Letters From The Ledge

by Meyers, Lynda

  “You can’t be serious about this.”

  “How could I possibly make this up? It’s not penance, Paige. It’s what I’ve always wanted–and what I’ll continue to wait for until the day you’re ready.” She just kept shaking her head, as if she could free her mind of the thoughts and feelings trying to work their way in. Words would never do it justice. More time. More waiting. There was nothing else he could do.

  The next night when he got home from work, Nate found Paige out on the fire escape. He went to the window and rapped lightly on the glass to get her attention.

  She smiled, scooting out of the way so he could open the window more fully and join her. “You don’t have to treat me as if I have the plague, you know.”

  “I’m not.” He knew he didn’t sound very convincing, but he couldn’t help it.

  “Oh, really.” She eyed the distance between them to make her point. “I get closer to people on the subway than this.”

  He smiled briefly and they sat in silence, watching the sky get progressively darker.

  “Look, Nate–I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know the things I said last night threw you a little.”

  “Hmm. Hold the little.”

  She took a deep breath in and let it out all at once. “I don’t think I’m ready for marriage, Nate. Call it the healing process; call it whatever you want.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?”

  Again he didn’t respond. Her lack of confidence in the depth of his feelings for her stunned and offended him.

  “I need you to stop treating me like a china doll.”

  Nate shook his head. He’d tried so hard to balance protection and freedom. Why couldn’t she see that? “I didn’t think I was.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “So when you said that, it was like a sucker-punch. I’ve been so careful to weigh every word, every gesture–not wanting to push, not wanting to run ahead too far.”

  Paige pulled her shoulders up, trying to figure out how to explain. “Maybe that’s what I’m picking up on. You’re just too careful with everything. I know that sounds picky but sometimes if feels so stiff–like it’s been calculated and rehearsed.”

  He shook his head sarcastically. “Wow. I am really feelin’ the love here.”

  “Look, you’re the one who started this honesty thing. I’m just trying to explain how I feel, even if that hurts.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. Go ahead.”

  “I love spending time with you, but sometimes it feels like you’re either holding back how you really feel or trying to steer everything in a certain direction. One minute I feel so safe and secure in your arms and the next–I don’t know. I feel like I’m being scripted or like you’re walking on pins and needles, as if one wrong move would cause me to run. It makes me feel like I’m this emotional cripple who has to be tiptoed around. Like I’m not even capable of being strong.”

  Her words stung, but he listened anyway. She was right. He’d been so consumed with trying to control everything out of his own fears that he hadn’t stopped to think about how it might make her feel.

  “And I know that I’m not strong sometimes, but if I’m going to get better, I need to believe that I can be. I need to know that you believe I can do this. Does that make sense?”

  He looked at his shoes for a long time. “Yeah. Actually it makes a lot of sense.”

  “So much sense that you wish you’d thought of it?” She nudged him playfully with her elbow.

  “Now that you mention it, yes. If I’d thought of it sooner, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “We’re not in a mess, Nate. We’re in a committed relationship, and this is just one of the normal bumps in the road.”

  He looked at her out of the corner of one eye. “You call this normal?”

  “Ok, maybe a pothole. But if we think we might want to make this permanent someday, you’re going to have to hold on and keep driving. No road is perfect.” She turned to look at him and waited until he followed suit. “You need to relax about us. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He’d never felt so vulnerable. “You sure about that? Cause I really don’t want to relive that bridge incident any time soon.”

  Her smile was soft and full of tenderness. “Yes, Nate. I’m sure. I love you, but you have to let go a little so I can love you on my own terms.”

  “You…you love me?”

  She put her palm up to his cheek and held his face in one hand, staring into his eyes until he understood. “Yes. I love you.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw as he blinked back surprise. “You-love-me.”

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head, then nodded affirmatively.

  He took her face in both hands and grinned widely, and then kissed her gently. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For all of this–for being so honest with me. I know you wouldn’t have said those things if you didn’t care about us.”

  “I want us to work Nate. I really do. I just need more time, ok? I think we both do.”

  “Okay.”

  They sat wrapped in each other and watched the stars come out one by one.

  “Are Romeo and Juliet still around?”

  “Yes, believe it or not. See there?”

  Nate followed her finger as it pointed up and to the left.

  “And right over there is where she’s sitting.”

  “You’ll have to show me again. How can you see that far?” Eventually he found it. There was a small light on in the room, which created a hazy silhouette against the window frame. “She’s getting brave with one leg hanging out the window like that.”

  She smiled up at him. “Maybe he’s a good influence on her.”

  “Maybe.”

  Paige snuggled deeper into his chest. “I hope they meet some day.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know. They seem to need each other, they just don’t know it yet.”

  __________

  “You know, if you want to get better grades, you might want to try reading the book.”

