The Lifeline

"The bridge was our lifeline to the other side."

I walk into the washroom hoping to escape the loudness of everyone else. I lock the door behind me. The the floor is dirty and covered with garbage and caked mud

from numerous imprints of shoes. As I sink onto the tiles my stomach begins to ache and my slaiva collects in my throat.

Keep yourself together.

I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying…I can’t.

Before I can stop myself reflexes take over and I lower my head to the side and my stomach contents escape.

You are such a wuss. Cant even keep your food down.

I crawl over to the sink and as I rise I see myself. My face covered in sweat and dirt. My eyes too blue show fear. I turn the faucets on and watch as water begins to

spray out. Clean, fresh, sweet tasking water. I wait till the sink is full and dunk my head in. I open my eyes and try to look underwater. After 30 second I cant help

myself and lift my head up gasping and choking for air.

How did this happen to me? How did I end up in this place?

I wash my hand and turn the water off. The sudden silence echoes through the walls. I don’t want to leave this washroom. I cannot. Instead I walk over to one of

the bathroom stalls and sit on the toilet. The stalls are small and I don’t feel so much pressure inside. The world is somewhere out there but as long as I stay in this

small enclosed space I don’t have to take responsibility, I don’t have to deal with it. After all procratination is what a teenager is famous for. I look up from the floor

and notice writings on the door of the stalls. Many people have been here before each leaving their mark on this stall. I begin to read.

Norah for Fellatio call 6-5-7-3 ….

I wonder if Norah knew about this. Did she write it herself? Does she need other people to make herself seem important, does she need validation? Would she offer

something other than what her advertisment says? Maybe she’s lonely and needs someone who will take her seriously or maybe she just wants to be noticed to

leave her mark on the world so atleast somewhere out there one person, like myself, will know her name. I take out my phone and slowly dial the numers on the

door. I don’t know when this was written. The number could be long disconnected. There are three rings before a tired voice answeres.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” I reply.

“Who is this?”

“ Um, Matt,” I explain,” Who am I speaking to?”

“Norah.,“she says, her voice tired.

“Oh,”I say slowly.

“Look, do you know what time it is?” she asks her voice growing impatent.

“No not really. I lsot track of time a while back.”

“What do you want?’

“ Wothing. I just say your number in a bathroom stall and I decided to call you,” I said knowing that I must sound stupid.

“ Where are you now?”

“ In that bathroom stall.”

“Really? And what does it say about me in that bathroom stall of yours?” she asks and I can sense she is smiling on the other line.

“Doesn’t matter,”

“So how did you end up in the bathroom stall with my name on it?”she asks. She sounds interested and her voice sounds move awake.

“It’s a long and unpleasant story,” I reply trying not to sound like a coward.

“Hmm cause its 1 in the morning and I have to leave for work in 8 hours and since you already woke me up I think I might have a long time to spare,” she says and

once again im wondering if she’s smiling.

“Alright, but it is long,”

“Start from the beginning. We have the night for ourselves,” she says.

I begin to tell my story and once I am finished the line is quiet.

“Hello?” I ask desperately. I have spent these last hours speaking to a total stranger but now that everything is out in the open I cant help but think maybe I

needed her more than she needed me tonight.

“Hello?” I ask again wondering if I should just hang up. This night has been a mistake.

“Yeah, im still here,” she suddenly says.

I’m relieved. I didn’t know how much I was hoping she was still on the line until I heard her voice. She hadn’t given up on me. Maybe I could get through this and if

not I know I have tried.

“That is a very awful story. I’m sorry this night turned out to be so horrible for you,” she says.

“Don’t worry about it. Tell me something about your now,” I say and hope she will.

“Hmm well I don’t know if I have something that can compete with sitting in a dirty washroom stall with a hangover while talking to a girl you called from a nimber on

a washroom stall but I think might be able to think of something,” she says and her voice sound cheerful.

My hearbeat quickens and I patiently wait for her to speak. To hear her voice on the other end of this cable.

“ My dog saved my life once,” she finally said.

“How?”

“Well you might not believe me but I’ll tell you the story anyway,” she sighed and continued,” It was a couple of years ago. I walk walking down the street to my

house when all of the sudden these steps formed in front of me. A staircase to the moon. It was strange. I should have felt scared, I mean something like that

doesn’t happen everyday, but instead I felt strangely at peace as I stared up towards the moon. It was as if I was hypsnotized. I began to go up, step by step. It

seemed like the perfect solution. Leave this world for another more beautiful. I wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. I was on the fourth step when out

of no where my dog, Alexander, came running down the streep barking; breaking me out of my trance. He grabbed my pant leg and pulled me down. If it wasn’t for

him I might have climbed up those steps tomward the moon. I might not have ever come back. Alexander, he is so old and yet I cannot bring myself to put him down.

I have grown up with him. I got him when he was just a tiny puppy as big as my palm. It’s the time that I spent with my Alexander that makes him so important.

After all I become responsible for what I’ve tamed. I’m responsible for my Alexander”her voice becomes lower and lower until I have to strain my ears to hear what

she is saying. It is almost as if its only meant for her but she knows im listening and wants to make sure I hear every single word. I know why she loves that dog so

much that she cant put him down. Its because when he is gone and those stairs apeear again one night, Alexander wont be there. There will be no one who loves

her enough to stop her from climbing them. We become quiet and the silence hangs in the air. Each trying to figure out the other. I have lots track of time and when

I look up at the washroom clock I am astonished to see that is is almost morning.

I don’t know what Norah looks like but I have told her more in 8 hours than I have told anyone in my whole life. She knows me better than any of the people I

surround myself with. She has changed me more in these few hours than I have done for 17 years. She seems very uncertain about herself like she thinks she is

insignificant. To anyone else who doesn’t know her, she might be but to me she is everything. She is my lifeline. I wonder if I have made some small effect on her

life. I want to speak, to talk to her again, anything to hear her voice but I’m to scared. I don’t hang up the phone; I wait for her to say something because I know

shes there… there breathing on the other side. She makes the choice for both of us as I finally hear her breath catch and her voice strain to reach a tone only to

come out as a whisper.

“Where are you?” she asks

“Ginger’s Bar,” I reply

“ Don’t move, I’m coming for you.”