Crossing The Bridge

[Gia’s POV] I watch the passing lights of the cities that illuminate the night’s sky, as James is driving us to a club that he has been asking me to go to with him for months now. I am tired, like usual. My 42-year-old, single mom, introverted self does not want to go clubbing. Doing this merely as my way to finally compromise with James, who has been frustrated that we only screw late at night, and don’t go on dates. Being taken out on a date was something I used to look forward to years ago in my twenties and early thirties. All I got out of my dating years was betrayals, toxic relationships, abuse, and lots of heartbreak. Now, I just want to get the deed done and sleep. I don’t want to deal with relationship drama, pain, and suffering. With James, I keep my heart walled off in a massive fortress. Nothing is impenetrable, but it is all I have left to keep sane. James’ night hustle is as a rap recording artist. Nothing mainstream yet. Mostly, he gets together with his friends to make recordings at each other’s homes. I am not into new rap music. Call me old fashioned, but I just don’t get into the newer music much anymore. He is talented though, and I like trying to be moral support for his artistry. We met several years ago at our kids’ school. I never intended on dating anyone, even him. We started up a friends-with-benefits relationship a couple of months after meeting. Neither of us has even spoken about commitment or our long-term intentions. Although, I know he sees us as more. We recently started talking again after taking a two-year break from each other. He made me angry one day, when he snapped at me, called me names, insulted everything he could about me, all because he was drunk and misunderstood something I said about his music. I had no intention of telling him there was something I did not like about his music. He asked me what my thoughts were, and I told him it was just not my thing. Totally got blown out of proportion, and after he yelled at me for fifteen minutes while degrading me, I told him to never call me again. He sent me a text message and social media message every month for the two-year break. He called constantly and would leave me voicemail messages about how he screwed up, missed me, and had changed. I guess you can say, he wore me down, although I remain skeptical about him changing; people rarely have enough strength of character and willpower to change. When I finally did respond to him, he called me and told me that he had been making so many positive changes. He went on about how he was really working on himself, having a new hobby, and is happier. I don’t really need or want a relationship. I just decided to stop ignoring his communications. He still struggles with alcoholism, which bothers me, but he is a bit more considerate of me and my needs. The s*x is good; not the best I have had, but it takes the edge off. It is not like he will be around much longer, as I have already unintentionally bridged him to his mate. That is correct, I make bridges. These are spiritual and magical bridges for others to cross to that which they sometimes want, need, or desire. I only found out a few weeks ago that I have this ability. Prior to that, I had thought I was cursed. You see, every time I get involved with someone, they find the woman they end up with. They break it off with me. Oftentimes, they just ghost me. It is rude and pathetic, but most people lack bravery and basic decency.  I am a Bridge. It is a role I chose before I was born into this lifetime. My soul has reincarnated since the first human was created. Really gives meaning to the “old soul” label. To be a bridge, one’s soul must have been reincarnated for thousands of years and have mastered most of the roles they have chosen in previous lives. Few souls choose to be a Bridge. It is a very challenging soul role to level out of. The role also has an a la carte menu of close to several hundred different traumatic experiences that the soul must choose twelve to go through. This is to prepare the life to be able to better empathize and connect with others. It is a bit masochistic in my opinion. Think of the decision of choosing roles before each birth into a new lifetime, as choosing a video game character and their attributes / abilities. There are pros to choosing the Bridge path. The main plus is that when you succeed at it, you get to choose to become an ethereal, angel, demon, spirt guide, or other higher soul-level entities. You get to choose whether you want to reincarnate again, or if you just want to live in higher-level positions. Also, Bridges come with many different abilities, such as, time manipulation, healer, telekinesis, psychokinesis, astral and mental projection, talking to animals and other living beings, manifesting from the senses, hearing thoughts of others, and so much more. You really get well equipped before adventuring into the life game. Bridges walk between worlds, dimensions, and realms. They can connect with beings in any of those places. Now for the not so fun part, the rules. I have only learned four of the rules so far from my watchers. Watchers are a panel of diverse higher-level beings, who guide, watch over, and regulate each Bridge. The rules I have learned so far are as follows:   Rule One: Bridges are not allowed to use magic for self-benefit, hence why I am broke. Rule Two: Bridges are restricted in using magic or thought to cast vengeance or harm to those they have bridged, even unintentionally. Rule Three: Bridges must endure selected traumatic hardships to better acclimate them to various scenarios of pain, fear, hope, and despair, hence my PTSD, anxiety, and depression. Rule 4: Bridges cannot undo, tear down, or destroy, by any means, the bridges they laid for others. This basically also plays into the no vengeance or recourse allowed rule.   