The Bridge Home

by Padma Venkatraman

you could stretch time out when we needed it, so that a moment felt endless. So the taste of half an orange could last and last.

He’d called me akka, older sister. He’d made me family.

Even half empty, my sack was heavier than anything I’d carried before. But with you humming softly as you put away your beads and our two new friends beaming at me like my sack was filled with precious gems, I shouldered my burden without complaint, my back straight, my steps light.

stabbed me that even I expected too little of you.

Even though I liked seeing you feel happy and valued, my stomach gave a tiny lurch as you and Arul smiled at each other. Until now, it had been just the two of us.

Disgusting though the work had been, we finally had money all our own. Our money. I rubbed the notes between my fingers, as though they were fine silk. If we’d been rich, I’d have held on to them forever, just so I’d remember the feeling of freedom they’d given me.

The next morning, you took off down the far side of the bridge as we prepared for work. “No, Rukku,” I said. “We have to go to the Himalayas, and they’re this way.” You crossed your arms over your chest and stood where you were.

“Life isn’t a competition.”

You handed over the money. I’d never seen you stand so tall before. That was something. No. That was everything.

“You set it free, Rukku,” I cut him short. “Now it can go anywhere it feels like. That was really nice of you.”

“There’s enough to worry about every day without worrying about tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t have if I’d known they’d all be taken. But, soon enough, I’ll meet them again in heaven.” He spoke with complete conviction. And I realized that by holding on to his beliefs, he was holding on to his family. He was so sure he’d be reunited with them when he died that he didn’t care how long he lived.

But I cared. I cared about him as strongly as if we’d known each other all our lives.

“Did you see the faith on Rukku’s face?” Arul said. “Her soul’s going to heaven, for sure. With mine.”

“We’re not sweet enough to mourn the worms. Someone should.”

“I don’t mind if you have no faith in religion, Viji. Just as long as you have faith in the goodness within yourself.”

You’ll never be back.

Celina Aunty’s words made my dream glimmer again. Faint and far away, but not lost.

I wouldn’t give him fifty, I’d bargain him down, not give more than he asks!

“Just once,” Arul said. “Long enough to show me two things, Viji. That he still loves us. But love doesn’t stop him from living and moving forward, because that’s how life moves.”

“You’ll always have nicer friends,” Arul interrupted. “And nicer family—you’ll always have us.” I couldn’t argue with that. I put an arm around each of them and drew them closer.

Then the two of us just sat there and smiled and smiled at each other.

“You’ve got to start loving yourself like you loved her, like you were able to allow yourself to even love your dad.”

WHEREVER YOU ARE

And I guess how you live matters more than how long you live.