Disclaimer: The characters of the Stephanie Plum series belong to Janet Evanovich and are used here without permission. “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” is written by Paul Simon and performed by Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel. No copyright infringement is intended.
Note: Ranger is reflecting on his youth and how he used to "everything"
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Life Path
By TT
Flicking on the stereo, Ranger walked to the window and leaned his head against the glass, staring out into the night as the weight of the day pressed upon him.
At the final strains of the song played, he knew it was the wrong station to play, but he hadn’t the energy to change it. So, he let it play and allowed his mind to wander down the paths he worked so hard to forget.
“I used to everything.” That’s what he had told her once. It wasn’t something in which he took pride. Most days he would vehemently deny it. Given a choice, he would bury that fact and never let it see the light of day, but he found in himself an unhealthy need to share himself with her, to let her into his heart and mind. He never let anyone get close. Besides it’s not like she would understand.
But wasn’t that what he was searching for or was it something else? Absolution? Love? Pity?
Maybe he was just testing her to see if she would turn away in disgust the way his family had, all but his Grandma Rosa. She was the reason he was alive to graduate high school, attend college and enroll in the army.
The sick thing about it all was that it was his own sister who had introduced him to drugs and drug use. She would have her fiends come over when Mama and Papa had gone out and she was supposed to be babysitting him. They would go outside and light up those funny cigarettes.
Ranger snorted. He was such a naive kid.
Running a hand through his hair, he thought back to that time. He was eleven years old and had a crush on her friend Holly. Holly had said he was cute and offered him one of the sweet-smelling smokes. He didn’t realize it was marijuana.
Celia’s friends had laughed at him and how he acted. He had eaten it up – until he came down. Then things weren’t so funny or so nice.
They had continued giving him the drug until a simple hit or two of marijuana wasn’t enough to make it funny anymore and it wasn’t enough to take away the pain when he came back down.
He was thirteen when he found some ‘friends’ who introduced him to harder drugs, who showed him a higher high.
God, he was stupid.
He was thoroughly addicted before his fourteenth birthday.
A groan escaped him as the next song started. It was supposed to be an uplifting song, a song of comfort. For him, it was a song that was forever associated with that most horrible time of his life, a time he lived to forget.
When you’re weary, feeling small,
That had been exactly how he felt when he came down, when he had to go to school or be with his family rather than with his ‘friends’ finding a new high – weary, small, insignificant, a failure.
His grades had started to slip and his parents would berate him. His friends had all abandoned him or been chased away by his mood swings. Depression set in.
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all.
He had used the drugs as an escape often enough. When things became too much, a hit would bring him up, help him forget his troubles.
I’m on your side. When times get rough
And friends just can't be found,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
To a mixed-up, isolated, depressed, addicted teenager, that had been just what the drugs had seemed like – a friend when no one else would support him, a way to get past the pain to something better.
Too bad it had just been a lie.
Things had deteriorated very quickly once his parents noticed the money he was taking.
To hide his problem, he started finding other ways to earn the drugs his body craved. He shuttered at the memory of some of what he’d done.
His father had found his stash one night.
A heavy sigh escaped Ranger as he thought on that scene. It had been beyond ugly. Things had been said that couldn’t be forgotten or, perhaps, forgiven. It was the only time his father had ever hit him, and then, he was only hit because he told them Celia had started him on weed, a fact that she denied.
He had left the house that night and sought out his ‘friends’ on the street.
He had lived that life for long enough he lost track of time.
No one looked for him. No one asked after him.
Then, one winter’s day as he was huddling in a doorway trying to find some warmth and coming down from his latest high, he saw a vision that he couldn’t believe was true.
When you’re down and out,
When you’re on the street,
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you.
I’ll take your part.
When darkness comes
And pains is all around,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Somehow Grandma Rosa had found him on the street.
His tiny, little grandma was braving the dark, dangerous streets of Newark to find him.
It was too much for him to process, that someone would care about him, would take the time to find him. He had long ago given up hope.
But Grandma Rosa had been there. She sat down next to him on that dirty, smelly street and just looked at him.
He didn’t know how long she just stared at him, with him just returning her gaze, but he could still feel the astonishment and heartbreak as her small arms wrapped around him an drew him close, into a hug.
He had broken then. Her tenderness undid him completely.
Eventually she started talking to him, telling him it would be all right, that she would see him through this, but he had to stop with the drugs.
