chapter
23
The only other time I’d felt fear like this was when I’d held my dear Elizabeth’s hand and watched her take her last breath. I was mortified at the sight of my grandson teetering on the bridge, overlooking Highway 59. Thankfully, they’d stopped traffic below so there were no cars. I’d had to take back streets to get here and left my truck illegally parked in someone’s driveway.
The firemen had set up a trampoline under the bridge, I guess to catch him if he fell. I wanted Jeremiah to see me, because maybe I could get through to him.
“Dad! Thank God you’re here,” Charlie said when I approached the scene. Though they’d been near Jeremiah when I first saw them on the news, they were now standing behind some police tape about a hundred feet away.
Britt was a nervous wreck, sobbing and moaning, “My boy, someone save my boy.”
I ignored her as I turned to Charlie.
“What happened?”
“We were fighting as we were headed to pick up Paige, and the next thing I knew, he jumped out the car at the stoplight,” Charlie said. “Now, the cops won’t even let me try to talk to him.”
“My boy . . . My boy . . .”
I wanted to tell Britt that she was just making everything worse, but I kept my focus on Charlie.
“What did you say to him?”
“How do you figure it was me?” Charlie asked, then another police car sped up on the scene. “Can you believe this mess Jeremiah has gotten us into?” Charlie barked. “It’s all on the news. This is just ridiculous.”
I wanted to shake some sense into my son, get him to focus on the real issue at hand, but he’d have to wait.
“Please, may I get through?” I asked the police officer standing in front of the yellow tape.
“No, sir. No one can go in yet,” the officer said.
“I’m his grandfather. I may be able to talk to him,” I pleaded.
The cop looked over at another officer who was looking our way. The other officer nodded, and the cop in front of the tape stepped aside to let me through.
I took measured steps toward the wire fence. Jeremiah had his fingers intertwined in the fence from the other side as he stood on the tiny edge of the bridge, facing away from me. One wrong move and he would plummet thirty feet.
“Jeremiah, what are you doing?” I gently said.
Tears were streaming down my grandson’s face, and my heart dropped as he looked at me but didn’t say anything.
“Son, talk to me,” I said.
He didn’t reply, just continued crying. Finally, he said, “I can’t take it anymore, Grandpa.”
“I know.” I nodded. “I know firsthand how hard it is for you.”
I took a step closer, then motioned to the officers nearby to let me do this as they moved in like they were about to stop me. Thankfully, they backed down.
“No, you don’t know what I’m going through,” Jeremiah said. “I’m bullied at home. I’m bullied at school, and I’m just sick of it. I’m tired of living.”
“I know, son. Me too. I was sick of living, too.”
“Huh?” he said, looking back at me in confusion.
I got right up on the fence and was able to touch his hands through the wires.
“I know you might not be able to understand, but just a few minutes ago, I was about to do what you’re doing. Seeing you in distress saved me.”
Confusion spread across his face. “You were about to jump off a bridge?”
“No, but I was about to take my own life.”
His eyes widened in horror. Then, he said, “You’re just saying that.”
I shook my head. “Have you ever known me to lie?”
He thought for a moment, then said, “No.”
“You have been calling me, right?” I continued.
“Yes, you haven’t been answering.”
“Just a few hours ago, I was where you are, despondent. I felt like life wasn’t worth living. And I was prepared to do something about it. I was prepared to die.”
“You were really going to leave us?” Jeremiah asked.
I nodded in shame. “I just wasn’t happy. I wanted to die. But driving here in a panic, I thought about you leaving me and I realized all the people I’d hurt if had done that.” I fought back my tears. “I’m going to be real hurt if you leave me, Jeremiah.”
At that point a fireman eased up on the side of me. He had a long, thick rope in his hands. We exchanged unspoken words. “Can this nice fireman throw the rope over and pull you to safety?” I asked.
Jeremiah looked at me, then over at his parents, then at the crowd that had gathered.
“Grandpa, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just let him toss the rope over so he can pull you to safety.”
Jeremiah looked back down onto the freeway and fear finally crept up on his face. He gripped the fence tighter and said, “Okay.”
I nodded for the fireman to step up. I kept caressing Jeremiah’s fingers through the fence. “You know, I was sad because I didn’t have your grandmother, but I have you. And you have me.”
The firefighter tossed the rope over.
“What’s your name, son?” the firefighter said.
“Jeremiah.”
“Okay, Jeremiah, wrap the rope around your waist and tie it into a knot. Then I want you to climb back over. I’ll pull the rope so you don’t have to worry about falling.”
