Don't do it. Don't jump.
The man leaped from the bridge's rail, plummeting... plummeting... plummeting into the icy river in terrifying slow motion.. His body disappeared for what seemed an interminable amount of time, then bobbed to the surface amidst the hostile waters, tossing about as if in the middle of an angry mob. His hands flailed in an effort to keep himself above the water's surface, his body battling against his mind in the will to live, and the river taking sides with his mind. It swept him downstream, tugging at his legs, sapping the strength from them until the man was yanked beneath its surface by unseen hands. He did not reappear. The water swept over him, and resumed its journey southward, showing no sign of remorse at being an accessory to death.
Jackson gripped his armrest in white-knuckle disbelief as he watched in morbid fascination the scene that had unfolded before him. He could scarcely breathe. His heart reverberated against his chest as he examined the river, knowing without seeing that the man continued downstream with little struggle. His mind raced, wondering how anyone could just jump like that, giving himself up to whatever death offered, and questioning how it could be ever be better than living. He sat, paralyzed by the chain of events that had taken place.
* * * * *
The credits began to roll before Jackson realized that people were getting up from their theatre seats and heading toward the exits. The lights had just been turned up, and he looked around sheepishly, embarrassed at having been so caught up in the movie that he had forgotten where he was. His hands were moist from gripping the armrests for so long, and he wiped them on his shorts to dry them. He drew in a huge breath, and then exhaled in an attempt to calm his beating heart. He silently chuckled to himself at his own behavior. God, how humiliating, he thought. For once, he was glad to have come to the movie alone.
He stood up to leave, shuffling sideways from his seat in the middle of the row to enter the aisle. He slid his hands down the legs of his shorts again, pressing away the remnants of the sweat. He walked up the aisle slowly, passing the remaining rows as he neared the door of the theater, his mind still caught up in the movie's excitement. He replayed the last moment of the movie in his mind, over and over. As he neared the door, he thought, What the hell. I'll just stay and watch it again. He turned around, and headed back into the theater, heading for the same seat he had occupied before. Three rows down, middle of the row. The next show was still a matinee, so he doubted there would be any problem with seating. There had only be a handful of people at the previous showing.
Jackson sat back down and waited. As he sat, he glanced around and noticed a few early arrivals coming through the theater door . Four teenage girls came bouncing down the aisle, whispering to each other and then giggling into their fists. They moved past Jackson, and bounded into the second row, directly in front of the screen. He doubted whether they even cared what movie they saw, and smiled as he remembered his own teen years, some twenty years ago. He hadn't cared then either. He thought about those times, and how he and his buddies used to go to the movies and sit directly behind a group of girls like that, talking about them, throwing things at them, pulling their hair, anything to get their attention. He couldn't believe he had acted like that.
An older couple came in and sat two rows in front of him, carrying their own popcorn in a plain brown bag. They took turns sipping out of a single drink, and talked quietly as they waited for the movie to start. An early date, Jackson thought, and wondered how long they had been married. They showed the comfort of many years between them, and talked and smiled easily as they took turns dipping their hand into the popcorn. Jackson hoped that someday he would have that kind of ease with someone. His divorce had soured him toward relationships, but he was getting to the point where the loneliness was beginning to weigh on him, like the Mariner's albatross. He wanted to experience the good things with a woman, not just remember the bad things that had happened with his ex-wife. Her inability to show warmth had led him to be cautious with any member of the opposite sex.
Jackson heard the soft music being played as the screen changed snapshots before the start of the movie. He vaguely recognized the notes to "Stairway to Heaven" being played by an orchestra. God, was he so old that his music was now reduced to elevators and orchestras? He rolled his eyes, then settled his 6'1" frame deeper into his reclining chair. His shoes caught on the sticky floor, and made a sound like cracking peanut brittle as he lifted them up to push them forward. He crossed his right foot over his left knee in pretzel fashion, and closed his eyes, waiting for the lights to dim.
The sound of a seat being pushed down nearby caused Jackson to open his eyes and look to his left. He sat up quickly, as if waking to an alarm.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." A woman, 30ish, was just sitting down one seat to his left.
The woman looked at him and smiled softly. Her chestnut-colored hair dangled in delicate curls about her round face, and her deep brown eyes suggested warmth and compassion. Her smile was small, as if her lips refused to give in completely to the thought. Jackson sensed the woman was only being polite, and quickly responded to her apology.
"Oh no, it's alright. I've actually seen the movie once today. I just wanted to see it again." Jackson couldn't believe he had just admitted to such a ridiculous thing.
"Really? Me too. I saw it the other day, with a girlfriend." His embarrassing admission had no obvious effect on her. The woman sat down, crossing her left leg over her right knee, the hem of her skirt falling open, revealing her smooth tanned leg. Her right foot pointed downward gracefully, and Jackson caught himself as he looked down to watch her dangle her sandal from it absentmindedly. She was attractive, but obviously distracted enough not to notice that he had looked at her longer than was necessary. Her hand fiddled with a thin gold necklace holding a St. Christopher medal at it's bottom, near the first button of her blouse. Her eyes gazed at the screen but did not register any response to its offerings. Jackson found himself drawn to her looks, and was curious as to why she was alone.
"Did you like this one the first time?" he asked, trying to recover from his earlier admission.
