory, Mallory.”

  She tugged the bottle from my hand. “Oh, Greg, you silly, silly sod. What have you done?”

  Smiling up at her as innocent as could be, I told her, “Ahhhhad a wee drinky. In memory of my wee lassie. She’s dead, you know.”

  She sighed. “Yes, Greg, I know. Come on, let’s get you home. We’ll collect your car tomorrow, eh?”

  What? No way. I was staying put. “Fuck off!” I flapped my arms around aimlessly. I must’ve looked a complete arse. “You just fuck the fuck away, I’m stayin’ here with my Mairi.”

  “Oy, don’t swear at me.” She grabbed my arm and wrapped it around her neck. Struggling to lift my heavy body, she eventually dragged me to a standing position. “You can’t stay here, not in this state.”

  Swaying rather a lot, I somehow managed to feel guilty for my use of colourful language. “Aham shorry, Mallilly. I don’t mean to swear at you. You’re my best friend, you know that?”

  “Yes, Greg, so you said. Now come on. You’re going to feel like shit in the morning and I need to get you home. You’ve had me worried sick,” she snapped through gritted teeth as her nostrils flared. I’d never seen her this angry before. There was no doubt about it; I’d really pissed her off. That and the fact that she too had sworn suddenly made me laugh, and I told her of her misdemeanour.

  “Sorry for swearing, Greg, now come on. You can’t stay here. It’s a car park, not a campsite.”

  We staggered—well, I staggered as Mallory tried to stop me from falling—back toward the Landy. Suddenly overcome with a deep sense of loss again, I turned to face the mountain. The moon now highlighted the crevices and striations of its surface.

  “I met her there on that wee path. I’d been out walking and I was on my way back to the car. She dropped her map and tripped over her lace trying to pick it up… I caught her.” It was a lucid moment where the alcohol in my system evidently ceased to affect me briefly, and I turned to gaze into Mallory’s eyes. “She was so beautiful, Mally, so beautiful. Long, red hair, green eyes.” I felt a tear spill over and crawl down my cheek but I didn’t wipe it away. With a trembling lip I continued. “I miss her so much. I don’t want to be alone. I hate it.”

  In that moment all the sorrow I was feeling overspilled and another sob broke free. This time I was aware that I sounded lost and helpless. My body shuddered with grief as Mallory pulled me into her arms and let me cry. I nestled my damp face into her neck and inhaled the comforting floral scent of her hair as my tears subsided. Pulling away, I met her eyes. They glinted in the moonlight. Unreadable emotions crossed her features and I felt sure there was something there; something more than friendship. My gaze trailed down her face and landed upon her lips. I needed to taste her. To feel her mouth on mine. And so I lowered my face and kissed her.

  For a split second it felt as though she was going to open her mouth and let me in, but she pulled away and glared at me with confusion. “Greg, no! What are you doing?” She stepped away and my heart sank.

  Realising what I’d just done, I touched my lips. I could still feel her there. “Shit. I’m sorry, Mallory, I—I don’t know why I did that.”

  She responded in a less-than-cordial tone. “No, neither do I. Let’s just forget about it. Come on. You need to get home to bed.” She helped me over to the car and opened the door.

  I bent myself almost double climbing into the tiny space and peered up at her through my blurry eyes. “You’re mad with me Please don’t be mad with me. I couldn’t help myself, I really couldn’t. I’m sorry. I know you don’t see me that way.”

  I was sorry. But I was only sorry because she didn’t see me that way.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The car rolled along and so did my fragile, alcohol-filled stomach. I couldn’t appreciate the way the silver of the moonlight danced on the streams and lochs as we passed. My head was already thumping, giving me a wee glimpse of the way I would feel after I’d slept. Fucking idiotic knobhead.

  After about two hours Mallory pulled onto the driveway of my house. I seemed to have lost all cognitive thought process and muscle function by this point, and Mallory virtually had to carry me up the stairs to my room, which—considering my height and weight—was no mean feat.

