On The Bridge

by Ada Uzoije

  “Hey, man!” said Mick, “what happened? We couldn’t believe it when we heard.”

  Doug now really wanted to tell somebody and he was elated that his pals showed up, so that he could set things straight for once. What he’d done frightened him deeply and he figured that it would be easier to tell Mick and Thompson about it than tell his parents. At least they would believe him – or at least give him the benefit of the doubt. The three of them thought of themselves as bosom buddies and had never kept secrets from each other. In fact, the threesome had often times resorted to the most revolting methods of sharing and nothing shared could ever repulse or alienate them from one another.

  They thought it’d be a good idea to get together for a while, because both Thompson and Mick figured the poor Douglas Bates could do with a night with the boys, especially after the recent ordeal.

  “Mom, can I go over to Mick’s for the night tonight? He said his parents are okay with it,” Doug asked her about the sleep-over, and she thought it to be a rather good idea. At least he’d have company, someone to watch over him. Jean looked at Norman, who was reading the paper, ignoring the child completely, mostly to avoid conflict. He looked over the paper, but didn’t have any objection to the idea.

  “Uhh…sure, I don’t see why not,” Jean forced a smile to put him at ease, now that they were home. He still harboured some anxiety. She didn’t press him, figuring he would tell them when he was ready.

  “We expect you back by tomorrow afternoon, you hear?” she reminded him and with a boisterous gallop the three went upstairs to collect Doug’s stuff for the night.

  After a few games of pool, the boys retired to Mick’s massive room on the south corner of his parents’ house. His mom and dad were home for a change and sat down to the play-offs with hope in their opposing teams and a good side bet they had between them. They waited for news on a mutual friend’s operation two states over and decided to spend their time light of worry until they could call to check on her condition.

  The boys talked like a group of girls at a rock concert, in all excitement about their long summer school holidays and the mischief they could get up to soon. Again the gleeful conversation had many shades and they spoke of all kinds of things, not realising how the hours went.

  “So, dude,” said Thompson eventually, “what really happened this time?”

  This was all Doug needed. He had been waiting for a request such as this to spill the beans and get it all out. They formed a huddle on Mick’s bed and spoke with hushed tones.

  Doug told his friends about the nightmares in which he relived the suicide, intending to stop at that. But once the floodgates were opened, he couldn’t stop and told them everything.

  It felt like the world lifted from his shoulders as he just rambled it all out to their dumbfounded expressions.

  He said, “I don’t know why I took the pills. Or that many, anyway. I guess I thought that that would stop me hallucinating. It was a dumb fool thing to do, but if you saw what I saw you would not want to see anything either. I knew that taking too many could have a really bad effect and even kill me, but I just didn’t think. I swear that I wasn’t trying to commit suicide. I swear it. I was just in a muck sweat and panicked.”

  Their responses were that of astonishment and empathy, and Doug was really relieved that he could see that his friends believed him. He knew no one else would.

  “You know,” said Thompson in his usual contemplation, “like … uh …wouldn’t it be better if you just told your parents?”

  “No!” exclaimed Doug.

  “But they must be worried sick about you.”

  “No, they’re not. Trust me. They don’t take me seriously. Like never! They don’t listen to me. They think I’m just a teenager troubled by his hormones, or something. Dad would be very angry and tell me I’m stupid and Mom would wring her hands and tell me I’ll get over it. They make up their minds about it and that’s that.”

  “Well, I guess,” said Thompson, “…but that’s still my best advice.”

  “So…what can we do, bud? How can we help?” asked Mick, fidgeting and shifting on his seat.

  “Well, you guys could wake me up if I looked like I’m having a nightmare and if I started to do something stupid or dangerous, you could stop me,” he welcomed the offer.

  “Of course, man, you know it!” Mick smiled reassuringly, and he knew it would not be a problem. The three of them had had regular sleep-overs since they were young.

  “Hey, and tomorrow night, you guys can come hang at my place!” Thompson suggested. “My parents wouldn’t object at all, as long as I have boys over, not girls,” he sighed. “They totally forbid me from having chicks sleep over.” He had his friends giggling at the assumption he even entertained that he could have a girl stay over.

  “Frankly I think they’re being unreasonable. How’m I ever going to get laid if I can’t sleep with my girlfriends? Do they want me to do it in the car or something? It’s like ridiculous!”

  Thompson boasted on unbelieving ears.

  “Hey man,” said Mick. “I thought you were bragging the other day that you had gotten laid.”

  “Oh, that was our neighbor’s wife,” Thompson lied. “She asked me in for tea and sympathy. Some sympathy! Wow! Like, she’s insatiable.”

  Doug and Mick were laughing helplessly at Thompson’s flights of fancy.

  “So please share with us virgins here, Romeo - what makes you so very attractive to women?” Mick managed to ask through jerks of laughter.

  “A 15-inch dip stick,” replied Thompson, holding his two hands about 2 feet apart. A witty smile played on his face.

  “Horny bastard,” said Doug, shaking his head and laughing. And they decided to make it so with the sleep-overs. There was a peaceful release that fell over Doug for the first time in a really long while. He felt much better for having told them and for sharing a good laugh with his friends, the family he chose. He hadn’t laughed much since witnessing the suicide.

