Page 40 of Nicki's Fight

The idea was just a littletoodamn attractive. I was terrified, but strangely attracted to the idea of letting it all just…end. I was so tired all the time. Tired of fighting. Tired of hurting. I wanted it to all just…end.

I heard more noise in the entryway to the restaurant, and the urge to get away was overwhelming. Without thought, I ran, away from the car and cacophony of the restaurant.

I don’t know how long I ran. Sweat beaded down my face and soaked my shirt. My skin was freezing, but felt too hot, too tight, and each thundering beat of my heart ripped through me, Vinnie’s words eating at me.

“You’re such a fucking loser, Kaine. I’m not even calling you a Devereaux, because you know you’re notreallyone of them. Your own parents didn’t want you. Your boyfriend didn’t want you. You’re ugly. Stupid. Unwanted.”

Ugly. Stupid. Unwanted. Ugly. Stupid. Unwanted.Ugly-stupid-unwanted.

The words pounded in my head in time to my foot falls. Even when I couldn’t run any further and had to walk, they haunted my every footfall.

Ugly. I still felt overweight. Even though I looked at the scale and saw a normal weight, looked in the mirror and saw a normal looking guy, in my mind’s eye I was fat, and ugly and loathsome.

Stupid. My grades were slipping. Hell, who was I trying to kid? I was failingallof my classes at that point. I knew my parents were worried about me. They had even signed me up to see a therapist, but her schedule was so packed I hadn’t been able to get in to see her yet. If anyone ever tried to tell you there was no mental health crisis in the United States, they hadn’t tried to get an appointment with a therapist in less than three months.

Unwanted. Everyone left me. My parents. Vinnie. Nicki. It was only a matter of time before the Devereauxs left me, too.

Unwanted. Unwanted. Unwanted.

I saw a bridge up ahead, the pedestrian walkway a sloping curve over my horizon, the winter darkness creating a dark gray emptiness where the sky should have been. The opposite side of the bridge was swallowed up in darkness, and I wondered at the metaphor that was for my life. I kept going, and before long, I found myself at the apex of the bridge.

I remembered the name of the bridge: the All-America Bridge. Sounded cheerful, right? Made me think of parades and little kids waving flags. It spanned the Little Cuyahoga River and was a known site for suicides. I remembered my parents talking about a petition that had been circulated to get a fence or a net, or some fucking nonsense, put up on the bridge to deter jumpers, but it hadn’t gone anywhere.

I found myself standing at the middle of the bridge, looking over the side of the bridge and the pain and emptiness was overwhelming. I wanted to cry, but tears wouldn’t come. I was so damn… tired. I just wanted it to stop. The pain, the fear, the loneliness. I just wanted it toend.

I didn’t even remember how I ended up sitting on the edge of the walk, my feet dangling over the side of the bridge. I was on the wrong side of the rail, and the only thing holding me in place were my arms, which were wrapped around the railing as I leaned over the side. I remembered thinking about how easy it would be to just shift my weight a little bit, to let go, free fall, and end all my problems. Cars rushed by in the night, their headlights just flashes of brightness as they flew by. There were no streetlamps on the bridge and I was wearing my dark busboy uniform. No one could even see me, which didn’t feel all that unusual. I’d become invisible to everyone, without the joy Nicki brought my soul.

I looked down and had to swallow hard at the tiny splashes of light I saw below. It took my eyes a minute to adjust, but I realized the area of light beneath me was someone’s security light for their house. I thought about how awful it would be to come out one morning and find someone dead on your driveway. Or worse, your car! What a mess it would make for the person who lived in that house… I wanted everything to end, but I just couldn’t do that to them, those nameless, faceless people. I pulled myself back behind the railing and walked a few yards further north on the bridge, pausing from time to time to look over the edge again to make sure I wasn’t over a house. I mean, come on! I might be hurting, but I wasn’trude. If I was going to end it all, the least I could do was be considerate of the people who lived below the bridge.

I sat on the rail again, this time looking down and not seeing anything below me but darkness. I stared into that darkness, mesmerized. It would be so easy, just to—

A gust of wind from a passing tractor trailer hit me, and I lost my balance.

As I teetered on the edge, I realized suddenly I was so,sowrong. As I started to fall all I could think of was that I wassuchan idiot! Mama D and Mama K would be devastated if I killed myself, not to mention my brothers and sister. And Nicki would be so disappointed in me. He’d always believed in me. And even if he wasn’tmyNicki anymore, I knew he wouldn’t want me to end my life. I missed him desperately, yes, but there was more to my life than just him. There was more tomethan our relationship.

My arms flailed, but my fingers latched on to part of the railing, and I stood there, my fingers white as they held on for dear life. I desperately wanted to get back on the other side of the rail, back to relative safety, but I was suddenly terrified of moving. Gone was the earlier numbness, replaced by pure terror.

Just then, I heard a car slowing as it neared my section of the bridge. I could have cried in relief as the car headlight approached and washed over me momentarily. I didn’t care who saw me or what they thought of me. All I could think of was that whoever they were, they would help get me off that fucking bridge.

Instead of stopping, though, I saw the passenger’s side window of the car roll down and some dark objects came flying out of the window of the car, silhouetted against the amber and red lights in the interior. I heard some glass break against the concrete, then the vehicle sped up and drove away into the night.Shit! No help there. Just some idiot tossing his empties so he didn’t get busted at a sobriety checkpoint.

I was still frozen, my heart racing as I tried to convince my body that the safest thing to do was to get me to theotherside of the rail when I heard something. It was the tiniest of squeaks, barely audible above the rest of the noise from the freeway. I looked around, but with no light I couldn’t figure out where the noise was coming from.

Another semi drove by, but this time I saw it coming and was able to brace myself for the back draft. As the truck passed me, I heard the sound of metal and glass scratching against rock. I heard that tiny squeak again, but this time I could see where it was coming from.

Tilted precariously at the edge of the concrete was what looked like a couple of old mayonnaise jars. I could just make out something moving inside the one container, but in the dim light I wasn’t able to tell what it was.

I dragged myself over the railing, ignoring my terrified heartbeat and focusing only on that container. Another car came by, and I watched in horror as one bottle vibrated off the edge of the bridge, free-falling into the darkness. The other jar rolled to the edge and started to tip over. I sprang forward, barely snagging it before the wind from another passing car hit.

I held that little jar to my chest, barely breathing and unable to move, much less stand up. Then I heard the sound again, a tiny, plaintive “Mew!”

I was too afraid to stay on the bridge to open the container, so I shoved it inside my jacket in hopes of keeping whatever was inside the jar warm. I glanced around but couldn’t see any other containers on the bridge. I made my way, shaky step after shaky step, to the other end of the bridge. Just as I reached the relative safety of land, my knees collapsed out from under me.

I don’t know how long I stayed there. It could have been minutes or hours, but the plaintive mewing began coming from the jar again, so I forced myself to my feet. I walked to a nearby gas station and stood under one of the halogen lamps that lit up the whole parking lot. I pulled the jar out of my coat and it was, indeed, an old mayonnaise jar with holes punched in the metal lid. I unscrewed the lid carefully, angling it so the light of the gas station would hit the bottom of the jar. The last thing I needed to find was a baby skunk or something.

Inside that container, it’s eyes barely open, was a tiny white kitten with patches of fur that looked like a tiger cat. It was hard to tell in the light, but its eyes still looked blue. The tiny thing was grimy, and the smell coming from inside the jar made me suspect that the glass had been in the trash for a while before being used as an improvised kitten grenade.

“Awww! Poor baby!” I muttered, tilting the jar gently so I could slide the kitten out of its prison.