  She helped me onto the bed and I wanted to pull her down with me, but thankfully my brain functioned sufficiently to remind me that she wouldn’t like it and would more than likely slap me. She tugged at my boots and flung them under the bed before pulling the duvet over my fully clothed body.

  “Mallory?” I whispered through my croaky, dry throat.

  Mallory sat beside me on the bed. “Yes?”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  She frowned. “Not sorry about what?”

  “For kissing you.” I watched through bleary eyes as she stood, shook her head, and switched off the light before leaving me there.

  ~~~

  The next thing I was completely aware of was my bedroom door opening. I was sprawled across the bed on my stomach, and the room did a funny sideways jolt when I opened my eyes. I felt someone stroking my hair and thought to myself how nice it felt. But when the scent of Mallory’s perfume drifted into my nose, I sat bolt upright—then glanced down and saw my dick on full display. I covered myself quickly as she blushed bright pink.

  “Shit-fuck! Mallory!” My head swam and my heart pounded. I felt like utter shit. I covered my eyes as the room swivelled.

  “Are you okay? I was so worried when you took off yesterday. You were in a state when I found you.”

  I opened my eyes and met her concerned gaze. “I’m okay… I think. Sorry to worry you. I don’t know what happened. I remember bits of it. Did I… did I… kiss you?” I cringed as I waited for the answer I knew was coming. Once she confirmed that I had, in fact, gone there, I felt ten times worse and apologised profusely.

  She then went on to tell me that I had told her I wasn’t sorry for what I’d done. God, I was an arsehole when I was pissed. I glanced down at my naked form and then it hit me. She fucking undressed me, didn’t she?

  “Did you…” I gestured down at my privates. “Did you… take my clothes—”

  “God no!” she snapped. “I took your boots off and pulled the covers over you. You must have got up and done the rest.”

  Fucking knobbing idiot. I mentally slapped myself around the head. “Regardless of what I said last night, I am sorry. Please forgive me.”

  She pursed her lips and did her best to keep her eyes fixed above my waistline. “Look, Greg, it’s difficult for me to sit here talking to you when you’re naked. I’ll go and put the kettle on. You get a quick shower and come down when you’re ready.”

  She walked out of the room and I slammed my fists into the mattress, muttering expletives at myself. I got out of bed and took my naked self into the shower. As the hot water cascaded over my tender body, I thought things through to see how much more I could remember of the night before. The answer was not a whole lot.

  The problem was, as I ran my hands down my body, I closed my eyes and imagined she was there with me and that her fingers were the ones lathering my chest, biceps, and stomach. I could still smell her
perfume and see her face as her eyes locked on mine. If only she wanted me. If only I could let go of Mairi and tell Mallory that I wanted her. But it would do no good.

  My erection ached for her touch as I stroked my hand up and down the length and pleasure radiated throughout my nerves and taut muscles. I leaned on the wall with my free hand, wishing I could take her to my bed and make love to her. Feel her soft curves beneath me as I slipped inside her body and caressed her luscious breasts with my tongue.

  Why the fuck was I feeling this way? It was too soon and I knew it, really. Why couldn’t I let it go? Maybe it was just mixed-up feelings of grief and loneliness? I turned the stream of water around to the cold setting to douse the flames burning within me and jerked my hand away from my body, slapping my palm hard against the tiled wall.

  Once I’d dried off I pulled on some lounge pants and dragged the towel through my wet hair. Nervously I made my way downstairs and found Mallory in the kitchen making coffee. Guilt washed over me as I remembered the thoughts I’d been having in the shower. I smiled but she turned away.

  I walked over, came to a stop right behind her, and kissed the top of her head. Maybe I should fucking go for it. What did I have to lose? Her friendship? Well, being friends wasn’t all it cracked up to be when one of you felt something more.

  She turned to face me with her lips slightly parted, in surprise at my intimate gesture no doubt. What am I doing? Her eyes left mine and trailed down to my damp chest, and she licked her lips, sparking a flicker of hope within me once again.

  “I am sorry I kissed you,” I whispered.

  “Y-yes you said.” Confusion clouded her eyes.