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Perrine's Bridge - Written by Joe Whalen.
Sometimes the roaring of the highway over head was obnoxious and distracting but it was a welcome distraction,
a comfort and sometimes like company when he sat in solitary contemplation. He, as in Jack, had found this spot on an exploratory
journey with his friend one day. Neither of them had ever been down this particular road before and on this road they had
found a covered bridge. An old one with an historical marker that told its story and significance. They had stopped their
car in the make-shift gravel parking lot and crossed the bridge.
After they had crossed the bridge, they walked down a rocky decline that lead under the highway overpass that Jack was
sitting under now. That day they had sat there for quite awhile, skipping stones and reading graffiti. Not the artistic
murals that some label "graffiti art", but rather drippy acts of vandalism that mark territory and read "Still...
Ridin... Bitch... 02 03 04 05" on the successive columns of the overpass.
This day Jack sat under the far end, away from the covered bridge and next to the water. If he looked up, he could see
the highway guardrail. He drank coffee, smoked cigarettes and read the newspaper. People were constantly pulling in, fishing
on the opposite bank for twenty minutes at a time and then leaving again. There were two men that were fishing on his side
of the bank and they were there from when he had arrived until he had decided to leave.
Jack finished the paper, took a sip of coffee and stretched his arms, legs and back because they were stiff from sitting
on the concrete bridge footing, reading his paper part of the time and the rest of it he spent wrestling the wind for control
of his paper. Light a cigarette, walk the river bank. He stepped on to some rocks that were sticking above the water line
to take a better look up and down the river.
This river was out of place. It looked like it belonged in the Adirondacks not down state New York. All of Route 213,
the road that brought you to this covered bridge and overpass, and ran a long ways along this river, looked like it had been
transplanted from up north. When he looked down the river to his right he could see the intersection of 213 and Route 32,
which brought you back to town. When he looked down the other way, he could see the covered bridge and then the bend in the
river that stopped him from seeing any further and let it secretly run, he bet, all the way up to the Adirondack Mountains
after 213 veered away from it. The water of the river was muddy and quick, the covered bridge stood prominently in the foreground,
men fished, and the trees on the banks cast their shadows.
This was a good place to sit and think. The traffic constantly ran over head and both ways on 213 across the river directly
in front of him, and the river flowed forever beneath his boots and though his finger tips. This constant movement helps
the mind, Jack thought. In a static, quiet environment one would dwell on a single subject until they are completely exhausted
of it. This can be good sometimes or it can drive a person crazy. Jack didn't need crazy, he needed the constant movement
to keep his mind moving. There was a lot in his head for him to move around and every little bit of help counted.
Jack had been sitting at this place everyday for the past two weeks. He couldn't take the small time hustle and bustle
of the small time college town anymore but he couldn't stand to sit somewhere in silence to be alone with his thoughts either.
When he and his friend had found this place, Jack was immediately drawn to it. It was the boundary between nature and humanity,
between silence and constant activity. This place had a mix of all of those things. He could sit alone and be surrounded
by this environment but without feeling trapped or isolated or overwhelmed or lonely.
For two days in a row he had been sitting on this side of the overpass to read his paper, drink his coffee and to think.
On the first day he sat there, Jack noticed two spiny, red and black caterpillars on a rock just off the river bank completely
surrounded by water. He watched as another was descending from the overpass high over head on a silky, invisible string.
That's where these two must have came from and had had the unfortunate luck of landing on this rock and not being able to
swim off of it. He watched this third one carefully carefully swinging down but Jack threw a rock and cut its thread. The
caterpillar tumbled from the air and landed in the river. It was visible for a moment as it bobbed in the current but then
was swallowed up by a fish.
The second day the caterpillars were still occupying that same little desert island. They had sat and waited overnight
in the same six square inches they had landed on. He watched them as they would crawl to one side, touch the water boundary,
retreat, then touch the water on the other side, and finally stop in the middle of the rock and sit still. Then they started
the ritual over again. He studied these caterpillars for half an hour before he noticed the darkening clouds in the sky.
