The Water Below and the Stars Above
The water below the bridge stood as still as the starry night sky. And as the oppressive glow of society faded in the dead of night, the only illumination along the bridge was the silver moonlight and the reflection of the stars in the water. The man stood at the center of the bridge, gazing at the black mirror of glass, where the moon and the stars shined, hundreds of feet below him. Behind him, the girl watched as he hastily lit a cigarette, watched as he put it to his mouth and puffed out a ring of suffocating smoke. The girl walked to his side and rested her arms on the guardrail, lifting her head to look at the stars in the sky.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she said.
The man looked up. “Who are you?”
“You don’t remember me?” the girl pointed at herself. “We were friends in high school.”
“Oh. It’s nice to see you again,” the man said before redirecting his gaze to the cold depths below. The smoky scent of cigarette ashes wafted through the air.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” said the girl.
“Just started,” said the man.
“What brings you here at this time of day?” the girl asked.
The man continued to stare at the water below the bridge. “Nothing. I just thought this view was quite entrancing.”
“It really is,” said the girl. “Isn’t it beautiful how the hope of the stars is preserved in this mirror of water?”
“Of course,” said the man, staring at the water hundreds of feet below him, where the light of a thousand stars remained trapped under a cold sheet of darkness. He lit another cigarette.
The girl leaned over the railing to observe the man’s face. “How’ve you been?”
“Good.”
“Did you get into your first choice?”
“Yeah.”
“How was it?”
“Okay.”
“Get a girlfriend?”
“Broke up last month.”
The girl sighed. “The springtime of our youth passed by so quickly. I always thought becoming an adult would feel great.”
“That’s funny,” said the man.
“Yeah,” said the girl, “But it’s not all bad is it? I finally got to start that business I was always talking about…”
“Must be nice,” said the man as he glanced at the hopeful face of the girl.
The girl pursed her lips. “What about you? You always talked about writing a novel or whatnot. You said you were after the Pulitzer Prize.”
The man raised his head and stared towards the pitch black horizon. The glow of the moonlight dimmed along the bridge, casting a somber shadow on the man’s visage. “That was just some high school nonsense.”
“The stories you wrote back then were really interesting,” said the girl.
“It was nothing, really,” said the man.
“Do you still write?”
“No.”
“I see,” said the girl, turning to see the melancholy expression on the man’s face. “That’s quite unfortunate.”
“I wrote two books about chasing dreams. They were both failures, so I stopped on the third one,” said the man. “Dreams are fleeting, aren’t they?”
The sound of a splash echoed in the distance. The man stared at the reflection of the stars in the water, and watched as one by one, the stars became grotesque and distorted by the ripple of a single rock.
“Did you know I used to like you back then?” said the girl.
The man woke up to meet the girl’s gaze, as calm as the night sky containing the shine of the stars in her eyes. He stood rigid as the ripple of the water stilled and once more the shape of the stars returned to their pure state in the mirror of water.
“Really?” said the man, reorienting his body back towards the horizon. “I would’ve never guessed.”
“It was just a phase,” said the girl. “And you never noticed, so nothing came about it.”
The man rested his arms on the guardrail once again.
“What about me caught your attention?” asked the man.
“I thought your writing was unique, even though a lot of people questioned it. They thought you wouldn’t be able to make it. I found it inspirational, really, the way you decided to chase your dreams even through the opposition,” said the girl.
The man turned away from the dark of night to face the girl. “Is it still inspirational even if they were right in the end?”
“I found it inspirational….” said the girl. “I still find it inspirational.”
The man leaned over the railing and stared at the night sky, where a massive black cloud replaced the light of the shining stars. “Is it still inspirational if I gave up in the end?”
The girl thought about it for a bit. “Then it wouldn’t be inspirational anymore.”
“Then why do you still find it inspirational?”
“Do you still enjoy writing?” asked the girl.
A ray of moonlight pierced through the thick layers of clouds to cast a silver outline on the girl’s face. The man turned away in aversion and returned his attention to the horizon, where streaks of silver moonlight showered his view. He looked down at the water below to find a sheet of silver glittering with the light of the stars before returning his gaze to the girl.
“My parents almost divorced because my mother berated my father for encouraging me to chase my dreams. My girlfriend dumped me after my second novel didn’t sell well,” said the man. “I thought I could make up for everything if my third work made it big, but—”
“But do you still enjoy writing?” asked the girl.
“Is there any point in asking that question?” said the man as he lit another cigarette.
The girl looked at the man, and for a second the man thought he saw himself reflected in the girl’s eyes. Then the girl looked at the water below, then at the stars above.
“It took me three tries to get my business off the floor,” the girl said. “The first time I couldn’t even get the loans. They said a woman didn’t have the ability to build up a business by herself. The second time my partner and I couldn’t see eye-to-eye, so the startup failed and I found myself in heaps of debt. That’s when all my contractors cut off ties with me...”
The man looked up at the girl as she continued talking to the stars.
“The failures you encounter are temporary — they can be recovered — but the regret of leaving the dream behind is eternal,” said the girl, before turning to look at the man. “That was a quote from one of my favorite books. It was about chasing dreams.”
At that moment, silver dewdrops clouded the man’s vision, blurring out the darkness of the night and the water below the bridge. The man hunched over the guardrail. The cigarette fell from his lips and plunged into the water below, dissolving into a shower of fiery red ashes. Along the horizon, the slightest ray of sunlight peeked over the dark expanse of water.
“I reconciled with my partner and we started up the business again. We found new contractors, arranged a plan to pay off our debt,” said the girl. “I love what I’m doing, and because I love my dream I can get back on my feet.”
The girl turned and extended an arm to the man. “So, do you still love writing?”
The man shook as he gazed into the girl’s eyes before grasping her hand and hoisting himself into an upright posture.
“Of…”
“Of course.”
A moment of silence passed as the dead of the night, the silver moonlight and the stars in the sky, were set ablaze by a passionate red glare. And as the break of dawn showered the horizon with new beginnings, the man looked up towards the sky.