This was written for the Tall – Writer’s Block Challenge on Tasting Eden.
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:New_York_Midtown_Skyline_at_night_-_Jan_2006_edit1.jpg
This is it. I’m done. It’s over. There’s no turning back now. I’m going to do it. It’s not worth the hassle anymore. It’s not worth the pain. This life just isn’t worth it. What is this life really? Meaningless. What’s the point? Pointless. I’m sorry. Tell my ma I love her. Tell her I can’t anymore. Not like this. Not without – her.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I cringe at the sound of my friend’s screaming voice as he gets done reading what I believe is some misguided suicide note. I have no recollection of writing this, but alas I’m sure I did. It’s my handwriting – a lopsided, crabby version of it at that.
“I – I can’t.” I manage to mutter with my blurry vision and head spinning.
It doesn’t help that we’re fifty stories high on the rooftop of the building where I’m renting a penthouse suite for the weekend. I’m sitting casually over the edge of the railing with my feet hanging. It’s an amazing view of the city at night filled with multicolored lights and skyscraper buildings.
“Oh you can’t? Tell me Justin please – what can’t you do? You can’t give yourself that extra push to plummet fifty stories to your death? You can’t bear the heartache you will cause to millions of people if you decide to go through with this in your drunken stupor? Or maybe you can’t handle the fact that if you do this now, you’ll pretty much be signing me right into the loony bin along with your mom, because no amount of therapy will ever suffice after watching my best friend leap to his death. What for? Some woman? Some worthless chick?” He belts incredulously.
I wince at his harsh words. They leave a bitter afterthought in my mind.
“She’s not some worthless – ” but my voice dies there. I’m too weak to do this. I’m too weak to fight with him.
“She became a worthless chick when she made you resort to this! Come on Justin. Please. Think about this. You don’t really want to do this. You have a family. You have a kid for crying out loud! He’s only three! What’s he going to think when he learns that his dad who used to be a superstar and was loved by millions, decided on a whim to take his life because his wife cheated on him and they were going through a messy divorce? Your kid needs you more now than ever! You can’t be this selfish – you can’t. It’s not like you!”
I hear the hurt in his voice. I see the pain in his eyes – or what I think is pain. It’s hard to tell in this poor rooftop lighting. My inebriation is not helping. I singlehandedly finished a twelve-pack of beer. There are bottles everywhere. Grabbing the last half-empty bottle, I quickly gulp the rest of the bitter substance before I throw the bottle uncaringly back over the railing. It hits the pavement with a clang and slowly rolls away from where I’m sitting on the edge of this high-rise.
It stops at Trace’s feet and he looks down at it for a moment, not saying anything.
Releasing a heavy sigh, he takes a deep breath and slowly moves toward me.
I tense, with every muscle in my upper body constricting to an almost painful state. If he gets too close I just might slide off – accidentally. I don’t need him trying to grab me. I don’t need him trying to change my mind.
But he doesn’t say or make any attempt to hold onto me. Instead, he cautiously moves to take the position next to me. And that’s when panic sets in.
My heart immediately quickens and I watch in horror as he climbs over the railing and sits next to me on the edge with his feet hanging over.
“Holy shit.” He mumbles softly, his knuckles turning an unnatural shade of white as they grip the edge of the concrete roof next to his thighs.
“Trace. Are you insane?” I ask in dismay. Doesn’t he realize that with the position we’re in, there’s no way to get back over without someone’s help? “You just stranded yourself here with me. There’s only one way down.”
“I know Justin. I know. But, if you’re going to do this, then I need to understand. I need to see it from your point of view.”
“Shit man. Don’t tell me you’re considering jumping with me. That would be – ” But my words fade when I see the determined look in his eyes. “No, T – you can’t.” I say in barely a whisper, my heart thundering in my chest now.
“Oh but you can? What makes you so special Justin? Huh? Tell me.” Trace barks at me, not once meeting my eyes. He’s too focused on looking below at the tiny dots consisting of people, cars and other objects.
“Even with us like this, the world keeps spinning.” He gestures.
