Robert Blanch was no longer tired, no longer depressed. Though his day had gone horribly -- bad weather causing his commute to take twice as long as usual, taking the workloads of two sick coworkers, spilling hot soup on his lap at lunch -- he had made plans. The pressure had been building in his head, until today. He couldn't take it anymore. But this was a strange peace, he no longer felt the unbearable weight of his past failed relationships, having not been accepted at the right school, choosing to use his college degree in writing for a position in advertising, followed by getting the wrong position at the advertisement firm that he worked for...

Driving away from the city that'd employed him since college graduation, Robert found it strange for everybody to be acting so normal. The mail delivery woman still scooted along the side of the road in her white van, two older women still jogged casually through the park to the left of the road, everybody still scurried through the city in the cars that they were yet to finish paying for to their various destinations.
Normally, Robert would take the on-ramp to the freeway, drive for 23 miles, and take the Bendon Street exit to his small, plain apartment, where he'd cook himself a simple dinner, complete the crossword in the newspaper, and fall asleep alone -- just as he'd done nearly every day for six years.

Not today, though.

Instead, he steered his ordinary, modest car toward the busy bridge that connected the cold island city to the mainland. He pulled his car to the side of the road and zipped his jacket up to guard against the cold, not that it would do much good in a few minutes. He left his keys and wallet on the seat.
The cold late autumn air bit into Robert's face, but he was too distracted to notice. He inconspicuously walked to the bridge's guard rail and peered out across the wide body of water far below. He wondered how it would end. Would his body shut down mid-drop? Would the impact against the water be the last thing he felt? Would he fill his lungs with icy river water? Would he wish for his life back in those last few seconds?
Lost in these thoughts, Robert didn't notice a dark green car slide quietly up behind his own. He didn't notice a young woman get out and lean against a bridge support, quietly watching him. The ever-colder wind blew through his short, dark hair and bit into his nose and ears. This is it.

Robert turned to take one last look at the world that had abused him for 28 years. It was now that he noticed the young woman. Her light brown, almost blonde hair floated in front of her face, her cheeks were turning pink in the cold. Her features seemed nearly flawless.

"I know why you're here," Robert said. For a moment, the young woman looked confused. You're not going to change my mind, I promise." With this, her faced flashed with understanding. Robert had heard of these people, they were paid by the state to dissuade jumpers.

"That's not why I'm here, I'm just waiting my turn," she explained quietly.
It seemed even tragic for the world to lose somebody so attractive, but what difference did it make to him? He was going to be gone in just a few minutes. The world could deal with a shortage of attractive women on its own.

Robert turned again, and clambered over the guard rail. He hung onto the rail, which was behind him now, and hesitated. He turned again to the woman.
"Do you want to go first? I don't think I can do this with you watching."
She smiled, revealing a neat row of stunning white teeth. "No, I don't think I'd be able to do it with you watching, either."

Robert turned back toward the water and closed his eyes. You can do this. A crazy idea came into his head. He turned again. "Do you want to do it together?"

The attractive stranger laughed.
"Are you talking about a suicide pact? I think I'd have to know you better before I'd commit to something like that."

"How about dinner, then? We can learn all about each other, and do it afterwards"

She seemed to hesitate, but consented. Robert hurried back over the guard rail and approached her.

"Where will it be then? Do you have a preference for your last meal?" Repeating the words in his head, the words seemed strange. Very absolute.

"Do you know where Jasper's is?" Expensive taste. Jasper's was probably the most pricey restaurant within 100 miles.
"Sure. Meet you there?" The young lady smiled and agreed. "You're not going to double back and do it without me, are you?" Is this really suicide I'm talking about? It suddenly occurred to Robert how strange it was to talk about something so tragic with a smile on his face.

They drove separately. The quiet drive felt like a new experience; Robert had convinced himself that he would never be driving again. As he approached the restaurant, he realized that it was neighbored by a gun shop, the same place that he'd considered going into a few months earlier for the same reason that he'd gone to the bridge today. In the end he decided that he wasn't brave enough to make the purchase.

Dinner conversation started slowly. They began by telling each other their reasons for what they were about to do. Robert told of his lifelong feelings of inferiority, and the woman (who, as Robert discovered, was named Emily Howard) explained the story of her boyfriend since high school leaving her abruptly for another woman. Eventually they moved on to other topics, and their life stories began to spill out. After dinner they walked to a nearby park, and continued to talk on a bench until it was dark.
Finally the conversation turned back to their plans earlier that day. Thinking through the end he'd be fantasizing about only a few hours early, Robert felt a strange shock run through his body. Was I really going to end it all?
They continued to talk until it was too cold to stay in the park. Before going back to their cars, they agreed to delay their suicides.

"I'm glad I took time to think about it," Emily said. "I don't think I'm actually ready to end it tonight."

Robert agreed. That, and I want to spend more time with you. Standing in front of Emily's car, they exchanged phone numbers and shared a reluctant goodbye.

Robert drove home, recalling that earlier that day he never expected to make this drive again. He was almost shaking from excitement; Emily crawled through his thoughts, tearing holes in his concentration. He almost missed several turns and had to backtrack through what should have been a familiar part of town, paying more attention to his fresh infatuation than to his driving. He climbed into bed in his clothes, removing only his shoes which he kicked off his feet after laying down. Only hours earlier, Robert's life was over. Now he could never imagine the possibility of willingly allowing his life to end like this.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 07.01.2009

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