Heartbreaker

(Continued from PART TWO of Heartbreaker...)

Breaking hearts

As it seemed Shadow liked Bridget-- recall the magically repaired tape player-- I sometimes let Bridget drive when we both traveled together in Shadowfast.

I guess it'll sound strange, but I just liked having Bridget drive my car. Yes, even after that first time when I'd climbed the walls waiting for her to return. Things had definitely changed between us.

And Bridget liked driving Shadow too. Despite Shadow having no air conditioning, and easily getting as hot as an oven inside when parked for long in the Texas sun. And his awfully rough ride.

Hmm. I guess this was another unusual aspect to Bridget. That she'd like a car as rough and unpolished and downright uncomfortable, as Shadow.

One day we were in Shadow, headed to a somewhat distant spot Bridget insisted I had to see. It was a personal favorite of hers, which she said was unknown even to many of her fellow Texans.

It was a glorious sunny day. I believe we were on a state highway much resembling an interstate in functionality (two separate ribbons of road not far apart from one another, each with its own two lanes for traffic).

The road was straight as an arrow, and very, very long. The land all around was flat as a pancake, consisting mostly of cattle grazing fields.

Only the occasional stink wafting by from a chemical plant miles away marred the tableau. Cattle waste odors also came through from time to time. But the chemical smells were the worst.

I was just enjoying the ride and the view (Bridget was wearing a halter top and short shorts), when a casual turn of my head made me catch sight of something behind us. Something that gave me chills.

It took me a split second and a double-take to fully realize the danger.

I couldn't believe it. It was those damn robbers who'd put Alley and me on a collision course with three tornadoes before! They were in a different car, to be sure. But it was them.

I'd gotten a good look at them at that convenience store. And it hadn't been all that long ago.

They seemed to be approaching us now with murder in their eyes. Behind us, coming up fast in the passing lane to our left.

At the moment, there was almost no traffic on this stretch of road but for us and them: one reason I'd noticed them at all when I did.

Times like this, Shadow's distinctive look was a major drawback. For it made him too easy to remember and recognize again later. Even from a distance. At least in daylight. Night time was another matter entirely.

I could sometimes see signs of a pistol in the hand of the robber on the passenger side. They seemed to mean to drive up along-side us and shoot us.

They'd be coming up on Bridget's side.

I instantly regretted my decision to let Bridget drive that day. I had only one option now.

"Floor it Bridget!"

She instantly recognized the urgency in my voice and complied, and Shadow leaped away from our potential killers.

But when the thieves had switched cars they'd also upgraded in the performance department.

I believe their current car was a fairly new Chevrolet Impala-- or something very much like one. I was less familiar at the time with the makes and models of family sedan type autos than sportier cars or police cars. I didn't see any obvious signs that this was a factory high performance model-- so at least we had that on our side.

Their Impala dropped some behind, but then our lead stopped growing. And slowly but surely began shrinking again. That thing almost certainly had at least a four barrel 350 cubic incher in it-- maybe even a big block.

"Keep it to the floor, Bridget," I urged her. There was no way I could direct Bridget in high speed maneuvers on-the-fly to get us out of this predicament. It'd be near certain death to try it, due to the complexities and rapid pace essential to such things. Our best chance was to see if Shadow could just plain outrun them.

"Why? What's happening?" Bridget asked.

"There's bad guys behind us with guns. I had dealings with them before, and I guess they want revenge."

"Revenge for what?"

"I sort of interfered with them robbing a store."

"Oh."

The speedometer needle was now past 120 mph, and into unmarked territory. But Shadow seemed to be running great so far.

Our pursuit no longer seemed to be gaining as fast as before. They were still drawing nearer, but it was getting ever harder for them to do so.

"Can I slow down yet?" Bridget asked.

"Just keep it to the floor, Bridget," I repeated, wondering how long Shadow could stand running flat out like this. So far he wasn't yet sputtering and coughing as he had when Briggs had pushed us past his limits. But I knew we had to be getting close-- and quick.

It was now all going to come down to brute power, gearing, and endurance. Bad guy Impala versus Shadow. No tricks. No curves. No fancy maneuvers to save us.

I noticed Bridget's steely look of determination as she concentrated on simply keeping our car on a straight and narrow course, as if we were back at the drag strip. Just as I'd instructed her to do then.

I was proud of her.

I hoped we'd live through this.

We were moving at a hellacious velocity now. I knew it couldn't be faster than the time with Briggs, but it sure felt like it. I guess because I wasn't the driver now.

Bridget's arms and legs were trembling, and I could detect a tinge of fear in her expression. But she continued to force her way through the fear and concentrate on driving.

I was starting to shiver too. It was always scary at extreme speeds. Especially when you weren't the one driving.