Feeling my resolve slightly crack, I turn around and look up at the railing we need to climb back over. There’s no way. One of us needs to be on the other side. I know for a fact, Trace didn’t call or tell anyone that we’re up here. He wouldn’t want them to worry. I’m sure he thought he was enough to dissuade me. I’m not even sure how I ended up here.
The entire day is a blur. I remember bits and pieces of it. I remember coming out here and renting the penthouse for the weekend because of a golf exhibition I was scheduled to do. I remember this morning when I got here from the airport, I called to cancel the exhibition when I got a restraining order from my soon to be ex-wife delivered at my front door.
Like the divorce we’re going through isn’t ugly enough, now she’s trying to keep me from our son.
I remember flipping out, calling her and cussing her out. I remember my son crying in the background at her screaming voice over the phone. I remember feeling like absolute and utter shit for it. I also remember my inability to breath as anxiety and panic set in on what this break up means for us, for the future and for the family we invested all these years in to build. She cheated, she got caught, and she filed for a divorce. How the fuck does that work?
Not a single apology was spoken. Not even a hint of remorse could be found – and to make it worse, she had the guts one night to voice that our son might not be mine though he has my curly hair, eyes, nose and every thing else that makes him a Timberlake man. I think that was what caused the restraining order. I lost it for a split second and nearly choked her to death right there in our living room in front of our kid. I can’t imagine the psychological damage I must have inflicted on him even though he’s still too young to fully understand.
I felt like the worse father in the world. That’s why I couldn’t stop her when she frantically broke away from me, grabbed our son and dashed out of the house like her life depended on it …
I also remember calling Trace out here, going out partying the entire day and taking the party back to my penthouse suite.
This is where it gets foggy. We partied, we drank, and we socialized with about ten of our closest friends down in the penthouse. I felt like I was on top of the world. But somewhere along the lines of me getting shit-faced drunk and wondering up here with a string of lights still slightly tangled around my arms and leg, I can’t piece the rest together. I must look like shit right now.
And when I really think about it, I think we left the penthouse full of guests. It’s only a matter of time before they realize we’ve been gone too long. Then what?
“When and where did I get the beer? How did these lights get attached to me? When did I write that letter?” I ask myself out loud, my thoughts jumbled and rampant.
“In the midst of the party, being the shitty host that you are, you excused yourself and went into the kitchen and pulled out a twelve-pack of beer from the refrigerator. I gazed in your direction long enough to see you grab a pen and paper sitting on the kitchen counter and scribble something on it. Then you dropped the pen and stumbled out of the kitchen and the front door, with the pack of beer, tripping over the decorative stringed lights on your way out. Of course you didn’t stop. You simply stood up and continued walking, taking them with you. I thought you were acting strange so I walked into the kitchen to look at what you wrote. When I read the note, I nearly lost it and in the midst of my panic, I grabbed it and went after you. Now, here we are…” Trace explains, his voice solemn.
“Here we are.” I echo his words.
“What I don’t get is why Justin? What exactly is this going to solve?”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.” I state listlessly. “It’s just that I – ” pausing, I swallow hard, feeling a sudden onslaught of tears engulf me. “I – ” The words won’t come out. I swallow and inhale deeply, blinking a few times as tears escape me. Exhaling slowly, I grip Trace’s shoulder, his plaid shirt scrunching between my fists. “I love her. And it hurts. It hurts so much. I can’t. I can’t take this pain. I can’t T. It feels like I’m being mauled from the inside out.”
I finally said it. Weakness be damned – I finally said it. She has no idea how this broke me so completely.
Trace finally turns to look at me, his eyes big and glassy. “I know J. I know. That’s why – I won’t let you do this alone.”
I can sense the fear in his voice, which heightens mine. “No! You can’t!”
“Justin – ”
“No Trace. You can’t! I’m not worth it!”
“That’s where you’re wrong again buddy. You are. We’re best friends right?” But I don’t let him finish. I won’t be responsible for this.
