Beyond Reach (24 page)

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” she says with bubbly enthusiasm. “It'll be fun. But you have to wear something cool, okay?”

He frowns. “Cool… like what?”

Olivia presses her lips together, and her forehead furrows. “I'm not sure. But I'll think of something. Trust me.”

“Nothing too weird, okay?”

“Not too weird. But it's got to be retro since I plan on wearing something from the eighties and I want your outfit to go with mine.”

Now Garrett brightens and I think maybe he's going to get into this. And why shouldn't he? Olivia is cute and singing in the band. Talk about a great opportunity for a science geek. Okay, I didn't mean that. But Garrett should be counting his blessings. I just hope he doesn't develop some kind of crush on Olivia because I can't quite imagine her getting serious about him. Then, of course, there's her no-dating-of-non-Christians rule.

As promised, Mom takes me “formal” dress shopping, and after several pathetic stores that seem to specialize in ugly, weird, or sleazy, I tell Mom I want to go to Ross Dress for Less.

“You're kidding?” she says. “You used to hate that place.”

“Well, I hate these places too,” I say as she drives away from the formal wear shop. “Maybe I'll find something funky at Ross. Olivia is going retro. Maybe I carrfind something that's a little wild or off beat, maybe something I can fix up to look different. Plus, it'll be cheap. And all I told Conrad is that I'll be wearing red.”

So we hunt and hunt at Ross, and I finally find a sort of interesting fire engine red dress that's way too big. But we borrow some straight pins from the dressing room lady and play with the dress a little, taking it in, pushing up the sleeves, and then Mom finds a wide shiny belt and some red platform sandals. I think I'm set.

Okay, it's a little flashy, but if Olivia's going for drama, then maybe I can carry it off too. Besides, this is supposed to be fun. It's not like someone's getting married or something.

“You really don't mind altering the dress for me?” I ask Mom as we go home.

“No, I think it'll be an easy fix, and that belt is going to help a lot too.”

“Thanks.” Then I lean back and close my eyes, imagining what fun we'll have on Saturday night. Just normal kids doing normal—

Then here it comes again, a flash of light and suddenly I see a somewhat familiar scene. It's exactly the same bridge as I saw several weeks ago, the one near Kentwick Park. Only this time, it's not cloudy and gray outside. Instead, the sky is clear blue and I don't see anyone on the bridge. I think this is God's way of reassuring me that the original suicide vision and the subsequent ones don't really mean anything. Maybe it's over. Like a big sigh of relief. But in the same instant, I see a guy walking along the bridge again, slowly walking, as if he's afraid he's going to fall,
as if he's afraid of heights.
And then I see his face—clearly—and it's Garrett. No doubt, it's Garrett.

Oh, no! “I slap my hand over my mouth.

“What?” asks Mom, and I can tell I scared her. “What's wrong?”

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “I was just, uh, I remembered something.”

“What?”

“Just homework,” I say, which isn't untrue. “A project I'd almost forgotten about.”

“Oh.”

As soon as we're home, I run upstairs and turn on my computer. And for no explainable reason, except that I feel compelled and it might be a God-thing, I go straight to the suicide website. I don't even feel that surprised to see there is a post from
Gay Guy.

I know this was written by Garrett. I have no doubt. But I don't know what to do about it. I consider calling him right now, but it's getting kind of late. And okay, what if I'm wrong? Or what if the phone call sets off his dad again and puts Garrett in an even worse position? But then again, what if Garrett's in danger right now?

I pause to pray, asking God to guide me, and that's when I remember the vision again. The sky was clear and blue, like it was the middle of the day. I have to trust the vision. I have to trust God. If this is for real, I have at least until tomorrow. Still, I know that I need to pray for Garrett. I need to pray God's protection over him tonight. So I call Olivia and tell her what's up.

Tomorrow we intervene,” I tell her. “We'll find Garrett before first period, and we'll sit him down to talk. We'll stop this thing before it's too late.”

“Right. In the meantime, we pray.”

By morning I feel like I've barely slept. And it would be easy to feel really nervous. Instead I pray. And I'm thankful I didn't have any new dreams. Maybe that means so far, so good.

On the way to school, I call Ebony and leave a message on her voice mail. “I am 99 percent sure that the suicide guy is Garrett. Olivia and I are going to try to talk to him ASAP, but I'm not sure what to do if he doesn't listen. Anyway, I'll be in touch.”

Then we're at school, but we don't see Garrett anywhere. We ask Alex and Conrad, and they haven't seen him either, but then that's not so unusual. It's not like Garrett goes around trying to be seen by everyone.

“I have geometry with him,” says Alex, “in second period.”

“Great,” I say. Tell him we need to talk to him. It's urgent.”

“Yeah,” adds Olivia. “It's about the Sweethearts Ball. We have a real disaster on our hands.”

Alex buys this and promises to give him the message. But Olivia and I decide to take it a step further and agree to meet at the math department after second period. That way we can talk to him sooner,” I say. “In case he gets suspicious after Alex tells him about our ‘disaster.’“

“Sorry,” says Olivia. “I couldn't think of anything else.”

It's okay. And, in a way, it's true. If Garrett goes through with this, you won't have a date.”

She winces. “See ya after second.”

But when we find Alex by the entrance of the math department later, he informs us that Garrett is absent today.

Oh, no. “I turn to Olivia.

