On the Bridge

Although it happened in the summer,

I remember it in the winter.

It was only a brief moment,

But I dread every time I recall it.

 

Twenty years ago, I enjoyed a life of freedom. It was summer vacation and I was spending it in my hometown with my family. I had little to no responsibilities to speak of. I could go to bed anytime I wanted. Wake up anytime. Pass the time with books and movies. And sometimes go for a drive to the beach with my friends.

At the time, I was a sophomore in university and had a bit of breathing room before entering the workforce. Simply put, I was like the grasshopper in Aesop's fable, time was all mine.

 

　　　One hot, stifling night, as usual, I finished dinner that my mother had prepared, took a bath and went to bed. There was no air conditioner in my room, so I opened the window but kept the screen closed.

In the middle of the night, I was awakened by the buzzing sounds of a mosquito. It must have come in from somewhere. I had no choice but turn on the lights and kill it.

 The dastardly deed done, on my palms was left the squashed body of a mosquito with a mark of its ill-fated blood. But I was not bitten by it. I wiped it off with a tissue and tried to go back to sleep.

Maybe it was because I had taken a long nap in the afternoon, or I drank a little more beer than usual at dinner. Or perhaps it was a curse of the mosquito. But whatever the reason, I was wakeful and could not sleep at all.

  　      My T-shirt damp with sweat, I arose from my bed, changed it, and went to the kitchen. I washed my hands clean with soap and drank a glass of water.

Beyond the window, frogs were croaking and stars were shining. I was drawn to the light like a summer bug and wandered outside.

 

It was just after 2 in the morning. The houses were all dark. Only the lights from street lamps were aglow.

There were no convenience stores or even vending machines in the neighborhood. So, I decided to go to the nearby park where I used to play as during my childhood. Perhaps I could catch a beetle there, I thought boyishly as I headed in that direction.

All I could hear was the sound of my sandals, but then, as I got closer to the park, my ears began to focus on the river.

In front of the park was a narrow road. And straight down that road was a long red bridge. However, the bridge was built long ago and had since become faded and covered in rust.

　　  I’ll never forget what happened next.

          When I was about to cross the road, I saw a lady on the bridge. She was in her 30s with long hair and wearing a gray coat. Although I thought, "What is she doing here at this hour?”, I realized it was the same for me, and looked away.　

     　  But, in the following moment, I noticed something strange.

 

A gray coat?  Coat!?  It’s summer!!

　　　

When I looked again toward the bridge, the woman was gone.

In the middle of that long bridge, there was nowhere to hide.

If she had run off somewhere, I would have noticed.

There were only two possible explanations; either she had jumped into the river, or it was all a dream.

I knew that neither were correct.

I had seen a ghost!!

I ran for home as fast as my legs could go! I didn't have the courage to go to the middle of the bridge to find out what might have truly happened. In my haste, I almost took a tumble on the way when my sandals fell off my feet.

 

Finally, I woke up near noon. I slept better than I expected, and it felt as if everything that happened in the early morning hours had been a dream. but, when I stood up, I felt pain in the little toe of my foot. Come to think of it, my sandal had fallen off as I was in a hurry to go home. I must have gotten a scratch then.

It was not a dream after all. [?]

I washed my face in the bathroom, but my melancholy mood did not rinse away. While I was having brunch in the kitchen, my mother finished hanging the laundry and came in for a cup of tea.

 At that moment, I felt the need for someone to laugh with me and say, “No way! That’s ridiculous.” So, I told my mother about what had happened in the middle of the night. But, she suddenly looked surprised. Then she silently put her tea cup on the table and told me this.

“Last winter a woman died upstream from that river. They don't know if it was an accident or a suicide.”

　    I dropped the toast from my hand.

        My whole body shivered with cold.

 

Was it the woman I had seen? ......

 

　     I thought about going to a library and looking for newspaper articles about her. However, doing so would change nothing.

Unable to concentrate on the book or the movie, I went out into the garden in the evening. There were several sunflowers blooming. I had an idea. I brought scissors from home and cut the most beautiful sunflower among them. Then I took it and started walking.

　        The sky was a sunset, and the bridge was glowing orange. I released the sunflower from the bridge into the river, and I prayed for her.

 

Having graduated from being a grasshopper,

I have now grown up to be an ant.

 Even in the cold winter,

 I go out to work.

 Sometimes I pass a woman

With long hair wearing a gray coat.

 I turn my head to look at her.

If she is there,

 I am relieved.

But if she is gone...