The Night I Found The Man Under That Bridge Again.

     I looked all over the house for Allen that morning, but I didn't find him. I had to go to work, so I showered quickly and left. The sun was barely up when I left, and the grass was soaked. It was freezing cold, and Allen was somewhere out there. I was just going to have to find him later. Obviously he didn't want to be bothered.
     When I came home that night, Allen had reappeared, and was cooking dinner. He was standing in the kitchen, wearing one of my aprons and looking ridiculous. He smiled at me awkwardly, and went back to his cooking. I didn't ask him where he had been, because I didn't want to upset him again. But his shoes were muddy up the sides, so I assumed he had been at the creek. He didn't seem interested in talking abut it, and defected all of my questions. He was suddenly very interested in the bakery, as if I wouldn't notice that he was deflecting.
     It went on like that for a week. I'd wake up in the morning, and he'd be gone, and I'd come home and he'd be back, making dinner. It was a nice routine, honestly. After a week, however, I decided to see where he was really going. So, I woke up earlier than usual, and followed him to the creek. He stood in the shallow water without his shoes on, and I watched him. He was right under the bridge where I had found him initially, almost a month earlier. He stood quietly for a long time, reflecting on the place where i had found his broken body. Then, as if it was some ritual, he spat on the spot, and climbed the bridge. He hung from a pipe under the bridge, and began to do pull-ups. He was about ten feet in the air, holding himself above maybe two feet of moonlit water, with his frail legs dangling beneath him. He must have done a hundred pushups before he stopped, and to my surprise, dropped himself from the pipe, straight down. He landed with a thud, and his legs crumpled under him. He collapsed into the water, and I watched as he pulled himself back up, angry at himself for not being able to manage the fall. He started running in place in the water, splashing all around himself in a frenzy, and yelling at himself to be stronger. I watched him work out for about a half an hour, until the sun began to creep up, and I realized I had to go to work. I ran home, showered and dashed off for work.
     I spent the whole day at work thinking about him. He had been so determined, and so strong, but so frail at the same time. I couldn't understand what drove him, but I admired it. He was magnificent, really. I wish now that I had told him that more often.