The Bridge
Casey Fuller
I remember my grandfather on the bridge as the boys approached. I remember the boys being seventeen or eighteen or sixteen. I remember my grandfather nodding at the distance and saying:street kids.I remember my grandfather and I walking in Tacoma to watch the state basketball tournament. I remember my grandfather would drag me along to the Pendleton Rodeo, the Ellensburg Rodeo, the wildcard game when the Mariners made it to the playoffs. I remember some kid from Aberdeen was scoring 30 points a game might make it to the NBA. I remember my grandfather driving on I-5 while he told me stories about boxing in the Navy, being an orphan, shooting guns. I remember my grandfather was good at basketball and baseball and had a painting of Chief Joseph in his dining room behind the table where we would eat. I remember nobody liked him and his jokes and we would spend Sundays cutting his lawn and talking about the swing of Ken Griffey Jr. I remember the kid from Aberdeen was triple teamed the whole game so the team my grandfather wanted to win fell apart. I remember feeling my grandfather wanted to play in games like the ones we were watching but he lied about his age to get into the Navy early. I remember since Aberdeen didn’t have a chance my grandfather said:let’s beat the traffic.I remember crossing the bridge. I remember we parked way far away from the Tacoma Dome because my grandfather didn’t want to pay for parking. I remember the three street kids approaching on a narrow sidewalk. I remember feeling suddenly scared: it was dark, cars were speeding, the distance down was far. I remember the street kids asking my grandfather what time it was, if they could have a dollar, where was his wallet. I remember my grandfather saying he didn’t have a wallet, but he had this. I remember my grandfather reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. I remember him pulling out a small chrome-plated gun. I remember the look on the street kids’ faces changing as they saw what grandfather had. I remember my grandfather not pointing it at them, but holding it near his heart, the light sparking off the metal so they could see it, in his hand near his chest.