In a flash, I find myself fighting to stand while still feeling intoxicated. I can’t imagine I’m the in the right frame of mind to make any smart decisions right now. We’re practically dangling over a roof with nothing but a long way down in front of us. But I somehow manage to stand, determined to get Trace back on the other side of this black metal railing.
“Hold on, Justin be careful. One wrong move and …”
That’s the last thing I hear Trace say before I trip over my feet trying to turn around on the narrow ledge and feel myself going back as I lose my balance.
“Justin!” I hear in unison, and I’m momentarily dazed, the heat rushing through my body, paralyzing me as I feel myself slowly falling backwards over the edge of the roof.
I could have sworn I heard a bloodcurdling scream a few pitches higher than Trace’s as he tries to steady me from where he’s next to me to prevent both of us from toppling over.
But it’s all a blur, because the moment I lose the remainder of my footing and prepare myself for the worst, I feel a tight sudden grip at my chest, the black t-shirt I’m wearing being balled up in small fists.
Looking up, my breath hitches and I stare in wonderment at the sight of my wife’s body, half dangling over the railing as she swoops down, trying to hold onto me with four of our other friends grabbing onto her waist so she doesn’t go over as well.
“Justin, hold on to me…please!” She cries out, begging me to take her arms to solidify the grip she has on me.
“Come on J!” One of our other friends bellows.
I can see the stunned and shocked looks on their faces. It’s like a scene straight out of a movie with a chain of people dangling over a rooftop.
How did we end up like this? How could I have put all of these people’s lives in danger like this?
“Lea … how?” I mutter in shock, still hesitant and disbelieving.
“Justin! Just do it!” I hear Trace beckon next to me. He’s the only thing standing between us and the hard pavement fifty stories below. He’s pushing against me from the side, trying to push me back upright while he himself fights to keep his balance.
“I’m sorry! Justin! Please!” Lea pleads with me and in that moment our son’s face flashes in my thoughts. In a split second, I grab onto her firmly and before I know it, our group of friends are hoisting us back over the railing.
It doesn’t take long for them to pull Trace back over as well. The sight of Lea causes him to go mute for the most part. He simply stares on as he tries to catch his breath. It’s always been this way. He never got along with her from the start.
Once everyone is back to safety, we all collapse exhausted on the hard concrete rooftop.
A gust of wind passes over us, causing goose bumps to form on my skin. Through ragged breathing, I turn myself towards my wife, her presence sending me through a new tailspin of emotions.
“How long where you there?” I ask in bewilderment.
“The moment Trace climbed over to join you. I was so stricken with fear, I didn’t know what to do, so after listening to you all speak for a while, I quickly sent a text message to the others to come up here and help me and I kept ringing their phones until someone picked up. I came here for you Justin! To find you here – like this – I – ” And she trails, unable to say any more than that. I can’t blame her. There’s not much left that she can say. She caused this. It’s her fault.
Lying on my back and looking up at the night’s sky, I stuff my hands in my jeans pocket and pull out a charm bracelet I gave to her as a gift on the night of our honeymoon six years ago.
I finally untangle myself from the string lights and I can feel my intoxication slowly easing off as remnants of the discarded beer bottles lay haphazardly around our bodies – a painful reminder that I almost made a monumental mistake that would have haunted my loved ones for the rest of their lives.
Gazing at the silver charm bracelet, I carefully stumble to my feet and amble over to the edge, hearing a series of gasps.
“Relax. I’m not going to – ” Stopping a few feet shy of the railing, I lift my hands in the air and with one powerful swing I send the charm bracelet sailing over the edge and down to the street below.
Feeling like a weight has been lifted, I turn back around and look at Lea and my other friends’ expressions, especially Trace’s.
Diverting my attention back to Lea, I muster up the courage to face her properly this time.
“I’m ready now Lea. If it’s a fight you want, then fine. I’ll fight you in court. But, be prepared to lose … because I have no intension of letting you take our son away from me.”
With that simple declaration of war, I prepare myself mentally and emotionally to take the high road in this and face my future, dead on and with my head held high – no matter how uncertain that future may be.
Bring it on.
*The End*
