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 Weathered
J
U
M
P
E
R

Brandon Kamins

    Julie Wills was the first to notice the young woman in the blue dress standing by the side of the bridge. She was a pretty thing, not more than nineteen or twenty, and with no winter coat! Julie laughed...that old maternal instinct. Besides, what did she care if a stranger wanted to walk in the cold? But this girl wasn’t walking. She was just standing there. Maybe there was something wrong?
    But when traffic slowed to a crawl and she spotted a pair of blinking yellow lights, Julie realized what must’ve happened—the girl’s car had broken down.
    She felt sorry for her but checked her watch all the same. It was quarter to seven.
    Julie kept an eye on the girl as traffic on the bridge inched along and then stopped, dead.

    The right lane—the one she was in—had been blocked by what she assumed was the girl’s broken-down vehicle, while the other lane had been closed because apparently men were working.
    All around her commuters quickly began to lose their cool: tapped on their steering wheels, loosened their ties, unbuckled their seatbelts, or nervously, compulsively played with the radio dials.
    At least, Julie thought, they hadn’t started honking.
    As her old red Honda Accord came bumper to bumper with a sky blue Chevy Impala, Julie turned her attention back to the stranded motorist. What a bad day for a breakdown, she thought. Not that there was ever a good day for one. But today, especially—a cold day, even for December. And what a terrible time of day! If only it had been after work: a pretty young girl stranded by the side of the road? Men would be crashing into each other to lend her a hand. But during the morning commute?—Not even Jesus would stop for her.
    Julie rolled down the passenger side window, unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned toward the cold open air. “Miss,” she called out the window. “Miss, do you need some help? Do you need a phone?” she asked, waving her cell phone and smiling. The girl didn’t answer. Maybe she was hard of hearing, Julie thought. She continued. “Is there someone I can call for you? AAA?”
    Again, the girl didn’t answer. She just stood there, hands on the railing, peering down at the water below.
    It was one part kindness, the other curiosity that made her do what she did what she did next.
    Julie put the car in park, buttoned her coat and adjusted her scarf. She got out and slowly approached the motionless girl with her cell phone cupped in her gloved hand, like a peace offering. “Miss,” she said coming forward. “Miss, I’ve got a phone for you to use...if you need it.” She was just a few feet away when she spotted a pair of inexpensive-looking black pumps placed neatly side-by-side.
    It was then that she realized this girl was a jumper.
    Julie stopped for a moment then slowly backed away.
    The man behind her in a blue jeep Cherokee opened his window. “What? What is it?” He must’ve seen the look on her face.
    “I think...I think she’s going to jump.”
    “Jump,” he repeated.
    Within seconds every car in sight had a window down and a head poking out to make inquiries.
    “What? What’s going on?” asked a voice from the far lane.
    “She’s going to jump,” said the man in the jeep.
    “Oh, my God!” gasped the woman in the Impala.
    “Not another one,” uttered a man in a black SAAB.
    After a moment of frantic, confused conversation, all eyes were on Julie. She didn’t understand. It was as if she had somehow, unwittingly been elected group leader. That made her nervous.
    “What-what should we do?” she asked no one in particular.
    There was a strange, unsettling moment of silence before a woman in a gold minivan offered to call the cops.
    Julie turned back to the girl. She was shivering now, every inch, with her eyes still fixed, trance-like, on the water below. How long could it take?
    Julie thought for a moment then added, “I’m going to try to talk to her.”
    Heads turned as commuters exchanged uncomfortable glances.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said the woman in the Impala.
    “Right.” the man in the jeep agreed. “Let the cops deal with it.”
    “And what if they don’t get here in time?” Julie asked, looking him square in the eye.
    He didn’t have an answer.
    Julie nodded her head several times before she realized she was doing it. “Right,” she said. “Fine...I’m going to talk to her.”
    She turned and approached the girl cautiously as if she were sneaking up on a wounded animal.
    “Miss,” she said coming forward. “Miss. My name is Julie...what’s yours?” The girl didn’t answer. Julie came to within ten feet of her then stopped. “I’ve got a phone here, and you’re welcome to it. I can slide it over. Or, if there’s someone you want me to call, you can just give me the number and—”
    “Why don’t you leave her alone,” the man in the jeep interrupted. Julie turned to face him. “Let the cops handle it...it’s their job,” he snapped. “Unless of course you’re a professional?” He smiled a bit. “Are you?”
    “No,” she answered, sheepishly, “no, I’m not.”
    The woman in the minivan chimed in: “He’s right then...it’s best to not get involved. If she jumps, her family could sue you.”
    “Sue me?” Julie said. “For trying to help?” For being a human being?”
    The man in the jeep flashed a twisted smile. “We all admire your altruism,” he scoffed. “But it’s obvious you aren’t doing any good. She won’t talk to you. Besides,” he said, and smiled again, “we all know she’s going to jump.”
