“Yeah.”
“You’re not confessing to me, are you?”
Erik lets out a laugh and jabs me in the shoulder, “You’re a comedian.”
With a smug smile, I shrug and say, “I try.”
“No, I’m not confessing. You walked up into my dream and talked me out of jumping. You even brought a cooler of beer and we sat on the railing just drinking.”
“You’re damn right that was a dream. There’s no way you’d catch me sitting on that damn railing!”
We both had to laugh at that. Ever since that day, me and Erik agreed to meet every Sunday around three or four in the afternoon for an hour talking session. And since then, he’s been better.
Erik takes a deep breath to calm the tightness in his chest from laughing. He looks at me and calls me, “Hey?”
“Yeah?”
He slowly extends his hand out to me, “Thank you.”
I grab his hand with a tight grip and shake his hand, “No problem.”
He pats me on the shoulder again and then looks at his wrist watch, “Oh shit, we’ve been here for an hour already. Ready to call it a day?”
I feel like we don’t need these sessions anymore, but we’ll probably figure out something new to do on Sundays. To end today’s session on a positive note, I decide to do something, “Not yet. I think I should make your dream come true.”
“You’re gonna sit on the railing?”
I snicker, “You’re funny. No, I’m gonna buy you that beer over at the bar in the middle of town.”
“It’s happy hour right now.”
“You’re making it sound like that’s a bad thing. I save money. I’ll lead.”
Nodding in agreement, Erik and I head to our cars and start up. I drive off first with him driving a few feet behind me.
— via Daily Prompt: Bridge Bridge
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