Letters From The Ledge (9 page)

"Thanks. I gotta go study." He picked up his backpack and went to his room. Within minutes the front door closed, announcing his mother’s departure. He stayed on his bed until his neck muscles started to relax, then pulled the remnants of a joint out of the ashtray in the drawer, lighting it and finishing the last three drags until his fingers burned. Digital Imagery. It sounded like a good name for a class. If they offered a class called Bullshit 101 at the Wharton School of Business he’d probably get an A in that too.

It had taken her weeks to notice the shirt. That was longer than the piercings. He laid there rubbing the arms of his thermal, his fingers gently rolling over the slightly raised scars underneath. The weather was getting warmer. It wouldn’t be long before he’d have to lose the thermals altogether. Numbness and apathy overrode any feelings of remorse. A buttoned-down business shirt would hide pretty much everything.

“Fasten your seatbelt Dorothy, ‘cause Kansas is going bye-bye.”

- The Matrix

Paige was seated next to Frank Evans on the plane. Luckily he’d put them in first class so there was plenty of room between them, not to mention those fancy little fan-shaped partitions for when she wanted to try to doze off a bit. Still, it was going to be a long flight.

The flying part didn't bother her as much. It was the landing she was worried about. She ordered a glass of wine and tried not to think about it. London was still eight hours away.

Frank liked to act as if he knew every stranger intimately. It was the ruse of his generation of businessmen. He spoke cordially, if not condescendingly, to everyone they met. Sure enough, a forty-something stewardess slithered over.

"Well! Frank Evans! What a surprise!" They exchanged knowing glances and Frank winked at the woman whose nametag read ‘Kelly’. After some hushed conversation, Frank scribbled the address of the hotel in Bern onto a piece of paper and slipped it into her apron.

Paige thought she might be sick, and take-off wasn’t helping. The plane lurched and jiggled and by the time they reached cruising altitude, sweat was trickling down the back of her blouse.

"Paige? Are you alright?"

She looked at Frank through dazed eyes. It had been a long time since she’d thrown up, but it was one of those feelings you never quite forgot. Her salivary glands were on forced overtime and it wasn’t long before Frank called Kelly over, asking for some tonic water with bitters. He had Paige lay her seat back and sip the tonic mixture through a tiny straw. She felt like a toddler, but he was surprisingly accommodating.

"So, tell me Paige–where did you and Nate meet?"

Nate. She missed him already. What a cruel irony that her first trip to Europe had to be with a snake like Frank. "We met at a bookstore in Greenwich Village. How about you?"

"Oh, well I met him the same night I met you. At the Carlton." He chuckled at his own joke.

Paige rolled her eyes. She wasn’t
that
delirious. "How did you meet
Ginny
, Frank?"

"Oh! That…"

Evidently, he thought he was being charming. She saw through him so easily and wondered how it was so many people couldn’t.

"Believe it or not, our parents knew each other."

That explained it. "An arranged marriage? I thought they outlawed those a long time ago." He wore that same condescending smile of indulgence that Ginny had worn the night she’d met them.

"Well, not exactly arranged, but something along those lines."

Paige comforted herself with the secret knowledge of his son’s late night activities and decided to entertain herself by asking him direct questions that she already knew the answers to. "So, do you have kids?"

Frank shifted in his seat and hesitated to the point of discomfort. "We have a son."

He didn’t offer anything more. "Does he have a name?"

"Brendan." He said the name as if it tasted bad. Suddenly she felt even more sorry for poor Brendan.

"How old is he?" The plane took a sudden dip and Paige clutched the arms of her seat.

"Relax, Paige. That happens. Don’t tell me you’ve never flown before either?"

"I’ve flown. Twice. The last time I think I was about five, and as far as I can remember, the planes never did this.”

Frank shook his head. "Amazing. How ever did you survive such a sheltered life? I’ve always loved traveling. I find it exhilarating to see new places and do new things. Anyway, try to relax–this kind of thing happens all the time. There are pockets in the air at this altitude. The pilots don’t always know when they’re going to hit one and they have to make a small adjustment, that’s all. It feels scary, but it’s fine, really. No worse than the subway."

"How long has it been since you’ve been on a subway?"

Again he laughed out loud. It wasn’t that funny. The plane kept on jumping until the captain came over the PA system, apologizing for the rough weather.
No worse than the subway…no worse than the subway…
She sipped her bitters and tried to keep talking. Talking was good. It helped.

"So, how old did you say he was?"

"Who?"

"Your son."

"I didn’t, but–he’s a teenager. Still in high school. Getting ready to graduate, actually."

