Bridge of Sighs

was so smart and funny, but then she laughed at herself for saying something so patently ridiculous. Smart and funny might be fine qualities in unattractive men, but they were the final nails in the coffin of any woman who didn’t happen to be drop-dead beautiful as well. And though there was no denying he was a genial fellow, she hadn’t been quite so fond of Big Lou. She’d just never taken to big, lumbering men who had to be taught how to work the cheese dip. Out of loyalty, Sarah made an exception to her rule of penalizing only insults to her father, to which her mother replied, “You’re right, that wasn’t very nice, but he
is
a bit of a doofus, isn’t he?” And was promptly awarded another hefty one.
    To convince her mother that she was wrong to think poorly of her boyfriend’s father, Sarah related the story Lou had told her early on about how, when he was little, some neighborhood toughs had taken him to an abandoned railroad trestle, locked him in a trunk and pretended to saw him in half, a cruel act which had precipitated the first of the terrible spells that had plagued his childhood. Actually, her mother had a vague recollection of the incident. The boy’s disappearance had precipitated a panic, everyone in town fearing that he’d been taken by some sick sexual predator. Sarah explained how it had been the middle of the night before Lou came out of his trance. Sluggish and confused, he’d known enough to follow the stream back the way they’d come, and there, waiting on the footbridge to take him home, was Big Lou. It was as if his father’d had some sixth sense and known right where to wait.
    Her mother had waited patiently for Sarah to finish, then said, “Sweetie, think about it. That’s what a dog would do. With all of that going on, what kind of man goes out and stands in the middle of a footbridge for hours just waiting for something good to happen?”
    “But he was right,” Sarah insisted, though her mother’s reaction did catch her off guard. Having heard the story from Lucy, she’d accepted not just his facts but also his conclusions. “He knew where to wait.”
    “Sweetie, think,” her mother replied. “What was he
doing
on that bridge? You’re saying he was there because he
knew
something, had some powerful intuition. But doesn’t the opposite make more sense? That he was there because he had no idea what to do? Instead of joining the search and helping his wife and the police, he left her alone to cope.”
    “That’s not what Lou thinks.”
    “Well, boys love their fathers.”
    Her mother remembered the Marconis, too. Whispers, mostly. Something wrong with the woman, wasn’t there? A little too much left rudder? (That phrase borrowed from another Sundry Arms man who’d served in the navy.) Disappeared for a while and then was magically back home again, put under some sort of house arrest for her own good? Talk about the husband, too, though she couldn’t recall what. She
did
remember the dark birthmark on his forehead, though, and the way he had of leaning toward you, too close, and cocking his head, like you’d just said something that made him want to punch you. Or, if you were a woman, maybe do something else. The kind of man who made you wonder what the something else would be like. Anyway, a strange couple, no doubt about that. What sort of kid would be the product of such a union? A pup bred from a rottweiler and a lapdog. At best a deeply conflicted human being, but who knew? Maybe the boy would resolve the conflict and be all right. At worst a volatile, unstable compound, in which case the boy would have to be put down.
    “What an awful thing to say!” Sarah blurted, feeling unexpected tears well up.
    “I’m just thinking out loud, sweetie,” her mother said. “Don’t pay any attention.”
    “But you never even met him,” Sarah said.
    “If you don’t want to know what I think, don’t ask.”
    That was the problem with her. What Sarah wanted was to know what her mother thought
after
she’d given it some thought. Just once, instead of ranting, it would be nice for her to
reflect
on something and maybe respond the next day. That would suggest that the subject Sarah had introduced actually merited serious deliberation. She realized, of course, that this ran contrary to her mother’s nature.
    “Besides,” she reminded Sarah, “you’ve only met the boy once yourself, so there’s no reason for you to get all red faced.”
    “I’m
not
all