We'd been tooling along with our windows down, to stay cool. Now though the wind rushing through the car was a flood, making for quite a racket in terms of buffeting and turbulence. And perhaps contributing to our shivering as well-- as things seemed to be a little too cool now. No way Bridget could spare concentration to roll up her window. I was realizing I could do mine though, to greatly reduce the wind roar...but events actually happened too fast for me to get to that. This whole portion of the story took place in something less than a minute or so I think.

Oh, why had I let Bridget drive today? I thought. She hadn't wanted to get into a race to the death: just have a leisurely drive through the country.

Oh damn. The robbers' car was oh so slowly catching up to us, even at this speed. The passenger readying his hand gun.

As Shadow's defenses of poppers and crash bars were currently out-of-action (due to our having rebuilt and repainted their damaged latches and magazines, but not yet reloaded) our options were severely limited.

I had no guns in the car with which to fire upon them. As these days we were frequently visiting Bridget's family and working on Shadow, I'd removed some of his gear so that it'd be out of the way of the repair efforts. Too, my strobes would barely be noticed in the super bright sunshine of the day. Even if I'd replaced the bulbs already. Which I hadn't (they were expensive!).

If I had Bridget stomp on the brakes, I was afraid she'd lose control that way too. And even if she didn't, that'd put the killers ahead of us and able to block our path at will. I was sure we wouldn't get sufficient time for us to switch drivers and get out of firing range.

But an abrupt stop looked to be all we had left, as the killers crept ever nearer. So I opened my mouth to begin preparing Bridget for it as best I could...

Then I heard the shot. At least for a second I thought it was a shot. But then I realized it sounded quite odd for a shot. As the explosion was immediately but very briefly followed by a grinding and rattling noise.

Then my eyes caught up to my ears. As I beheld frenzied metal unleashed from mortal restraints flying through the hood of the Chevrolet on its driver's side, with various debris (including oil) smacking into the windshield too.

The crack up of the other car all happened in less than a second. Nearly faster than the eye could follow.

The Impala's motor blew, the results drastically reduced the driver's visibility, and their acceleration suddenly turned negative. Of course their velocity was still extreme.

The driver inadvertently wiggled his steering wheel in response, and subsequently lost control. Hard and unforgiving physics took over from there.

An awful cacophony of tire screeching erupted, only to be replaced immediately thereafter by the sounds of metal being violently crushed and ripped apart. But the sound volume of this still fast moving catastrophe rapidly faded with increasing distance-- for Bridget and I were now leaving it behind at a blistering pace.

It was mesmerizing to watch, but I knew like with the Gorgon of fable I had to turn away from the sight or perhaps lose my own life. For the racket and commotion so near to us were drawing Bridget's attention too. And if Bridget's concentration faltered, we might join the thieves in their awful death throes.

"Don't look Bridget! Focus on the road!" I felt Shadow shiver a bit as Bridget struggled to maintain her concentration.

"Just watch the road ahead, Bridget. And slowly let off the gas. Slowly!" I knew from experience Shadow's engine back pressure and various other drivetrain and suspension vagaries would give Bridget some scary feedback steering-wise if we made too extreme a deceleration attempt. That wouldn't have been a big deal for me on a straight-ahead course like the present, due to experience. But someone facing it for the first time could easily make the same mistake as the Impala driver behind us. Plus, being a woman, Bridget would have less physical strength with which to wrestle with the wheel if need be.

We gradually eased all the way down to normal highway speed again, and then took the next turn off we could find.

I'll never forget the sight of the robbers' car abruptly swerving to one side, then flipping over. And over and over again, gradually diminishing in size as we sped away and their bouncing and rolling ball of crushed metal slowed down. I think it might have rolled maybe 20 times total, but I couldn't watch to the end, for that would have put us at risk too.

I can't say for certain, but it seems there's an excellent chance that Bridget drove Shadow at a higher speed that day than I ever did, on Shadow's own native power (sometime after this I would add a nitrous injection system). I mean, Briggs might have pushed us faster, but that's about the only exception I can think of.

It would amaze me for years to recall Bridget achieving that feat.

Up to that time, I felt I'd met more than one girl who broke the hearts of men-- me included.

But that day I witnessed Bridget break the heart of a machine. A machine stronger than any human organ.

Sure, she'd had the help of Shadowfast. But he couldn't have done it without some great driving from the cockpit.

That was my Bridget: the heartbreaker.

I would never again see a woman break a cast iron heart beating with the strength of hundreds of horses like that.

In times ahead, I would sometimes wonder if Shadowfast didn't love her too. And just maybe tried a little harder while she was at the wheel. For I sure never managed to blow up a rival's engine like that when I piloted! Not before that. Not after.

