Page 44 of Cuts Like An Angel: Part 3

“I do.”

Her gaze was accusing, the way she held her expression, pinched her brows together. “You don’t even know me.”

“No,” William said. “Not personally. What’s your name?”

She screwed her face at him, bowed her head and let out another cry, making her hair fall around her face, framing it almost as she teetered on the edge. On the edge for them both.

“It’s just a name. I can’t do anything with that,”

“Dana,” she said not looking at him. “My name is Dana.”

He nodded, letting the small victory sink in. “Hi, Dana.” He peered down to the water. “I jumped from here once. Not so long ago actually.” He nodded to right where she was. “Pretty much launched myself right from that very spot where you are now.”

That made her turn to look at him, and for a moment that made William’s heart lurch. She let go of the railing to push her hair behind her ear. “You jumped?”

“Yep. Hauled myself up on this wall, climbed over the railing and let go. Funny isn’t it? You think a fall like that would work, right? That you’ll fall down and break something major? Bloody movies if you ask me. They always make things look easier.” He leant over the railing himself, making it seem like he was looking down, but he focused on Dana, on his breathing, and on getting closer to her. “It’s not as far down as it looks. Plus, the water itself is deep, so there are no rocks to hit yourself on. The water just makes you float and the current just sweeps you to the side.” He pointed to a small part where the rocks gave away to the embankment. “That’s where I floated to.”

“I did … I …” She shivered her words out and wiped at her eyes. He was sorry for whatever it was that had brought her here. Sorry that someone else could feel the same thing he felt that night. “It might be different. I might … Maybe you didn’t do it right.”

“True.” He blew out a breath, creating a plume of white mist between them. Then he stuffed his hands in his pockets to make himself seem more casual to her, even if he was anything but. If he could just grab her, pull her away. “I don’t get a lot right these days, so there is that. But what if you fell and just broke something? Your legs maybe, or even your back.”

She stared at him, not answering.

“Whatever the reason is for being here, it isn’t worth making that jump. I promise you.”

She turned away from him and her shoulders slumped. It gave him the edge that maybe he was reaching her—reaching inside her to places he wished others could have done for him. Or maybe that wasn’t even possible. How could someone possibly reach a place he didn’t even know how to get to himself.

Her hands were red, bitten by the cold. Even the tip of her nose held the same shade, but perhaps some of that was the crying.

“Be awful to damage that nice coat you’re wearing. It looks new.”

“What?”

He nodded at her, at her coat. Not that he had any real idea about women’s clothing and what was new, or what was in fashion. He’d already baffled Rosie when she made some remark about a Louis Vuitton bag she’d seen, and he’d thought it was the ugliest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. “If you jump. The water. It’s not just cold, it’s dirty. There’s a filter just at the other side near the backlot of the river. They let the sewerage out there. I mean, it’s diluted by the time it reaches here, but still. When I jumped in there, I stank, for days. Like the muck was ingrained in my skin and I couldn’t wash it out. Went around smelling like rotten meat.”

Her gaze darted to the water, and she sniffed. William reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pack of pocket tissues. “I always carry these with me,” he said, offering one. “My girlfriend is terrible for crying at movies, road kill, little old ladies crossing the road.” He tilted his head as he spoke and softened his voice too. “Take one.”

“Your girlfriend?”

He nodded, feeling the ache in his chest for Rosie and the way he had left her standing there, waiting for him. “I met her after I jumped off this bridge. Well, I kind of met her before that. She was the one I talked to on the helpline right before I took the leap. You know those suicide lines? She works on one of those.”

When she took a tissue and blew her nose, William pushed the packet back into his pocket.

“It helps to talk, you know? I used to think it was all a load of bollocks. What would talking do to make me feel better, right? It wouldn’t change anything in my life. It wouldn’t make anything actually go away.”

Dana nodded, giving him a weepy smile. “I don’t think I can talk this one better.” She took in a long breath and glanced back along the water. The waters rippled beneath them, all dark and silky like they might be inviting. William had felt that lure once—the deep invite of a better place below the glassy surface.

Dana lowered her leg, but she put her head down and sobbed into her hand. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, you could try it. I mean, I’m here, you’re here. We could sit and you could talk to me and see how you feel.” He nodded towards the bridge. “If it doesn’t help and you still feel like making the jump, well the bridge isn’t going anywhere. I could even hold your coat for you.”

She barked out a laugh and cried both at the same time. “Fucking hell,” she said. She rubbed at her face. “I don’t think you’re meant to offer to hold my coat.”

“But it’s a nice coat. Shame to mess it up.” He offered her his hand, ignoring the tremble in his fingers, or the way his chest had tightened and what he really wanted to do was take a deep calming breath. “Come down, before you fall and we both regret it.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“Well, stupidity isn’t a reason to jump.”

---