He would have agreed to anything to feel loved again, so he agreed with this.
Grandma Rosa led him home.
His parents had taken one look at him and almost turned him away, but Grandma Rosa pled his case. They would stay tonight and leave in the morning.
He agreed. He had enough stuff on him to survive another day or two, to keep away the shakes until they were out of the state.
And he had. It wasn’t until they entered Grandma Rosa’s house in Miami that he began to crash. And a few hours later when the withdrawal symptoms took full effect.
Grandma Rosa had weathered them all with him.
Sail on silvergirl,
Sail on by.
Grandma’s silver hair had been a focus for him as the world began to slip away. There was no way he could ever repay what she did for him.
A few weeks later, the worst of it was past and she had found a program that was helping him cope with the addiction and ways to avoid it.
Grandma Rosa got him enrolled in school and walked him to and from school every day. She would hover over him while he worked on his homework and celebrate with him when he did well.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine.
Heading into his senior year in high school he had been nervous. Not only was he doing well, but also college interviews were starting. He knew he had to be confident, had to present himself well, but, in many ways, he was still the insecure boy who had just wanted to fit in with his sister’s friends.
Grandma Rosa had pulled him aside before his first interview, smoothed his hair back and told him she loved him. Her words echoed in his heart even today. “You are my beautiful grandbaby. You are smart, handsome and strong. Anything you want you can have, anything you want to achieve, you will accomplish. I am very proud of you, Carlos.”
It had been just what he needed to hear. He had hugged his grandmother, squared his shoulders and headed into his interview.
When all was said and done, he’d gotten into several colleges. He had even gotten accepted at one of his stretch choices, but the financial aid wasn’t there.
Just before he had to make his decision, he came home one day from school with Grandma Rosa and found his parents sitting at the dining room table. He stopped dead in his tracks and refused to move.
The meeting had been tense, but they had finally aired out their differences and had been able to forgive each other. His parents asked that he come home for college and attend Rutgers.
It had been a simple enough request and he had been happy to agree.
If you need a friend
I’m sailing right behind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
Leaving Grandma Rosa had been harder than he thought, but they both knew he needed to do this.
He arrived in New Jersey and went straight to the college, not stopping at home. He wasn’t ready to face that past yet. In a way, he was still afraid of the demons of memory that lurked there.
A week into his first year, he was startled to come out of class and find Grandma Rosa sitting on a bench waiting for him.
He greeted her warmly.
As they talked, she admitted that she had missed him and had followed him North to be closer to him. Though he didn’t express it as volubly as others might, he was relieved and pleased to have her so close once more.
When he attended his first actual party at the college and was faced with the free-flowing alcohol and, later, the drugs, he had called Grandma Rosa and talked to her about it, leaned on her for support and strength.
She had been a driving force, helping him get through that first year. The second had been easier at school, but by the time he started that second year, the people he knew from the streets had heard about his return and the temptation was becoming too great.
He had once more leaned on his Grandma Rosa and she had suggested the army. Unlike his father who was disappointed that he wouldn’t be finishing college, his Grandma was proud of him. He had enough credits by the end of his second year to graduate with an Associate’s Degree in Business and Finance*.
It wasn’t what his parent’s dreams had been, but it was more than he ever dreamed he would accomplish.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
The army had been hard on him, but it had made him stronger, helped him to grow into the man his grandmother always had faith he could be, a man even he could be proud to be – a success.
But that success came at a price and Ranger had found he still needed to lean on his grandmother – the only person he really trusted - from time to time, still needed to speak to her, to hear her words, to allow her to help him get over the rough spot and find his way again.
As the song stopped, he finally exerted himself to turn the music off.
Grandma Rosa had given him so much of herself and he knew he could never do enough for her, even though she never asked him for anything in return.
Turning his attention back to the darkness of the night, he acknowledged to himself that his grandmother wouldn’t be around forever. He had been lucky to have her as long as he had. Maybe, subconsciously, he was looking at Stephanie to fulfill the role his grandmother would one day abandon. Maybe he saw in Stephanie what he saw in his Grandma Rosa – strength, gentleness, love and light. Maybe Stephanie wouldn’t turn him away if she knew the truth. Maybe he should open up and let her into his heart and life.
Maybe someday….
End * I have no clue if Rutgers Newark offers AA and AS degrees or even if they have a business & finance degree, but it fit with my story, so in my fictional Plum world they do. ;-)