The Scream

The Scream
by
Cathy Alden
Jim leaned precariously over the railing trying to get just the right focus. The wind from the mountain blew his blonde hair back away from his face. Watching from behind I could see the outline of his tensed muscles through his Levis. One brown-booted foot was placed on the bottom rail. Quickly I walked toward him. Gathering all my strength, I shoved him and watched without remorse as his body bounced from jagged ledge to jagged ledge toward the lush green valley below. Caught on the railing, his camera swung gently to and fro, and his hoarse, masculine scream was the last thing I remember.
I sat up with a start and reached for the alarm. It was only seven o’clock. Damn! My single best fantasy was still only a dream. Sighing my disappointment, I turned over, listened to his snoring, and kneed him in the butt.
“You better get up,” I said through a yawn.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said and rolled over. Reaching for his Marlboros he asked, “How about some nookie?” His breath nearly gagged me.
“You’ve got to be kidding! We have to meet Tony and Candy at nine, and you know how long it takes you to get ready!”
I sat up and quickly jumped from bed.
“I’ll take a shower while you smoke your fag.”
Twenty minutes later I walked out of the bathroom. Carrying a Time Life WWII History book, and with deliberate slowness, Jim went in. I gave him a disparaging look. With a smirk on his face, he merely shrugged his shoulders.
Already one hour late, we walked down the steps from our apartment at ten o’clock. I slipped into the car. Knowing he was aggravating me further, he began his usual ritual. He flipped the hood and checked the oil. That done he walked around the car, kicked each tire, and made sure the blinkers were working. I felt sure he only went through this because of his arrogance. He loved making an “entrance.”
Finally, after getting gas and picking up our friends, we were on our way to do a little sight seeing. Jim always drove toward Garmish in the German Alps. According to him, the Zugspitze, the highest mountain in Germany, was the best place for taking pictures. When I looked over at him to tell him that all of Germany was perfect for taking pictures, he had his finger stuck up his nose. I offered him a Kleenex, but he said he didn’t need it.
Tony and Candy argued in the back seat. This was not unusual. They were always arguing or wrestling or something. Jim and Tony worked in the same office at the airfield, and Candy was Tony’s girlfriend. She was a pretty, blond German girl and a bit on the temperamental side. Tony, with his short dark hair, was unattractive, I thought, and wondered more times than not what Candy saw in him. Oh well! There’s no accounting for taste. Love is blind. I liked her anyway, and besides, she helped me with my German.
“Everybody out!” Jim said with enthusiasm after the car was parked. With a fag hanging from his lips, he sauntered around to the trunk and opened it. Carefully he took out his Pentax and checked to make sure he had the right lenses in the case. He slammed the trunk shut, making sure it was locked.
As we walked up the path toward the cable car, I thought about the dream I’d had earlier that morning. It wasn’t the first time I had dreamed things like that. Discovering he was having an affair, the dreams became more intense and more frequent. The devastation kept on digging and digging creating a larger void in my heart. I wondered if the hurt would ever leave. If it did, I knew forgetting would not come easily,
We approached the ticket booth for the cable car.
“Nice lungs,” Jim said to Tony, as they noticed a young woman walking down the path.
“Just pay for the tickets,” I said as I looked at Candy and rolled my eyes.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said as he shoved fifty Deutsch Marks at the attendant.
Jim had his camera ready as we stepped out of the cable car onto the platform. There was a hotel and a large restaurant at the top with outdoor cafes and walkways, and as skiing was possible even during the summer, it was crowded. While Jim and Tony scoped out the scenery for a few minutes, Candy and I found an empty table at the café. We sat down to order sodas.
We chatted amiably, and as Tony came back to the table, Jim leaned precariously over the railing to take a picture.
“Hey girls, say cheese,” Tony said as he slowly backed up to take our picture. We leaned together, smiling, and I watched in what seemed like slow motion as Tony backed right into Jim, knocking him over the rail. With horror, Tony turned quickly, watching Jim’s body bounce from jagged ledge to jagged ledge, and I realized with grim satisfaction that Jim’s best friend had turned my single best fantasy into reality. Hanging from the railing, Jim’s camera swung gently to and fro, and the last thing I remember was his hoarse, masculine scream.