A Cry for Help

Part Two

A wisp of cool October air chills the beaded moisture on my forehead. If I had not been so desperate to get over my personal demons, I would not have given my number to some frisky redhead at the bar. I never wanted a distraction so eagerly that I would answer a call from an unknown number. Still, I could not hang up only to have this woman's blood on my hands. Time was a factor in these situations. Like a chain of dominoes, one mistake, one wrong move, one unstable piece and the entire assembly collapses.

Months ago, when two seconds away from jumping five stories to my death, my counselor stopped me by reminding me of what I wanted most but had yet to do. He reminded me that in my haste, I hadn't said goodbye to the only significant person left in my life.

I clear my throat. "Your family—"

"I swear I will pull the trigger." For a second, anger replaces her grief, and the abrupt transition surprises me. "I don't care who finds my body when these gates open. I don't want to talk about my family. None of that matters right now."

Gates?

"Take a breath," I whisper into the phone. "If that's not important tell me what is."

"I just need to get out of this hell."

Offer help and establish a connection. "I can help you. I can prove it too."

She pauses. "How?"

"We have something in common. I've been in your shoes before, in the same position." My daughter's smile pops into my head and the pain in my chest increases.

"You should've went through with it. You'd be better off."

"Or I wouldn't be here to answer your call. Remember, you called for a reason. You want me to help you."

The line goes silent on her end except for odd guttural grunts in the background. A pig's oink? No, the call of the cormorant when it takes off or lands. In this town, those birds hang out at the Astoria Bridge and that bridge is only five minutes away. The gates located at the entrances of the bridge shut with a simple latch after daytime hours. Was she referring to those gates?

"Jeanie, you there?" I press the phone harder to my ear.

"I'm still here ... unfortunately."

I need to keep her on the phone and distracted. Hanging up and sending police was out of the question. If she suspected my plan, she might decide to end her life before I or anyone had the chance to do anything about it. If I hurry, I could get to her in five minutes or less. Maybe being face-to-face would somehow stop her from doing the unimaginable.