The last thing I know about being a Bridge is that when you manifest the bridge for someone, what they are receiving on the other side, automatically puts the negative burden into the Bridge, and is placed on the person who creates the bridges, a.k.a. the Bridge. For example, every man I unknowingly was a magical matchmaker to (I had laid a bridge to their mate), I was left with pain of not finding my mate, and/or suffered extreme heartbreak, depression, etc. Another example is when I have bridged someone to financial prosperity, I received sudden loss to my finances. Why in the hell would anyone choose to be a bridge? My soul is a crazy ass who loves a challenge. Of course, she would choose to be a f*****g bridge…not happy about it. So, here I am, in James’ car, heading to a club in Saint Paul. This is completely out of the norm for me, and one of the few times I have asked someone to watch my child so that I could go out for myself. I try not to ask my sister to watch my son, as she works way too much, has a ton of her own responsibilities, and I feel bad asking for help so that I can do something for myself or something social. It took everything in me to ask her to watch him tonight at my place. She was so excited to help, and I know it is because she worries about my mental health. Yes, I have had a rough life. I keep my PTSD, anxiety, and depression at bay. Also, now being in my forties, I gained this new, I don’t care attitude, which helps a ton, but not completely. We have reached the club now; this should be interesting…I mind whisper to my spirit panel, the Watchers, “Should we put money on whether James meets his mate and ditches me tonight or not?” They just laugh, those sadistic assholes. I opened my car door while James threw his keys at the valet. It is typical for him to walk ahead of me. I caught up to him as he walked to the entrance. The bouncer lets him in and stops me to check my ID, like seriously, I am in my forties! He looks at it, passes me a questioning look, and I return the look with a “what the f**k” glare. After waving me in, I saw James waving me towards the bar. He had found some of his friends at the bar, and I head over there to just follow along. After ordering my bottled water and giving the bar tender some cash, we walk over to an empty table near the dancers’ mini stages area and sit down with his friends. Thankfully, I took an end seat so that I can make quick escapes to the restroom, whenever I want to. Some musicians are rap battling on the stage. People are dancing in the pit, and girls in bikinis are dancing on the mini stages. I am already bored. After a good hour listening to James and his friends debate whether they should join the rap battle, a gorgeous blonde with the shortest and tightest dress walks toward our table. Her legs are super-long and built. Her eyes are hazel with long eyelashes. Her lips are the most perfect shape with dark red lipstick painted on them. She approaches our table, and James and his friends go silent while getting mini hard-ons staring at her. She bends down, leans her arms on the table so that her t**s bulge further in their direction, looks at James and asks him if he will dance with her. The scumbag doesn’t even blink or think twice, stands up, hops on the table to get to her, and sweeps her onto the dance floor. I didn’t even know the jackass could dance. That just happened! As I say “f**k this” in my head, I grab my purse and stroll towards the hallway where the VIP rooms and restrooms are, as I feel the emotions and pain swelling in my chest. One of the rooms has several very large men standing in front of the open door. There must be some serious VIPs in that room to have bodyguards. As I walk past the room, I find my way to the line to the women’s restroom. As I wait for my turn, I am doing everything to hold back the tears of rejection that are desperate to explode out of my eyes. James is not worth my tears, I know this, but he just found his mate on the other side of the bridge. Now, I have to endure the required reciprocal pain of rejection and heartache for his newfound happiness to come. After the line finally moved and I got into the restroom, I went to the sink to pat some cool water on my forehead, eyes, and neck. The smell in the women’s restroom was nauseating and hitting my gag reflex. Yet, the tears now flowing from my eyes needed to be put in check with water. As I continued to splash my face, I remembered that next to the VIP room with guards, was an exit sign. I can sneak out the exit, call an uber, and go home. Great idea, I told myself, giving myself one more quick glance in the mirror before rushing out of the restroom. I wasn’t really paying any attention as I rushed out of the door and down the hall when I suddenly smacked straight into a wall. At least I thought it was a wall. My hands stopped the rest of me from colliding with the hard surface. As, I opened my eyes and looked at where my hands are glued to, I realize they are stuck on the chest of a very hard male body. Without removing my hands, my eyes took in the sight of a chiseled chest. I slowly looked up his chest to his muscular and very strong neck. His jawline was that of a god. His lips held a smirk and my eyes stopped on his eyes; obsidian with tiny flecks of deep red wine stared right back into my eyes. Goosebumps covered my body, and a shockwave of electricity ran from my fingertips to my core. I couldn’t move my hands. I couldn’t move anything. Suddenly, I felt a surge of powerful energy connect our eyes. The club disappeared. I felt like I was disappearing. My body and mind were becoming so light. I feel like I am floating. The noise of the club was muted and all I could hear was my heartbeat and this man saying “Mine.”