A man stood before a large audience and spoke. "This, friends, is the story of how I won Opheilia Berry:"

"It's hard to imagine it now -- that it all was real. Her name was Ophelia Berry, and she was a native american. The night when we met was wet and the rain poured down in damp sheets. The steam rose. It got in your nose. I saw her first on the 132 downtown subway. Upon the very first look she had awoken something lost and mysterious in me. She stood alone, clutching a binder, looking lost, worried; even confused. A person like me, I thought. I could tell that obviously she was concerned about something trying. 'But what?' I wondered. I felt an odd kinship with her. I knew inside that I had to find out what it was that was going on with her or I would never rest. But how could I? I didn't even know where to begin. Our eyes locked, and it felt as though some soulful transmission had ocurred between us. But I just gazed at her. And then, when my stop came, I just got off the subway. Disheartened again. Dejected again, at myself for failing. And I walked on. I went to a local cafe to drown my worries in a nice dose of coffee and cream and four tea spoons of sugar. Maybe that would help me forget for the moment. I knew that I would probably never see her again, but still her presence dominated my mind. Her image floated and distracted me. And I had to know why. That, I really could figure out. But what if she really needed help? What if she was being beaten? But she had no scars. What if she was late and about to lose her job and commit suicide? What if I could do something to save her? What if I could help? What if I could stop it? That would make my life mean something. I would matter. I would exist. Or, at least, I would then know, myself, how I mattered, just as anybody else. I was real.

For some unexplainable reason, I walked out of my way to the Grand Parisian Bridge to ponder it some more; to remove her haunting presence from my brain. I already had a girlfriend at the time. But it was on its last legs. It wasn't going to last much longer; things had been bad. There were mean arguments constantly and we were just clinging onto the last vestigages of our love. When it was over it would be over forever. I was shattered, love bruised, and damaged. I couldn't figure where to go or what to do with myself. Was there hope left for me? Maybe I was a little suicidal myself. Maybe. Maybe I blamed myself for it all, anyway. And I was directionless. A bird on the wire. I stopped, on the bridge, and peered down, defeated. I was giving up. Another night with no great mystical meaning. Random chaos. No purpose. But that was no longer surprising to me now. Perhaps once I had given up soulsearching and lovesearching I would be able to get normal sleep again. I would get by. I would be happy again. Just then I heard a quivering voice whispering to itself:

"Do it! Just do it, you coward! What are you afraid of? Be brave! There isn't anything left!!! Shit! There isn't!"

'Could it be?' I thought to myself. 'It couldn't be!!! Could it?' I ran ahead fifty feet and saw her there, her slender, perfect, angelic figure, standing on the small top of the bridge rail, like a goddess, speechless and trembling.

"Do it, you coward!!!" She yelled at herself.

This time I was confused.

"Hey! What are doing there? Why, in heaven's name, are you up here jumping?" I shouted.

"Oh, Heaven. There is no Heaven! Don't you know that, silly white man?!! That's a child's story."

"Yes! I believe there is! Yes, there is!" I shouted, aloofly, but firmly. "What is it? Tell me! It can't be that bad! It just can't!!! Really!"

"Oh, yes it can! Yes it can! But you don't know! You don't. You aren't a woman! Just another heartless man!"

'What, then?" I braved. "I'm here. I'll try. I'll try. Just tell me. I - I want to know."

"I've fallen from honor! Yes? I have fallen!!! I'm a fallen person. A tragedy. I've fallen already! I lost my virginity!!! I lost my innocence! I've lost my self. And at such a young age! I'm a God damned prostitute!!! Yes! A piece of junk! What future is there in this world for me?!! I've already fallen from this bridge." She looked starkly down, and I knew she meant it. "I've fallen." She was so full of gloom. "May the crows eat my dead empty body and fly away!!!."

'It could be worse."

"What? It could be worse?!!!" She laughed, shocked. " Is that all you can say? How do you know? How do you know what it feels like? Is that all that can be said? Then there is no hope; no "purpose." And there is no love. Not for someone like me!!!"

"Ehh," I said, peering down, racking my brain. "No! Don't. Please wait! Hear me out." She stopped.

