“Wait!”
The whispered, but insistent and somewhat compulsive single syllable, which seemed to be a barely audible whisper but at the same time coming from within her head, managed to pierce the fog enclosing Cyndi’s numb thoughts.
Cyndi was currently standing on the 33rd Street Bridge, outside the rail, reaching back with both hands grasping the cold metal bar that kept her from plunging the 200 feet or so into the swirling muddy water of the river below.
A slight, typically dressed teenager of her generation, Cyndi was made up in her goth look. Her short straight black hair kept blowing into her coal dark, heavily mascaraed eyes. A white T-shirt with a stylized cross logo, a short black denim skirt, slightly torn net stockings and heavy black platform shoes completed her “look”.
None of this mattered right now. She had been staring blankly into the dark brown river below trying to decide when to jump. IF was no longer a question, WHEN was what needed to be decided.
Again, that quiet whisper, “At least tell me your name before you go. People will want to know. “
“No one will want to know,“ Cyndi muttered. “No one cares.”
”Your mother cares.”
”So... Billie doesn’t care. He hates me now.”
Cyndi looked around but saw no one.
“Don’t try to stop me,” she said defiantly.
”I won’t. Your choices are yours,” Mirielle continued to whisper.
Without another word Cyndi slid her right foot forward, her fingers slipping from the rail, and slowly tipped towards the murky water below. Her arms flailed instinctively. She put her legs together and crossed her ankles.
She seemed to be falling both very fast and in slow motion at the same time. The wind rushed by her ears and blew her skirt up immodestly. At the same time, she was aware of everything. She saw the clouds scooting past the half full moon, the ripples in the water rushing up to meet her, and even a bat snagging bugs from the air before her.
In several long heartbeats, during which her stomach started to creep up into her throat, her fall was interrupted by a flash of blinding pain as her right ankle and calf failed under the intense contact with the water. Normally water is very soft but when an object, such as a girl, hits it going close to 100 miles per hour, the water feels as solid as ice. So much for her plan to end it all painlessly, Cyndi thought in the instant that she disappeared into the dark river.
Another result of going into the water was that her skirt which had been flapping, and her T-shirt with it, instantly were pushed up and bunched under her arms.
Depending on your point of view on such things, this could have been either good or bad. Cyndi did not even notice and thus had no opinion, but Mirielle thought,”Thank God!” She knew that small amounts of air got trapped in the folds of the clothing and would help with buoyancy later.
Next, Cyndi’s mouth failed her. It refused to open and gulp in the foul water so she could at least complete the business of drowning and stop the increasing pain assaulting her from her leg.
Momentum continued to carry Cyndi down into the depths of the river.
She heard an insistent, “Hold on!“ in her head. A piece of her consciousness wondered how she could still hear that whisper under water, but then after everything else, it seemed normal.
Things got worse. Having finally made it to the bottom of the river, she once again got a searing jolt of pain as her injured legs struck something, hard and unyielding, then more than half dazed, she started to float back to the surface.
She was weightless, drifting slowly upward. Lights were flashing inside her eyes but beginning to get dimmer and focusing to a smaller and smaller point. Cyndi knew that she was starting to lose consciousness and thought, “So it will finally end…”
”Fight! Swim!” The voice urged again. “Kick your good leg! Use your arms!”
Cyndi‘s lungs were bursting with the need to gulp in air but her mouth steadfastly refused to take in the river instead. She could taste the foul muddy water through clenched lips. After what seemed an eternity, Cyndi’s head broke through the surface and her lips finally parted to gulp in a huge lungful of fresh air. Despite the smell coming from the river it was the sweetest, freshest air she had ever had.
”Swim! Swim for the shore!” The voice commanded.
Cyndi could only manage a weak flopping of her arms.
”I am sorry,” Mirielle whispered.
”You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I’m the one that jumped. “Cyndi responded weakly.
”Actually, I AM sorry about that. And I am also sorry that you made the same choice that I did. “
”BUT, mostly what I meant was that I am sorry that I let you down,” Mirielle said. ”If I had not interfered with Billie, I could help you get to shore now. “
”What?!?” Cyndi stammered, bubbly, as her mouth dipped below the water. “Like you choose? Interfered with Billie? You weren’t there. What are you talking about? Why do you care? Why can’t I SEE you?”
”First off, I care a lot about you. Why would I be here if I did not? Your mother cares. Lots of people care about you and would be hurt if you died. So just DEAL with that!” Mirielle replied a bit snappishly.
”Secondly, you cannot see me because I was there with you and Billie and I messed up,“ Mirielle continued. “That is what I am apologizing about.”
”I am a Messenger and I can only make myself corporal, which means to make myself flesh to where you can see me, if I use a lot of energy and I did that with Billie. I was not supposed to but I did.”
Cyndi was helplessly confused. Her mind struggled to recall the events earlier in the evening when she and Billie were necking in his car. He had wanted more than she wanted to allow. He had forced himself on her, then suddenly yelled and pulled away accusing HER of hurting HIM of all things. What Cyndi didn’t know was that Billie had heard a low guttural whisper, almost a growl, just before he pulled away from her, “Never without permission!”
