Portals

When it gets really hot, steel expands, and when it gets cold again, steel shrinks back to a smaller size. That’s why bridges have to be made in a special way, to allow the beams and arches expand comfortably in the summer, and to contract again in winter. I heard from somewhere that they put wheels under it, so it rolls along when it grows.

This was what I was thinking as I stood near the ledge, clutching the railing with my hands and standing in my bare feet, my shoes placed neatly by my side. I don’t know why I took the shoes off, maybe it was from watching movies; there was a sense of elegance to it. I know I should have been thinking of my family, my life, my approaching death, but that thought of the moving bridge was all I could think about.

It was a hot summer’s day, the sky was a pastel blue and wispy white clouds smudged the horizon, threatening to roll in and steal the sunlight. The afternoon sun dazzled above, it’s rays making the river surface sparkle like silver jewellery.

I was thankful for that, it made the cold water look more inviting. The hot weather, I realised, meant that the steel was thick and fat, expanded to its limit. I felt the warm metal under my hands. It was as if I could feel the bridge breathing, rolling slowly along the giant wheels supporting it.

It wasn’t a big bridge, it was no Golden Gate, but it was high enough. It was for both cars and pedestrians. It had two lanes for cars and a narrow footpath on either side. Right now people were passing me, young businessmen yapping about boring matters on their sleek mobile phones, women strolling along with push-chairs occupied by dozy children, enjoying the good weather, old couples shuffling along linking arms, smiling at the dozy kids in the push-chairs. And there I was, standing at the railing with my shoes off, staring blankly at the still water below. Only one of the passers-by noticed me, a lone elderly woman with tight silver curls who was dressed quite warmly for the hot weather. I noticed she still went for the effort of putting on deep red lipstick, it suited her though.

“Nice weather we’re having,” she smiled at me, not stopping as she strolled along.

Did she notice how pale I was? Did she notice my bare feet? Could she see how broken I was? Did she know that she would be the last person I’d ever talk to?

“Yeah,” I answered, my voice coming out hoarse and wobbly.

She stopped and looked down at my bare feet. I noticed that she was still smiling, but it wavered slightly. She looked back at me again. She parted her red lips as if to say something, but closed them again. She flashed me one last smile and continued on her way. I twisted my head to watch her walk along the remainder of the bridge. I thought about what I said, ‘yeah’.That was my last word, I realised. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I repeated it in my head. People continued to file past and the cars hummed by.

I still had my eye on the old woman who had talked to me. When she gets off the bridge, I’ll do it. She seemed to walk in slow motion. She was wearing a thick purple coat with two little black buttons stitched into the back, staring at me like a pair of eyes. She was wearing skin-coloured tights that made her legs look unnaturally textureless, and she was wearing flat black shoes that seemed to slip off slightly as she walked. I blinked, and suddenly she had stepped off the bridge and onto the path at the other side.

It seemed like time had malfunctioned, I was sure she had been further away.
I hunched over the railing and stared at the glimmering water below. My heart was pounding and I felt sick. But I came here for a reason, and it was now or never. I knew this was what I wanted, I would prefer to do this then step back and return home, to live. I looked left and right. It wasn’t a busy bridge, but people were approaching from both directions. I had to do this now, and I had to move quickly before someone tried to pull me in.

There were three horizontal bars on the rail. I put my right foot on the first one, and then my left foot on the second. My hands were still clutching the top bar, slippy with sweat. I heard a man’s voice to the left, saying ‘Hey!’. Do it now, now, now, now, you silly girl. In one quick movement, I swung over the edge so that I was sitting on the top bar. The river was laughing, mocking beneath me, blinding me with it’s glittering face.

I heard footsteps running towards me to my left, I heard a car break behind me, the door opening and someone shouting. I shut my eyes tight, and pushed myself from the railing, letting out a whimper of fright. I was almost expecting to fall in slow motion, gracefully and beautifully, but instead I plummeted at intense speed. The wind whistled past my ears, deafening me, my jacket flapped up behind my head, the metal zip grazing my forehead and missing my eye by millimetres.

I started screaming, I didn’t know it would be so terrible. I thought I would continue falling forever, but the impact came only after about five seconds of falling. The pain was unreal, my right arm twisted and cracked like paper, my body crunched and jolted into a ball as I went under, a desperate reaction after the impact. I was under the surface and it was freezing, but it was wonderful. It was dark and quiet, and I wondered if I was dead already.
That’s what I wanted in the first place, to die on impact.

But I knew I was still horribly alive as my lungs began to burn. To my horror I started giggling, a unique reaction I get in panicked situations, and valuable bubbles of air escaped from my mouth and travelled up to the surface. No, come back! Even though I wanted to die, I wanted air, the pain was too surreal, it was my body speaking, not my mind. I needed oxygen, now. I tried to swim up, but I couldn’t.

My right arm was bent and I imagined that the bone was shattered. My legs were locked in a bent position I couldn’t seem to get out of so I waved my left arm in a motion I hoped would get me to the surface. It was then I realised I didn’t know where the surface was, I was too disoriented, I was trapped in a dark, silent bubble. I hadn’t expected death to be like this. I continued a horrible frenzy of gagging and giggling until eventually the fire in my lungs died out.

Now it was nice. I was back to the still, silent darkness, drifting in it. It was cold, but I liked it. My body was relaxing, I was sinking and sinking further into the place I wanted to be. Just as I was about to drift into unconsciousness, something touched my ear. A slow pulse of horror ran through me as I realised it felt like…lips… brushing against my ear.

“Come with me…”

The voice wasn’t even affected by the medium of water, it was as clear as a bell. It wasn’t a man or a woman’s voice and it was spoken in a note that made me shiver. It was then that my peace was shattered, as a hand locked around my right forearm, making me scream with air I didn’t even know I had in my lungs, and pulled me in a senseless direction. I was dragged somewhere through the water, and as the searing light began to burn through my eyelids I didn’t know if it would be heaven or hell.