The Start of Something
“Listen to this. A car went off a bridge last night. Just right through the guardrail and into the water. The driver didn’t survive.”
“Not good.”
“The worst. I think my biggest fear is my car careening off a bridge into a body of water and not being knocked out.”
“Not being knocked out.”
“That’s right, yeah. Because here’s the thing. It doesn’t seem like it’s very easy to get your door open in a situation like that.”
“There’s like a suction that happens.”
“And the electrical system probably fails pretty quick with all the water rushing in. And so there I am, fully conscious, as my car sinks further, filling up with water. I’m trying in vain to break the glass or open the doors. I’m experiencing more fear than I ever have and am coming to the realization that I am going to die. Then, the car is nearly full and I take my last breath and am suspended, almost like a baby in the womb, still for a brief moment before I start thrashing around, choking. I take huge gulps of water to quicken the process, and then nothing.”
“You think you’d swallow water to make it go faster? I doubt that. Your body is going to fight you on that.”
“But consider the situation if I were knocked out from hitting the guardrail or the water. Then I wouldn’t experience any of that. My last memory would still be a terrifying one, but at least it would be quick.”
“My biggest fear is prison.”
The park the two men sat in was beginning to come to life with morning joggers and dog walkers, kids rushing to school, the grass glistening with dew. An elderly woman being pushed in a wheelchair by an aid said good morning.
“Morning, ma’am.”
“Beautiful day for a walk in the park,” said the other. She smiled and nodded as she rolled by.
“Another fear is getting too old to walk around on my own.”
“I wonder if you really miss all that though. The older I get the less bothered I am with it.”
“With being able to walk?”
“With getting old. Each decade seems to be just fine, not as bad as I had worried when approaching it.”
“Yeah but you’re still right in the middle. Things really start taking a turn much further down the line. I bet you wake up one day and look at your hands and can hardly recognize them.”
“Life’s too slow to be surprised like that.”
They sat on the bench next to each other, their coffees finally starting to cool down. The man picked up the newspaper he’d brought, glanced at it, and set it back down.
“You can see most of what’s coming to you.”
“I never realized how optimistic you are.”
“I think more than anything I’m unconcerned.”
“What’s that like?”
“I’ve heard people describe their anxieties and worries. It seems like a hell of a way to live. Why think so much about the past and the future? Everything’s happening right now all the time.”
“It’s not exactly a choice.”
“I guess not. I guess it doesn’t really make sense for someone to wake up in the morning and think, ‘Alright what was that thing that was bothering me last night?’”
“It doesn’t make sense but that’s what happens. Or it hits you later in the day. You might be having a fine and normal day and all of sudden that thought that you’d forgotten creeps back in. It’s like having a plastic bag pulled over your head.”
“So you can’t breathe.”
“It’s not that tight. A little air is allowed in so you can maintain. But it’s laborious. Suddenly your thoughts are racing, your heart is beating harder. That one thought is weighing you down. It’s giving you vertigo. Everything is rushing past you at a hundred miles an hour, and you can’t move. You’re not only physically paralyzed, but also stuck in the same cycle of fear. It’s ‘Oh no, this thing again, this fear. Please let me out of this fear. Ok, it’s nothing it’s all in my head. Oh no, this thing again.’ Over and over.”
“Your mind working against you.”
“Constantly.”
They sipped their coffees in silence, the park around them now teeming with people. One of the men checked their watch, looked around, checked it again.
“I wish I would’ve eaten something before this.”
“Getting hungry?”
“Yeah and the coffee’s making me a little sick with no food in my stomach.”
“I can’t do a job if I’ve just eaten. Ruins my concentration. Something about an empty stomach keeps my mind clear.”
“Empty stomach makes me think about how it’s empty.”
“Then once the work is over, I go nuts.”
“What are you going to eat once you can?”
“Big full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, hash browns. Get some waffles in there with a lot of syrup. I like syrup on top and I like to have a little pool of it I can dip into.”
“I’d do anything for a bagel right now.”
“With lox?”
“Sometimes, yeah. But I don’t like the capers. Or tomatoes. I think it throws the whole experience off.”
“Lox and cream cheese.”
“Lox and cream cheese. Everything bagel. Toasted. You ever ask for a toasted bagel and you get it and you can tell they threw it in the toaster for about five seconds and that’s it?”
“Under toasting a bagel should be a crime.”
“It is a crime.”
The man looked at his watch again as the other man looked on.
“We still have time. Don’t start getting all wound up just yet.”
“It’s the waiting that does it to me. Lately if I’m not where I’m going as soon as possible, my skin really starts to crawl. I’m so antsy.”
A group of people with sun hats and binoculars walked by, some taking notes. One pointed up into a tree and the others grabbed for their binoculars. The two men tried to get a look at what all the fuss was about but they couldn’t see. The group of people chatted for a bit, agreeing that they had all just seen something beautiful, and moved on.
“What do you think you’re going to do after today?”
“Get out of town for awhile. Find a beach and try to relax.”
“Sounds like you need it.”
“Problem is, it’s only temporary. Eventually I’ll have to come back to real life and be part of it all again.”
“See that’s your trap. You can’t even sit on the beach and enjoy the waves and the sand and the sun because you’re too busy thinking about the next thing.”
“There are so many next things, too.”
“I wish I could help.”
“Me too. I’ve tried a lot of different remedies but nothing sticks. If I wasn’t so afraid of it, I’d drive my car off a bridge.”
“Round and round.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Beach sounds nice. Maybe something like that. Maybe I’ll go see my mom and spend a few days with her. I’m not too sure yet. I’m trying to focus on the task at hand.”
An elderly man with a cane sat down on a bench just across from the two men and started throwing breadcrumbs out for the pigeons. Suddenly where there once was calm, a maelstrom of wings and beaks and dust.
“Do you see your mom often?”
“Not as much as I should. It’s hard to get back there, either a long drive or an expensive flight. But we talk on the phone and she seems to be doing well.”
“I haven’t seen my folks in years. Had a bad holiday awhile back and things kind of soured. I’d like to make amends, though.”
“I bet they’d like that. Grudges aren’t worth it.”
“Yeah. It’s hard to swallow your pride. Goes for both sides, I’d bet.”
The man checked his watch a last time.
“Ok, we’d better start walking over.”
On the way out of the park a drunk man was peeing on the side of a tree. His clothes hung from his body, his pants almost to his knees as he tried holding himself up. No one looked at him.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just need to stop overthinking and visit them. I think it’s been eating me up for awhile and I just didn’t realize it. Having that hanging over your head does something, whether you notice it or not.”
They stood across the street from the bank and watched as people entered and exited.
“Look, I don’t think your parents are worried about their pride. I think they just want to see their boy again. You know that kind of love is unconditional.”
“You really are the optimist.”
“Alright so are you good?” the man said to the other, looking to his pocket. The other man put his hand around the gun in his waistband, nodded. The man grabbed his own pistol and they crossed the street. As they walked up to the building they nearly ran into a woman coming out.
“Sorry about that, miss,” the man said, holding open the door for her.
“Oh it’s ok. Thank you.”
“Have a wonderful day,” the man said, and they entered the lobby, drawing their guns.