They had a jumpers' pool at a bar I used to frequent a hundred years ago when my first wife and I were still married. She took the train into
By the way, the jumps I'm talking about were almost always fatal. The bridge was a big bridge. It was a long drop to the water.
I actually know (knew?) someone who jumped off that bridge, but I didn't have a wager on when she jumped. By then my wife and I had parted company.
Ah, yes. Those were the fun days! Our house was the party capital of the
The woman who killed herself was a doctor's wife. Both of them attended some of our parties. Nice people. The woman was smart but not pretty. The doctor was a tall, handsome man who seemed straight-laced, but I guess he wasn't, because it was rumored that that was why his wife killed herself: he was going to leave her for another woman.
My marriage did not go well, either. My wife found out about my dalliance, and we divorced. My second marriage ended in divorce, as well, and this time the tables were turned: my Mrs. left me for another man. She got a better offer, I told my friends.
Funny. Being odd one out doesn't seem tragic until it happens to you. Maybe I learned something the last time: how it feels to fall.
And fall and fall and fall.
JACK SWENSON, whose work has appeared in The Shine Journal before, is a teacher, student, reader, scribbler, husband, and self described cat herder. He also teaches a class of wild and crazy kids at a senior center in Fremont, CA. where he lives in serene retirement.
“Thoughts about "the old days" motivated this story as well as a desire to tinker with craft issues, i.e., resolution.”
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