It occurred to Paige that maybe he didn’t know. "What’s he into? I mean, what does he like to do? Sports? Cars? Girls?"

Frank looked like he was trying to remember the last interaction he’d had with the boy. "Photography!" His relief was so sudden and so obvious it somehow stung by association. One son didn’t seem like all that much to keep track of. She tried to imagine what it must be like to be raised by Frank and Ginny. Every family had its challenges.

Her own father was a blue-collar man who worked his way up to middle management right around her sixteenth birthday. His big promotion came with a new office and a cute young secretary and that was the end of his marriage. By the time the divorce was final Paige had turned eighteen, so child support was no longer an issue. Her mother took a secretarial job and Paige paid for school on her own. Remarried now, he'd built a second family and they didn't keep in touch.

When the worst of the rough air was over, Frank settled back into his chair and started rattling off details. "The kid’s real creative. He’s into graphic design, photography, that kind of thing.”

"You mean Brendan?"

Frank just kept going as if he was rehearsing a monologue and he had to get the words out in the right order.

“It’s just a hobby, of course, but we’re indulging it for now. Set him up with a top of the line computer and a new camera.”

“Is he any good?”

Frank ignored her question. “He’ll start Wharton in the fall."

“U Penn? That’s a tough school.”

“He’s a smart kid.” At least Frank knew that much.

“An artist who wants to go into business? Are you sure you’re talking about the same person? That sounds more like two different people.”

Frank looked annoyed. “Photography is a hobby. Not a career.”

“But graphic design is a great career! It’s what Nate does and he’s very good at it.”

“Nate is a businessman.” Frank disagreed. “His business may be to provide creative services to his clients, but he’s running a business, not a photography studio.”

“I’m just saying, there’s no reason he couldn’t do both.”

“Once he graduates Wharton, he won’t need anything else.”

"Ok but–new computers, top of the line photography equipment…all for a hobby?"

"Nothing but the best." Frank lifted his drink in a mock salute to himself and took a long draught, nearly draining the glass. Kelly was right there to freshen it up.

When the two of them entered into another hushed, semi-private conversation, Paige took the opportunity to close her fan-shaped partition and escape into the darkness of the complimentary sleep mask. At least Frank would stop talking to her if he thought she was napping.

Insomnia was a mysterious bedfellow. It came and it went on its very own whim. Apparently, sitting next to Frank Evans on an airplane headed for Switzerland was an invitation it couldn’t pass up. By the time they landed in London her legs were protesting the hike through terminal number four and were definitely not happy with her choice of heels.

Frank, on the other hand, had slept like a baby. A big, snoring baby. He trotted his way through Heathrow in an annoyingly cheerful disposition that made her want to club him with one of her heels. He guided her out past security and down a hallway until they came to The Holideck Lounge. "This is us."

"What's this?"

"A place for us to relax until our next flight.” He opened the door and made a sweeping motion with his arm, as if he were king and his palace was before them. “Make yourself at home. All the food and all the drinks are complimentary."

"Country club living in the middle of an airport. Who knew?"

Frank smiled. "There are three levels. This main level here caters to families with children, but we're heading upstairs."

Paige's breath caught in her throat. "We are?"

"The second floor has a sports bar. It's a little quieter up there. Sixteen and over."

"Ah." She followed him over to an elevator, rolling her laptop briefcase behind her.

The Upper Deck was appropriately Spartan for a sports lounge, with a u-shaped bar framed in light-colored wood circled by a contrasting strip of dark laminate flooring. Simple metal barstools curved up into a short lip on the backside, much like an English saddle. The fronts cascaded down into a straight waterfall of metal that stopped about mid-calf. It was all vaguely reminiscent of a racetrack.

"Where would you like to sit?"

Paige shook her head and blinked, somehow mesmerized by the fact that the bar stools looked strangely upside down. She tilted her head slightly, distracted by trying to imagine them with the metal waterfall as the back. "I–I don't care. Where ever you want."

"These look a little more comfortable than the bar. Shall we?"

He directed her to a large common area with a comical selection of blue modular chairs and strange, three-legged seating pods. "Hey Frank–I'll give you ten bucks if you sit in one of those red potato chip chairs."

Frank stared at her. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'll be fine. I just need some coffee."

"Good luck."

She gave him a quizzical look. "Excuse me?"

"You're in England, darling. Trust me, you're better off with tea."

Regardless of the time difference, Nate made her promise to text him when they landed in London. His reply was nearly immediate. She sipped a cup of Earl Gray and started reading a copy of The Times that was left neatly folded on a table nearby.

