Iffy Bridge

Jumping and Falling

Photo by Pierre-Alain Picard on Unsplash

Story Number 2 in a a free week of Jimmy Doom’s Roulette Weal brought to you by Detroit History Tours . I’m not necessarily going to set all of them in Detroit, and any Detroiter will know I played this one a little loose with some architcture and names, though some place names are factual. Obviously I hope you love the story wherever you’re from and I hope you

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A figure flickered in Camera Six.

Edward Zyczewski brought C-Six to main screen.

Late night-very late night-cyclist using Murray Bridge as a turnaround.

Eddie Z silently chided himself for letting his heart race. 

He was one shift away from retirement and that played a role. He’d like to get out without incident. 

Camera Six was quietly known by the security team at Isleway Yacht Club as the suicide camera.

Every single year they debated moving the security perimeter to the other side of the bridge, and every single year the same objections were raised; they’d be on city property, the construction would damage Kettle Creek’s wildlife,etc.

Eddie Z said a quick Hail Mary for the four people that had jumped and died during his shifts in 33 years at the club.

Two others had jumped during his shift and lived, plus one skateboarder who fell trying to land a trick.

The Coast Guard Guardies he knew called Murray Bridge “Iffy Bridge,” because the apex wasn’t quite high enough to kill you if you changed your mind halfway down. 

When the skateboarder went, the Coast Guard response boat happened to be about a quarter nautical mile away. 

Kid was lucky, and Eddie Z felt lucky too. Kid would have been the youngest he had lost.

The young security guards called Camera Six Camera Sex.

That happened too.

Eddie did his damndest to not disturb couples that wandered out, especially if they were members who wandered from the club.

But he watched. He had to watch, had to make sure they weren’t part of some lovers pact destined for the depths of the river and the afterlife. 

No twosome had ever jumped Murray Bridge together, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t.

Eddie laughed at himself. 

Another ten hours and twelve minutes and he was officially retired from Isleway, with a lifetime pool pass and two meal vouchers a week.

Eddie knew that when Bob Slakeham retired, a few members had slipped some checks into his retirement cards.

He had gotten some nice Christmas tips over the years, and had invested them wisely, often on tips from members.

The analog clock, in the corner under Camera Four’s monitor seemed to move more slowly tonight.

Eddie thought maybe he didn’t really want to retire.

He looked down at his shiny nameplate on his dark blue uniform.

Edward.

Eddie Z. They liked him here, and truth be told he thought they liked him better than Slakeham. He might get some really nice checks.

He thought about the one Christmas tip he ripped up.

It was generous.

It just came from the wrong guy.

It was the Christmas after he lost his first jumper, nine years into his tenure at the club.

Five days before what would have been his second anniversary.

Lili was a lifeguard, grew up in Delray, learned to swim at the Y. Mom was a waitress at one of the paprikash diners, Dad was a Fort Street drunk. Fell in love with a handsome young security guard…

Eddie looked at his reflection in the window. 

…reasonably attractive young security guard who knew a lot of knock knock jokes and didn’t drink.

They got married in Vegas, seemed to be in love, as far as Eddie could tell.

Lili started getting invited to boat races that spring, wound up being a hostess, whatever that meant, for some Port Huron to Mackinac parties.

Ended up not being Mrs. Edward Zycewski, and shortly thereafter became Mrs.William Karkovice, who had a mansion with a sail out on Dock Fourteen with the rest of the big boats.

Eddie, as hurt as he was, couldn’t blame her, not really.

But he had too much pride to cash her husband’s Christmas tip.

They were cordial, maybe even friendly, and Kark, as they called him at the club, must have been aware that Eddie didn’t cash the Christmas tip because he never offered another.

Eddie did the math in his head.

He had cost himself one hell of a retirement fund for his pride.

Another figure on Camera Six.

Eddie’s heart raced as though he was a rookie security guard the shift after a jumper.

Cyclist. Same one. Must be doing laps on the island.

The analog clock ticked.

The clock was silent, Eddie knew it, but he heard the ticking in his head.

It was probably best he retired.

Kark had died two summers ago, a few years older than Eddie. Eddie sent flowers, and when they had a little moonlight ceremony for Kark at the club, floated a wreath out onto the water, Eddie hugged Lili for the first time in over twenty years.

He popped a stale piece of gum from the desk.

Spearmint? Peppermint? It was so old who could tell.

Eddie walked out of the shed, part way up the bridge. 

It was a truly gorgeous summer night. 

Probably too late for any lovers.

He walked back into the shed and looked at Cameras Twelve through Fourteen. Parking lot.

With this beautiful weather and the season winding down, lots of people would be sleeping on their boats.

He enlarged Twelve. Mr. Gilliniak’s car was there, good thing, he drank way too much, and Connie Bakeman’s Range Rover. Connie always had a younger woman companion, who was always introduced as an employee of hers, stretching the term.

Nothing interesting on Thirteen, the snowbirds who spent every night there during the season.

Eddie brought up Fourteen, and right under the light was Lili’s lime green Benz. It was like she thought the car would be safer there, under the lights, even decades removed from Delray still worried about crime. 

With an exaggerated puff of his cheeks, Eddie spit the stale gum at the small wastepaper basket.

The wad of gum stuck to the edge.

He grabbed his incident notepad and shoved it in his breast pocket next to his nameplate.

Edward.

He opened the security cam link on his phone and clicked on Camera Six,leaving it open on his screen.

Taking the creek edge of the parking lot-a good security guard always walks the perimeter once in a while-he headed north.

After all these years he knew when he would cross into the next camera’s view.

It really didn’t matter. Unless something catastrophic happened no one would watch the tapes that fed into a cloud somewhere. 

By the time he got to Lili’s Benz, there was less than an hour in his last shift.

He pulled out the incident pad and a black Isleway Yacht Club pen.

Lili-

Tomorrow is my last day here.

I’d be honored if you’d stop by the security shed.

Maybe we can walk up on the bridge together

Eddie thought about writing I’ll understand if you can’t. 

He didn’t.

He signed the note EZ and folded it under the widow Karkovice’s windshield wiper.

For any other security guard it was cause for termination.

He was Eddie Z.

He was hoping for one last hug, maybe a kiss.

On his phone he could save the footage from Camera Six, and have one final happy memory of Iffy bridge.

***