Push

chapter Thirteen

Kelsey

I am standing on Clawsen’s Bridge dressed for work in my khakis and blue polo shirt. David is late, which isn’t like him at all. Despite his rough edges, he’s always both punctual and orderly. Which is perfect, because I’m the exact same way. I suspect he’s late because he got stuck in the line of traffic going to Beth Lanko’s funeral. I think the whole town is there. Well, everyone except for us, that is. I knew Beth, but not well, so we aren’t going to her funeral. Instead, I am on this bridge waiting for David.
David and I met when my family hired him and his dad to rebuild the kitchen in our restaurant. I waitress there and hope that, when he’s ready to retire, my dad will let me take over the business. It’s just a little bistro, but I grew up with it and can’t see myself doing anything else. Plus, when David and I get married and have kids, it means we’ll be able to stay close to my parents.
Thankfully, my mom and dad both think David is a decent guy. They recognize how disciplined he is. They appreciate that he always picks me up on time and brings me back home well before my curfew. He is always courteous and polite, and despite his father’s alcoholism, David seems to have a good grip on where he wants his life to go. David is a methodical, planned thinker, and even though he doesn’t go to church or college, my folks consider him to be a part of our family. But most of all, my mom and dad recognize how important I am to David’s future. They know I am saving him. They know that our family is saving him. They see their acceptance of him as part of the Lord’s work.
What they don’t know, though, are all the details of David’s messed-up past. It explains a lot about him. About his need for discipline. About his need to be in command of his life now that he is an adult. His childhood was completely contradictory to mine. But I can’t tell my mom and dad about it because David made me promise not to.
The important thing is that I know he wants to be with me, and I love him. I’ve told him so many times, but for some reason, I don’t think he believes me. And he never says it back, which my sister says is just a guy thing. But I actually don’t think he’s going to say it at all until I agree to have sex with him.
When he found out that I am saving myself for my wedding night, he told me that he didn’t understand why. That was eight months ago, and we haven’t talked about it since. He never pushes me about it, but sometimes I think that our lack of sex is stopping him from expressing his love for me. And yet here we are, still together—not having sex.
A part of me can’t help but think that we would be closer if we were. The same part of me thinks that maybe we should just do it and get it over with. What if I end up never having it? Never knowing what it’s like. What if something happens to me before I get married? I mean, look at Beth Lanko. There she was, a twenty-five-year-old woman, healthy as can be, and whammo, she dies of a brain aneurysm just like that. You never know when your time is up, and by not having sex, I can’t help but feel that maybe I am missing out on something. But I have so much time. We have so much time. We’re only nineteen years old, for Pete’s sake.
I have even talked to my youth minister about all this, and he says that God’s will is for young people to wait for marriage. He says that premarital sex is a sin, and though I can ask for forgiveness, doing “it” takes the sanctity out of marriage. You can’t get your virginity back, he said. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. So I am pretty sure that I am keeping mine, until I give it to David on our wedding night.
My mind is reeling about why he asked me to come here. He brought me here once before, a few weeks after we met, to show me where some girl from his from high school committed suicide. I went to the Christian Academy, but I remember hearing about her jumping off this bridge the winter of my senior year. The whole town was shattered about it, even though it seemed that no one really even knew her. I guess she didn’t live here that long and had a hard time fitting in. David said he had a biology class with her or something, but that he didn’t know her very well.
My guess is that Beth’s death has triggered something for David, and he wants me to help him reconcile with his past. With his mother’s illness. With his dad’s alcoholism. With all the parts of his life that have gone wrong. David can be very deep sometimes, and when he called to ask me to meet him here, I could hear the edge in his voice.
He is here now, at last, parking his truck against the guard rail at the entrance to the bridge. I can see the seriousness on his face as he walks toward me. He’s got his backpack on, and he’s busy apologizing about the funeral traffic holding him up. We kiss and hold hands and walk together to the middle of the bridge. I can see that he has something on his mind that is distracting him, making him look past me.