Unfortunately, Frank’s foray into the ridiculous with Kelly the stewardess didn’t end on the plane. She entered the Upper Deck just a few minutes after they did, presumably to meet up with Frank. They sat sequestered in a dark corner of the lounge while Frank kept the drinks coming. The annoying shrill of Kelly’s laughter fetched a bonus round of scolding stares from the bar’s decidedly British patronage.

Paige read the same paragraph three different times before moving to the other side of the room, trying desperately to dissociate with the strident Americans who obviously couldn’t hold their liquor. A quiet room off to the side, appropriately titled "The Haven" offered further separation and Paige promptly fell asleep in one of the chairs.

She woke to the gentle jiggling of Kelly's hand on her shoulder and her sing-song voice in her ear. "Time to wake up, sleepy head."

Paige blinked slowly. "How long was I out?"

"I'm not sure, but it's time for your connecting flight."

"Where's Frank?"

"He's in the loo." She leaned over and whispered loudly "That's what the Brits call the bathroom!" The stench of decaying alcohol coming off her breath was ironically sobering. Paige sat up and gathered her wits as well as her bags.

"I’ve heard the term, thanks."

Kelly and Frank’s goodbye included several noisy kisses and a promise from her end to try to get on a flight to Bern some time within the week.

Flying over the Swiss Alps was like landing in the middle of a fairy tale. No postcard or photo book could have adequately conveyed the regal air that rolled over the peaks and valleys. The idea of life outside the five boroughs had never really excited her, and yet here was an entire world opening up before her eyes, and it was breathtaking and awe-inspiring. She felt suddenly foolish, and very immature.

Stepping out of the airport terminal and into the open skies of Bern was like being thrown from a slingshot and landing quite safely in another world entirely. The air was crisp and clean smelling and she took a second big whiff just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. No raw sewage. No fires. No curbside hot dog vendors and no carbon monoxide-laced exhaust.

"Do you smell that?"

Frank sniffed the air. "Smell what?"

"Exactly!"

Frank smirked and ducked his head into the limo. "C’mon. Let’s get you to the hotel and get some food in you."

Her suite at the Bellevue Palace was a graciously appointed, two-room affair with a generous bed and a huge bathroom that boasted a soaking tub as well as a walk-in shower. A large wooden desk sat under the window, which offered a magnificent view of both the Parliament building and the river Aare. The table held a vase with ten pink roses and a card that read:

"One for each day you’ll be away. Hope I won’t need to send more. All my love, Nate."

She fell headlong onto the bed, exhausted and spent, and started to cry.

“Maybe you’re perfect right now.

Maybe you don’t wanna ruin that.

I think that’s a super philosophy, Will.

That way you can go through your entire life

without ever having to really know anybody.”

-
Good Will Hunting

Classes were long over for the day when Sarah walked out of her tutoring appointment. She found Brendan sitting on the steps outside the school. "What’s with the camera?"

Brendan looked up from the shot he was trying to focus on. "Nothin’. Just messin’ around."

“Is that new?”

He nodded. “I got it for my birthday.”

“Congratulations.”

He gave her a quizzical look.

“On your birthday.” She explained. “Eighteen, right?”

“Yeah.”

She was dressed in a waist-length brown jacket and jeans, with a tie-dye camisole underneath, and she’d added a red streak along one side of her hair.

"You look different every time I see you."

"You too.” Sarah smiled. “What happened to the eagle shirt? Did the laundry police finally confiscate it?"

"Haha."

She squinted against the sunlight. "What are you taking pictures of?"

"Nothing in particular. Pain. Emptiness. That kind of thing."

"Sounds great." Sarah rolled her eyes.

He shook his head. "You wouldn’t understand."

"Try me."

He put his face back into the viewfinder and worked to focus the lens. His response was barely audible. "No thanks."

Sarah stood abruptly and started to walk away.

"Hey! Wait."

She turned around and waited for him to gather up his stuff and walk over. "Why do you have to be such a jerk? I’m just trying to be nice."

Brendan stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I don’t know. I guess I just don’t get it."

"What’s there to get? What’s so terrible about being nice?"

"Nothing! I just–I don’t know."

"I don’t
want
anything from you, you know. I just–thought maybe we could be friends."

Brendan looked everywhere except her face. “Don’t you have enough friends?”

Sarah thought about Jillian and Marcus and a few of the others. They were all different races and colors and even cultures, and yet they were all somehow so… homogenized. It was too hard to explain.

"Isn’t that what people do? They meet each other, they share some food or some coffee or something, and they get to know each other. I’m not interested in you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just thought we could hang out a little–maybe." She knew she was just making it worse, and her face turned bright red. "Look, I’m sorry to have bothered you. This was probably a really bad idea." She turned around again and kept walking.

