He stared at him, vaguely remembering the cabbie’s face, and then shrugged. “Yeah, that’s exactly where I’m going.”
He got into the back seat, and the guy said, “You must really love that place.”
“Yeah, that’s one way to describe it,” he muttered.
“You’re not suicidal or anything, are you?”
He looked at him in shock. “Why would you even say that?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Just some weird shit going on these days.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that I intended to drive right past you because of the last time, and instead I stopped, without even thinking about it.”
“Yeah,” Simon muttered, “weird shit, indeed.” He sat in the back, as the cab zipped through the next few blocks.
When the cabbie pulled off to the side, he said, “No charge for this one.”
Simon hopped out, and the cab took off like there was a fire burning deep within. And there probably was because Simon was pretty damn sure that poor guy had no idea what he was being called to do either, but there had to be something, some reason why everything was lining up this way.
Just then, Kate called. “I’m confused,” she said, the minute he answered.
“So am I,” he said. “And I can’t really explain it.”
“I get that you’re connected to this person—”
“That’s not the word for it. If I could just—” And then he stopped himself. What was the point of trying to explain when no explanation would work?
“Tell me,” she cried out. “I want to understand.”
There was sincerity in her voice, something he could recognize even through the craziness of his feet moving him forward. “Well, let me tell you. It’s not even necessarily my connection right now, but my feet are moving me in the direction of that bridge, whether I want to go there or not.”
There was a moment of silence. “Your feet?”
“Yes, as in, I can’t turn and go another direction. Believe me. I’ve tried.” His voice sped up as the words tumbled out, and he explained what had happened since he finished work for the day and when he got picked up by the cab. He hesitated, then said, “You wouldn’t believe it, but, just as I was thinking that a taxi would be faster, a taxi pulled up. The driver was the same taxi guy who drove me there the other night,” he said. “He dropped me off at the same place with no charge and sped away as if he were scared.”
“Well, I imagine he probably was,” she said quietly. “I’m coming to you.”
“Yeah, do that,” he said. “Maybe it’ll be easier.” With that, he hung up the phone, and, instead of letting his feet do the walking, he took charge, picked up the pace, and ran as fast as he could toward the same spot. Only as he got on the bridge, his stride strong and sure, his boots clicking on the metal of the bridge, could he see a young woman up at the same spot. He called out instinctively, “Mali.”
She turned and looked at him in shock, then bolted. This time he didn’t hesitate, and he ran as fast as he could, trying to catch her. But she had just that much of a head start. When he got to the far side of the bridge, he was winded, and he saw that she was slowing down too.
She stopped, then turned and looked at him. “Why are you following me?” she asked, her voice broken, and tears streaming down her face.
He stopped, as she reached for the railing at the bridge.
“I want to help you,” he cried out. “I don’t want you to jump.”
She stared at him. “How did you know I would jump?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t really answer that, but please, please don’t jump.”
“You don’t understand,” she said brokenly.
“Yes, I do,” he said. “I understand. I understand a lot.”
“No, you can’t. Nobody can,” she said, crying hard. She looked at him suspiciously. “How did you know my name?”