THE BRIDGE

Sharon peered over her dashboard at the bridge in front of her. She had pulled over to the side of the road to get her thoughts together.
“Why do you go through this every time you have to cross a bridge?” Sharon mumbled to herself.
Sharon Bean hated bridges more than anything in the world. Ever since she was a child, she had had a deadly fear of bridges. Her two older brothers used to tease her endlessly when they went to the beach or anywhere they might encounter a bridge. She hated it and them for mocking her. She was positive later in life in her therapist’s office, that their endless teasing had added to her irrational phobias.
Sharon eased back on to the road as she tried to control her breathing like her therapist had said to do when faced with this situation. She took deep concentrated breaths as the car drove onto the bridge.
It was a four lane bridge with two lanes going in each direction. She stayed to the outer right lane with her fingers clenched around the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were as white as a black woman could get.
Just as she was focusing her attention on the other side of the bridge and her getting there alive, a huge black pick-up truck with dark tinted windows sped up behind her and started to tailgate.
Sharon glanced in her mirror and no more than she had allowed herself to take her eyes off the road, had the truck sped up to only a few feet from her rear bumper.
“Dammit! What is wrong with people?” The car seemed to be collapsing in around her. She started to sweat and her knuckles got whiter as she cussed and gripped the steering wheel as hard as she could. Her breathing got fast and shallow. She felt nauseated and faint.
Sharon chanced a glance into the rearview mirror. The truck wasn’t there anymore. It had whipped up quickly beside and around her. As the truck pulled back into Sharon’s lane, his fender clipped the front of Sharon’s car. She screamed as the car veered, climbed the guard rail and tilted down.
In the meantime, in the truck, Tom was just realizing he had hit something and started to look around frantically to see what it was. Below, in the water, taillights bobbed as Sharon’s car slowly sank into the river.
Tom slammed on his brakes.
“What the…oh hell! What am I going to do now?”
Oh, crap. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator without even looking around. It was pitch black and he was sure nobody but the lady in the car had seen him. He sped away screeching his tires again.
As he sped away, it finally occurred to him, the lady in the river might need some help. What was he thinking with his drunken mind? He sucked in a harsh breath. What was better, a DUI or a murder rap?
He slammed on his brakes again and the truck came to a sudden halt in the middle of the bridge. Tom slammed the truck into reverse and jammed down the accelerator once more. This time he backed all the way to about three feet from the edge of the bridge. His drunken haze was quickly wearing off.
He jumped out of his truck and ran to the spot where Sharon’s car had gone over the side and looked down into the river. There wasn’t a very far drop but the river was flowing pretty quickly. Still, it had yet to pull Sharon’s car all the way under.
He took a quick look around and, seeing nobody, he kicked off his shoes and jumped feet first down into the river. He wasn’t sure how deep it was so, Tom readied himself for a sudden jolt or a smooth slip in as he hit the water.
He hit the water and was somewhat relieved when his head bobbed back above water but suddenly realized the deeper the river, the harder his job was going to be. He scanned the surface of the river. He had to get that woman and that was the only thought in his still sobering mind.
He headed toward the taillights and saw Sharon inside, completely still. Oh, Jesus. Please don’t let her be dead. AS he swam closer, he realized her eyes were open and she was looking straight ahead almost as if she were still driving. Her window was down and water was starting to rush in. Sharon’s hands were white and almost frozen to the wheel. Treading water, Tom pried them off and pulled her from the car through the window.
They bobbed in the water slowly as Tom and Sharon paddled to the bank of the river. They threw themselves on the shore and lay down on their backs for a few seconds to catch their breath. As they were sitting up, Tom saw red lights and heard fire sirens approaching. He just took a deep breath and struggled to his feet, trying to help Sharon up at the same time.
Sharon looked up at Tom with eyes so sincere they may have belonged to a young child and said “Thank you.”