Stormy weather chicks

It was a Sunday. Bridget and I decided to go visit her family. Just for fun, as Shadow was in tip top shape once more. Well, except for still missing his CB radio, police scanner, and strobe lights. We hadn't replaced the rear bumper either, but just worked over the original a bit and repainted it. But everything else was back as it should be, or better.

During the drive I found myself wondering once again if Bridget might be the one for me. Things were going so great with her!

As usual, we had a fantastic time with Bridget's folks. But as we all had to work the next day, Bridget and I left around late afternoon.

On the drive back home in Shadowfast, Bridget unexpectedly asked me to pull over, so I did.

"What is it Bridget? Are you sick?"

Bridget looked at me with an indecipherable look on her face, saying not a word.

"Bridget? Are you okay?" I was getting genuinely concerned.

Then she started crying. Bawling her eyes out.

"Bridget! What's wrong? Honey, please tell me what's going on? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

"No," she stammered. "I'm okay."

"But something's wrong! You're crying! Please stop crying, Bridget," I pleaded. I couldn't stand to see her cry.

Shadowfast had bucket seats, with a floor console running between them. So Bridget and I were leaning together over the console.

"I-- I don't know," she told me.

"You don't know what?"

"I don't know what to do."

"That's okay, Bridget. Everything's fine. You don't have to do anything. I'll drive us home and put you to bed. You'll feel better soon," I assured her.

"No! You don't understand!"

"Well then tell me! Tell me so I will understand! What's the matter? Have your parents suddenly changed their mind about me or something? Did I say something I shouldn't have? That's okay! I'll apologize!"

That just made her cry harder. Maybe another minute of sobs later her speech gained coherency again.

"No! My parents love you!" she cried. "They've never liked any boy I brought home until you!" she seemed to say accusingly.

"Well...that's good, isn't it?" Heck if I knew what was going on here!

"Yes! It's good!" And with that Bridget's bawling took off again.

I noticed even the sky seemed to start crying with her, as it began to rain. Large drops were splashing onto the windshield.

"Bridget," I said as softly as I could, once her sobs had subsided again. "Please tell me what's bothering you. Please? Pretty please?" I tried to lighten the moment with a little teasing.

She seemed to finally be calming down, though her whole body was trembling from time to time. I wished I could get her home.

The rain outside was increasing in intensity. A distant boom of thunder was audible.

When Bridget cries, the whole world cries with her, I thought. And wondered if I might be falling in love with this girl after all. It was obvious I cared a lot for her. And she'd made me very happy lately. So happy to have definitely made the whole Texas trip worthwhile! The near-death experiences with Briggs and all!

Wow. This was bowling me over. I was happy. Truly happy!

Happier than I'd been ever since-- since-- the thing with Dana.

Wow.

For a second there I almost began to cry myself. For it was quite a shock to realize I was happy. Because it'd been so long.

But I couldn't be happy if Bridget wasn't.

I tried to keep my voice from cracking from the emotion. And hoped Bridget wouldn't notice my own tears threatening to flow.

"Okay," Bridget said. "I'll tell you. But then you'll break my heart!" With that she burst into tears again, and I along with her. I couldn't help it.

"Bridget, it's okay," I struggled to get out, as I hugged her. "If you don't want to tell me, it's okay. I just want you to be happy. That's all," I told her.

Bridget realized I was crying too, and that seemed to soothe her somehow.

"Are you crying Jerry?" she asked.

"Yes. Damn it. I guess I'm more tired than I thought," I tried to make excuses.

Then Bridget smiled and the whole world lit up.

It was a lightning flash, actually. But the timing was superb.

"I love you Jerry," Bridget said quietly.

"I love you too Bridget," I replied, without conscious thought. It just came out of its own accord.

Maybe I wasn't sure consciously how I felt about Bridget, but subconsciously I seemed absolutely positive.

We kissed. A peal of thunder punctuated the moment, and made us both jump. We laughed.

Then Bridget pulled back from me, with a mischievious but happy expression on her face, and said "Let's get wet!"

"What?"

"I want to get wet. Right now!"

"Uh, okay. So you want to go home?"

"No silly! I want to go out in the rain! With you!"

"But Bridget, it's raining-- I mean, it's storming! Lightning! I don't want you to get hurt!"

"No Jerry-- it's nature's fireworks! It's our moment! It's celebration!"

Bridget undid her seat belt and opened her door. The sound of the rain got immediately louder.

"Bridget! Please! We can get wet at home! I promise!"

But Bridget paid me no heed. Now she was outside, twirling around in the rain with her head back and mouth open, catching drops as they fell.

I shook my head and got out too.

Actually, the lightning didn't seem to be right on top of us. And maybe receding as well. But the rain was coming down in buckets.

