Letters From The Ledge (10 page)

The men outside had moved away from the window and life on the street went on as usual. Brendan took another sip of his coffee as he studied her. "You’re definitely different from most girls."

"Is that a good thing?"

"It is in my book."

“Speaking of girls–” Sarah leaned back against the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “You were going to tell me about this project you’re working on, but then somehow it became all about me.”

“What makes you think it has anything to do with a girl?”

“Just a hunch. Maybe you’d rather tell me what makes you cut? Or get stoned all the time?”

Brendan’s arms got rigid and he could feel the muscles in his neck tense up. “Maybe not.” There was no way he was going to talk to this girl about–

She seemed to pick up on his hesitation and was out of her chair before he could say anything else. Her curt smile did little to hide her disappointment. "Well, my coffee’s gone and I have to get going anyway. Maybe we could pick it up another time?"

He turned his head and watched the barista instead of her face. "Yeah, whatev. See ya."

Sarah took her books and walked out. Brendan watched her take a deep breath and look left and right before she started out past the window. She didn’t look in at him, but kept her eyes focused ahead of her. He snapped another black and white shot through the window as she passed by. She was right. Looking both ways was all she knew.

“What we do in life echoes in eternity.”

Gladiator

“What’ll it be today handsome? The usual?”

Brendan pulled some bills out of his wallet. “Yeah. But give me a couple of roses too, will you?”

“Oh! Sure thing sweetheart! Is it a special occasion?”

“You might say that.”

“Well, we’ll just make it nice and pretty.” The older woman took great care arranging the small bouquet and handed them to him gently. “Here ya go doll.”

“Thanks Peggy.”

“Sure thing honey. You try to have a good day, ok?”

Brendan took the flowers from the street vendor and started up the path. He walked past the large iron gates that stood as sentries to the tight formations of upright stones settled row on row. Bringing flowers to a girl should be a lot more fun than this. When he got to the small, flat stone that marked Tess’s grave he sat down under the oak tree and looked out at the skyline. Last week’s flowers had wilted and mostly blown away. He arranged the fresh spray of daisies in the small plastic vase he’d dug partially into the ground to hold his offerings, but laid the two red roses on either side of the stone. Then he photographed it in black and white, as well as in color. He’d play with the photos later on.

“I hope you don’t mind the pictures. You’ll like what I do with them. You’ll see.”

It was a restless day for him, so he got up and walked around for a while, reading the other headstones and mentally calculating the age of most of the other residents. It was surprising how few people actually lived to a ripe old age. When he got back to her spot, he pulled a few weeds and brushed off the top of the stone.

“I know you hate this, Tess. I know you would’ve liked to be cremated and have your ashes scattered on the wind from a mountaintop somewhere, but I kind of like coming here. It’s like we get to hang out once in a while still. And you know, I’m getting to know the neighbors a bit. Mr. McNeely next store really needs some help with his yard, but Rose O’Donnell over there, she’s got quite the spread. Somebody visits her almost daily, by the looks of it.”

He pulled an envelope out of his jacket and turned it around and around, sliding the crisp paper through his fingertips, trying to gauge the weight of its contents. Finally he slid his knife through the top, being careful not to damage the small folded sheet inside.

Once the paper was out of the envelope, he leaned up against the tree, steeling himself against the inevitable wash of emotions, then lit the joint he’d brought along for the occasion. He held his breath as he unfolded her words.

Dear Brendan,

How funny it seems now, to think back on the day we met. It’s hard to believe it’s only been three weeks, when I already feel like I’ve known you my whole life. The other night we were walking back from the market and my stepdad put you up against the wall. He’d been drinking, and the things he said to you made me want to crawl under a rock, but you just looked him in the eye the whole time. I couldn’t believe it.

You’re brave and sweet and you make me laugh in ways I think I’d forgotten, so I made a chalk drawing of your smile to remind me to laugh more often. I’m not too good with chalk yet, but I’m getting better. I don’t have any pictures of you, so I had to do it from memory. I probably won’t have the guts to give you this letter. It might ruin it. But I like knowing I can still tell you the things I wish I could say. It’s like a game I play with myself, and then I imagine how you’ll react. In my mind it’s always a good reaction, and I think I like it that way. It’s one of the bright spots, you know?

Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks. For being my friend, for putting up with Peter, and for always walking me home.