"What do you have to say then? Tell me. See if you can save me, hero! Show me your magic ... white man! This second great war, that is upon us, will cause the death of everyone -- the wretched like me, or the blessed, like you. You don't know the horrors. I shall drown in the ocean of death. This death I have made myself. Do you recognize what is going on these days?"

"Well. If you're worried about what God thinks of you, - and if that is why you're here -, be assured ... Jesus was there for the downfallen, the fallen, first. Right? He was there where his presence was needed. Do you know what I mean? And if you're worried about a war, you've already proven yourself to have the bravery to face pain. You can stand this."

"Foolish, naive, white man," she cursed beneath her breath, shaking, like she was about to jump.

"Your imagination has gone wild. Please. Please. Tell me what's happening. I'm here now. Perhaps it's serendipity. It's for some grand reason. Maybe I can help. Okay? Let me try. If you're going to make such a great choice, give it a few minutes of consideration. Perhaps I could persuade you from this senseless action."

"Yes. Yes. I don't know why you care about me, white man," she reflected, "So, I will tell you, then. Now. Yes. Very well. Someone should hear my story. Here it is, american: I got pregnant. Yes. One of my Johns raped me. Understand? He raped me, and I bled! I carried a bastard son. An unwanted soul. I can't afford it. And who will save me from the spirits I have angered.? How can I give the baby a good home? How can I welcome it into the world? The odds are already entirely fixed against him. How can I give it love, if I'm out working -- a prostitute, dying each day, with every breath, on the steets. The horrorful shame of a bastard child!"

"God doesn't want this! Think. Maybe he gave you this child for a reason. Maybe, in some odd way, he wanted to teach you something. Maybe he wanted you to change your lifestyle. To grow. Maybe he wanted you to get away from this. In any possible way. Maybe he has hope for you."

"Nice try, white man. I know very well how to get out of this," she looked over the bridge. "Again, your're getting on me with the God stuff. Silly white man. Is that all you have to say? You don't know. Tell me, how exactly, sir, am I going to change my lifestyle? How do I get away from it all? I'm too dumb. I have no answers. I am just a lost child in the wilderness. A lost spirit. I can't do anything. I don't fit in anywhere. I don't belong. This world doesn't love indians. It's hopeless! The human race is filled with maggots! Evil doers, abusers, losers, and unthinking users. Everyone will break you. Do you know what I face everyday? Could you live like that? No, you couldn't! You couldn't carry that baggage for one day. You would die inside, and then outside, like I am about to, too."

"Please, please ... don't be so hostile. No ... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I mean to the human race. Okay. I would be mad also. I understand it. But trust the creator. Have a little faith. There has got to be more to the human race, and more potential than that. There is so much in the world unknown to us. Is that not magic? There's potential. I'm sure there's a good way out! And maybe it's not the actual situation but what, in the heat of passion, you concieve the situation. Let's talk some more."

"What do you want? What do you want to hear? I'm sorry but I can't give you the happy ending, white man. I can't go on. I'm going to jump tonight."

"I'll jump with you."

"What?"

"I said I'll jump with you." She glared at me, surprised, and in disbelief. "I'll jump too. If you jump you will take me with you. I won't let you go alone. Are you willing to have both of our deaths on your shoulders?"

"Are you mad?" she asked, bewildered.

" I think we share this madness. And, I see, then you must believe in the existance of a soul. Or you wouldn't worry. But let us talk over this, first. Okay? Let's just go back. How and why did your life come to this?"

"My father. My damn father... he - he used to beat us!!! He never could find regular work, and he would come home drunk, and he would take out his anger on us. Regularly. I believe that as long as he knew he was in power at home, he felt like a real man in some gross, sick, disgusting way. So I couldn't concentrate in school. Truly, I never was that intelligent; no Einstein. But when knowing he would be there later to beat me, my whole day was lived in the fear of severe punishment. Then, when I didn't bring home good grades, that was just another reason for him to hit me. He even abused me sexually on some occasions. I can't speak of it .. even now. Let us just say that there weren't many choices for me, out on the streets, a runaway, at age sixteen."