    Julie’s jaw dropped. “Wh-what did you say?”
    “I said she’s going to jump. They always do.” He leaned his head further out the window. “Isn’t that right, honey?” he shouted. “You’re going to jump, aren’t you?”
    Julie shook her head. “What’s the matter with you?”
    “Me?” he said, looking surprised and insulted. “I’m not the one’s about to swan dive off a bridge. Besides, what business is it of yours?”
    Before she could answer, Julie saw the traffic part as police cars made their way to the top of the bridge.
    “Hallelujah!” cried the man in the jeep. “Here comes the cavalry!”
    A few people clapped, a few laughed.
    Julie turned to the girl. “Hold on...just hold on.”
    As the sound of sirens grew louder, the girl looked up from the water for the first time. She turned and stared at Julie, her face calm and carefree. Then she smiled. A sweet little girl smile. Julie smiled back and took a step forward. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The girl nodded her head in thanks. Then she quickly, nimbly, climbed to the top of the railing, dropped both legs over and sat down. She was now directly over the water.
    “Please,” Julie implored her, “please don’t.” She didn’t know what else to say. Her heart was pounding and she was out of breath, though she hadn’t moved in minutes. And where were the police? Their sirens were blaring, but they were still a few cars back. What could she do? And why was the burden hers to bear? She felt sorry for feeling sorry for herself. “Miss,” she said, “I...”
    A noise from behind gave Julie a nasty start. She couldn’t place it at first in the state she was in. Then she realized...it was a car horn. Someone had honked their horn? She turned and was greeted by that same twisted smile.
    “Can we move this along already?” groaned the man in the jeep. “Some of us have jobs to go to.”
     Julie took a few steps in his direction. “Are you crazy?” she shouted. “Well, are you?”
     He smiled
    “I’m not talking to you, lady. I’m talking to Rapunzel.” He snickered and looked around to see if others shared his humor. “Hey Rapunzel, let’s get this show on the road!”
    “Yeah,” yelled the man in the SAAB, “shit or get off the pot!”
    The two men giggled like sleep-deprived school girls. Then said something she didn’t hear.
    Julie looked to the others for aid, but they all seemed occupied, talking on their cell phones—undoubtedly explaining why they were late.
    The man in the jeep smiled wide.
    “Hey girly,” he hissed. “Do you know what happens when a body hits the water? From this height?” He waited a moment. “It’s like hitting concrete...only you don’t die right away.” He waited again. “You break your legs; maybe your back...and your organs all just go to mush. Then you flop around in the freezing water until finally...” he paused and extended a thumb. “You drowned...choke to death on salt water.”
    “Really?” said the man in the SAAB.
    “Yeah, really. I read an article about it in the Post. It said fifteen people have jumped from this bridge.” He stopped. “I guess that makes Rapunzel sweet sixteen.”
    They laughed for a long time. When they were through, the man in the jeep said, “So, whatddaya think?”
    “About what?”
    “I got fifty bucks says she goes within the hour.” He looked at his watch and tapped it with his finger.
    “This-this isn’t a game,” Julie said, her voice tired and trembling, “This is someone’s life.”
    The man in the jeep grinned. “If she doesn’t care about it...why should I? Why do you?”
    Julie shook her head. “I—”
    Before she could answer, someone started chanting, “Jump! Jump! Jump!”
    The man in the jeep smiled.
    His friend in the SAAB laughed. “Jump!” he joined in. “J—”
    “Shut up!” shouted a policeman, who had just arrived on scene.
    He looked stunned “It’s a free country! I’ve got the right to—”
    “Not another word,” the officer barked, and pointed a peremptory finger at him.
    The man in the SAAB pantomimed the zipping of his lips and the officer gave him an icy glare.
    Then he approached Julie.
    “Ma’am, please get back in your car,” the officer instructed, and pointed at her idling Honda. Julie stood motionless for a moment staring at the girl. “Please, Ma’am,” he said, “return to you vehicle. Let us handle this.” Julie turned and slowly walked away. “She’s going to be alright,” he called after her in a soft, uncertain voice.
    As she was walking back to her car, the man in the SABB stopped her. “Can you believe this?” he said. “I’m an hour late for a videoconference with Tokyo. I could lose one of our biggest accounts.” He shook his head at his misfortune. “If she wants to kill herself—fine...let her do it on her own time!”
    Julie didn’t say a thing. She got back in her car and rolled up the window. Even with the radio on, she could hear a few people chanting.
    Outside, three burly policemen were attempting to coax the girl off the railing. They talked to her for almost an hour, but she never even acknowledged them.
    At 10: 37 the girl stood up on the railing and calmly, without a word, stepped into thin air.
    A few people gasped, a few cheered.
    Julie returned to an empty home. She took a shower, had a glass of wine, and buried herself in the bed sheets.
    The next morning the headline on page 11 read “Suicide Jumper holds up traffic on Harbor Bridge.” She didn’t get to the third paragraph before she broke down in tears.



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