Love,

Tess

Brendan leaned his head back against the thick trunk of the oak and tried to imagine the two of them at fifteen. Freshman year was incredibly awkward, for both of them, but he didn’t have a single memory of that year that didn’t involve her. They’d quickly become inseparable; so much so that everyone assumed they were dating. That part never bothered him. It was how he liked to think of it too.

He could still see Peter’s face the night he found himself up against that wall, hanging by two fistfuls of jacket. The guy’s biceps were as big as Brendan’s thighs, his whispered threats carried on the putrid wind of decaying whiskey. He told Brendan to stay away from Tess. That she was his. And if Brendan ever so much as touched her, he would know and come looking for him.

It didn’t matter now, but it wasn’t fear of Peter that kept him away from her. It was fear of rejection. Turns out he probably didn’t have to worry about that after all. Life was funny, not to mention ironic.

He put the letter back in his jacket and took a few more pictures. A random gust of wind blew a section of dried leaves up and he caught a single leaf in mid air against the oak tree. In black and white it might look like fall instead of spring, and if he superimposed the shot of the stone marker and one of the stone crosses, it’d make for a perfect backdrop. With a renewed sense of purpose, he walked back to the subway and began the long ride home.

__________

Nate could barely hear the ringing on one side of his brain. He reached his arm out to wrap it around Paige’s slender frame and groped the empty sheets. Recognition kicked in and he grabbed the phone, trying to pull himself closer toward consciousness. "Hello?"

Soft laughter came through the receiver. "Have you been chewing on gravel again?"

"Paige? Is that you?" Nate’s mumbled into the phone.

"Haven’t had your coffee yet?"

Nate inhaled deeply and groaned, trying to wake himself up. He pushed up on one elbow and looked at the clock. "It’s two in the morning. I don’t usually drink coffee at this hour." He smiled into the dark. "How are you? Is something wrong?"

Her voice shook. "I feel like a little baby Nate. I’m in this gorgeous country and I should be thrilled, but I’ve been up for almost twenty-four hours straight and it feels like I’m going crazy."

“It’s just jetlag. Happens to everyone.” Nate sniffed and wiped a hand over his face. “It’s perfectly normal.”

“It’s
not
normal Nate. I’m freaking out over here! I can’t breathe and I’m shaking all over.”

Nate suddenly came fully awake. “Did something happen? Did Frank do something that triggered you?”

“No, he’s fine. We just flew all night and I couldn’t sleep and then I did fall asleep for like a half hour in the lounge in London, but now we’re here and I’m in this beautiful hotel room and I’ve never felt so alone in my whole life.”

“You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep without you next to me.” Her voice broke.

"I miss you too." A comfortable silence spanned the miles between them. Nate propped himself up on a few pillows and turned on the light. "You know, I was thinking about that same thing last night. I don’t think we’ve spent even one night apart in the last two years. It was strange, going to bed without you. I didn’t like it either."
I love you so much it hurts…

She started to cry.

"Hey, hey! It’s ok. Listen, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He looked at the clock and tried to do the mental math but his brain didn’t feel like cooperating. “What time is it there? Aren’t you late for work and stuff?"

"We just got into Bern, but I think I’ve got a couple of hours. We’re meeting some people for lunch at one. God, this hotel is gorgeous."

"Where are you staying?"

“You mean those flowers were from some other Nate who’s crazy about me?”

"Right! Sorry. I’m a little out of sorts. The Bellevue Palace, right? Swanky."

"You’re telling me. You should see this view."

"The only view I want is of you walking toward me in the airport."

"I’m so tired Nate, and I can’t sleep at all. My mind keeps on swirling and I know it’s daytime but it feels like three in the morning. You’ve done the jetlag thing before. What’s the secret?"

"Going barefoot in the grass."

"Pardon me?"

"Don’t ask me why it helps, it just does."

"I’m too tired to find grass."

"Ok, in that case, first I need you to set an alarm, because once you fall asleep your body’s not going to want to wake up again.”

“You got that right.”

He waited while she fiddled with the buttons on the clock.

“Ok, done.”

“Good. Now, lay down on the bed."

“Are we going to have phone sex?”

Nate laughed. "I’m being serious here. Now I want you to take all the extra pillows except the one your head is on and stuff them behind you, all up and down your back and behind your knees."

"Hold on." It took some doing and she had to put the phone down but she finally got situated. "Ok…Now what?"

