Just the other day

We were standing on the bridge, the wind blew pollen in our faces, a car sped by behind us, thrusting hot air onto us, there were still some drops of whiskey at the bottom of the bottle, bright lines trembling on the water, the river stepped out of its usual channel, the bridge was shaking, strong splashing sounds and moaning around the pillars, rattling teeth as all the rubbish hit the steel, everything was in its place, the heat paired up with our thirst, as we left home, we could never go back there, the wind of a truck blows under my shirt, we leave our mark on the night, we step over the rails, our feet in perfect unison, fading paint, silver graffiti, scared look on the face of a cab driver, the lamps by the bridge, signs that were put there for boats, traffic lights, he counts, one-two-three, I bend my knees and jump, but as soon as my feet leave the ground, I know how stupid this whole thing is, the irreversibility of the deed has destroyed the excitement of it, I was contemplating my fall with the leftovers of this faint excitement, I could say I was sober if I hadn’t been drunk, he was falling next to me, under me with his eyes closed, as if we were one person, as if gravity had a greater effect on him, as if ropes were pulling him down, I’m a good swimmer, I know I’m going to survive, I’ll climb out of the water, I’ll make my way home drenched in water and alcohol, I’ll sleep it off and then I’ll call him, mischief, bohemian show-offs, he’s been looking for trouble ever since he was a kid, he likes challenging destiny, I really don’t think he’ll lose this time, and I didn’t get tangled in the rubbish, I didn’t freeze to death, I didn’t whirl down deep, but then when I got home, I couldn’t take it anymore, I hadn’t slept for three days, my friend had a miscarriage, my lover left me, my accomplices had a fight and then it all came crashing down, it was the neighbours who called the ambulance, next day I woke up clinging to an unknown pillow, the prof with the white hair is testing his residents, they’re nodding, the prof is looking at my chart, I don’t understand a word of what they’re saying, they’re probably going over the drug addict-epilepsic-panic attack-depressed versions of my diagnosis and the doctor lingo makes them scary, the nurse is smiling at me, they want hope from me and they know that I want hope from them.