The Coward’s Way Out

The 500-metre arch bridge spanned across the Silk River. I was standing on the pedestrian sidewalk. Water lapped gently against the concrete piles. Wind messed up my hair. I touched the back of my head. My alligator hair clip went missing. My long black hair whipped against my face like it was trying to slap me awake. I stared at the quiet river below. Still waters run deep, they said. What could be hiding beneath that calm surface? Were there monsters who lived on the riverbed? Were they biding their time, waiting patiently for a hapless pedestrian to fall into their open maws? Landon was the one who told me the story of the river monster. It had no name and was supposed to be an alligator-like creature with greyish-green skin and a horn between its eyes like a unicorn. We used to come here for post-dinner strolls back when we were dating. Landon always tucked his hands in his pants pockets. I thought he was doing it to look cool, like the other guys did at school. But now come to think of it, he did it because he didn’t want to hold hands with me. He told me stories of river monsters to ruin the mood. I stared down at my hands. They were French-manicured. The white varnish was a little chipped. The nails were growing too long. I hadn’t had time to think about stuff like mani-pedi since Dad passed away. But my hands still looked fine. My fingers were long and slender and callus-free. My skin was young and fair and unblemished. Why wouldn’t Landon want to hold my hands? Was I really that repulsive that he refused to touch me? He wouldn’t hold my hands. Wouldn’t make out with me. Wouldn’t go beyond first base with me. If he found me so unappealing, why did he marry me? I took off my heels, climbed over the guardrail and sat down on the cement ledge. My bare legs dangled in the air. The night breeze was cool. Forty metres below, a gentle wave rushed up, calling out to me. ‘Amiyah, come and join us.’ I was wearing a black dress that day. Just like every day for the past week. My father died. I was in mourning, remember? But apparently, Mom had forgotten. Landon had forgotten. Someone once said that sex after a funeral was an affirmation of life. Was that why they did it? I wondered. My black dress blended in with the black night. No one saw me. I sat on the ledge for a long, long time. So long that the nameless river monster gave up on waiting and went home. Zephyrus got tired of playing with my hair and went home as well. The water surface quieted. I was all alone. I looked up at the night sky. There was no moon tonight. Dad taught me how to read the clouds. He said a moonless, starless night meant rain in the morning. I hated rainy days. I looked down at the dark, tranquil water below. If I jumped off the bridge right now, I wouldn’t have to see the rain tomorrow. I wouldn’t have to face Mom and Landon tomorrow. I wouldn’t be forced to deal with the fact that I’d lost all three of my favourite people in the world—Dad, Mom, and Landon. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Besides, my legs were tired. I didn’t want to walk anymore. Could I just rest here, permanently? I once read somewhere that it took about forty seconds for an adult to drown. Your lungs would fill up with water and you’d suffocate. It was an incredibly painful process. But forty seconds of pain didn’t seem that long, compared to a lifetime of agony. Maybe I should give it a try. In ‘The Godfather,’ Peter Clemenza said, ‘Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes.’ ‘Tonight, Amiyah Finnegan sleeps with the fishes.’ I giggled. The height was making me giddy. I eyed the river again. Was the monster still waiting for me with its maw wide open? I swayed my legs. I surveyed the channel, trying to pick out a deeper part of the river. I didn’t want to land on an underwater rock. I rather liked my face and wanted it to remain scar-free. I’d like to be presentable, even in death. Dad’s face stared back at me from the dark surface. ‘Amiyah!’ His voice was stern. His brows were furrowed deeply. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Dad…’ I reached out a hand to touch his face. ‘I miss you.’ ‘Stop,’ he said in a low voice. Dad never shouted. He said he only had one voice—the indoor voice. When he got angry, his voice got lower, not louder. ‘I miss you.’ I leaned forward. ‘What did I teach you?’ He gave me a disapproving look, the same look he gave when I forgot to wash my hands before a meal. ‘Are you going to take the coward’s way out?’ ‘But if I jump right now, I can be with you.’ ‘No, you can’t. You’ll be a bloated corpse that blocks the waterway. Your body will get chopped to pieces by a boat propeller. You’ll be fished out of the river and renamed Jane Doe. You’ll waste taxpayers’ money and police resources. And you won’t be with me.’ I drew up my knees and hung my head, my default posture when Dad lectured me. ‘You can’t jump. Not now. Not ever.’ ‘But I don’t want to live to see tomorrow. I don’t want to face…’ Part of me knew Dad wasn’t real. He was in my head. Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Dad’s spectre that Mom cheated on him. I couldn’t tell him that Landon, his perfect son-in-law, wasn’t so perfect after all. ‘Yes, you can.’ Dad made a fist. ‘Like Obama said’ —he mimed the ex-president’s baritone voice—‘Yes, we can!’ I smiled. Dad loved Obama. ‘Amiyah, don’t forget you still have something to do.’ ‘What?’