Page 69 of Nothing Less than Magic
“Yeah, a little. But it feels good. Come see.”
It’s then that I realize that it’s equidistant from here to the end—or the beginning. In other words, there’s no quitting now, because the only way off this bridge is to either move forward or backwards. And forward is where Knox is. And that beautiful waterfall.
“You do know we’re going to have to do this all over again to get back to where we came from?” I shout over the gushing water.
He doesn’t say anything, and I start to think he didn’t hear me. But there’s something in his face, at least what I can see of his face through the mist, that tells me he did. Something that tells me there’s more that he’s not saying.
“Stop stalling,” he shouts back. “You came this far, you can do the rest.”
I suck in my breath, put my arms out to my sides like a tightrope walker, and gingerly move towards him, forcing myself to keep from looking down.
The bridge sways, and I almost lose my footing, desperately reaching for the rope rails to steady me.
“You okay?”
“If having a heart attack atop a river on the world’s ricketiest suspension bridge counts as okay.”
Knox laughs. “You’re doing fine. Better than fine. In fact, I wish I could take a picture of you, so I can remember you just like this.”
“You mean about to crap my pants?”
He laughs again. “Facing your fears. Beautifully brave. A goddess.”
“You need a good therapist, Knox Hart. Hold out your hand, because I’m getting the hell off this thing.”
“That’s the spirit.” He reaches out for me, but I’m still holding onto the rope rails, frozen in place. “Want me to come get you to go the rest of the way?”
I consider the offer but shake my head. “Just give me a minute to regroup.” I slowly take my hands away from the ropes and hold them out in front of me, like a ballast. Then I walk towards Knox, into the mist.
And that’s when it happens, when against all statistical odds, the bridge breaks. It happens so fast, so violently, that I don’t have time to think or even scream. I just hang onto one of the dangling wooden rungs for dear life, only feet above the rushing water.
“Knox! Knox!”
“I’m here. On shore. Can you see me?”
“I can’t. I can’t look.” It’s taking all my focus to maintain my remaining grip on the broken bridge.
“I’m coming to get you.”
“How?” His only way to me no longer exists.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes. But this is impossible. An impossible situation. And I don’t think I can hold on much longer.” The mere fact that I can even talk is astounding, astounding because I’m pretty sure I’m only seconds away from dropping to my death.
“Just a few minutes longer, just long enough until I can get to you. Whatever you do, don’t let go. Chelsea, tell me you won’t let go.”
“Okay, I’ll try. But hurry.”
It’s then that I let myself wonder whether it will be better, and by better, I mean less painful, to drown or to be crushed to death against the rocks.
I can feel my arms shaking from the strain of holding on so tight, and I can feel myself drifting away. From a distance, I hear Knox calling me, begging me to hold on just a few seconds longer.
It’s already too late, I’m afraid. My left hand loses its grasp, and now I’m holding on with only my right one. I feel so heavy, just like the weightiness I felt in my dream. And I’m tired. I tell myself it’s okay to close my eyes. To sleep. Even if it’s only for a few minutes. Just long enough to gather my strength again. Or not. Because it would also be nice to sleep for a very long time.
“Chelsea! Chel . . . sea.”
I feel the bridge shift, moving until I’m skimming the water, graceful, like a swan. Then I’m soaring only inches above the water’s surface, like the geese on the lake at the cabin.
