The Rope

The two boys walked tentatively down the railroad bridge, looking over their shoulders, listening for any hint of the sound of an oncoming train and trying to sense with their feet any vibrations that might mean trouble. They knew there would be none: where the tracks disappeared into the woods the ties were broken and grass and bushes poked through the remnants of the railroad; the line obviously hadn't been used in years, but the boys still had an instinctive wariness when stepping on railroad ties with no place to move aside.

Around one of the ties, at the bridge's center, where the river was farthest below, a rope was knotted. At the other end of the rope, swaying about ten feet below, was a heavy black tire.

It was the first week of summer vacation, 1972; this was the first bike hike of what would probably be their last summer of long bike hikes; the last summer before the four of them - the two on the bridge and the two waiting on the embankment behind them - would begin high school. Three of them - Chris Gilman, Mike Kodacki, and Lit - had met at Dan Rigors's house early that morning, shortly after sunrise, fishing poles strapped to their bikes.

The plan was to head west, past Carriage Lake, past the Point where a bar called Aphrodite's stood majestically over the convergence of Hawk's Creek and Pioneer River, and down the dirt roads to Polish Slough. Chris had been there once with his father and claimed it was some sort of fishing heaven. The rest didn't really care - they just wanted to ride as far and as fast as possible.

The sun, warm for this early in the season, baked their arms and necks; the constant breeze did little to cool them off. They could hear the wooden ties creak with every footstep. John Litowski, called "Lit" by everyone, turned and glanced at Mike and Chris, standing on solid ground, barely moving, not daring to step on the bridge, watching them with intense silence; the only sound came from the transistor radio Mike had taped to the handlebars of his ten-speed, laying on its side next to the rail.

He then looked across at the taller boy, Dan, his best friend since kindergarten. They had been in the same classes, had shared the same teachers, every year since then, but were now moving on to different high schools - Dan to Saint Broderick's and Lit to Township.

Now, when he looked at Dan, his mind wandered to thoughts of Dan's sister Mari. This had been happening quite often lately, this focus on Mari. He regretted shrugging her off this morning.

She had been awake when they arrived at Dan's house, wearing shorts and a short-sleeved checkered blouse tied off above her waist, her black hair tied in a ponytail, fully expecting to come along. Lit wouldn't have minded - probably none would have minded, but knew damn well they couldn't show it.

When Dan and he had taken her aside and told her it was just going to be the four guys, her face had shown disappointment, but she hadn't run into her room and cried, like she might have done in the past. She just looked at Dan, took a longer look at Lit, and shrugged. Next time, she had said. Lit admitted to himself now that he wished she had pushed the matter and come with them. If he was going to do this, he would have liked her to witness it.

Lit lowered himself onto the rope-encircled tie; he sat on the very edge, watching the tire sway in the hot wind seemingly a hundred feet over the river that snaked below them, and nudged the rope with his foot. It was about an inch thick, like the ropes in gym class, and knotted every foot or so, like the ropes in gym class. Lit had never had success with the ropes in gym class, though.

The tire jerked from the movement. Loose dirt and rocks fell from the rubber and cascaded into the water, making tiny splashing noises they could both hear even from this distance. Lit rubbed his eyes, stinging from the sweat that poured from his forehead. He had never before done anything this daring; while other kids climbed trees, rode their bikes at breakneck speeds through the neighborhood, and dived from the high board at the local pool, Lit had remained laid-back, quiet, letting the others accomplish the feats of derring-do and just enjoying being in their presence.

"Lit, you don't have to do this," Dan whispered. "You're gonna fucking kill yourself!

They're too afraid to even check it out. We'll tell them the rope was cut in half by some crazy guy, like Chris said. They won't know."

Lit kicked the rope again, heard more debris scatter below, and said, "It's too late now. I don't want anyone to think I backed out." He tested the rope a final time with his foot.

# # # # #

Just past what they called the Point, a short way down the meandering dirt roads, it had occurred to them that they were lost. They decided to turn off the road and went down the small, narrow trail that followed the river. Mike Kodacki had taken the lead, zipping ahead of them, recklessly crashing through branches and bushes; the only trace of him left behind was the incessant static-filled music coming from his radio. At one sharp turn they nearly ran into him. He had stopped and was fiddling with the dial until a peppy male voice came through singing "Oh, it's so nice to be with you..."

"Are you serious?" Chris spat into the ground. "You stopped and made us crash so you could listen to this shit?"

Mike shifted the radio and pulled the antenna out farther. "It's the only station I can get," he said without looking up.

"Bullshit. You're always listening to this bubblegum crap."

Mike grabbed at the radio as if he were about to rip it off, but the others knew he had spent too much time rigging it up to destroy it. "Take it. You want to find something else, do it."

"Come on, let's go." Dan pushed on past them, assuming the rest would follow, but stopped a few yards down. "Look at that!"

Over the river, about a hundred yards ahead and close to a hundred feet up was the bridge. It began at the highest hill up to their left and ended at the highest hill up to their right. Dead in the center, dangling by a rope below the tracks, was a tire swing.

"Holy shit!" Mike seemed to be in awe of the sight. "Does someone really use that? How deep is the water there?"

Chris ran his fingers through his hair. "Not that deep. I think someone put it there to fuck with us. Some crazy Manson guy who hides in the woods and watches people fall to their deaths."

Mike couldn't take his eyes off the tire, swaying in the warm wind. "I don't think so. I think someone out here uses it."

"You wanna try it?"

Mike shook his head. "Fuck, no."

