An Afternoon on the Deception Pass Bridge: Gus Stevens

Photo by Gus Stevens

He knew the irrationality of the thought almost instantly but that couldn't erase his desire to run into the middle of the road. Somehow he thought he'd feel safer standing between the yellow lines than here next to the railing. He immediately rebuked himself, called himself a child, and straightened his spine against his cowardice. It was a long drop, but he was sure of foot, and there was only a gentle wind that afternoon. Still, when the cane-wielding grandmother plodded up to him, he bent his legs into a quarter squat in order to lower his center of gravity and squeezed the railing with a fresh and fanatical grip. He managed only a weak smile as she passed.

As the wave of adrenaline swept through him, his knees began to quiver which only invigorated his self-hatred. His body was a traitor; in the very act of steeling itself for combat with the geriatric, it weakened his footing. If there'd not been a crowd of camera-toting sightseers he probably would have crumpled to the ground and crawled the rest of the way across the bridge.

Again, he considered walking in the center lanes with the cars but his reason knew better; he was much more likely to be struck by a driver distracted by the beautiful view than he was likely to tip over the pedestrian railing. Still he trusted his ability to dodge the oncoming vehicles more than he currently trusted the small flock of nine year-olds who approached from the opposite direction. He despised them for swinging their arms so recklessly, for their disregard of his clear mortal danger, and for their intolerably happy and fearless grins. If push had come to shove, he would not have spared them because of their youth. He was relieved when they passed as harmlessly as grandma had before.

It took several moments for him to muster the courage necessary to complete his walk across the bridge. He'd been pretending to enjoy the view so as not to look so conspicuously paralyzed but now he was even more conscious of the distance to the water's surface below. After a final round of self-ridicule, "You are a grown man for God's sake," he finally stepped out toward the opposite landing. Unfortunately, his exaggerated step only half concealed his terror under a thin veil of bravado; his left hand never lifted from the railing. This created the odd impression among several onlookers that this young man might, in fact, be a veteran acclimating himself to a new prosthetic leg, but no, he was just a coward.