He tells me that he sees Beth’s death as a sign—I was right! A sign that life is too short to be anything less than happy. I tell him that I couldn’t agree more. I tell him, again, how much I love him, and for a second, I think that maybe he’s going to say it back. But he doesn’t. Instead, he says that he’s getting tired of hearing me say those words. He says that instead of telling him how much I love him, I need to show him. I don’t understand why he can’t see how much I love him already. Does he think that we need to have sex in order for me to prove my love? Can I not prove it some other way? I ask David what I can do to show him how much I care for him. I’m expecting him to threaten to leave me unless I agree to make love to him right now. I don’t want to lose him over this. There has to be some other way to show him how much I care.
But he doesn’t say sex. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all. Not out loud, anyway. But I can see it in his face. I can see that he is going to leave me if I don’t fix this.
I tell him I am desperate to show him how much I love him, but I don’t know how. What will make you happy? I ask. How can I show you we belong to each other, without having sex?
He scoffs quietly at me, narrows his eyes, and shakes his head in disbelief. Then he tells me that this isn’t about sex. It’s never been about sex, he says calmly. He turns away from me and starts to walk away. My desperation is growing. My heart is screaming at my body to make him stop. To keep him from leaving. He can’t leave me. He can’t. I won’t let him leave me because if he does, it means I failed at saving him. Without me, David will never have the opportunity to become the man I know he can be. He needs me, and I must make him see that. I step forward and catch his arm before he’s out of my reach. What is it, David? I say. What can I do? There has to be something. Anything. I’ll do it. I don’t want you to leave me, David. I want to make you happy. I love you. Let me show you how much.
He takes his backpack off and puts it on the ground. I can see that it’s heavy because of the way he moves. I want you to jump for me, he says. Jump off this bridge and let me save you. Then I will believe that you love me, and I will love you back. If you let me save you, it will save me, he says. And it will make me happier than I’ve ever been. Everything will be all right.
What??? Jump off a bridge? Let you save me? That will make you love me back? But then I see it. I see it very clearly. I see why he is asking me for this. For all the parts of his life that have gone wrong, this can go right. This he can reconcile. This he can control.
I understand now. I’ll do this, and he can “save” me, and we can move on. I will let David resolve all the bad in his life through my decision to do this. I love him, and I want to make everything better. Fine, I say quietly. I’ll do it.
David opens his backpack and removes a length of cord. He ties my hands together behind my back. Then he takes a pair of sandbags out of the backpack and ties them to my feet. I am confused until I realize that he wants to save me completely. He wants to do it without me having any ability to save myself.
I am suddenly struck with the bitter realization that that is the surrender he has asked for. He has asked me to surrender complete control of my life to him. He has asked me to surrender the choice of my own life or death to him. And I have agreed to it. Whether or not he chooses to save me doesn’t matter to him. It is only my surrender that matters. That is what will make him happy. That is how I will show him how much I love him.
This is not right. His want of complete control of whether I live or die is not right. I am afraid now. Afraid that he will make the wrong choice. That he will let me die. I tell him that I changed my mind. That I want him to untie me. I try to step away, but the bags are so heavy. I am yelling at him, telling him let me out of this stupid rope. David, I shout, please, please, untie me. This is so messed up. I don’t want this. I don’t want to do this. Please, untie me. Please. We can find another way.
Because I don’t know what else to do, I drop to my knees and tell him again to let me go. As I kneel at the edge of the bridge, I look up and see that he is smiling. It is the first time I have ever seen him smile. And it is a genuine, face-splitting smile. He is beautiful, and I am sure now that he is not going to save me because he is already happy. He is happy knowing that this moment—this choice—is his.
David moves behind me, and pushes me off the bridge. My feet are the last thing to leave, and as I am tumbling toward the water, I begin to pray. I ask God to forgive me for making my parents suffer. I ask Him to watch over my sister and to help Beth’s parents through this difficult time. I ask Him to forgive David. Please, God. Please, forgive him for this. Amen.