the article, “We all win. We get to keep our
battleship, we get a newer and better golf course, and we get to
realize the true potential of some of the finest land in the
Southeast.”
“ Spoken like a
politician,” Dewey said, sticking the last bite of the sandwich in
his mouth.
He took a pair of scissors out of the
kitchen drawer and cut out the article. Then he called Faye. She
said she could meet him at six in Mt. Pleasant. He wrapped up a few
things around the house and left a few minutes early. On the way,
he called Ashton, the computer whiz, and asked him to put together
a packet on Rowe Tinsley.
Getting to Mt. Pleasant required using
several bridges. First, he crossed the John’s Island Connector to
James Island, then the James Island Connector to Charleston, then
finally the Cooper River Bridge to Mt. Pleasant. Up and down and up
and down and up and down.
That last bridge was the one that Gina had
jumped off. Dewey had time to kill, so he parked on the Mt.
Pleasant side and started walking up. The Cooper River Bridge was a
three-mile long cable-stayed bridge reaching high enough into the
air to let the thousands of container ships pass underneath yearly.
It also reached high enough to provide for an almost perfect
suicide jump. There had been ten jumpers since the bridge had been
completed in 2005. No one had survived. Two had lived long enough
to make it to the hospital but had died within twelve hours.
Dewey visited his dark
side for a moment as he slowly meandered up the walled off
pedestrian path. He contemplated how suicide could happen. Even at
the darkest of his moments, he hadn’t given it much thought. And
there were three reasons why: Erica, Elizabeth, and Sonya. He could
never have left them. Even after Erica had kicked him out, when he
was drinking two gallons of Russian firewater a day and barely
eating and waking up not knowing where he was. Sure, he hated
himself; sure, he didn’t want to be alive…but the love he had for
his family was too deep and unshakeable. He had to stay alive. He had to be
there for his little girls, even if that meant only sending them
love from afar.
Dewey thought about the woman he’d heard
speak at the AA meeting. It was her little boy who had saved her.
He was the reason she couldn’t do it. If you had nothing to live
for, killing yourself might not be that difficult, but for someone
with a child—even one in your belly—it really wasn’t an option. So
Dewey was having a hard time accepting the fact that Gina had
jumped over that bridge on her own.
“ Did someone make you do
it?” he asked. “What did Rowe, the Hippo, have to do with it? Did
he really break your heart so badly that you wanted to take his
child away from him? Your child? It makes no sense to me.”
Dewey looked at the bikers and joggers and
walkers enjoying the beautiful late afternoon. The view from up
there was hard to beat. Charleston truly was a city of wonder. As
he looked over the low skyline of Charleston, Dewey thought about
how it probably didn’t look that much different than it had eighty
years ago. The powers that be, the South-of-Broad folks—the same
ones who were pushing for the Bird’s Bay development and more
disastrous cruise business (an entirely different discussion)—had
done one thing really well, and that was preserving their precious
Holy City. It was nothing short of the finest place on earth to
Dewey. He was never going anywhere. The ocean, the food, the
scenery, the people, the fertile soil. What else do you need?
Reaching the top, Dewey took hold of the
rail and looked down. His legs tingled. Yes, sir, it was a long way
down. The boats looked miniscule from up there, but the harbor
looked massive and dangerous and deadly. He wasn’t particularly
fond of heights, so he couldn’t imagine jumping.
Something occurred to Dewey. “But you
weren’t afraid of heights, were you, Gina? This was like just
another day at the wall.”
***
Dewey met
battleship, we get a newer and better golf course, and we get to
realize the true potential of some of the finest land in the
Southeast.”
“ Spoken like a
politician,” Dewey said, sticking the last bite of the sandwich in
his mouth.
He took a pair of scissors out of the
kitchen drawer and cut out the article. Then he called Faye. She
said she could meet him at six in Mt. Pleasant. He wrapped up a few
things around the house and left a few minutes early. On the way,
he called Ashton, the computer whiz, and asked him to put together
a packet on Rowe Tinsley.
Getting to Mt. Pleasant required using
several bridges. First, he crossed the John’s Island Connector to
James Island, then the James Island Connector to Charleston, then
finally the Cooper River Bridge to Mt. Pleasant. Up and down and up
and down and up and down.
That last bridge was the one that Gina had
jumped off. Dewey had time to kill, so he parked on the Mt.
Pleasant side and started walking up. The Cooper River Bridge was a
three-mile long cable-stayed bridge reaching high enough into the
air to let the thousands of container ships pass underneath yearly.
It also reached high enough to provide for an almost perfect
suicide jump. There had been ten jumpers since the bridge had been
completed in 2005. No one had survived. Two had lived long enough
to make it to the hospital but had died within twelve hours.
Dewey visited his dark
side for a moment as he slowly meandered up the walled off
pedestrian path. He contemplated how suicide could happen. Even at
the darkest of his moments, he hadn’t given it much thought. And
there were three reasons why: Erica, Elizabeth, and Sonya. He could
never have left them. Even after Erica had kicked him out, when he
was drinking two gallons of Russian firewater a day and barely
eating and waking up not knowing where he was. Sure, he hated
himself; sure, he didn’t want to be alive…but the love he had for
his family was too deep and unshakeable. He had to stay alive. He had to be
there for his little girls, even if that meant only sending them
love from afar.
Dewey thought about the woman he’d heard
speak at the AA meeting. It was her little boy who had saved her.
He was the reason she couldn’t do it. If you had nothing to live
for, killing yourself might not be that difficult, but for someone
with a child—even one in your belly—it really wasn’t an option. So
Dewey was having a hard time accepting the fact that Gina had
jumped over that bridge on her own.
“ Did someone make you do
it?” he asked. “What did Rowe, the Hippo, have to do with it? Did
he really break your heart so badly that you wanted to take his
child away from him? Your child? It makes no sense to me.”
Dewey looked at the bikers and joggers and
walkers enjoying the beautiful late afternoon. The view from up
there was hard to beat. Charleston truly was a city of wonder. As
he looked over the low skyline of Charleston, Dewey thought about
how it probably didn’t look that much different than it had eighty
years ago. The powers that be, the South-of-Broad folks—the same
ones who were pushing for the Bird’s Bay development and more
disastrous cruise business (an entirely different discussion)—had
done one thing really well, and that was preserving their precious
Holy City. It was nothing short of the finest place on earth to
Dewey. He was never going anywhere. The ocean, the food, the
scenery, the people, the fertile soil. What else do you need?
Reaching the top, Dewey took hold of the
rail and looked down. His legs tingled. Yes, sir, it was a long way
down. The boats looked miniscule from up there, but the harbor
looked massive and dangerous and deadly. He wasn’t particularly
fond of heights, so he couldn’t imagine jumping.
Something occurred to Dewey. “But you
weren’t afraid of heights, were you, Gina? This was like just
another day at the wall.”
***
Dewey met
Similar Books