”Yes, that was me.” Cyndi admitted. “When he violated you, I made my hand flesh and squeezed hard in a delicate place and he had second thoughts. I just could not watch and do nothing. I could not let him cause you to be with child.”
”So now I have no more energy for a while to help pull you to shore. You’re going to have to do it. “
While Mirielle had been talking, Cyndi’s weak strokes, helped greatly by the eddies at a fortunate bend in the river, guided her to the bank. At Mireille’s urging, Cyndi managed to pull herself through the weeds at the edge of the water and flop panting into the tall grass.
When she could breathe easy enough again to speak, she asked, “What did you mean about making the same choice you did?”
”I too was violated by a boy that I admired. Nathaniel was his name. I was young and naive in the ways of men. He always seemed so polite and gentlemanly, until he was not. It was in the barn behind my father’s house. No one was there to stop him. I became with child and I could not see any way out or any reason to go on so I jumped,“ Mirielle explained. “Now I am a Messenger. I try to help others. “
”You mean that you’re an angel?” Cyndi asked in awe.
”No,” Mirielle answered. “Not like you mean. Angels do not really exist like the stories and movies show them.”
”Probably someone did meet a Messenger once and people confused their story until it became about this holy winged person.” She continued. “A Messenger is supposed to carry a message of love and understanding, but not interfere as I did. I am afraid that is why I have so little energy to turn corporal. I cannot help interfering.”
”You are telling me that I get help from an angel and my angel is just a TRAINEE?” Cyndi blurted out.
”So…not an angel, but yes not fully a Messenger either. Sorry.”
”I jumped from the Brooklyn Bridge a few years after it was completed. I am still working on becoming a proper Messenger. Us Messengers are usually souls who need to atone for mistakes,” Mirielle continued to explain.
Then Mirielle added, “When that Infidel came and urged you to jump, I was not strong enough to get you to stop and think for yourself. I saw it push your foot and tug you to start your fall. They do not have constraints about physically interfering as we do. That is why I could help you get out of the river, since it was not your choice to actually jump.”
”What? Insidell?” Cyndi mumbled.
”Infidel,” Mirielle went on. “They actually call themselves something else but it is a word in an alien tongue and does not translate well. I think Infidel suits them quite well though. They are working against the greater good instead of for it as are we Messengers. Most of them are souls who died badly such as by torture or the poor girls who were killed for witchcraft.”
Cyndi could not think of anything else to say to this flood of information. Her mouth opened and closed but no words came out.
”Right! I think I hear someone up there. I will go see if I can get you some help,“ Mireille said.
Cyndi could feel the air softly caress her cheeks as Mirielle moved away.
Cyndi found a young man walking alone along the sidewalk about 100 yards away. He was clearly not part of the “in” crowd since he was walking alone in the park on a Friday night.
She whispered in his mind, “What was that sound? Better check the river!“
Kevin Dobbs wondered for a moment why he would be thinking such thoughts but then decided that he really should take a look. He couldn’t hear anyone calling but he did seem to remember a sound and someone could be in trouble. He walked closer to the river and thought that, yes, he could see something. He could not tell what, but something.
There was a gap where the reeds on the bank were flattened. There seemed to be a dark shadow there that could not be accounted for by the moonlight.
He moved forward. “Is somebody there?” he called. “Hello?”
Then he saw that there was a body lying there. As he quickly moved closer, he could see that it was a young girl. “Are you all right?” he asked as he rushed the last few feet to try to help.
”My leg,” Cyndi said weakly. “It broke, I think.”
Kevin looked quickly around. The only thing he could think of was to carry the dripping girl to his car. It would just take too long to get help to her.
”I’m going to pick you up. I’ll try not to hurt you the best I can.”
”Go ahead,” Cyndi replied weakly.
Stepping into the grass to get the best angle to lift her without unnecessary pressure on the injured leg, he was headless of the cold water of the river squishing into his shoe. Sliding his arms under Cyndi’s slim frame, he was glad she seemed to weigh almost nothing. He had a ways to go to get to his car. Cindi’s arms circled around Kevin’s shoulders and neck to help support herself.
Cyndi heard the voice in her ear one last time. “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands now. I am leaving now, but will be watching. I am your Messenger now.”
As Kevin carried her up to the sidewalk, he looked at her face with the dripping hair framing it and suddenly realized that he knew this girl.
”Hey, you’re Cyndi. We have a class together.” He had always thought that she was cute and out of his league but at the same time a bit of a sad loner type.
We will leave Cyndi’s story at this point, but her story was far from over.
As you would expect, Kevin took her to the hospital emergency room, where she was treated and recovered. Her family was very relieved that she had been rescued and Cyndi became more involved with her family having realized its importance in her life.
She went on to marry Kevin and had three wonderful children, one of whom grew up to help discover a cure for diabetes. It was good that she had not chosen a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