Safely around the corner and down the block, she ducked into the nearest Starbucks and ordered a coffee, sitting down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner. Running away from him was beginning to be a habit. She opened her biology book and started reading, but the words on the page ran together as her eyes filled up with tears that she willed to stay put.
This is ridiculous Sarah! What are you trying to accomplish with this guy?
She dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her temples, then leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to forget, trying to pray, trying to do anything but feel so incredibly confused and stupid and unsure of herself.

She could hear that someone dropped down into the seat next to her just as a tear slipped down one of her cheeks but she convinced herself that she didn’t care. This was New York. People shared spaces all the time and never talked. It just couldn't be helped.

"Hey."

Sarah opened her eyes and immediately shut them again. The color crept back into her face. "Great. That’s twice now you’ve seen me crying. Could my day get any worse? What do you want now?"

Brendan was holding a cup of coffee between his hands. "Can we start over?"

"And do what?"

"I don’t know–“ He looked at his cup and gestured her direction. “Share a cup of coffee, get to know each other?"

"You have a nice smile, you know that?"

"Thanks." It was Brendan’s turn to be embarrassed.

"That was not a pick up line, by the way. I’m just being friendly."

"Well, you ought to be careful about that in this city." His eyes swept the room.

"I know, I’ve been here three years and I just can’t get used to that part.” She took a deep breath, wiping her eyes. “You’ve really lived here your whole life?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

She looked out the window. There were two men pushing each other around and yelling profanities at one another just outside on the sidewalk. "Does it ever go away?"

"What’s that?"

Her eyes took on a timid glow. "Being afraid…"

She was still looking out the window. Brendan followed her gaze. He looked down at his arms, at sleeves that hid fresh scars, and the tattoo like a bracelet he’d added since he turned eighteen. A chain was hanging from his hip and he let his tongue run along the inside of his lip where the metal protruded. He may have been small and carried a backpack, but he was still a guy and no one really messed with him much.

Tess was tough but she’d been afraid a lot too. He read it in her poetry–sometimes in black and white and sometimes between the lines. Was everyone afraid? Was everyone alone?

Something in Sarah’s eyes told the entire story as he watched her watch the argument on the sidewalk. It was getting more and more heated and it glued her to the chair. Brendan pulled out his camera and snapped a black and white. It was at just the right angle to catch her face and part of the scene on the sidewalk. He looked at the preview of the shot on the LCD and was really happy with it. The overstuffed furniture and the large windows framed it perfectly.

Sarah’s head shot up. "Hey! What was that for?"

"I saw a great shot. I took it.” Brendan pulled one shoulder up toward his ear. “So sue me."

"I never said you could take my picture!"

He smiled, trying not to laugh at her indignance. "Would you like me to delete it?"

Her eyebrows scrunched up as she thought about it. "What do you want to do with it?"

"Well, I have this website…"

Sarah’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. When she broke into an embarrassed smile, he snapped another shot. It was perfect. The lens captured even more than he could have hoped. "Sorry. I’ll stop now."

She leaned back into the cushions and relaxed a little. "So, you’re obviously enjoying your birthday present. How did you become interested in photography?"

"That’s a long story."

"I hear they sell a lot of coffee here."

Brendan looked around and smiled.

"Well, I used to have a pretty decent digital camera. I started taking pictures with it and then playing with them on my computer–you know, different effects, simple graphic design stuff. Just passing the time. Then I got a really great Mac with lots of photo editing options, so I asked for a better camera for my birthday. From there it’s pretty much taken on a life of its own. My camera has taught me a lot of things.”

That seemed to pique her interest. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like…perspective is everything.” Brendan explained. “A different angle, a different filter, a different lens…and suddenly everything changes.”

Sarah just nodded, still a little wide-eyed. There were some moments in time that just solidified without warning. The sounds and smells of the coffee shop formed a snapshot in his mind with her eyes at the center and he realized that no matter what he did with those pictures, he'd probably never forget her face.

"Are you working on something specific or do you just like taking random pictures?"

He shifted in his seat. "How much coffee’s left in your cup?"

"Enough." Her eyes set the challenge. The rest of her sat completely still.

He weighed his options, finding little to lose. There was only one way to find out where she stood, so he lifted one of his sleeves. "Do you know what this is?"

Her head stayed still while her eyes scanned the area he indicated. "Yeah. I know what it is."

"Ever known anyone who cut?"

"No." Her answer was simple, to the point. She wasn’t making it very easy for him.

"So why now? Why me?"

Her eyebrows went up in surprise. "Hey, you tripped me first, remember? And if I’m not mistaken, this is the
second
time you’ve followed me into a coffee shop trying to strike up a conversation, not to mention the whole Star Wars, cloning…AP Bio thing.”