Above the river bend, the clouds billowed and turned a dark, darker, darkest grey. Pre-black but not black. It reminded
Jack of the day that they had found this spot; his heart sank a little. He didn't know if it was actually the storm closing
in, the smell on the breeze, or what it was exactly that reminded him of that day in comparison to this one. He looked down
at the caterpillars again. If it did storm like it looked like it was going to, the water is going to rise and these caterpillars
were fucked. Good luck, he thought. He looked at the clouds again and had to leave.
He picked up his things and left to meet his friend, Lenny. He cleaned out his pockets at his car and made sure to put
his box cutter back into his glove box. The illusion of protection. Protection from what though? Just in case, that's what.
In case the fisherman got rowdy? No. In case who ever tagged the overpass comes back? Maybe. Shut up.
On his way down 32 back into town, Jack, for no real reason besides idle mind wandering, started to think of the last
time he and Lenny had sat at the third stop off on the road that goes over the mountain into the next town. A modern American
mountain pass. With parking lots for modern convenience but without vending machines. Just like the good old days.
He thought of the time they had gone to this overlook, one that they seldom went to, and found a garbage bag half buried,
torn open and full of bones. Animal bones but still a shock. Not the thing one would want to find on a desolate highway
mountain pass. A mountain pass that is set up like so: a sheer cliff face rising about 20 feet straight up, then the mountain
pass highway, then the parking lot, guard rail and finally a steep rocky decline. You're trapped basically. And there's
no cell phone service either. It's one of those mystical, mysterious cell phone dead zones. And he had found a bag of bones.
A whole garbage bag. Two guys bring a bag of bones down the mountain or bring the police up there to show them, why would
the cops believe them? How would the police know that they didn't kill this whatever and then cover it in dirt and then bring
it in? Serial killers always taunt the police like that, just like it happens on TV. And bored small town cops are apt to
believe every word that comes out a college-aged person. Always. Every word. After kicking through the bag of bones, they
found something like a dog skull and they felt as though they were relived of their civic duty to say something. "See
something/Say something," the post-9/11 mantra but someone dumping poor old dead Sparky on the side of the road hardly
constitutes terrorism. Perhaps heartless, but not likely to be the work of Osama bin Laden.
Or maybe who ever did dump those bones put a dog skull in the bag to throw off whoever would find it? Tricky terrorists.
Or psycho killers. Whoever.
Jack pulled into the pizza place where Lenny was waiting for him. After they had eaten, they made their usual stop;
coffee in the coffee shop. Same old summer night, Lenny had work for his summer class and Jack had reading to do because
he didn't want to sit alone anymore or be bored when Lenny was working. Plus he had to supplement his habit of car watching
through the floor to ceiling windows of the coffee shop.
After coffee and homework, their ritual was to drive around town and talk. At night, Jack just needed to be on the move.
And everything is different at night. You could sit outside and still watch traffic and not be alone but nothing is the same
after the clarity of the sun disappears, sliding down behind the mountains. Plans change, people change. One world goes
away and another shows up. To Jack, though, the night was his and he and Lenny needed to drive through it. Stay moving.
Staying vigilante. And Lenny didn't mind. So, they drove. They drove around the six square mile town touching one town
limit, retreating, then touching the other town limit and then stopping at their favorite bar in the middle of town or just
sitting in a parking lot and talking there to save some gas. Then they started the ritual over again.
"Hey Lenny," Jack said. They were sitting in a parking lot.
"Yeah, man. What's up?"
"Did you see those clouds today? The ones that looked like it was gonna storm like hell?"
"Yeah, why?" Lenny accented 'why' sharply like an accusation. Jack was taken aback.
"I don't know. All day today I kept seeing things that reminded me of other days. I was sitting on 213 and I saw
those clouds and I thought of the day we found that place. I got that text message, to warn me about the storm but then nothing
happened. Just like today, the promise of storm but then nothing. Stuff like that. It was like déjà vu but not really."
"Yeah, Jack. That's weird." Then Lenny put his thumb nail in his mouth and stared off.
"Hey Len, wanna ride again? Let's head up to The Point."
Lenny's face brightened immediately and his disposition shifted. "Fuck yeah. Let's get something to drink first."