My eyeglasses were uselessly speckled as soon as I stepped out into it. So I removed them, placing them atop the dash. Then I joined Bridget for her little dance of joy. I mostly watched, while she mostly danced. And we both got absolutely drenched.

God, but she was cute! Even the fuzzy version of her I saw without my glasses.

I had to grab hold of her and kiss her then and there: I had no choice in the matter.

It was so wonderful being with her.

Bridget's face took on a mischievous look again, and she backed away from me. Towards Shadow.

"I bet you never did it in the rain before," she said-- somewhat loudly, so that I'd hear it over the pouring rain.

"What?" I laughed. For we were currently parked alongside a paved road in the countryside, at a spot where maybe a building had sat long ago but was now gone. Leaving a handy parking area big enough for maybe a dozen cars. No actual buildings were in sight. And though it was late afternoon the storm clouds had dimmed things to twilight status, at least temporarily.

The place looked peaceful and safe enough. For parking. But that could change in an instant.

It was true however that I'd noticed practically no traffic on this little road. And we were pretty far out from town.

"Bridget, this isn't a good spot for fun," I told her.

"I knew it! You've never done it in the rain. Only been with blue sky girls; no stormy weather chicks."

Now Bridget was being cute. Damn cute. Well, that was okay.

"Have it your way. I've never done it in the rain. Now come on Bridget. Let me take you home."

"No! I'm not going home with you until you make love to me right here, right now!"

She was standing there soaked through and through, all her hair matted to her head. But she was also standing with her legs spread and slightly bent at the knees, and her forearms raised waist high, her fingers curled up in fists: a fighting stance, whether she knew it or not.

Bridget seemed very determined about this for some reason. It occurred to me that this wild sex stuff was getting a little out of hand.

But damn if she didn't look cute as hell there. My Bridget.

My Bridget.

It was a good thing it was raining, as I felt my tears flowing again. I was surprised to feel their warm difference against the cold drops of rain hitting my face. I never knew that sensation before.

I walked up to my little fighter and put my arms around her waist.

"So to take you home, I have to take you here first. Right?"

"Yes!" she spit out at me, with an expression something like fiery anger in her soaking face. Droplets flew from her fists, as she whipped them downwards to emphasize her words.

I looked around. Then I bent over and picked her up bodily, folding her over my shoulder. I carried her over to the front end of Shadowfast, and gently laid her down on the hood, avoiding the latching pins. I took off my shirt and had her protect her face with it against the pouring rain. Then I opened my jeans and hiked up her skirt. After a few more adjustments, I gave her what she wanted. Then and there.

It was perhaps the strangest act of my life up to then. It sure felt weird. And exposed. And dangerous. Bridget improved my game plan by sitting back up and moving closer to me on the edge of the hood. She left my sodden shirt in a wrinkled pile to one side of Shadow's hood, and we reveled in our drenched state of passion. Becoming one, in some sort of defiant act against the cosmos. Her soaked and stringy hair clung to my face and hers, as we added our own mix of sound and fury to the maelstrom surrounding us.

There were more flashes of lightning, followed by blasts of thunder, as we stoked our passion amid the wind, the rain, and the electric thrill of the storm. The pouring rain never did let up while we maintained our bustling perch on Shadow's hood.

One odd thing about exhilaration: when it lasts long enough-- and changes your life sufficiently-- you'll feel like you've squeezed a far bigger chunk out of life than is chronologically possible for the time frame involved. The life you lead during such times seems so different and better than what you had before, that everything else seems to fall away or be forgotten. Or simply unimportant. Almost like that trick lighting sometimes used in dramatic plays, where a single spotlight brightly illuminates a foreground location, while everything else is blacked out and rendered invisible.

That's what my time with Bridget became: a little island of brilliant, shining light, within a comparatively pitch black world.

I was very glad to have met Bridget. She'd made my whole Texas trip worthwhile. And now she was going further than that, to make my entire life worth living!

My happiness was bounding up and away, beyond any words I had to describe it.

So this is what it's like to be happy, I thought to myself several times during the period.

And Bridget seemed to be happy with me as well.

One day Bridget had Lightningfast in the shop for minor maintenance issues. She also had some errands to run. So she dropped me off at work in the morning and was supposed to pick me up in the afternoon.

I walked out to the parking lot after work and saw no Bridget or Shadow.

No big deal, of course. So she was running a little late. It happens. I sat down cross-legged under a tree to wait on her.

This was the same parking lot I'd slept in overnight in Shadow, many weeks before.