"Pretend I’m there, holding you."

"Mmm. Seriously–what do I do now?"

"Just close your eyes and let me listen to you breathe."

"Are you crazy? Do you know how much it’s going to cost you to just lay there and listen to me breathe?"

"Do you know how much it’ll cost me if I can’t? This will work. Trust me. Just imagine what it’s like when we lay together, here in our bed, the warmth of my body wrapping you up and holding you tight."

He could hear her crying softly on the other end of the line, but eventually it worked. He listened for the change in her breathing, and then ended the call. For a long time afterward he stayed awake, half a world away, and came up with a plan.

__________

Paige woke up with a pounding headache, red-rimmed eyes, and twenty minutes to get ready. The phone was still lying on the bed next to her pillow. She’d been a complete basket case. Slightly embarrassed, she decided to email Nate and thank him, but her fingers stalled on the keyboard. Instead she changed her clothes and put on a little fresh makeup, trying all the while to psyche herself up for the day.

After a strategy-session lunch with Frank and two of his associates, they took a chauffeured car from the hotel to the Swiss corporate offices of Evans and Associates. The long lines of traffic typical to New York didn’t seem to translate here, ensuring they made it in plenty of time for the three o’clock meeting. Just like in New York, Frank introduced her around and made it plain that he expected their full cooperation for the duration of her stay.

A large conference room had been converted into an enormous office for her and the staff he assigned to assist her. The last five years of archived paper records had been pulled and were stacked neatly in one corner, in chronological order. The conference room came complete with coffee and pastries, breads and cheeses. The fortitude was a welcome buffer against the unavoidable jet lag.

Paige sat back in her chair and nodded dumbly. For some reason she hadn’t expected help, especially bilingual help. They all spoke excellent English and were very polite. Every roadblock she’d anticipated became a non-issue. Frank seemed smugly satisfied by her astonishment.

As the day wore on it was all she could do to stay awake, much less concentrate. Two years of high school French and a smattering of German were of little help in identifying and categorizing documents, and she ended up leaning heavily on the staff for clarification. Luckily, numbers were numbers the world over, but by six o’clock their time she felt like she’d pulled an all-nighter and no longer trusted her ability to do basic math.

"I’m beat, Frank. I’m going to have to pick back up in the morning. Should I just take a taxi back to the hotel?"

Frank spun his high-backed leather chair toward her and put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "I’ll be with you in a second."

"Sorry. I didn’t realize you were-"

When he started talking again he snickered like a schoolgirl. Perhaps Kelly had taken an earlier flight after all. So, this was what the upper echelon did for fun? She walked out of his office and asked one of the clerks the easiest way back to the hotel. The girl stole a look toward Frank’s office. His feet were up on the desk and he was making no moves to end the conversation.

"What? I can’t even leave without Frank’s ok?"

"Mr. Evans said that-"

"Look, I don’t know what he told you, but I’m tired. I want to go back to my hotel, take a bath, and go to sleep. So, could you give me the number of a cab company, or just point me in the direction of the subway station?"

"Oh, no! I will take you by car. Just let me get my keys."

"Thank you."

A draft circled up her spine as Frank showed up behind her. He brushed the back of his hand up and down the length of her upper arm. "Where’s the fire Ms. Hadley?"

One never quite got used to that crawling feeling. "You run a tight ship, Frank. You must be very proud." When she turned they were nose-to-nose and her heart was threatening a mutiny. "I just want to go home.”

“Home’s a very long plane ride away.”

“I meant the hotel, Frank. I’ve only slept two out of the past twenty-four hours. I can barely see straight.”

“Well then, all the more reason to give you a ride.”

"Fine. Whatever. Thank you." She slung her bag over one shoulder and tried to rub the tension out of her neck.

"They have a wonderful masseuse at the hotel. You should give him a try."

She thought about another man’s hands groping her muscles and cringed inwardly. "I don’t think so. Listen, I know I’ve only been here a few hours, but good call on those paper records. I think I’ve got a thread to pull on, so I’ll get back on it first thing in the morning and we’ll see where it leads."

Frank’s face brightened. "Well, that is good news."

"He covered his tracks really well. Seems he created a crack in a wall you never even knew existed.”

Frank looked confused. “What kind of a wall?”

“Metaphorically speaking, it seems he could create a wall–like a false front–then slap a little spackle between the cracks, get what he needed, and then take it back down at will."