The Girl on the Bridge

“Hey, what’s in the package?” Julie asked as her mother brought in the mail.

“I don’t know,” Violet replied. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”

She strolled into the kitchen and pulled a pair of scissors from the junk drawer, grinning with anticipation as she cut through the many layers of adhesive tape. When the package was finally open, she pulled out a book and frowned.

“What’s this? I didn’t order a book. I hope this isn’t some sort of scam.”

Julie skipped over to take a look. “Oh, Mom,” she gushed, “that’s Olivia Green’s latest book. The Girl on the Bridge is on my summer reading list. I heard it’s fantastic. Pass it over.” She grabbed the book out of her mother’s hands and rifled through the first few pages. When she read the dedication, she gasped. “Mom, look! Olivia dedicated the book to you! She wrote, ‘For Violet Adams, my hero.’ Mom, what did you do?”

Violet took the book back from her daughter and stared at the dedication page. She scratched her head as she mumbled, “Olivia…Olivia…Olivia.” Suddenly, her eyes lit up. “Of course! Olivia was the girl on the bridge all those years ago!” She sat on the couch and hugged the book to her chest. “I always wondered what happened to her. I’m so happy to see she’s done well.”

Julie stood in front of her mother and crossed her arms. “Don’t just sit there, Mom. Tell me what happened.”

Violet shook her head. “It’s really not a big deal. Around twenty years ago, I was on the way to a blind date when I noticed a teenager sitting on the Manhattan Bay Bridge sobbing. I had a bad feeling about it, so I got out of the car to see if she was okay. I ended up driving her to Drink-n-Donuts, and we spent two hours chatting over coffee and chocolate chip muffins.”

Julie’s eyes opened wide. “You spent two hours talking to Olivia Green? That’s so cool!”

Violet grinned, happy to be considered cool by her daughter for any reason. “To make a long story short, once we got our food, Olivia’s problems came pouring out like hot lava. She told me about how she was being bullied at school and how lonely she felt. At first, I wasn’t sure what to do. I mean, I’m not a psychologist or anything, so I just told her about how I’d been depressed in high school too.” She looked down at the floor. “I knew exactly how she felt. Anyway, I promised her it would get better and gave her my phone number in case she wanted to talk. She never called.”

“Holy crap, Mom,” Julie exclaimed. “Olivia’s new book is about teen suicide. I think you might have saved her life. You’re like a real hero.”

“Hero, shmero,” laughed Violet. “All I did that day was buy a girl a cup of coffee.”