“They build a bridge between countries”
In what he still calls his honeymoon year, Kurt walks across the rainbow bridge to mail his poetry to magazines. He says he comes to the US side to save postage, but a part of him longs for New York and setting foot in the same state for a few minutes relieves him. Back on the bridge the roar of the river and the light of the sun turns the water white then turquoise blue.
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Before I got married my biggest concern was the name of the bar. The woman I’d been talking to finally agreed to a date, but couldn’t remember the place. So we met at a landmark. She must have been a spy with all her secrecy. She wore all black and said she came from work. I still don’t remember the name of the bar.
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While Kurt composes, Larsa works at the hydro power plant down from the falls. She insisted on moving back and getting that dreaded “real job.” They might have lived in any raised ranch suburban drive in the US or Canada. She takes the whirlpool bridge. So, she doesn’t view the horseshoe, the romance of the falls, the romance of the newlyweds coming to town to spend their first official nights.
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I remember two things about the date. I noticed sawdust sprinkled on the floor. Then I noticed these two guys in suits, ties undone. The one in gray said, “I love you, man.” The blue drunk suit said, “I love you, man.” She finally cracked her black ice and laughed at them. But the lights were too bright and she didn’t want to sit down so we chilled at the bar. There was a band getting ready to play and when they did a few drinks later they played a terrible rendition of George Jones. We decided to leave together. We walked for blocks and couldn’t find a bar. The cold night seemed to blow out what little warmth we built from the spark in the sawdust I love you man bar.
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The view of the river from different bridges cleaves together then apart. Kurt comes from the US side with a head of steam. He wants mountain pine and quiet summer mornings. He doesn’t get the sense of living through April snow and October Thanksgiving just so he can walk on the pavement. Then Larsa comes home. He plays a game where he waits until she’s showered. Then he comes softly to her.
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Finally we found this bar called Live Bait. It looked like a fishing shack. The last place I wanted to go. But it was dark and had a nice hum of happy drinkers and no signs of a band. We found the one open high-hat table. After a round or two this guy came up with his date and asked if he could put his drinks down. I normally hate that guy. His better half asked us how long we’d been together. “First date!,” we said at the same time.
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The crossing, churning, cleaving eroded the foundation. Kurt drifts rudderless. No one publishes his poems. He’s a failure. Larsa is moving upwards. The OTC has 240 dams on 24 river systems. Western Ontario has promotion opportunities. Kurt is stuck on their honeymoon. He still laughs at that guy when he pours sambuca in their coffee. He hasn’t noticed Larsa no longer laughs. She wonders if it is better to start a fight or just leave quietly in the night.
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They didn’t believe that it was our first date. I liked them anyway. I ordered four sambuca shots. The anise liquor tasted like vanilla and four cups of sugar in one shot glass. I put it down. The other guy couldn’t take it. My date laughed at him after she finished hers. Two years later we were finishing shots of anise flavored Raki on a rooftop bar in Istanbul. The sun set fireworks shimmering red and orange rays off the Sea of Marble to celebrate the first night of our honeymoon.
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Kurt conceives their room as his imaginary cave on the other side of the falls. Behind the falls pressed between the death of the falls and the abyss dropping from the back of the cave. Kurt and Larsa find each other in the moment. Reacquainted with each other’s bodies. Reticulated bronze meets golden supple above the falls, the slate river moves slowly until the rapids begin churning it white then back to blue picking up speed before going over the edge into free fall to renewal. The scene he views from the rainbow bridge. The bridge that tenuously ties two countries by a steel suspension over deadly currents.