They stopped off at the gas station to get their drinks and, as they were paying at the counter, five other college kids
were walking in the door. Four of the five were acting loud and rude. The fifth, a girl, caught Jack's attention. She was
very subdued, even disconnected, and did not seem to want to take part in the revels of her group. She was shorter than most
girls with a little bit longer than shoulder length brown hair, a healthy tan complexion, and dazzling green eyes. She was
wearing jeans, a black tank top, and red low-cut Converse shoes.
"Where the fuck is there beer?" one of the guys shouted even though he was in front of the cooler with all
of the beer in it. Jack and Lenny looked at the cashier and mouthed to him, "Sorry" and "Good Luck."
Jack stopped at the door and looked back at the girl who was standing a little further back from her friends and stealing
glances at him morosely. God was she pretty, he thought. One of her friends demanded her attention and when she turned away,
he turned away too and walked out the door Lenny was holding for him while craning his neck to see what Jack was looking at.
Finally, they broke the six square mile boundary they usually adhered to and drove up to what they called The Point.
It was the first stop off on the mountain pass.
To stand up at The Point and talk felt so liberating. To your back were cliffs and woods and in front of you was a guard
rail, then a steep wooded decline, and then the valley opened up into a magnificent view. Far off to the left were the lights
of town. Rows of bright stationary yellow street lights holding in the white moving head lights of the cars driving down
the streets. When someone drove out towards the mountain, an observer could trace those headlights, or rather those headlights
would trace the journey up up up the mountain.
Besides the town, the sporadic house lights in the bucolic hell that made up the rest of the township outside
of the village proper popped up here and there in the darkness as well as the lights of the residences in the adjacent township.
From up as high as they were, it was humbling to think that at least one person at one of these lights was going through a
similar situation as you were up here except they had no one to talk to and at another, someone was absolutely content. At
another, someone couldn't seem to fall asleep and at another someone slept as soundly as if they had been touched by the gods
and anointed to fulfill a purpose that would require their full nights sleep. Even if this purpose was to get up the next
morning and put baby animals to sleep at the local shelter or to pick up trash on the highway. That's why Jack loved this
place, there was so much going on, or so he could imagine that there was.
They had been there the duration of two cigarettes and had already started their discussion when an SUV had pulled in
right next to their car.
"God damn it," Jack said, "I can't talk when other people are around."
"Yeah, nice place to park too." The rest of the parking lot could hold maybe thirty-some odd cars and they,
the SUV, had to park right next to Lenny's car.
The SUV passengers didn't get out though and they continued their talk with the hulking vehicle sitting there and running.
The orange points of light from cigarette cherries dimmed by the nighttime darkness and tinted windows were the only information
Jack and Lenny could gather about the passengers.
When another car pulled in, the SUV left. This car parked on the other side of the SUV and the SUV backed out and darted
off down the mountain towards town like a rabbit away from a forest fire.
"Smoke a fucking blunt!" was the first thing they heard from any of the passengers of the new car. It was
from a girl. She got out of the back seat of the car and had an open 24 oz./ $0.99 can of Miller Genuine Draft (or MGD to
those in the know) in her hand. It was the same group of kids they had run into at the gas station.
The rest of the kids piled out too. Two guys, the MGD blunt girl, another girl, and then the green-eyed girl, who was
driving. Jack flipped the overhead light on and looked for a moment at the new arrivals. The green-eyed girl was leaning
against the driver side door looking over her shoulder at her friends who were climbing the guard rail, and talking about
cheap beer and marijuana. Then she looked back at him with an expression that told him that she really didn't want to be
there with her friends.
"Damn man, that girl is hot!" Lenny, who was suddenly over Jack's shoulder, interjected.
"Yeah,I know. She doesn't look like she's having a good time, does she?"
"Not really, man. Invite her to come with us. I don't want to talk or even be here with these kids acting like
morons. I take it you probably don't either. You know how the cops are constantly driving by and pulling in, looking for
the kind of shit these kids are doing. She looks like she has something to talk about too."
"Yeah, I don't, and that's true about the cops. She probably wouldn't come with us though. It looks like she's
their driver."
"Oh well. Second overlook?"
"Yeah, man. Let's hit it."
Jack flicked the overhead light back off and Lenny started the car and put it into reverse. Jack kept his eyes on the
girl and, in the glow of the parking lights of Lenny's car, he could see the girl's eyes were on them, on him, on his eyes.
