The Bridge Part One

The engine turned over with enthusiasm, despite having been putt-putting around the better part of NE Alberta all day in the strong sunny warmth of a late July summer day. 

It was well into the evening hours when John started the car, put her into gear, and slowly drove away from the certain confrontation waiting behind a locked door and window in the laundry area of the house, where a stressed out newlywed was angrily sorting her socks on a countertop, which just so happened to be outside the room he was renting and now, consequently, was avoiding.

He was having problems with his roommates, who happened to be his land lords, who happened to be 21 and 22 years-of-age respectfully, and happened to have just gotten married two weeks earlier.

They owned the house, there was no disputing that.

 He had been renting a room since the first day of May, watching a very young couple live in a very expensive house they had moved into just a short time before he did try to cope and just deal with all these new changes in their lives.

 Renting a room in the basement of this house of madness was interesting to say the least for John.

 Unrealistic expectations from both rental parties prevented there ever being a happy eye-to-eye on the reality of the living arrangement. Serious financial stress of the roommates/ land lords compounded with just being married and having an outsider dwell periodically in their house would often lead to terrible confrontations for John from his angry-at-everything-but-can't-show-this-attitude-outside-their-house roommates/land lords.

John was a cub reporter, two years into his degree in journalism, working for the first paper that would hire him, which happened to be the Bonnyville Nouvelle, located in the middle of exactly nowhere for a young social city dweller to play in.

The driveway of the young couple’s house was long and winding, bordered by large trees planted to help break strong winds from intruding on delicate agriculture and restful living areas, all with the bonus of blocking out nearly all the natural light of the sky. Despite the cloudless night, and the stars being those of the country sky, only about 15 per cent of the stars were on display, making it a dark ride. Factor in the mood John was feeling, and it was a very dark ride indeed.

Coming up to the end of the driveway, which backed onto an old country road, John slowed to look for traffic and wildlife; especially wildlife.

‘The Bridge,’ he thought, as he accelerated into a left turn, forcing his little 2.4l engine to rev a little extra as he tried to get his car to bite into the loose rock road. He needed something to do. It was maybe 10pm, and he wasn't due at the office until 10 a.m. the next morning.

Shaking his head at the silliness and unproductively of the situation thrust upon him, John turned up the volume, bumping his little 10” sub, causing the rear-view mirror to shake.

Accepting the fact he would not be typing up any of the interviews tonight, the reasoning to relax and chill was the only logical path to follow. And with a silent smirk, and a shrug of the shoulders in spirit, he tried to leave the darkness of his living situation back in the shadows of the trees.

There was a break in the darkness ahead, causing John to look a few hundred metres in front of his car as a Good'ol boy truck raced down the "main road" of the area.

Coming to a rolling stop at the road, John did a quick on-off with his blinker and turned right, acceclerating efficiently enough that he was in 5th gear and cruising within seconds.

With enough speed to ensure no catching up with the Good'ol boys down the way, he followed them down the same country road that would take him over the Beaver River, and eventually onto Bonnyville.

 He wasn’t interested in Bonnyville.

 Not tonight.

Tomorrow, for sure, but tonight the bridge that crosses the river was the sole and lone point of interest.

There were a few good reasons to go there.

The phone reception at the top of the valley leading to the river allowed for clear lonely long distance phone calls on his cell phone to random creatures of the night living in the city whom he called friends.

The other reason was because the area was beautiful, and underneath the bridge there was already a set up  for fires near strategically laid logs around a circle of stones.

A good place to smoke cigarettes too.

John was getting excited about this. He had a place to go now. Dear God, did he seriously feel annoyed, irritated, and frustrated with his roommates/land lords at this current moment of time; in fact all the moments dealing with them leading up to now were certifiably, clinically and completely comically insane.

He smiled as he dropped into third gear, enjoying the open stretch of road that showed just how brilliant the stars that most city dwellers forgot actually were and guided the car around a sudden hill that drifted left and up up up.

He smiled for a few reasons: the first being he loved to shift gears going into hills that were heading in a direction that was not a straight line, good driving; more importantly, however, was because he was nearing the Bridge.

 CJFR 10 Aug 12