koori_neko | My longest ever non-fan fic short story.

So, we were told to write a short story of approximately 2500-5000 words. Mine is about 2300 words, but I didn't feel I could stretch any longer without overworking it and making it too boring to read.
I hope you like it.

Italics indicates past tense.

Johanna Jonsson

Creative Writing

Summer 2008

Morning Bay

There comes a time when everyone starts asking what we are really living for. The meaning and purpose of our lives. I know I do, even though the sidewalk of a bridge at night might not be the best place to contemplate such matters. Many men and women before have thought about why they are living, what is expected of them, and found life not wanting of them, and so they have sought solace in the cold waters of the sea. Maybe this spot where I am standing is where they have discovered that jumping is their way out. Is it for me? Should I let the black waters be my grave?

Silver on black obsidian. That is what the moonlight looks like as it plays on the water of the San Francisco Bay. Liquid silver on black. A boat passes close by, the wake creating velvety ripples that pass under me, lapping at the steel structure of the bridge, breaking against the shore with a soft humming sound. I can see the distant lights from the boats passing further out in the bay, between the shore lines. It feels like it was only yesterday the boats and ships were engined by steam and coal. Only yesterday when horses and trains were the only means of fast on land transportation. When men wore hats on a daily basis and women were covered in yard upon yard of fabric, in the shapes of beautiful dresses. When a successful date meant the promise of another and going all the way meant holding hands in public or a peck on the cheek.

She reminds me of those women. Those photographed days, when the American Dream was still something to strive for. Her hazel eyes and auburn hair. She wears it loose, but pulls it back from her face now and then, in some intricate knot which unties itself as soon as she lets go of it. It is interesting how things always seem to work in cycles, which is why it is only fitting that I met her at one of Daniel’s parties.

‘Hey Alex! Great that you could make it! Did you bring the beer? We are running low.’

Daniel, thirty-four years old, divorced, originally from Seattle. One of those people you instantly like. He has dark brown hair and a perfect tan, and some god with a lot of humor managed to add icy blue to grey in his eyes, creating a very interesting contrast. The ladies sure love it.

‘I got it, D. No worries and you can pay me in sweat and blood later.’

‘You are still not finished with the house?’

‘Sadly no. With all the overtime at work I am surprised anything is done at all, since construction does not even start until the sun has set. It is worth it, though. Without all the extra overtime pay I could not have bought the old shack.’ So easily the well rehearsed lie falls off my tongue, as effortlessly as the semi-cold beer.

‘Yeah, not everyone can get a haunted shack here in San Francisco, but somehow you managed it.’ Little did he know what it was that did sweep hollowly through the hallways of that old place.

Daniel´s BBQ parties were, and I guess are still, very popular, mostly because of his almost uncanny ability to time them perfectly. Never during weekends, when people like to spend time with family. Never before sunset, seemingly to make sure people got time to relax after work before arriving. I don’t know, maybe it’s the way the mood seem to pick up at a barbeque at night. Personally I think it has to do with the light coming from the wood fueled grill, Daniel doesn’t believe in gas fueled barbeques, and the Tiki lanterns. Fire light is always so welcoming at night.

I was just coming out of the big kitchen with yet another tray of steaks and hot dogs when I saw her. It was as if the world stopped and Time went on vacation. The fire light from the torches was playing in her hair, almost like a halo of sorts. I put the tray down on a table within Daniel´s reach and walked over to her, my heart beating faster than it had for a very long time.

‘Hi. Have not seen you before.’ Clumsy remark, though complimented with a polite hand stretched out to her.

‘Just moved here.’ She took it and gave it a light squeeze, the kind that isn’t dead fish or bone breaking, but just firm enough.

‘I’m Alexis, but most people call me Alex. Daniel thinks Alexis is too girly and has told everyone to call me Alex.’ She smiled at that, showing a set of perfectly white teeth, behind lips in the equally perfect color.

‘Sarah.’

A truck pass me by, a little too close for comfort, startling me out of my thoughts. Some people really should not have a driver´s license. Actually, in my opinion, most drivers should have both license and car confiscated, or whatever cereal company who issues licenses in their boxes should be sued for every penny they have.

She called me the next day; I heard her message on the answering machine. She said something about lunch, but I had missed the call. I did however answer her next call that same evening, asking me if we could have dinner some day. We went to a somewhat posh restaurant and had seafood, I think. I don’t really remember much about it. I was the proverbial love sick puppy, bouncing happily on little pink clouds and sparkling rainbows. Really makes me gag when thinking back on it. We walked down to the beach after dinner and watched the moon rise over the waters. It was very lovely.

Looking around me to make sure no one is too close, I grab the railing and push myself up on it. The water under me looks as hard as rock and will most likely break me, if not kill me, should I fall. I cannot help but to wonder if the Fates would let me die or if they have something else in store.

The Golden Gate. The passage to the Promised Land, where every man could make a fortune and every woman live in luxury to her dying days. A gate way lined with fencing the powers that be in this town thinks too high for any jumper to climb. Sitting on the railing, on the other side of the fence, feet dangling over the dark depths, my thoughts return to her, like they have every waking moment of the past week.