I'd gotten more comfortable with Bridget driving Shadow, after she'd helped me repair him. Plus, she'd drove with me as passenger in Shadow a few times too. I'd warned her about Shadow's gadgets of course, to make sure she didn't loose some of them onto innocents by accident or whatever. Or hurt herself or the car with something like a flare. And there was always Shadow's optimized-for-high-speed brake linings to make allowances for in slow city traffic...

Soon Bridget was 30 minutes late, and I started getting antsy. Had Shadow developed a problem? I wondered.

Before her tardiness reached a full hour though she finally showed up. With her own little supercar adventure to tell. Me not included!

I was glad she was okay!

Bridget had been challenged by some young local hot rodders during one of her errand stops. Apparently there was a combination motorcycle/hot rodder's club locally. And they'd taken notice of Shadow, but never managed to be in a good position to catch me in the car for a race. That day though they'd caught Bridget.

Bridget had tried to avoid participating of course, but several of the drivers wouldn't leave her alone after she pulled out of the lot, and she soon began racing them by default just to get away from them.

Of course Bridget wasn't out to win anything-- or push Shadow hard. So when it appeared the youngsters were going to keep needling her, she remembered my instruction regarding the siren, and switched it on.

That sucker was so loud when it got wound up I don't care if you were running full out with straight headers in any car in the vicinity: you would hear that siren!

Bridget's ruse worked. The kids heard the blare of the siren, immediately assumed cops were about to appear, and abandoned their efforts to race her. Then Bridget switched it back off and resumed her original course, none the worse for wear-- but for being a little late for our rendezvous.

I thought that to have been a most astute maneuver on Bridget's part: especially with her being so much less familiar with Shadow and his gadgets than me.

When Bridget learned I was a sketch and paint artist, she had me do her some pictures.

Not long after that I came home one day to find a small sculpture sitting on the coffee table in the living room. I mean, I think you'd call it a sculpture. It wasn't made of stone or clay, but metal.

It was a bit less than a foot tall, with a base maybe eight inches in diameter. It was dark gray in color.

The base was a flat metal disk. Springing up from the disk was a shape reminiscent of an elongated, upside down, three dimensional tear drop.

The overall tear drop shape diverged from the standard in several ways though. One, there were clearly three separately edged forms meeting at the top, making for a stylized central dimple there in outline something like that surrounding the stem of an apple.

You had to examine the piece closely to see what it was about.

It turned out there were three major elements to the artwork. Metal bars as thick as my little finger formed arches in the back which came together to make a heart shape seemingly stretching upwards towards the sky, standing on its figurative toes (the lowermost point) on the flat disk like a ballerina.

But this yearning inner heart shape was almost completely hidden by two thin and well contoured sheets of metal in front. Those sheets resembled the folded wings of a bird, with stylized feathery cuts in their lower edges, and just a few subtly spray painted on ruffles in the middle of their forward facing surfaces.

So there was this upwardly stretching winged heart, not flying, but rather hiding itself behind its own closed wings. Like a person hiding their face behind their hands.

I thought it a nice little piece indeed. And wondered where Bridget had found it.

Turned out she'd made it! It was something Bridget had shaped and welded together, all on her own. She called it The heart afraid of flying. Said I'd inspired her to make it by one of our previous conversations. I thought it showed considerable talent, and wanted to see more. Bridget though only smiled and said she was sorry, but she couldn't promise me that.

She told me she just didn't have the time.

Departure

With Bridget in my life, I was starting to seriously consider staying in Texas.

Even thinking about asking her to marry me.

I was also considering getting deeper into construction work itself. To the extent I was thinking of boosting my pay and job excitement while at the same time reducing my overall schedule commitment, by getting a job on an offshore rig. Heck, if Bridget and I got married we might could even get jobs on the same rig together, I reckoned (she being a welder and all). We'd make a great team!

I visualized us being on a rig maybe six weeks out of the year, then doing something completely different the rest of the time. I had some promising self-employment ideas we might try. But there were plenty of conventional job opportunities in the area too.

Being here in Texas with Bridget, plus having an exciting and interesting job, seemed tons more fun and desirable than returning to college. College was fairly awful most of the time. And I was pretty tired of school, having been in one such institution or another almost continuously now for over half my life.

The contrast between being with Bridget in Texas, and being a lonesome college student in Tennessee, seemed as stark as the difference between Heaven and Hell to me.

I mean, I guess we could have moved to Tennessee together and me returned to school-- but that option just didn't appeal to me. I much preferred the current state of affairs.

I wouldn't have minded us both attending Tech side-by-side, if Bridget insisted on it. But we weren't really prepared for that financially. I'd successfully scraped up in Texas what I needed to return. But only enough to pay for one full-time student for one school year-- and on a painfully tight budget (the constant poverty was one of the Hellish aspects).

I was pretty sure Bridget had nowhere near that much in savings. Plus she had Lightningfast payments to make now, too.