  When Doug woke up the next morning his mood had abruptly changed. A night without a nightmare made all the difference.

  No nightmare! Not even a dream!

  “Hey, biggie, get up!” Mick kicked at Thompson beneath his ruffled floor bedding. He had a tray with coffee in his hands and came over to give Doug his kick as well, but he sat up quickly and mocked him for it.

  A knock at the door. It was Mick’s dad, looking a bit serious.

  “Morning, boys. I don’t mean to be a bastard, but I’m going to have to chase you guys out after breakfast.”

  “Why, dad?” Mick asked with a scowl.

  “Aunt Tanya’s operation went okay, but not as well as they thought,” his dad replied.

  “Oh,” said the boys in a choir while having their coffee.

  “Yes, so I’m afraid we are going to have to get driving soon and I don’t want you boys to stay here unsupervised, so…”

  “I can ask my parents if Mick can stay over at my house, Mr. Curran,” Doug quickly jumped in, hoping to have his friend share his sleeping space and hopefully get in another night without a bad dream…or a ghost, for that matter.

  Mick’s dad thought for a moment.

  “Thanks, Douglas, we’ll check with your parents when we drop you off. Mick, pack an overnight bag just in case, okay?”

  Thompson took to the harrowing task of the bicycle again and waved goodbye to his friends while yelling from a distance: “I’ll let you guys know if I can come over, alright!”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Mick’s parents explained their emergency and Jean agreed that Mick could stay over for the next two days to help them out. It was vacation, after all. While the mothers talked in the living room, Mick and his dad got the bag and skateboard out of the car.

  Doug walked through the kitchen and encountered his father. It was uncomfortable at first, but Doug felt so good about the trouble-free night he had and how safe he had felt, that he entered the room with a light demeanour
.

  He even greeted his father with a smile.

  “Everything better now?” asked his dad.

  “Yes, Dad, everything’s better,” Doug nodded and he felt no concern for once.

  “Well, then, let’s let bygones be bygones, shall we?” Norman suggested. He tried to be friendly, but not so as to let the boy relax too much.

  “That’d be great!” the elated teenager cried as his friend joined him and they rushed noisily up the stairs.

  The truth was that Norman was just as glad to avoid talking to Doug as Doug was to avoid talking to him. The boy puzzled him, and he didn’t like puzzles. Moreover he really, really didn’t like the idea that something was seriously wrong with his son, and he suspected that if he dug too deep he would find something that would require a lot of action, unpleasant action, from him.

  He’d done, he convinced himself, what a father should do. He’d talked strongly to the boy to try to snap him out of it. What else he could do, he didn’t know. It was just an adolescent phase, and Doug would grow out of it. And deep down, where he tried to avoid addressing it, he was ashamed of the names he’d called Doug when he was angry. A conscience of sorts where there lay just an inkling in his heart that he should apologize, and he certainly didn’t want to do that. Norman wasn’t unreasonable when correcting his wrongs, but he hated the weakness he felt for making things right with circumstances he could not have foretold. So, all in all, he was happy to let the whole thing go.

  As they got unpacked, Doug thanked Mick for letting him stay over.

  “It was a huge help, man,” he smiled. “One day I’ll repay you that debt. You have no idea what it meant to sleep through for a change.”

  “You’re welcome, homie,” Mick joked and spread his arms like a rock star, pleased with himself. “And yes, I’ll have your first born for that favour, just so you know.”

  Mick didn’t like getting soppy, although he really loved his friends and had a heart of gold. He always reacted to gratitude and affection with some sort of name calling or joking, but those close to him knew that was his way of being sweet.

  It was a public holiday, and they decided to bike over to Thompson’s place to collect him and then go to the theme park nearby. It had been the topic of just about everybody’s plans for the break and the name was known to all in their local high school: “The Wild, Wild West.” They liked comparing the name to the way high schools functioned these days and it was going to be a blast.

  “Please, mom, can I go? Mick pays for himself, of course, but if I win a fluffy toy, it’s all yours,” he charmed with a wink and a smile.

  “It’s okay, you can go. How much do you need? I am not a millionaire, you know, keep it realistic,” she said as she reached into her husband’s wallet, evoking a hearty laugh from Mick.

  “Just enough so we can go on a few rides too, mom,” he said innocently and watched eagerly as she forked out a few notes and placed them in his hand with a look of playful reprimand.

  Mick laughed louder.

  “Now, get lost, you two,” Jean said and grabbed the coffee pot for some downtime.

  She was so relieved at seeing him cheerful that she would have agreed to almost anything. She had turned over more dollars than she would normally have done, but she knew Norman wouldn’t mind. Much.

  The two of them stopped at Thompson’s house earlier than he expected to collect him, where he then in turn got permission and a bit of cash, and then they went on their journey into the Wild Wild West.

  At the theme park, they had wild and carefree day, riding various rides, eating too much popcorn and sugar candy and generally whooping it up. The only place they were careful not to go was the chamber of horrors, called “The Battleground,” from which issued gunshots, blood curdling Indian cries and strangled cries of dying men. Death was not on the agenda for the day, most definitely!