"Lenny, wait."
Her eyes were so warm to him that Jack's hand felt hot as he began to reach for the door handle. Then one of the guys
came running over and stumbled into a hug around the green-eyed driver. He yelled to Jack through his open window, "Hey
man! What's good?"
The girl stumbled as they collided but then caught her balance, gave the guy a sharp elbow to the ribs and said something
low to him that Jack couldn't hear. She looked back embarrassed, putting her hair behind her ear and looking at the ground.
The guy kind of laughed, leaned towards her and said to her in a drunk whisper, "What? I'm being nice!"
Jack's hand went numb and he quickly pulled it away from the handle, the warmth suddenly gone and replaced by pins and
needles, the spell broken. He yelled back, slightly disoriented, "Not too much, bro. Hey, be careful up here, especially
if you're gonna be getting fucked up, then a beat, "Alright, take it easy, man." A fair warning, at least for the
girl's sake.
"Thanks man! Take it easy!" The drunk was just repeating whatever he heard.
"Yeah, later."
They pulled out. Jack looked back and the drunk guy raised his fist, Breakfast Club-style, to punctuate something profound
and he yelled out, "Smoke a fucking blunt!" The girl pushed him like she was very annoyed and they walked over
to where the rest of kids were when Lenny took a curve pretty fast and Jack couldn't see The Point anymore.
They pulled into the second overlook and got out. There was no one there. They resumed their discussion again briefly
but a smell came across on the breeze that put them on guard again. The breeze was the slightest breeze imaginable. The
kind of breeze that feels like a fly crawling across your arm so you know that it's there and it doesn't move any of the trees.
They weren't able to put a finger on what exactly the smell was but it was defiantly the wrong kind of smell, whatever it
was. Immediately next to the parking lot of the stop off was a craggy rock hill with some trees but not many. Something
rustled the brush and a shadow darted from one tree to the next. Not a small shadow either. They stood and stared for a
moment and then ever so quickly and discreetly ran like hell back to the car.
A two minute drive further down the road brought them to the third overlook. This one was long and overlooked a valley
of trees and one or two distant, unobstructed house lights. In the daylight or intense moonlight, the far off Catskill Mountains
outline the horizon with the irregular triangular points at irregular intervals that mountains tend to make.
The time was 1:30am, late, and they still hadn't had their conversation.
"It's like we're being chased from spot to spot by the stupidest shit," Lenny said.
"Yeah, seriously. What the fuck was that shadow at the last overlook? That wasn't stupid, it scared the crap out
of me."
"Me too, man, and that smell... It wasn't like, bad or good or anything. It was just plain weird, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. It smelled uncomfortable. That's the only way I could describe it. Uncomfortable by Calvin Klein
or Estee Lauder. That's how I'd market it."
They laughed, finally at ease again. Lenny leaned against the guardrail sipping his iced tea and Jack leaned against
the hood of Lenny's car sipping his own. A car came zipping around the curve from the direction that they had come from,
the direction of the other overlooks. The headlights of the approaching car illuminated Lenny who had wandered off and was
now standing around the spot on the other side of the guardrail where they had found the bones. Lenny was wearing a black
hooded pullover sweatshirt with a red design on the front, jeans, brown boots and his hair was close cropped. He was a good
few inches shorter than Jack and people always said he looked like a brawler.
The car approached and Jack quickly looked down at himself. A shiny black track jacket with red stripes that ran from
the shoulders down the arms to the wrists, jeans, black boots. I really have no idea what people say about me, Jack thought.
The Jewish congregation on campus always approaches me about prayers and holy days, maybe people say I look like I'm Jewish.
A car pulled into the overlook and parked a good 15 yards from them.
"Damn it," Lenny said, "I can't talk with other people around."
"I know, man. Me either."
The new person sat in his or her car for a minute and then got out and sat on the guardrail. Jack and Lenny both glanced
over at the newcomer but the full moon had been buried in a thick cloud bank that wasn't going anywhere for the moment and
this new person that was sitting on the railing was too far away to be seen in the darkness, even at 15 yards.
