A View From The Bridge
Part 4: Reason
Through closed eyes, John sees red lights blinking.
He tries to squeeze his eyes tighter to force out the light, to let him return to the dark place, but his skin is burning with icy cold. He tries to move his arms but they are held in place.
He tries harder, rocking from side to side, but his arms will not move. In a panic, he opens his eyes and forces himself into a sitting position. Light and sound flood into him increasing his panic. He starts to scream.
"Bad night?"
John snaps his head over to focus on the source of the voice.
There are no blinking lights, just a small fire in the bottom of a trash barrel. On the other side of the barrel is an old man.
"You scared me. For a minute there I thought you was gonna fall."
John isn't sure where he is. He looks around and sees that the sun is barely up. He hears the sound of traffic blending in with rushing of the nearby river. His body shivers with cold and he pulls his arms tighter around himself.
"Wh.." He starts to ask where he is, why he is here, who is the man across the fire. But, as his mouth starts to form the words, events start to seep back in. His walk, the bridge, his clothes...
His clothes! He looks down. Beneath the tattered blanket that surrounds him he wears his wool overcoat and boots. He thinks hard and cannot remember putting them back on.
He looks around again. He is sitting beside the bandshell in Bridge Park.
"We all have bad nights sometimes." John recognizes the old man as the same one from the alley on Fifth Street. He also recognizes the blanket he is wrapped in is the same one he gave the old man several weeks ago. It doesn't seem as warm out here as it did in his heated apartment. He slides a little closer to the barrel.
"The cops may come now. They don't like us to start fires but you looked like you might need it."
The old man gets up and places a few pieces of wadded newspaper into the barrel. "If they do come, you just stay here. I'll put out the fire and go talk to them. They know me."
John watches the old man as he starts to settle back down, changes his mind and walks over to the side of the bandshell. Seeing only his back, John is unable to tell what he is doing.
The old man returns and stands next him. Tearing a sandwich, the old man holds half of it out to John.
"Go ahead."
John reaches up and takes the sandwich. The old man sits back down, takes a bite out of his half and chews.
"There's this guy over on Fifth who gives me sandwiches sometimes."
Very good last line. I want to know, however, how he survived.
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