For no reason at all, it seemed, Lit heard himself say "I will!"

So here they were.

# # # # #

"Come on, John, don't do it!"

Lit waved him off and gripped the rope, slid between the ties, and began to make his way down, his feet together, his left hand over his right.

He paused and looked up at his friend. He thought of Mari, always wanting to hang out with them, and how he had begun to realize that he had always looked forward to seeing her as much as seeing his best friend, never really objected when she went places with them, and that she was becoming beautiful, with her long, jet black hair, her body lately more woman than little girl.

"Dan"

His friend took a hesitant step forward.

"Dan - I don't know if you figured it out, but - your sister -" He let his voice trail off. Dan would know what he meant. "Don't tell anybody."

Dan went down on one knee, reaching for Lit, trying to take his arm before his head disappeared below the tire, but stopped short, realizing that if he touched him now Lit could lose his balance and slip off the rope.

He thought about how his sister nearly broke down into tears whenever he did anything remotely dangerous - how she clung to the sides of the boat last year, during the family's Minnesota fishing trip, when he had stood up, straddled the boat, and rocked it from side to side, scaring her out of simple childish meanness; she had cried until her face was red and she could barely breathe. Such a baby, he had thought, even though she was only a year younger than him.

She had, in the past year, since she had turned thirteen, begun to "fill out," as their mother said, and suddenly received a lot of attention from the boys at school and in the neighborhood. He had become a lot more protective towards her lately, a lot more aware and wary of the way kids looked at her. Most of these guys, who he had known and been friendly with since a small child, were beginning to fill him with disgust.

He knew what they were thinking about her; he couldn't help it, because he was looking at her friends, especially Janie Silver, and thinking the same things, and was getting a little disgusted with himself, too. Towards the end of the past winter, they had become far closer than before. She was less his little sister and nothing else and more, a person, an entity, a friend with whom he could discuss things of importance.

He thought about a conversation he had with her last month, on one of the first warm days of spring, late into the night, sitting on the front porch in the dark and looking up at the stars. She was fully aware of the way boys looked at her, and why. He was surprised and impressed about how much she knew about life and people in general.

The conversation had led to her friends - Janie in particular - and his friends - John Litowski in particular. He chuckled to himself and the hint of a smile came to his lips.

"Don't worry," he called down to Lit. "I told her I wouldn't tell anybody either."

Lit resisted the urge to say something in response. He had to focus now. His feet gripped the rope and slid down until he could feel them touch one of the knots. He realized he hadn't breathed since he started and exhaled. The sound of his own breath was so loud he scared himself and almost lost his footing.

He looked forward and made out the underbelly of the track where the valley rose to meet the end of the bridge a half-mile ahead. The rope began to sway with the wind and the wooden tie above him shifted with the motion.

Dirt and flecks of wood showered over him, getting into his hair and sticking to his neck. He held the rope so tightly his back muscles began to spasm.

He glanced down. Below his feet, far beneath the tire, he saw the river. The current sent branches and litter - paper cups and beer cans - speeding past his left foot. He gripped the rope until his muscles hurt and fought the dizziness by closing his eyes. He thought he could hear the wood groaning and buckling above him and imagined the rope - how did he know how old it was? - snapping over his head.

Something churned deep in his belly as waves of fear rushed over him. Here he was, going to die from his stupidity; he would never see his friends again, his parents, Mari.

As his feet made their way to the next knot and he lowered the rest of his body, he tried to imagine himself in the future, somewhere, maybe at home, maybe in his new school. Wherever he saw himself, Mari was there, and he was reflecting on this foolish or heroic he had accomplished when he was fourteen.

His left hand began to cramp and his grip loosened a little; he began to slip uncontrollably down the rope. His feet missed the next knot and he resisted the urge to kick about wildly. A few long seconds later he found the next one and clamped his feet around it. His hands tightened and he stopped, wrapped around the rope, afraid to move any farther down, unable to push himself back up.

He heard Dan's choking breaths above him; from the embankment behind him he could hear the tinny sound of Mike Kodacki's radio, a mournful voice, made smaller by the distance, crying out, "Ohhh, girl, I'd be in trouble if you left me now..."

Mari's face, with her dark hair and almost Asian eyes, appeared before him. He took a breath and shook the droplets of moisture from his head. He dared himself to move. He held tightly as he moved down, first almost imperceptibly, then a bit farther as his confidence took hold.

He inched down the rope with his eyes closed, sweat pouring down his head, down his neck; his hands becoming slick, with every movement feeling the sway of the rope, hearing the creaking of the ancient wooden tie above him, until he was surprised when his feet touched the bobbing rubber tire.

He was there. Standing on the tire, he opened his eyes and looked up at the intent, frightened face of Dan peering between the ties down at him. Lit waved and looked behind him. Chris and Mike hadn't moved the whole time. He wished he could actually see the dumbfounded, shocked looks on their faces. This was something none of them had ever seen, could ever imagine.

He felt different, like a new John Litowski had emerged and the shell of the old one was fluttering down to the river and being borne away with the current.

He crouched down, still holding the rope, swung his legs through the opening and sat in the tire, kicking his legs up and causing it to move back and forth, first just a few inches at a time and finally in a wide pendulum-like arc below the track.

As the breeze cooled his sweating body he could smell the river below and he had a feeling of exhilaration, swinging between the tracks a few feet above and the water seemingly a million miles below, realizing he had now, in his life, performed one great feat, imagining what his life would be after he made his way back up, but for now content to be suspended in mid-air for a few minutes longer.