Jack and Lenny stood there quietly sipping their drinks and smoking cigarettes until a car drove past. They both glanced
again. It was an old man with a grey beard and button up shirt, wrinkled and half-untucked, and a tie. Casually elegant
despite a slightly disheveled appearance. Jack's first thought, based half on a feeling and half on the looks of him, was
that this old guy was going to commit suicide when they leave. He turned to Lenny to relay this thought, that this old man
was in some sort of trouble and that they should invite him over to talk. Lenny started speaking, in an excited whisper,
before Jack could.
"This guy doesn't feel right, man. What's that thing you talk about when something definitely doesn't belong where
it is? Not like a business man in a biker bar but, like, 'Holy Shit! This is just all wrong'? That hair on the back of my
neck is standing up."
"Karma shock?"
"Yeah!" He almost yelled it out. "Yeah, that's it."
"Yeah, it doesn't make sense for him to be there, but still. I think he might be in trouble. I mean, look at him.
He's covered in stains and why does an old man come to a place like this anyway? It's the middle of nowhere on a road that
takes you to a town that's just east of nowhere, in the middle of the night? It's almost 2am, bro. I'm thinking he might
kill himself if we go."
"I don't know, Jack. I just don't like this. I think we should just go... "
The old man moved and Lenny cut himself off mid-plea. Lenny moved from the guardrail to the hood of his car next to
Jack. Jack was lying down on the hood looking at the sky and Lenny leaned back too, trying to look non-chalant.
Jack stared at the clouds, willing them to move so that they could have some light. The feeling that Lenny had been
talking about was rising in Jack; creeping up his spine like cold water. The clouds, being so cooperative, were as jagged
and dense and stationary as the mountains.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw the old man ambling erratically but with a steady pace first towards them and
behind them. Jack sat up. Lenny didn't. The old man was now standing next to the car, almost leaning on the fender. He
stood there without a word for a good and uncomfortable four beats before Lenny spoke up.
"Hey, how's it going?"
"Goood... " The old man's voice was slow, low and detached. His words were drawn out and didn't finish their
phrases. He just kind of trailed off. The Karma Shock hit Jack like blunt trauma, right then.
"Soooo, what brings you out here tonight?" It had been Jack's turn to speak. He was still hoping for suicide.
This old man had obviously heard them talking about problems and just wanted to talk. That, though, seemed impossible now.
"Ooohh, nothing... " The old man was rocking back and forth on his heels and was playing with something
in his pocket that sounded like keys or change or some other sort of metal on metal. The sound of it echoed out over the
valley, or seemed to. He was now actually leaning on Lenny's fender, between Lenny and the driver's side door and directly
in Lenny's blind spot.
Lenny sat up, grabbed his drink from the guardrail and came back.
"Soooo, what are you into?"
Jack sipped his iced tea and turned slowly to sneak a look at the old man, not wanting to make eye contact. He was staring
intently at Lenny. Suicide is out, Jack thought; maybe he'll try to sell us drugs. I don't even like drugs but that would
be awesome. Please. Nothing weird. Come on drugs.
Lenny stared straight ahead, his brow wrinkled and not wanting to make eye contact either. "Um, I'm not into much."
The old man took a sharp breath that caught in his throat and came back with, "Because I'm into sucking cocks,"
he paused, "What about you?"
Jack felt strangely relieved. This guy was just trolling the highway for random, anonymous sex. Turn him down, he'll
go away and then Lenny and Jack can have a good laugh about it.
Jack and Lenny both answered, "Nah, no thanks," with a disinterested tone. Not the typical reaction of outrage,
nervousness, and/or panic that someone would expect from two straight males being presented with the idea of oral sex from
another man. They didn't seem to budge.
The old man didn't either though. He stayed in Lenny's blind spot and continued to jingle his pocket. Strange, after
someone, in this case two someones, turn down oral sex from you, it would seem customary to, you know, leave.
After an awkward two minutes of jingling, Lenny broke the silence, "So, where do you live?"
"Ooohh, the other side of the mountain,"
"Isn't that, uh, a long drive?" As in go there, now. Please.
"Ooohh, it's about 15 minutes... "
"Right... "
Jingle. Jingle. Jingle.
