How to Fall in Love. Cecelia Ahern

arms still wrapped around his chest, holding on for dear life.

      ‘What the hell?’ He moved some more, shuffled his feet along the edge of the ledge so he could turn his head and see my face.

      Our eyes locked together.

      ‘Are you … are you okay?’ He softened a little, coming out of whatever trance-like state he had been in.

      ‘No.’ I tried to stop crying. I wanted to dry my nose, which was running like a tap, but I was afraid to let go of him.

      ‘Do I know you?’ he asked, confused, searching my face, wondering why I cared so much.

      ‘No,’ I said, sniffing again. I squeezed him tighter, hugging him like I hadn’t hugged anyone for years, not since I was a child, not since my mother held me.

      He was looking at me like I was crazy, like he was the sane one and I had lost it. We were practically nose-to-nose as he studied my face, as if looking for far more than what he could see.

      The spell between us was broken when some idiot watching from the quays shouted ‘Jump!’ The man in black started trying to wriggle out of my grip with a renewed anger.

      ‘Get your hands off me,’ he said, struggling to shake me off.

      ‘No,’ I shook my head. ‘Please, listen …’ I tried to compose myself before continuing: ‘It’s not what you think it’s going to be in there,’ I said, looking down and imagining how it would feel for him, staring into that darkness, wanting to end it all; how bad things must be for him to want that. He was studying me intently again. ‘You don’t want to end your life, you want to end your pain, the pain you’re feeling right now, the pain that I’m sure you wake up with and go to bed at night with. Maybe no one around you understands that, but I do, believe me.’ I saw that his eyes were filling, I was getting through to him. ‘But you don’t want to end it all the time, do you? Just sometimes it passes through your mind, probably more often lately than before. It’s like a habit, trying to think of different ways to end it all. But it passes, doesn’t it?’

      He looked at me carefully, taking every word in.

      ‘It’s a moment, that’s all. And moments pass. If you hang in there, this moment will pass and you won’t want to end your life. You probably think that no one cares, or that they’ll get over you. Maybe you think they want you to do this. They don’t. No one wants this for anyone. It might feel as if there are no options, but there are – you can come through this. Get down and let’s talk about it. Whatever is going on, you can get through it. It’s a moment, that’s all,’ I whispered, tears running down my cheeks.

      I took a sidelong glance at him. He swallowed hard. He was looking down now, thinking about it, weighing up his options. Live or die. Surreptitiously I scanned the bridge entrances on Bachelors Walk and Wellington Quay; still no gardaí, still no members of the public to help me. I was glad of that at this stage; I had managed to engage with him, I didn’t want anybody else to distract him, panic him, bring him back to that place again. I thought about what to say next, something that would make the time pass until professional help arrived, something positive that wouldn’t trigger any anger in him. But in the end I didn’t have to say anything because he spoke first.

      ‘I read about a guy who jumped in the river last year. He was drunk and decided to go swimming, only he got stuck under a shopping trolley and the currents swept him away. He couldn’t get out,’ he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

      ‘And you liked the sound of that?’

      ‘No. But then it will be over. After all that, it will be over.’

      ‘Or it will be the beginning of a new kind of pain. As soon as you’re in that water, no matter how much you want it, you’ll panic. You’ll fight it. You’ll struggle to take in oxygen and your lungs will fill with water because, even though you think you don’t want to live, your instinct will be to stay alive. It’s in you to want to stay alive. As soon as the water is drawn into your larynx, another natural instinct is for you to swallow it. Water will fill your lungs, which will weigh down your body, and if you change your mind and decide you want to live and try to get to the surface, you won’t be able to. And the thing is, there are so many people around you right now, they’re ready to dive in and rescue you – and do you know what? You think it’ll be too late, but it won’t be. Even after you lose consciousness, the heart will carry on beating. They can give you mouth-to-mouth and pump out the water and fill your lungs with air again. They could save you.’

      His body was shaking and not just from the cold. I felt him go limp beneath my arms. ‘I want it to end.’ His voice shook as he spoke. ‘It hurts.’

      ‘What hurts?’

      ‘Specifically? Living.’ He laughed weakly. ‘Waking up is the worst part of my day. Has been for a long time.’

      ‘Why don’t we talk about this somewhere else?’ I said, concerned, as his body went rigid again. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to talk about his problems while he was hanging off the side of a bridge. ‘I want to hear everything you have to say, so let’s get down now.’

      ‘It’s too much.’ He closed his eyes and spoke more to himself. ‘I can’t change things now. It’s too late,’ he said quietly, leaning his head back so that it rested by my cheek. We were oddly close for two strangers.

      ‘It’s never too late. Believe me, it’s possible for your life to change. You can change it. I can help you,’ I said, my voice little more than a whisper. There was no reason for me to project; his ear was right there, at the tip of my lips.

      He looked me in the eyes and I couldn’t look away, I felt locked in. He seemed so lost.

      ‘And what happens if it doesn’t work? If everything doesn’t change like you say it will?’

      ‘It will.’

      ‘But if it doesn’t?’

      ‘I’m telling you, it will.’ Get him off the bridge, Christine!

      He studied me, his jaw hardening as he mulled it over. ‘And if it doesn’t, I swear I’ll do this again,’ he threatened. ‘Not here, but I’ll find a way, because I’m not going back to that.’

      I didn’t want him dwelling on the negative, on whatever it was that had sent him here. ‘Fine,’ I said confidently. ‘If your life doesn’t change, it’s your decision what you do. But I’m telling you that it can. I’ll show you. You and me, we’ll do it together, we’ll see how wonderful life can be. I promise you.’

      ‘It’s a deal,’ he near whispered.

      Dread immediately flooded my body. A deal? I hadn’t intended on making a deal with him, but I wasn’t going to discuss it now. I was tired. I just wanted him off the bridge. I wanted to be in bed, wrapped up, with all of this behind me.

      ‘You need to let go of me so I can climb over,’ he said.

      ‘I’m not letting you go. No way,’ I said sternly.

      He half laughed, a tiny one, but it was there. ‘Look, I’m trying to get back on the bridge and now you won’t let me.’

      I took in the height of the bars he needed to climb, then the drop below. This was going to be dangerous. ‘Let me call for help,’ I said.

      Slowly I removed one hand from his chest, not totally trusting that he was going to keep his word.

      ‘I got here by myself, I can get back on the bridge by myself,’ he said.

      ‘I don’t like the idea of this. Let me ask someone to help.’ But he ignored me and I watched him trying to turn around, his large feet on the narrow ledge. He moved his right hand to a bar further away and shuffled his feet so that he could turn to face the bridge. My heart pounded as I watched, feeling helpless. I wanted to shout to the spectators to help, but shouting at that point would have given him a fright and sent him into the water. Suddenly