Out of the Shadows

Out of the Shadows

“Midnight on the bridge. Come alone.” Jock found the note taped to his computer. He laughed and brushed it aside. Mike must have put one of the secretaries up to this. While he finished up the days entries, he thought about his so called buddy. Did he really think I’d fall for something that juvenile? The cute little heart in the corner? I’m passed all of that. So I haven’t had a day off in over a year. I barely have time to sleep anymore. Four jobs just to keep body and soul together. I should be mad at him

~~~~~

He loosened his tie and then tightened it again. The mirror couldn’t tell him which was better. Jock hadn’t been able to make a decision about what to wear. Not that he had much of a wardrobe. Casual for work. Suit and tie for going out. He had two good sweaters for work. The navy one was clean. Even his mother approved of it when he wore it to Sunday dinners. When he put it with his other clean shirt and his red tie, she said he looked ‘well turned out’. He grimaced at the thought ‘There’s my boy and so well turned out. Now straighten your tie.’ At the thought, he loosened his tie. “If she knew what I was about to do, she’d probably send me to my room. Or at least try to.

~~~~~

And now here he was, hiding behind a large bush in the park, the smell of hydrangeas and roses softening the night. Bright lights from the city lit up the park, throwing long shadows across the bridge. Rustling in the dark bushes made him uneasy. The park was often home to the homeless at night. Had he disturbed someone? Mike’s note was a fake, just to see if he’d show up. Jock was about to turn and leave when he heard a sob. And then ~“@#$@#% ~ That mean, stupid *%^&*%^! He’s probably two feet away laughing at me. Well, I’ll show him!” The bushes parted violently, leaves torn from their branches. “You! What are you doing here?!”

“Brenda?! What are you doing here?” Jock was almost whispering. Brenda was not. “I could ask you the same thing, Jock. What are you doing here? I got a message to come here alone at midnight. Well it’s after midnight, there’s no one even on the bridge. That’s why I’m hiding here ~ to see if anyone would even show up on the stupid bridge.” As tough as Brenda sounded, Jock could see tears glistening in her lovely eyes. Softly he said “I got the same note Bren. Look.” He pulled the wrinkled note from his pants pocket.

~~~~~

There wasn’t anything to do in the park after midnight, and only one all night coffee shop open in the city’s central core. It was diner fare and the coffee wasn’t the best, but Jock and Brenda decided that they needed to talk. Over an early morning breakfast of crispy fried eggs and soggy waffles, they plotted and laughed.

“Sometimes a Cupid plays hard to catch

as he always got new couples to match.”

~ Ana Claudia Antunes, author

Author’s note: Another writing exercise <writingexercises.co.uk> 

The exercise: Random dialogue: “Midnight on the bridge. Come alone.” This is the second draft of this story. The first was handwritten and completely stream of consciousness. When I was transcribing it an hour later, there was a sudden and unplanned name change! ‘Sam’ became ‘Jock’. Sam’s story fizzled out. Jock had an entirely different story to tell. I know, always blame it on the characters!