She was right, of course. From her perspective, he was actually pursuing
her
. He shook his head, trying to get her to see, but not finding the right words. "I’m the guy your mother warned you about."

"Yeah, well–she warned me to be careful crossing the street too but I still do it. I just learned how to look both ways." She sat forward, arms resting on her knees. "But ok…you want to know why? The real story?” She looked down at her feet. “You’re going to think I’m a little nuts for this."

Brendan chuckled. "No offense, but I already think you’re a little nuts."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Well, at least I know I won’t be able to ruin your good opinion of me."

Brendan waited quietly.

"Ok, well…my family moves around a lot. Every couple of years I guess. My dad’s job takes him to a lot of new places. I’ve lived here in New York for about three years now, and I’ve learned to appreciate it on some levels, but I still don’t really understand it. I have a few friends but I spend a lot of time alone, and–”

She let the ‘and’ hang in midair while he waited.

“I–spend a lot of time just looking out my window at night and journaling. A few weeks ago I saw this guy almost jump off the balcony of his penthouse apartment.” She was watching his face for a reaction but he wasn’t about to let anything slip. “It caught my attention, you know?"

She certainly had
his
attention. He swallowed hard. “Almost?”

“Yeah. It’s weird. It’s like a ritual or something. I see him out there a lot, but he never jumps. But–that’s not the point. The point is–”

Brendan shifted in his seat. "Where do you live exactly?"

"Not too far from The Carlton Hotel, why?"

"No reason."

"Anyway, I started journaling about a lot of things, trying to make sense of what I was feeling. Then I met you and when you told me about your friend that jumped, I thought it couldn’t have been a coincidence. I started asking myself some hard questions."

Brendan’s heart was thundering in his chest but he was careful to keep his expression controlled. "Questions like–"

"Like when did I start being so afraid of everything?"

The way she just opened her soul to him was absolutely captivating. He sucked in his breath and stared at her in disbelief. "Are you always this honest?"

"No. Well, yes–I guess so. It used to be one of my biggest flaws.” Sarah stared at her feet. “My point is, somewhere along the way I started being afraid, and I don’t know when or how it happened but all I know is, I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being afraid of what people will think and do and say.”

He didn’t respond. He was completely taken in by her candor, waiting to see what she might reveal next.

“This is by far the most exciting city I’ve ever lived in, but I’ve never known a day without fear since I got here. It’s partially my fault though.” She glanced out the window, then looked back at him, her eyes completely open. “I’m pretty sure I stopped engaging a long time ago.”

"I guess you live here long enough, it makes you hard."

“Well, either way I won’t have to deal with it much longer.”

“Why’s that?”

“I have to move again in November.”

A muscle twitched in Brendan’s jaw. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”

“Connecticut. But I’m spending the summer in Canada and then I’ll only be back a couple of months before I have to leave again." She fingered her hair and looked out the window.

“So you’re just gonna fly under the radar until you leave?”

One side of her mouth pulled up. “I guess so. But that’s not what I want.”

“What
do
you want?”

She was silent through several sips of coffee. When she finally spoke, it was in a quiet voice that he had to lean forward to hear. "I think about your friend that died, and I see that guy out there on his balcony, and I just can’t help but wonder.”

Brendan took a long breath in through his nose and one eye twitched involuntarily. “Wonder what?”

“So many people talk about having something to live for. I think they’ve got it backwards. Maybe we all just need something worth dying for.”

“Excuse me?”

“Have you ever wanted something so much you’d be willing to die for it?”

Brendan didn’t trust himself to answer the question. “Have you?”

Sarah waved her hand as her expression went from serious to casual in the space of a heartbeat. “It’s just this thought I’ve got rolling around in my head. Let’s talk about something else.”

He was only too happy to oblige that request. “So, how do
I
fit into this whole equation?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You tell me? You’re the one who started pestering me about my biology grades!”

He smiled, nodding his head. “Oh, so it’s pestering now, is it?”

She shrugged. "It
is
nice to be able to have a real conversation with someone that doesn’t involve clothing or hairstyles or the latest cosmetic enhancement."

"So you went looking for your polar opposite?"

"Maybe. I’m not really sure."

Brendan laughed and tapped the edge of his cup with his fingernail. "Well, I appreciate your honesty. It…makes me feel a little like a science experiment though."

"Lucky for you you’re so good at biology then."

She smiled at him and his mouth went dry again. He pushed back against his thoughts. She’d made it clear she wasn’t looking for a relationship, and had in fact pulled away the last time they got close.