On the other hand, if I didn't return to Tech, I'd have a nice little nest egg with which to start something else...

I hadn't actually proposed to her yet, but Bridget had to know it was coming. I figured she too was brainstorming up potential future plans for the two of us. Between the both of us, there were all sorts of possibilities brewing.

It was wonderful!

Then one day Bridget was late coming home from work. I didn't think much of it at first, as she and I both occasionally stopped on the way to take care of routine errands. Plus, stuff like that challenge from kid hot-rodders sometimes popped up too.

But after a couple hours passed, I hopped into Shadow and drove down to the synthetic fuels plant where she worked.

Lightningfast was still in the parking lot, so apparently she was working late. But most all the normal lot contents were gone. I thought the whole thing unusual enough to go to the gate guard shack and ask about it.

That's when I got the worst news of my life. There'd been an accident at the plant. An explosion.

The guard was pretty sure Bridget had been killed on the spot. But an ambulance had taken her to the hospital. I found out what hospital and made my way there. It took me about 30 minutes, as I was unfamiliar with the course.

The people at the hospital confirmed my worst fears. But still I wouldn't believe it.

It was pretty tough to get in to see her body, for a variety of reasons. But I had to see it.

It truly was Bridget. My Bridget. Gone forever.

In the days that followed I quit my job, said an awful, awful, awful good-bye to Bridget's family, packed up, and left Texas. This was a rare instance where I gave only an immediate notice to my employer, as I was too devastated to continue on.

I had no choice but to completely sever as many links as I could to the whole life I'd had there. For I could not bear even thinking of Bridget being dead. I cried the whole time I met with her family, and couldn't stop until I'd left them.

It didn't help matters that Shadowfast too seemed to mourn her passing, in his own way. Shadow's tape player-- the one somehow broken by Lloyd early on, then magically repaired by Bridget-- stopped working again, sometime around the hour we learned of Bridget's death.

Our dreams were shattered. The joyous notes of our previous happiness now crushed into a deafening silence.

Within days I'd returned to Tennessee. I was in a truly scary state of mind during the drive. Even today I can't bear to revisit the dark thoughts which spun about in my head during those hours.

I called Steve and got directions to his new digs off-campus, where he was living with his new girlfriend. The one he'd used to replace Bridget.

I guess for some reason I wanted to meet her.

I got no satisfaction from the encounter. For Katie seemed a wonderful person. My judgment after meeting her was she'd make a damn near perfect wife for Steve.

Indeed, Steve did in fact marry Katie, sometime after that. So it seemed meeting Bridget may have helped put Steve into a marrying frame of mind. For Steve had literally been with dozens-- maybe hundreds!-- of women, before he met Bridget, and then Katie. All of which makes me wonder what might have happened if circumstances hadn't forced Steve to leave Texas before me, and leave Bridget behind-- after only knowing her for maybe a couple weeks or so.

Especially since still further down the road, Steve and Katie would get divorced. So perhaps Katie hadn't been the one for him after all.

Decades after Steve and I had known Bridget, Steve would end up marrying a second time. And his new bride would bear a striking physical resemblance to...Bridget. Did Steve realize it at the time? I don't know. I've never yet (as of 2010) brought up the point with him. But anyway, that's a whole other story.

In 1972 I gave Steve and Katie no clue about Bridget's fate. Or even that we'd gone beyond just being friends, after the phone call where Bridget learned about Katie.

So far as Steve knew, Bridget and I had never been more than room-mates. And I'd simply decided to return from Texas now.

We tried to do our normal partying thing, but I couldn't work up much enthusiasm for it. So I said my good byes and headed for our hometown.

Before leaving the college town I stocked up on hard liquor. Several different varieties, which filled up a brief case in which I'd previously kept drafting supplies.

I'd learned from Steve that his brother Will was a few more hours drive away (in our hometown), alternating between staying at their parents' trailer up in the mountains, and their grandmother's in town. Steve and Will's parents were still in Louisiana, and unlikely to return anytime soon. The fall quarter at Tech was still a couple weeks from getting underway.

I found Will fairly easily, and presented him with my liquor display, asking if he'd mind helping me drink it at the trailer.

Will didn't mind at all, and we headed for the mountains (I'd found him at his grandmother's in town).

Poor Will didn't know what he was in for.

I got rip roaring drunk that evening, and fairly violent, savagely lashing out at inanimate objects around me.

Fortunately I never tried to hit Will. But I still abused him plenty with all my crying and wailing over things.

Will quickly came to understand it was all about a woman, but I refused to tell him who, or many other details. And even purposely misled him in some ways. I didn't know why at the time.