“Just what kind of decorating disaster is it anyway?” asks Alex. “Maybe I can help.”

“No, that's okay.” I grab Olivia by the arm. “Can you drive?”

And then we're on our way to Garrett's house. I'm calling him as she drives, but no one is answering. “He might be there,” I say. “Maybe he's just not picking up.”

But when we arrive and beat on the door, there is no answer. We try the side door. Still no answer.

“We need to go to the bridge,” I say as we run back to her car. “And I'm calling Ebony.”

As Olivia speeds to the bridge, I can't help but notice that the sky is clear and blue. Just like in the vision, which I assumed was later in the day. Why did I assume it was afternoon? It could be morning just as easily.

I get Ebony's voice mail again and leave another message, explaining what we're doing, what I think is going on, and where we're headed.

It seems to take forever to reach the bridge, and then we don't know where to park. It's a railway bridge with no direct access unless you're a train. Finally, we park near the boat ramp and start walking toward the bridge.

I don't see anyone around, and there's no car, but then I remember that Garrett doesn't have a car. Doesn't even
have access to one. Gay Guy couldn't use carbon monoxide poisoning since his dad kept the pickup keys from him. My guess is he walked here—it would take a couple of hours from his house.

“Look,” Olivia says in a hushed tone and grabs my arm, pointing to the bridge. And that's when I see him, exactly like my vision, walking slowly, shakily, as if he's very, very scared.

“Garrett,” I whisper. “Please come down.” Of course, he can't hear me. He's too far away.

“What do we do?” asks Olivia.

“Here.” I hand her my cell phone. “Call Ebony. Hit number one on my speed dial. Tell her that he's up there right now and that I'm going up too. Hopefully no trains are coming anytime soon.”

“Oh, Sam.”

“And pray.”

Then I scramble up the side of the graveled hill. I try to be quiet, but I'm afraid the rocks slipping beneath my feet might give me away. Hopefully the sound of the fast-moving river will cover for me. Below the bridge is a mix of rapids and large stones. The water is so shallow that if a person did survive the jump, he would probably be crippled for life.

Soon I'm on top of the bridge, trying to convince myself that heights don't bother me or that this isn't dangerous. Now I'm walking across the bridge, taking one tie at a time, trying to get into a pace, a rhythm, and trying not to look down where I can glimpse white water and
stones between the ties. I think the ties are far enough apart that a person could fall through, although perhaps if you spread your arms, it might keep you from going all the way down. But who can be sure?

My plan is to get close enough to Garrett so we can talk. Somehow I have to get him to trust me, to listen, and to see that this isn't the answer—that there is hope. Most of all, I don't want to scare him. I know that he, like me, is afraid of heights and one quick move… Well, I can't think about that now.

He has stopped walking and is now just standing with his legs straddled, one on each tie, like he's frozen. Maybe scared stiff. I quietly continue toward him, silently begging God to help me, to help us. Finally I'm only about four ties away, and I can't believe he hasn't looked back. He's still frozen, and I have to admit I feel like freezing too. I feel like crying for help. Instead, I take in a steadying breath and quietly say his name.

Of course, this makes him jump, which makes me jump. My heart is pounding like crazy, but I try to remain calm. “It's just me. Sam,” I say in an even voice. I'm close enough to see that his legs are really shaking. It's going to be okay, Garrett.”

He just stands there with his back to me, like he really can't move. And yet he's moving all over. He's shaking so hard that I think he might vibrate himself right off the bridge. Like there may be no way to help him. Then it occurs to me—what if a train came right now? Would it even have time to stop? Don't think about that!

“Garrett,” I say as calmly as I can muster, although I can hear the tremble in my voice. “Is it okay if I walk up closer to you? I'm, uh, I'm kind of scared right now.”

I think he says okay, and so I proceed—with caution. Extreme caution, and I think I might be shaking as much as he is. I reach the place where I'm parallel with him, and then I go ahead and walk right past him, just a couple of ties ahead since I think he might need his space. Or maybe I'm afraid he might grab me and we both might go down.

I attempt to steady myself as I try to think of something to say. “Nice day.” Okay, it's lame but the best I can do under the circumstances.

He doesn't say a word, doesn't even look at me, but his face is so white that it seems all the blood has drained out. Perhaps he is dead already.

“Want to sit down?” I carefully squat and then sit, which actually feels a little safer. I let out a sigh. “Much better.”

But he's still standing, one leg out in front of the other and both legs still shaking like reeds blowing in the wind.

“This is a pretty scary place. Especially if you're afraid of heights.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but he still doesn't look at me.

“Why don't you sit down, Garrett. Give your legs a rest.”

“I can't,” he mutters his eyes still looking down.

Now I stand back up. “Do you want me to help?”

“I don't know.”

“Can I walk toward you?”

He doesn't say anything, but something about his expression makes me think this might be okay. I pray
it's okay. The last thing we need is to panic. I slowly move along the ties until I am standing next to him. “Now I'm going to sit down,” I say as if I am talking to a little kid. “Right here. And then I'll reach for your hand, and you can sit down too. Okay?”

He doesn't answer, but after I sit and reach for his hand, he takes it. His hand is clammy and cold, and after what seems like an hour, he finally sits down and heaves a huge sigh.

“Isn't that better?”

His head is bent down and he's still not talking.

“Garrett, I know that you're gay. And I know your dad is abusive. And I know you want to give up.”