The Bridge

As a way to ease back into blogging, I have another story to share from my mother. While she and my Dad were walking one night in Singapore, they found a pair of glasses laying on a bridge railing. Someone who noticed my parents taking pictures of it asked if the glasses belonged to a jumper that had leapt off the bridge earlier in the evening. Please leave comments to let me know what you think! (And if you find something interesting on the sidewalk, take a picture and send it my way! I'll pass it on to my mom and maybe she'll write a story about it.)

Here's the story:

Lim rushed to the MRT as soon as his work day was over. Pushing through the after-work crowd, he jumped off at Raffles Place and weaved his way through the underground tunnels. When he emerged at Boat Quay, the sun was setting and the light was dimming. Here, along the river walk, couples were watching the sunset and gazing into the Singapore River, people watched the Hippo boats plow by loaded with tourists, families picnicked on the benches and westerners snapped pictures of the sculptures that lined the walk.

But Lim wasn’t interested in any of that. In fact, he ignored the children who played tag around his legs. He was searching for someone and he spotted her on the bridge that led from the river walk to the Asian Civilizations Museum. She was surrounded by her friends who were fussing with her hair, bridal veil, and long wedding train. The wedding photographer was posing her with her bouquet of roses for the best shot in the colored sunset.

Lim frowned. Just a few steps away stood the groom, Lim’s former best friend. He was in his black tuxedo, looking uncomfortable and hot. Lim hoped the bow tie choked him. He imagined the traitor flying over the rail head first into the murky water below. No more wedding pictures then.

Lim mingled through the crowd, getting ever closer to the wedding party. He wanted to be near her, just one more time.  It should have been him in the tuxedo. It should have been him leaning close to her for a kiss as the photographer snapped the picture.

The party was moving now toward the museum. Lim followed behind a group of students. He was half way across the bridge when the groom turned and shouted. Lim panicked. He turned and ran in the opposite direction, back the way he came. Then he was darting around the people and running down the path in front of the Fullerton Hotel.

“Get out of my way!” he shouted, shoving a student. He ran around the hotel, hopped down the steps leading to the river. He ducked under the bridge where there was a Starbucks. He quickly went inside and stood in line. He saw the groom run by. Relief poured over him and he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Looking both ways, he went toward the Fullerton but detoured onto another bridge that crossed the Singapore River. Tourists waved to him as they passed under bridge in boats heading for the Merlion. Lim weakly waved back.

He stood in the middle of the bridge, took off his glasses, and laid them across the rail. He wiped the tears from his eyes. He knew he had to stop this, stop thinking of her and what could have been their life together. She had made her choice. He had to accept it. More tears fell. He just couldn’t forget her.

Then the groom was back. “There you are. I warned you to stop stalking us. Now it’s time you learned to leave us alone. I can’t believe you showed up here.”

Then the groom was on him. Up into the air Lim went, flying over the rail head first. He had one thought before he hit the greenish water below. I wish I had learned to swim.