I stayed the drunkest I'd ever been in my life for maybe almost a week, there in Will's trailer. Will tried to take care of me a little, fixing me breakfast once. But anytime I felt sobriety returning again, I'd go off on another binge.

Will had never seen me like that before. And neither had Steve. In the past, it'd usually been me taking care of them under such circumstances.

I guess the reason I'd stopped at Steve's first, was that we were closer than Will and I, and I'd hoped to have him be my aide through all this. But he was living with his new girlfriend there, and so I couldn't do that to him.

That left Will to be my victim.

For some reason I could never bring myself to tell Will what had happened to leave me so distraught. Instead I concocted something almost entirely different, even as drunk as I was. Something highly implausible, I think. But Will didn't challenge me much on it.

Heck: I'd say I was much like an awful swamp in that moment: Will definitely didn't want to get in any deeper than he had to. And I can't blame him. For I was one God-awful mess.

As the days passed, Will spent less and less time with me, leaving to go back into town for ever longer periods, before he would return.

Again, I can't blame him. It's to his credit he returned at all. And every day too, to check on me.

After a while I realized I was trying to burn the memories of Bridget out of my brain. And the reason I refused to tell anyone else about her was another effort at erasure. For if no one else learned about her, they could never ever remind me of her in later conversations.

Eventually I felt drained of all emotion entirely. My liquor supply was drained too. Mostly by me, as even Will, who typically drank more alcohol than anyone else among our little crowd during that period, couldn't bring himself to imbibe that much of the hard stuff in this round.

Apparently I did rid myself of some brain cells sure enough in that gig. For not long afterwards, I would find I'd lost a key element of my strongly entrenched memorization of the quadratic equation we had to call upon pretty frequently at college. That forced me to re-memorize the missing element again. Re-enter it into a different section of my brain. Since its original spot had obviously been wiped out.

The awful physical sickness brought on by the binge also helped me with its head and body crushing pain. For I wanted pain. I wanted suffering. I wanted torture.

I wanted to forget Bridget entirely. Forget I'd ever known her. Forget I'd ever loved her. Forget I wasn't there to save her when she died. Or that I wasn't there to die with her.

Forget that I'd waited too long to propose to her. That I'd made a mistake by not insisting she quit her dangerous job and just be a house-wife, or get something in a safer field. Forget the kids we might have had together.

I wanted to forget everything.

Soon I'd sobered up completely (all my booze was gone, and it was difficult to find such stuff in my dry home county).

I still hadn't decided if I was going to return to Tech for fall quarter. There remained only a few days to registration.

Now I became filled with a cold fury. Driving Shadowfast like a maniac along the local byways. Looking for trouble.

But nobody would bite. I couldn't seem to find the usual gang of challengers which frequented these parts. Maybe because it was the middle of the week, and broad daylight, and they mainly came out on weekend nights.

I guess it was a good thing I hadn't yet replaced my CB radio or police scanner. For either of those could have helped me find trouble a lot easier.

I even drove to the places I knew some especially crazy hot rodders hung out, but nobody was there.

I felt like engaging in a duel to the death with someone, but the universe wouldn't cooperate.

I was torturing Shadow too. Running him way too hard, for no good reason. Alternately flooring him, then jamming on the brakes, sometimes just to see if I could break something on him.

Then, finally, something happened to help wake me up a little from the deadly downward spiral I was in.

I came around a blind curve doing over a hundred miles per hour.

The curve emptied into a lengthy straightaway. I knew the road like the back of my hand. Power-sliding around the curve, and even further accelerating as I exited it.

Then I saw the school bus ahead. Dead stopped. Letting off little children.

I was going so fast and the distance was so short I only had the option of slightly swerving around it or just going completely out of control and maybe hitting the bus anyway. Or kids who'd exited the bus.

Thank God, thank God, thank God no kids were crossing the road on the bus' left side at that second.

I gave any theoretical children which might appear there as wide a berth as I dared, just in case. But too much might have put me out of control and made me hit everybody due to momentum alone.

Once safely past the bus, with no one killed or injured, I came to my senses. At least somewhat.

I knew Bridget would have been horrified at such a consequence to her passing.

Then, even as I slowed down to much more humane and reasonable speeds, I seemed to experience a full-blown hallucination.

Bridget was there. Sitting in the car with me, asking me what was wrong.

I began crying my eyes out, which began to blind me, so I hurriedly pulled over and off the road.

I knew I was having a mental breakdown of some kind.

Bridget was still there, like a ghost. Like she didn't know she was dead.

She asked me again what was wrong.

She was dead! That's what was wrong! I wanted to tell her. But the very thought was choking me.

"Jerry, whatever it is, things will turn out okay. Really," she told me.

"No they won't," I managed to somehow respond.

"Yes they will," she insisted.

"But you're gone now. Forever."