"So, where you coming from?" Jack didn't mean to sound like a cop but it made him feel a little better when
he realized he did.
"Ooohh, Connecticut... "
"THAT'S a long drive."
"Mmm, yes... It is..."
Jingle. Jingle. Jingle.
"Sooo, how do you propose we get a hold of Bill to work this weekend? You know dumb ass never answers his phone
when it comes time to work. It's like he has ESP when he knows something is up," Lenny was now trying to ignore the
guy.
"Drive through town til we find him."
"Ha ha! Good point."
Jack and Lenny both finished their cigarettes and flicked them into the darkness, making them spiral into simultaneous
explosions as they hit the high grass past the guardrail.
Mmm, whhhoa... Watch out... It's been pretty dry lately... "
"Yep."
Jingle. Jingle. Jingle.
Jingle.
Jingle.
Jingle.
Jingle.
Silence.
The old man suddenly stopped the jingling and Jack and Lenny held their breath, eyeing him discreetly, and waiting.
"Sooo, you sure?"
"Yeah, we're sure. We're good, thanks."
The old man spun on his heel and began to walk to his car.
"Have a good night," Lenny called after him.
"I hope you find what you're looking for," Jack added.
He stopped and looked back at them with wide eyes, tapped the trunk of his car three times with an open hand,
got into his car chuckling, and sped off.
When the car, which turned out to be green, was well away, they both exhaled for the first time in a long time
in an eruption of laughter. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"
"I don't know, man. That guy was creepy though."
"I was hoping he was going to sell us drugs."
Jack laughed, pulling out a cigarette, "I was really pulling for suicidal tendencies, but the way he walked
over without a word... I don't know. I had the feeling it was going to be a kidnapping.
They lit up again.
"You know what I was thinking," Lenny exhaled a big cloud, "was that if we were gonna get blow
jobs, you better go get that girl out of your trunk."
Jack laughed again, the free easy laughter of someone who laughs when he feels as though he just dodged a bullet.
"You know what? I wouldn't be surprised if he did have a girl in his trunk."
"Me either, man. Let's get out of here."
They got into the car and pulled out into the tunnel of darkness created by the car's headlights.
"The reason I was edgy before we came up here was because you kept talking about things reminding you of
other days. It was really freaking me out because I was the same way all day too. It was weird."
Jack nodded and thought about telling Lenny that he was also thinking of the bones at that spot today too. He
didn't have the heart to do it though. That would have been too much, the connection between past and present too close.
They made their way down the mountain, mostly in silence, and when they got to the first overlook, The Point, the beer
and pot kids car was still there but the party seemed to have moved, maybe into the woods, except that all four doors were
open, the music was still blaring, and the interior light was on.
As they took the curve, Jack, still staring at the abandoned party site, saw four, only four, stationary shadows lying
on the ground just out of reach of the interior light that spilled onto the ground through the open doors.
Jack quick looked to Lenny, who seemed oblivious and lost in the drive, and then back to the scene which then disappeared
behind the dark, obstructive trees.
"Umm, Lenny? Did you see that?"
"What? See what?"
Jack told him what he saw.
"No, man, they had to have gone into the woods. Or maybe they were lying down looking at the stars and they're
fucking trashed, that's why the doors and lights were that way."
"Lenny, it's cloudy."
Lenny looked over at Jack and then back at the road. After a couple of minutes Lenny turned the radio off with a deft,
definitive gesture and they drove the rest of the way to town in complete silence, Lenny focused on the drive and Jack staring
out the window chain smoking, and noticing for the first time the way the clouds in the sky were a brilliant orange that bled
through the spaces in the trees.
The next day Jack went back up to the bridge on 213, to his spot under the over pass. He sat down like usual but hadn't
brought anything with him except his cigarettes. The water was still running quick but today it was as clear as he'd even
seen it. He looked up at the interstate and its passengers speeding off to somewhere and then back down to the river bank.
The two caterpillars were still there.
He lifted their open air rock prison out of the water and set it on the bank. The caterpillars sat motionless. Jack
sat there too, for a moment, and thought about the girl with the green eyes as he looked up and down the river again but then
he got up. He could feel that it was time to go.
Written by Joe Whalen 2007.
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