Alone at 90 Foot Read Online Free PDF Page A

they stampeded over the edge and poured onto the bridge. Except me. I was the last. I stood at the foot, barely able to breathe, my heart whacking at my chest. I couldn’t do it. If there was something to see, I didn’t want to see it. I loved your mom, Pam. She was the best. Instead, I followed the fence a hundred feet down the gorge, where I could see them lined up along the bridge. They stretched from one end to the other. And you know what I heard? I heard that piercing shriek of the gulls above me. I heard the splash of rain on the leaves around me. I heard the rush of water falling far, far below me. But not a sound came from that still bridge. Not the creak of a cable. Not a single word spoken. Only terrified silence. What I saw was a row of small frightened faces strung across the canyon. Looking into the gorge that swallowed your mother. And I guess that’s why nobody knew what to say to you, Pam.

FOUR
    My dad has a new girlfriend. Her name is Jennifer Reid and she’s some kind of big banker. She wears these technical suits and this real severe hair. Aside from those things, there’s got to be something majorly wrong with her. The thing is, she’s forty years old and has never been married. That’s an entire lifetime without any takers. Whatever her problem is, it’s not glaring. But I’m going to find out.
    This is Dad’s third attempt. The first one was sort of nondescript, just this lady he met through work. I didn’t see much of her. I think he was embarrassed to bring her home. As far as I couldfigure, it only lasted a few weeks.
    The second, he was lucky to get away from alive. First of all, Lynette was, like, twenty-eight, a tad young for Dad. I think she worked in a casino. Her favorite drink was whiskey and soda. She dressed like a, well, I’m not going to say it, but you get the picture. And she had this annoying kid. He ran in circles around the coffee table until I thought Dad would spaz. In other words, she didn’t have a thing in common with Mom.
    The thing is, and Dad didn’t get this — although I did right away and I told him so — she didn’t want to be a partner, she wanted to be treated like his special little girl. A position, I might add, that was already taken. How did I know? Just let me say, women know women.
    She wanted to go to this restaurant and that movie. She only drank this type of wine and hated Dad’s chili. She couldn’t stand his blues CDs and refused to walk if they could drive. She whined and whined and whined, and being in sort of a vulnerable mood, Dad always gave in.
    Now, Dad has, or I should say, had, this little MG sports car which had been in our garage all of my life. At least once a week, he’d be out there in the garage, whistling away, while he just puttered around, polishing it. On sunny days he’d take Mom or me for rides along lower Marine Drive. With abig smile on his face, and the smell of the sea in our hair, we’d swing through the forest, past the glittering ships until we reached Horseshoe Bay. Then we’d eat fish and chips at Troll’s while we watched the ferries come in.
    Mom never drove the MG. Once, when Dad was away, I suggested we take it out. She said she’d rather not. She said it wasn’t that she didn’t want to drive it, or, for that matter, that Dad didn’t want her to drive it, but because it was Dad’s and there were very few things that he could call his own. This would always be one of them.
    Like I said, Lynette didn’t think the same as Mom. The day she creamed it, all she was going to do was zip around the corner for some cigarettes. Five minutes at the most. Maybe ten. Until that point, Dad had nicely refused her. Yeah, she had her own car with her, but she just really wanted to give it a try. Please, please, please?
    I saw Dad’s face twitch with doubt. “Alright,” he finally said in this tired voice he uses