Jeremiah nodded as the firefighter threw the rope over the fence. My grandson kept one hand clutched onto the fence and took the other and grabbed the rope.
“Wrap it around your waist, son,” the firefighter said.
Jeremiah did as he said, then the firefighter reached through the fence and grabbed the rope.
“Okay, so I have you now. I need to you tie a knot,” the firefighter said. “You gotta use both hands, but don’t worry. I’m super strong so I’m not going to let this rope go.”
Jeremiah paused, then slowly released his grip on the fence. Once he was confident the fireman wouldn’t let go, he tied the rope in a double knot around his waist.
“Good job,” the firefighter said.
“Jeremiah, we love you,” I said. “Don’t you worry about—”
Before I could finish, the fireman reached over, grabbed him, and pulled him to safety.
The crowd that had gathered broke out cheering and crying. I rushed to my grandson, took him in my arms, and sobbed with them.
Britt came rushing over, Charlie by her side. “Oh, Jeremiah, why would you do something like that?” she said, smothering him with kisses as he embraced her.
I could tell Charlie wanted to read him the riot act, but I shook my head in silent retribution. Thankfully, for once in his life, my son listened. He hugged Jeremiah. “You gave me such a scare.”
Jeremiah didn’t hug him back, and that made my heart sad. Watching my son and grandson, and their damaged relationship, I knew—this was the reason God didn’t let me go. This was why I’d stopped to look over the Bible, why the housekeeper interrupted me. To buy time for me to see the news.
Everything happens for a reason, I heard Elizabeth’s voice say. Every time I’d get upset because something didn’t pan out the way I wanted, she would remind me of that. And now, I knew the reason I hadn’t pulled the trigger. I couldn’t leave this earth until I’d helped the two men who needed me the most.
Jeremiah tore himself away from his parents and wrapped his arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Grandpa. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Shhh, it’s okay,” I said, stroking his back.
The paramedics came over and examined Jeremiah. Two police officers talked to Charlie and Britt; the news media shouted out requests for interviews. I saw Yvonne’s friend Savannah trying to get to us. But I stayed close to Jeremiah’s side and kept them all at bay. We wouldn’t be exploiting his pain. I had a new purpose—protect my grandson at any cost.
+ + +
The day’s events had worn on all of us. We were back at Charlie’s house, trying to decompress. I knew Charlie wanted me to leave—he’d told me as much on several occasions—but I wasn’t going to until I knew Jeremiah was all right.
We’d just eaten dinner when Charlie cleared the table, sat back down, and set his gaze on his son.
“Jeremiah, we gotta talk about what happened today. Why would you do something like that?” he said.
I was grateful that he wasn’t going ballistic, so I didn’t interject.
Britt sat behind Charlie, looking like the day’s events had sucked all of the life out of her and for the first time I realized that her instability made her incapable of supporting her son.
Jeremiah just shrugged, refusing to look his father in the eye.
“You scared a lot of people.” He pointed to Britt. “Your mother is still shaking.”
“That was so selfish, you little brat,” Paige said. Someone had sent her something on social media, and all she was worried about was how everyone was going to think their “family was nutty.”
Jeremiah winced, and I realized that Paige had picked up her father’s emotionally abusive ways. And Britt, in her fragile emotional state, was no help to any of them.
“You know what?” I said, standing. “I think Jeremiah should come take a ride with me.”
“Dad, we’re talking to Jeremiah,” Charlie said.
“No, you’re talking at Jeremiah. And after the day he had, that’s not what he needs right now.”
Charlie slammed his palm on the table, causing us all to jump. “That’s his problem. You and his mama are always babying him, making him into a pansy. I’m not raising a weak boy.”
“Too late for that,” Paige snarled.
“Suicide is for the weak, son. You need to man up—”
“Stop it!” I yelled. “Then count me as weak, too!”
Charlie looked at me in confusion, but I ignored him as I turned to Jeremiah.
“Now do you see why I’m tired?” my grandson said before I could speak. “It’s like this every day. I hate it here. I hate them. I hate life. I would be better off dead!”
Britt sobbed. The words caught Charlie off guard, and he stared at his son in shock.
“Let’s go, Jeremiah.” This time I didn’t wait for Charlie to interject. I grabbed my grandson’s hand and led him out. I had to go back to the hotel to get my things and check out anyway.
This was a perfect time to get my grandson out of that toxic environment and come up with a plan to remove him permanently.