"What are you talking about?"

"You died. In Texas." Saying the words seemed to break something inside me, with a sickening crunch.

Bridget seemed to consider that a moment before she spoke again.

"But everybody dies, Jerry. It's part of living."

"But I don't want to live. Not without you," I told her, in-between sobs.

"But Jerry-- you must."

"Why? Tell me why?"

"Because of me."

"No! I want to die because of you! I don't want to live if you're not going to be here with me!" I practically yelled at her.

Bridget's response would be far more measured in tone. "But what if I hadn't met you? Hadn't loved you? Do you think I would have died happy if I hadn't known you? If I'd still been with Paul when my end came?" she asked.

"No," I admitted. "But I didn't want you to die at all!"

"Jerry, everybody dies. You will too someday. All we can any of us really do is try to be as happy as we can while we live, and help others do the same."

Her words seemed like powerful truths to me in my altered state.

"But-- how can I live like this? Without you?" I asked her.

"Jerry, your duty to me is over. You helped me be happy. That was all you could do. Now you just have to find me again."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at all the other people in the world. We're all connected you know, deep down. There's a little bit of you in everyone else. And a little bit of me, too.

"Look for that bit of me in others. And help them be happy too. That's your job now."

"But I can't bear to think of you Bridget! It tears me up inside!"

Bridget's face took on a somber but understanding look.

"Then don't think of me Jerry. It's okay! Really! I'm fine now. You gave me everything I could ever want while I was here. Just try to do that for someone else too while you're here. Please?"

"All right. So it's okay if I don't think of you anymore?" I asked.

"Yes Jerry. That'll be fine," Bridget caressed my cheek with a ghostly hand. Then told me more.

"After all, my job was to make you happy. So if you stay sad I might get a reprimand!" she laughed. And I laughed too through my tears at her reference to a construction job penalty.

"But Bridget-- I miss you so much! Please stay!"

Her smile turned wistful.

"You know I can't Jerry. Even this is really too much. But I had to stop you from hurting yourself. You're my Jerry."

Then she was gone, leaving me crying my eyes out. I kept hoping she'd reappear, but she never did. Not then. Not in all the decades since.

I think I cried for another thirty minutes or longer, there on the side of the road.

When it was finally over I felt better. Relieved.

Bridget was right. I had to continue on living. It wasn't yet my time to go.

It seemed Bridget had done something to my mind in that moment. For I rarely thought of her again after that. And when I did, it was mostly just of that ghostly image of her sitting in the car, telling me the facts of life.

I would later write down as much as I could recall of her exact words, as they seemed so profound to me at the time. My vision of her though was like a dream: a waking dream. So I believe there's some portions of it I can't consciously recall, no matter how hard I try.

There's also no way I can be as eloquent or powerful in my recall as she was in her original delivery. So any flaws above are purely my own.

After the intensity of my relationship with Bridget, I sought out something else to fixate on. Something I could still feel sad over but just not in such a suicidal way. So I basically reverted back to my angst over Sue Anne, and women in general. Almost like I could use those old feelings to plug the hole in the dike holding back memories of Bridget.

I know it may not make sense to anyone else. But somehow it did to my own tortured brain.

While I suffered plenty of regrets over Sue Anne, there was no actual tragedy involved there. And basically nothing in the way of a real relationship, compared to Bridget. Sue Anne may have been my first and most awful crush, but in all other ways she'd never be able to hold a candle to Bridget.

Clinging to the memory of Bridget though was just more than I could bear.

Returning to my crazy pining for Sue Anne seemed like the easiest way to get back to normal. Back to the person I'd been before ever meeting Bridget.

Sue Anne was like my personal bookmark to sanity. Not necessarily the healthiest sort of sanity around-- but better than the suicidal mayhem I might otherwise pursue.

It'd take me a while to realize it, but Bridget had actually cured me of my Sue Anne crush. The remnant of that crush I'd cling to after Bridget's death to stave off more fearsome things would prove to be nowhere near as strong or long-lived as the original. There would come a time not long after that I'd recognize I hadn't thought of Sue Anne for a period of months on end-- a first for me since the whole crush thing had begun, years before.

For real heartbreak trumps imagined heartbreak every time.

More about love, ghosts, and visions:

Ghost Stories: Visits from the Deceased After a loved one dies, most people see ghosts. December 2, 2008 By Vaughan Bell, Scientific American

Ghost Lusters: If You Want to See a Specter Badly Enough, Will You? Researchers set up "haunted" room to prove an electromagnetic theory of ghost sightings By Adam Marcus; October 27, 2008; Scientific American

Why you SHOULD forget your first love: The memories 'can ruin all your future relationships' By Rebecca Camber; Daily Mail; 18th January 2009