The broad man strolled through the early morning mist. “That can’t be my Nicole,” he said whilst reaching longingly for his nearly forgotten wife. She was indeed exactly how he remembered her, blonde flowing hair that extended well past her shoulders. Those piercing blue eyes were peering at him expectantly. Her strawberry red lips were pursed as if she meant to kiss him. A fire burned in the man. It was all he could do not to scoop her up like he had done countless times before. Yet, something checked him. Intuition, divine intervention, luck; whatever the coined phrase, it held him at bay.
His hands stopped reaching for her. No matter how desperate he may have been to caress her, something in his conscience would not allow him to go forward. He remained; hand extended partially, like an especially cautious tortoise peeking its head out of its shell for the first-time. Though the visage was stunning and wakened that same burning desire, something was off. She was low hanging fruit; perfect to the eye without blemish. Yet Eve was seduced by such a thing as this. Fools are unwilling to learn lessons from others, the man was not one of these.
Slowly and with much effort the hand retracted itself, returning to the man’s side. At this the woman’s features turned sour; hurt was etched with pristine precision on the marble of her face. Her mouth hung open in shocked disbelief, and for a second all was still. Then, she found her tongue and she said, “My dear, it is I, your wife, Nicole. Why do you shrink back in fear of me? You must see I am the same woman you fell so completely in love with. Your distrust wounds me, to you I bore all. I entrusted my very soul to you, choosing to lay exposed for your eyes alone.”
“My sweet Nicole, it is so; you are the spitting image of my love. No one else has known me for these past twelve years. Nor has there been any joy since you’ve left. Yet it is not you that frightens me; never could it be you. It is what my eyes glimpsed that cruel winter twelve years past that gives me pause. I was not enough for you my dear. Do you remember that gloomy night? The night I lost you forever,” responded the man.
A puzzled look danced across the woman’s face. Her eyes glanced to the floor, as if she was trying to recall the event without much success. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, she said, “Many winters come to mind, yet the one you describe eludes me. You are my love, my life. Nothing seems so contrary than this queer idea that I would need anything else. I was happy with you. More so, I was content being your wife.”
Tears welled in the man’s eyes. With one hand he attempted to shroud his tear-streaked face, while simultaneously he lowered his head in shame. His voice was still cracked and raw when he replied, “My dear, if only this was so. You left me. Twelve years. Twelve damned years I had to remain sane for the sake of our daughter, Anabel. Do you remember her? Does your mind black that out as well? The girl who worshipped the ground you walked. The one with the same oval eyes and pale complexion. Our little princess. She saw you go over. Damnit Nicole, you did it in front of our daughter. We were supposed to protect her. Instead, she rarely leaves the house.”
The fog shifted and the upper portion of the woman’s torso vanished. Silence filled the suffocating mist. The crickets stopped chirping and the rustling of leaves fell quiet. All was still. Darkness fell over the land and the overhead street light casted a faint, glimmering warble. Other than the solitary thudding of the man’s heart, no sound could be heard. The couple remained still. What could be said? The past was the past. Death is the great divide, yet a chasm was formed long before the couple parted.
“It is not so, my love. I hold her in my arms. She sleeps on my lap. Look even now, she is resting in our home. Every night she begs for you. Just one more story she asks. One more goodnight kiss from the man who loved her so. Come with me, my darling, lie in my warm embrace this last night. Feel the warmth of our little Anabel snuggled between us like the early days. Do not stay foreign to us.” Ghostly tears formed down the woman’s desperate face as these pleas landed on hard soil
The man’s face turned into a thunder cloud of rage. With a bellow the man said, “How dare you? You left us. The real Anabel remains nary a stone throws distance from this accursed bridge. And still, you have the gall to ask me to forsake her. Hardly, could I abandon her the same way you abandoned us. What you ask is too great. To think, before my dear Anabel, I would have gladly leapt from any height to be with you. It is true, my soul yearns for you even these twelve years past. When it is time, my heart will find you. Yet even so, I shall not let my mind be bogged down with your blissful lunacy.”
“Lunacy, is it? Is it not your stubbornness that keeps us from being a family once more? You are the one who stands resolute, grasping onto a twisted fantasy. I am sorry my love, I wish it wasn’t true. However, it is your mind that is suffering aliment. My dear, I ask, no, I beg; please come back to us. I am here. Our daughter is here. Follow my voice from that ledge. Step down from the rail. Come join us and be the man I love,” said the woman with real conviction in her voice.
“Perhaps my mind is damaged, it is even likely I am no longer sane. Love lost is an unbearable burden for any man to carry. God is my witness; I’ve born it longer than any man ought to. Yet, even so, it is you who appears to me in the fog. It is you who I saw plunge head first off this very bridge. Whatever glamor you casted, I beseech you, for the sake of this lovesick man put aside your mask. Reveal to me your true intentions,” replied the man.
“My husband, your mind is vexed. Return to me my dear. There is no glamor, there is no mask; it is I, your wife. My intentions are true, they are only to see you return to us. I wish to warm your bed. I long for those days, when I felt your warm breath on my neck, and I knew the beating of your heart. Cast away your dark fantasies and come live with the living. Don’t remain in the cold, when you could feel the heat of love once more,” pleaded the woman with tears in her eyes.
“Your arguments nearly persuade me every time. If it wasn’t for my Anabel; I would follow you to the depths, giving it all to have you one more time in my arms. For her sake, I no longer can meet you on this bridge. Though it is the only moment I have left of you, I must let you go. I must leave you on this bridge. The past is simply that. Farewell my love, it is appointed all to die. Lord willing, I shall see you on the other side.”
Before the woman could catch him, the man tumbled off of the bridge. He disappeared into the inky blackness of the waters below. Nicole dropped to her knees, holding her head in her hands, and wept for a good man lost. Only God could tell how long the heartbroken woman remained there. A short distance away, a little girl could be heard crying. The woman rose to her feet, after all there was Anabel to care for.