Page 58 - The Bridge Vol 17_pgs

The Bridge

god

Caitlin Faria

fiction

I never imagined that my fresh new start at my fresh new job in a fresh new state would turn out
like this. To my right, the dead body of a woman hangs in the trees. Her body is lifted by rope and her
arms are out so that she looks like a cross. To my left, her husband, God.
Not the real God, but he’s what people consider to be as close as you can get. His real name is
Officer Godesko, but everyone around here calls him God. I don’t know if it’s just to shorten his
last name or if it’s for his morals. Maybe it’s for both. The way everyone refers to him is always so
nonchalant and comfortable.
“Yeah, I just saw God at the bar. We talked about the ball game for a while.”
You wouldn’t think that God would be a word that people say so easily. Usually the name has a
bigger meaning and people put a little more emphasis on it. Like when you go to church or something
and the priest guy is talking. It’s never just a name.
“And then, GOD came to Abraham and told him…”
The God standing next to me gives the word a different meaning. It’s not really lessened, but I
guess more human.
He and I are the only state troopers in the area. It’s a small town in northern New Hampshire called
Willbrook, and it’s engulfed in dense woods. There is a small town center just half a mile away from
where we are now. Willbrook’s one of those weird places that you see in TV shows and movies—everyone
knows everyone, but nothing ever happens. The biggest issue is teenagers taking their parents’ pick-up
trucks into the woods at night to smoke pot, but God never arrests them or anything. He just lectures
them for a bit. Even though they don’t like getting caught, they never give him any trouble, because they
respect him so much. The kids always hand over their weed, say “thank you,” get back in the trucks, and
wave as they drive off.
God’s this big 43-year-old guy who looks like he could be a lumberjack. He’s probably somewhere
around 6’8” and is all muscle. His shoulders are so broad that I’m surprised he even fits through
doorways. His oldest son, Adrien, is built the same way. However, the rest of the family is around
average height and slender. His fourteen-year-old son and nine-year-old daughter are both the perfect
height for their ages, and thin, as opposed to muscular like their father. They look more like their
mother, whose body is now being brought down slowly from the trees.
Her name was Ellen Godesko.
Willbrook has a well-known drifter who wanders around all day and night. Mr. Obsurro was the
one who reported seeing her like this. He was drunk when he made the call. I can see Adrien hugging
his little brother and sister through the trees. God didn’t want the kids to see the body up close, but
they refused to stay home. They kept back about 400 feet from the area we roped off and weren’t
anywhere near Ellen.

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