  They rode the bucking broncos on the merry-go-round, were swept up into the sky on the Ferris wheel, which gave them a view of the whole town, including the river where Doug had witnessed the suicide; Doug’s heart sank just for a moment, but just looked the other way and wasn’t much fazed by it. They all rode the bumper carts (called stagecoaches on the sign).

  As expected, Thompson was the most aggressive of them, bumping into his friends and even other riders with all the force he could squeeze out of the cart, the poor vehicle creaking under his weight. They postured and giggled in front of the distorting mirrors and threw balls at dolls dressed like Indians with big feathered bonnets which made them look much bigger than they really were.

  Thompson even won a prize for knocking three of them down in a row – a stuffed kitten which he said he would give to his neighbour’s wife.

  “She would be all over me after I give her this,” he said. Thompson was worth his weight in gold, actually, as the group’s clown and kept them laughing with his stories and his antics. At lunch time they ate hotdogs with catsup, mustard and pickles on them and followed up with bags of potato chips which had them just a little too full afterward, but they vowed to play it all off before going home.

  Afterwards they hit the ice rink for a bit of skating to work off the food and check out the local breasted talent.

  This was Doug’s domain. This is where he shone. He sure knew how to skate and showed off with figure eights and arabesques and sudden stops during which he sprayed one of his friends with ice from his skates like a pro hockey player.

  Thompson, who had never been on skates before, was definitely at a disadvantage on the ice, spending most of the time flat on his butt or holding on the edge. Again he would be the clown, but perhaps this time it was far from intentional. The boy simply did not do well with balance or grace in any form, but at least he was amusing.

  Mick could skate well enough to go sedately round and round, but didn’t attempt Doug’s acrobatics. He mostly acted suave and smiled at the ladies, who found him little more than bland and just laughed at his unfounded self-confidence.

  Then it was time for the show. It was after all what the whole theme park was all about. At certain intervals there would be a Wild West show, where they joined the audience in watching the actors pretending they were cowboys. They were amazed at the rodeo riders, and wondered how a man’s back could possibly take such a punishment and not snap. The cowboys were wrestling steers and roping calves in record time to the cheer of the crowd. And after a full day of this, finally it was all enough.

  Bone tired and very pleased with their day, they rode their bikes home, discussing all they had experienced and how good the food was. They did have a bit of effort on their bikes after their time on the ice that absolutely exhausted their legs.

  “I’m so unfit,” Mick marvelled.

  “Speak for yourself,” Doug laughed, and pedalled even harder to show off.

  “Oh please man, like you can do this all the time. You just got lucky with good blades on that ice today,” Mick challenged Douglas, who had pulled ahead by now. He looked back at Thompson behind him, panting like a dog in the desert, and laughed.

  “At least I’m ahead of T-man!”

  By early evening Thompson’s mother gave them a bang-up supper that ended with a Black Forest gateau and vanilla ice cream, while they talked incessantly about all the insane guys at the show who had no respect for moderation or common sense. They tried to do justice to the excellent feast of pudding, but were still too full of cotton candy and hotdogs to eat a lot.

  It was time to get home, so Mick and Doug thanked Thompson’s mom for a hearty meal of spoilage for such humble children (Mick’s words, of course) and they headed back to Doug’s place.

  The house was quiet until the two came in and recited the whole report once more to a different willing mother, and by 10 p.m. they lagged their carcasses into the TV room to catch a movie or whatever they could find entertaining enough. Exhausted, they fell asleep in front of the TV watching a rerun of “The Brady Bunch.”

  Jean shook them awake to get
them into bed, so they stumbled off, almost too asleep to navigate their way. They held on to one another’s arms, spoke not a word and fell onto their beds without a word. Again Doug slept like a log and didn’t have any nightmares while he sank into the safety of his friend’s company in the blue room and the gentle bubbling aquarium.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  When Doug woke up the next morning he felt fantastic. He hadn’t had a nightmare for three nights now and was getting used to the freedom of an innocent life again. Things were simple again, and he even got along better with his dad. Even the memory of the suicide was fading, like a bad memory from a previous lifetime, and he thought of it as an obstacle he overcame a long time ago.

  He felt so good, in fact, that the thought of being cured completely was not far from his mind and since he had no problem sleeping anymore, he even dared abandoning the shackle of medication. He decided to stop taking his pills. He’d always have them in case something went wrong, right? His mother, trusting him not to make the same mistake, had put his medication back in his cabinet. There was no way she would find out he had stopped taking his medication. His dad would not be bothered, as he saw these sorts of drugs as useless.

  He made no secret to himself that there was some concern when Mick went home again.

  “Are you sure you have to get back already? This party just got started,” he’d say to Mick.

  “Don’t worry, dude, I’m not going anywhere. Just got to show my face at home for a few days to keep the old ones happy and then I’ll hit your crib again, or you can come over to mine when you guys are back from your grandparents’ farm,” Mick assured him, and Doug remembered that his parents had a weekend planned at Jean’s parents’ house.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” Doug said and smiled because once more he could be somewhere else when the night came.