The Bridge and The Boy
Rash was a young man of mixed emotions, mixed explosions, mixed devotions. He was 19 and just beginning to figure out who he was. At that moment in his life, he was neither fish nor fowl…he was not a man but not a boy. Rash was growing into the fullness of who he would carve himself out to be, however, at 19 he was generally testosterone-driven with a desire for speedy cars, excitement and a passion for a young girl. Rash was a lover…. he loved women, and so, when he fell for Gilda he fell hard. Gilda returned Rash’s affection, and they were a couple. This is a typical late-teen romance until it went awry. Until, the punishment outweighed the crime…. something Rash would not understand until many years later. As all or most drama does, it starts with gossip, rumor…talk, talk, talk. Could someone shut the fuck up. But no, someone told Rash that a neighborhood boy just leaned over and kissed Gilda. Rash, with testosterone and adrenaline racing through his body became insulted, infuriated, incensed. Rash wanted to punish the boy. The boy, the same age as Rash, had kissed the girl. The boy did not grope or mistreat the girl. He kissed her. There is no logic when a person sees only red…. only fury…only revenge. And so, it began…. Rash made plans with a buddy to sneak up on the boy one evening and grab him when no one was looking. Rash and his friend Al, grabbed the boy summarily while Rash’s car stood nearby, engine running, trunk open. The boy was thrown in the trunk of the car. Rash and Al drove for miles and miles. They drove until suburbia was gone, until they were in rural country. They found their spot. Rash parked the car on the bridge. The bridge was pitch black, and there were no homes, lights, cars or signs of other human life about. Rash and Al got out of the car. The boy had been silent in the trunk. He did not bang or scream to get out. He laid in the trunk quietly. He knew Rash was Gilda’s boyfriend. The boy knew Rash had a temper. The boy was frightened to death. Rash and Al yanked the boy out of the trunk and threw him on the ground. They kicked him and punched him. There was no need to say why. The boy knew; he took his beating in silence. Satisfied that the boy had been sufficiently beaten, Rash and Al made the boy take off all of his clothes. Rash threw the clothes in the trunk. Nothing was said. Rash and Al got back in the car and left the boy miles and miles and miles from home; the boy had no idea where he was. And Rash’s temper quelled, he was pacified. The police eventually found the boy. The boy said he did not know who had taken him or beat him. He was afraid for his life since he lived near Rash. Nothing ever came of it. Who suffers? Everyone involved. Everyone damaged their karma. A punishment must fit the crime; measure upon measure. Today, Rash tells the story with a bit of a smirk. I know Rash. Deep inside, I think Rash would not do it again if he had the choice. But, it’s not my story, just my conjecture. Be wary of women, be wary of what you cannot see and know that in the end, it all comes back to you anyway.