Balancing our lives became difficult only after almost a year, and I believe that is why she felt so left out or maybe lonely. It took two years, close to on the exact day of our first meeting, before she started asking question I could not answer. Two years of all too quiet and calm happiness, at least for me. I think women of this age get very suspicious when some longer stretch of time passes and they have not moved in with their boyfriend. I think they get even more suspicious when they find out that their boyfriend has a ton of cash and cars to lend and family heirloom that would make the Green Eyed Monster pale with envy. She wanted us to have lunch together with her friends, but I always had to blame work and not show up. We could spend wonderful nights and evenings together, but again work, I said, called me away from her bed when morning came around. The scent of her warm skin would linger on my own and in my hair as I snuck out of her house or my own bedroom at the coldest hours of the morning. “It’s always darkest before the dawn” is such an old cliché but still so true.

And so she turned to others. I knew she did, but I did not want to acknowledge it. I was too happy to have found her, still too immersed in my little bubble to see what was happening.

Daniel called me one evening, pretty late. He sounded concerned about something but he was reluctant to tell me what it was all about.

‘Hey D! What’s up?’ Bright and bubbly, even that late at night. I had been told that it is unhealthy to be perky in the morning and late at night, more than once.

‘Have you seen Sarah lately, Alex?’ He sounded very anxious, but he also had good reason to.

‘She was supposed to come over tonight, but she didn’t show. What’s so important that in precedes a “hi”?’

‘I…well…she’s been feeling lonely lately, Alex…I’m not sure she’ll be staying with you for much longer.”

Have you ever had that feeling in your stomach telling you that you should not ask –that- question, and yet you do? Like you dread the answer, but still need to know? OK, I am a party poop. Sue me.

‘What are you talking about, Daniel? Has she said anything?’

He cleared his throat and I could sense his unease, even through the telephone.

‘We…we´ve been seeing each other for some time now, Alex…I just…thought you should know.’ She had him tell me. She could not tell me herself.

Looking down at the water again, I am reminded of the silver films of the thirties and fourties. Sitting next to someone anonymous in the dark theater. Could be a friend, an enemy, family, or a stranger. It is hard to tell when the silver screen is blazing with light and the rest of the room is pitch black. Up in front of the screen there would be an orchestra providing the sounds for the movie, black signs giving the audience the dialogue. The movie of my life is replayed on that hard, unforgiving surface of the bay and suddenly I feel every second of it as a load on my back and shoulders. I wanted to take her to one of the oldies when it was playing in one of the smaller theater down town, then take her down to the beach so we could sort things out. I knew I had hurt her and I wanted to make things right again. The mind and heart can be very naïve and in retrospect I feel foolish to even consider trying to patch things up between us.

I knocked on her door at seven thirty that night. The movie would begin at eight, but I had wanted to surprise her. Plus, it was not a long drive between her house and the movie theater. She opened the door and just stared at me, looking shell shocked.

‘What do you want, Alex?’ Just the way to begin the night, though I knew I deserved it.

‘Thought we could go and see the movie The Great Train Robbery down town. They are playing oldies this month.’

She still had that look in her eyes, like she could not believe I wanted, even dared, show my face at her place again. Then her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest.

‘Alex, I can’t live like this! It doesn’t work for me.’

Not something you expect to hear when picking what you hope will be your date for the evening, if not longer.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Never meeting you for lunch, never hanging out with my friends during the days. You were never around when I woke up, leaving me feeling lost and confused, even in my own home. We have been seeing each other for two years and you never took me for a tour of your house and yard.’

She slammed the door in my face with the last word. The chill of the whole situation felt like when the hot water goes away in my old shower. Ice cold and numbing to the bones.

“I wanted those waters to be blue, but they were black.” A fellow man from San Francisco, though fictional, once said that, and it rings more true than most humans can ever fathom. Anne Rice sometimes shock even me with her words of wisdom. You live a lifetime in the dark, only seeing glances of another world through your own memories and through visions on photos and in movies. TV is another lovely compliment to the real world.

Another truck is passing me by, making the entire structure rattle and I grip my seat tighter. I know that under me is an ever hungering entity, waiting for me. Leaning over I can see the black-and-silver of her unyielding surface, the distance to it and the depth of it inviting me to let go. To let myself fall to what would be a most certain death for a mortal.

Suddenly the temperature in the air is starting to pick up. The dead of night has past without me realizing it and dawn is slowly approaching. I stand up on the railing and glance towards the outskirts of the bay. So different from the first time I saw it. The steam boats of that time have been replaced by gas fueled stream liners, cutting through the waves with unrivaled ease, the old much needed ferries retired in the shade of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Jumping over the fence, down on the sidewalk, in a single movement I hurry my steps as the azure blue of the night turn to steel grey with a pinkish blue of morning. I cast a last look at the bay, knowing that I will miss her and also knowing I will not return for another century or so, then I hurry my stride to reach my home before the first rays peek over the hills. Being caught outside, or indoors as well for that matter, by the morning sun can really have a negative effect on a creature like myself.