"That does sound pretty awful. Most of us don't realize how lucky we are."

"Well yes. That's it. That is my little, sad and tragic story."

"What about your brothers and sisters?"

"Yes, there are some. I had almost forgotten about them. Maybe it would be nice to see them, someday. Maybe in Heaven, no, mr. american? There is no life for me. I was a child of lust, too. A mistake. And tonight I will finally end that mistake. Where was God during all of the abuse? And where is he now, at the start of the second great war? My people are dying. All of ours are. I am a child of dislocation."

"My father used to beat me, too."

"Do you tell the truth, or are you just saying that to me? Are you a liar?"

"I survived the punishment. I have learned that it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself for the afflictions some other mediocre person put upon you -- you who was not at fault. It's not your fault. Look further inside. You will know that it was not your fault. And that God wishes for you to choose to choose love. It's not your fault. Let love radiate through you. Start again. Give that love tenfold to your child. Begin anew."

"I - I don't have love to give. Only confusion."

"Where is your dad now? Maybe if you confronted him ... perhaps in a letter, that would help get these bad feelings out."

"No, he's already dead. And he took any chance of freedom for me to the grave with him."

"Listen, you are your own soul. God must be all about grace, don't you think? There is such opportunity to do good and become good in this world. There is so much time. Why else would God create right and wrong -- such strong convictions in our beings. God wouldn't want you to hurt, do you think? All the time? Whoever the creator is, He is all about love, if there is any meaning in this world to what we do. You've got to reach out and to hold on to love. That is what I have learned. Maybe God wanted me to be here to tell you that."

"But I don't have a father for the child."

"Let me -- let me be the father!!!"

"You must be joking. Don't play with my wounded heart, american. It cannot take that."

"I will be there. I have nothing in my life anyway that could mean as much as that. I've been wanting to be a dad. Of course, I can't offer a perfect role-model... but we can work on it. I could be there for you, maybe...." Thinking about it now, I must have lost my restraint in the intensity of the moment. Still, I felt something special for this woman, this kindrid soul.

"But you hardly know me. Have you been drinking? Have you been eating paint? I can't take anymore hurt."

I didn't know what to tell her."But life comes with hurt."

"Can you tell me you love me? If you can you tell me that you love me ...."

"I - I can. I can, in a way. I do have love for you, though I barely know you, and I barely know that love. All I see is a good, honest, beautiful, brave and strong woman. A fine soul, that is a little lost and needs to find a home. You are like me -- estranged from warmth. We could start together. We could do this together. We don't have to be in love, or lovers. But we could help each other. I could help you cope, and you could just be around for me to help. I think we have a special bond."

"Why should I trust you? How do I know that you are not just another abuser? How can I know that you respect me? There sorts of things cannot be built in one short meeting. And what will people think of us -- an english american and a french indian? We would be a laughing joke."

"Please, give us as chance. Give us time. It will be new, and grow stronger. Besides I'm a canadian."

"Okay. Hear this," she spoke. "I will be with you if you can tell me that you love me, and I believe it. I don't think you can," she said. "You won't really jump in the water if I jump. Will you? Yes. Yes. Then I will know that you love me." She was bats ... but so was I.

"Come!" she screamed, and leaped from the bridge into the sea.

As she fell, I screamed, "I love you!!!" And I jumped.

I dove in after her. After some time I found her body beneath the surface, and dragged her on to the shore. I recussitated her, and we gazed into each others shaking eyes, her wet hair across her face, and her make up running messily. She was glorious. "You do love me, my crazy love," she gasped, catching her breath.

"I couldn't see you go, " I said. "Not like that."

And that is the story of how Ophelia Berry and I came to fall in love. It has been fiftteen years since then, and our child, William, here, is doing fine. He knows that he is not just a bastard child, like Ophelia feared. Instead, he is the best man at our wedding. He has been raised with love and warmth. And Ophelia, and I, two lonely souls, have grown to be two happy, loved, souls, in precious, sacred, union. May future generations know the love that we have formed for each other, and smile upon life with as much joy."