  Sarah was sitting in the library with her biology book sitting out next to her but engrossed in a novel instead. She didn’t even look up. “This is for English.”

  “The Alchemist? Last time I looked that wasn’t on the AP reading list.”

  “How do you know, Mr. Smarty Pants?”

  “I took AP English last year.”

  “And you remember every book on the suggested reading list?”

  “Yup. I read them all.”

  Finally she put the book down in her lap and looked at him. “Even the ones that weren’t required?”

  He nodded.

  “A bookish stoner. Whodathunk?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t keep calling me that. I’m not always stoned, you know.”

  Sarah cocked her head and squinted, searching his eyes for signs of drugs or vanity or general arrogance. There was none. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Brendan pulled a chair out and spun it around, sitting on it backwards with his arms hooked over the back edge. “What do you think of it so far?”

  “The novel?”

  “Yes. The novel.”

  “Have you read this one too?”

  He leaned forward slightly with an impish smile. “Maybe.”

  Sarah bit her lip. It was hard to think straight when he smiled at her. Something about him drew her forward, but she resisted. “I think it raises a lot of interesting questions about God.”

  He seemed to like that answer. “Interesting to you, or interesting to other people?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Brendan shrugged slightly. “I mean you seem to have things all worked out in that department, or you wouldn’t be the only person in bio to argue with Mr. Taylor about evolution. So, does it make you think about how you personally see God or do you just like that it raises questions in general?”

  She stared at
him. “You’re not what I thought you were.”

  His eyes were focused hard on hers. “People hardly ever are.”

  She swallowed. “Yeah-I’m starting to realize that.”

  Brendan looked down again. “So, are you going to answer the question?”

  “Um–Both I guess. But mostly it makes me think about God in general, and the idea that each person has their own destiny. It makes me wonder what it would be like to follow my own dreams.”

  He raised his eyebrows, obviously satisfied with her answer, but said nothing. She didn’t quite get him. One minute he was sullen, stoned and mad at the world. The next he was quizzing her on the merits of literary fiction and tutoring her in AP Biology. How in the world did his mind work in so many different directions? “So, what did you think about it?”

  Brendan stared at her for a long time, and she stared right back. It was like the showdown at the OK Corral but without the dust and the guns.

  Finally he answered. “I thought it read a little like Bono meets Siddhartha. I also think it makes a person wonder about their dreams.”

  She smiled. “The nighttime ones or the ‘what I want to be when I grow up’ ones?”

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting.”

  He eyed her bookmark. “It looks like you’re not quite halfway. I don’t want to ruin the end for you, so we should probably wait until you’re finished to discuss it.”

  Sarah nodded. “I think I’d like that.”

  “I have a feeling you’re going to love Fatima.”

  “Ooh! She sounds exotic.” Sarah started fanning the pages, looking for her, but Brendan put his hand out to stop her.

  “You’ll meet her soon enough. Part of the beauty lies in the chase, not just the capture.”

  There was a heat there that she hadn’t expected. Her hand stung with it until it flushed through her whole body. Even her lips felt parched and she licked them absently, trying to add moisture. She looked down at his hand, still touching hers, and pulled the book away.

  “Ok. I’m willing to wait. For her, I mean.” The conversation was going from bad to worse and she wished he would just leave so she could kick herself in peace.

  His smile warmed and she could tell by the way he was looking at her that he knew what she was feeling, but he wasn’t mocking her. He seemed–flattered.

  Brendan looked away and the bell saved them. “Well–I guess I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah. See ya.” She went back to reading but secretly watched him walk away. Something about the way he carried himself drew her attention, as if little boy and man were fighting for space in the same body. She found herself thinking about him a lot more than she should be. He was an enigma, for sure, but because of that he was also unpredictable, and therefore dangerous. Unfortunately, dangerous was terribly exciting. Sarah decided to skip lunch and met up with Fatima instead.

  __________

  “What is that smell?” Frank came through the doorway of Brendan’s room as if he were hunting down a Tupperware of molded dairy products.

  “Dirty socks. And sewage. I’ve had the slider open.”

  “Hmm. So, how’s the college thing going?”

  “The college thing?”

  His father slapped him on his back. “U Penn’s got Wharton, but Cornell’s got a great program as well. You just let me know which one you’ve decided on and I’ll make sure it happens.”

  He’d taken every AP class the school offered and aced the SATs. Aside from a few shaky months right after Tess’s death where his GPA took a bit of a dive, he was more than prepared for college. “Am I suddenly incapable of getting into one of those schools on my own?”

  “Of course not!” He was using that patronizing tone that made the bones of Brendan’s jaw scraped against one another in earnest. “It’s just that they’re very competitive these days and I want to make sure you have every advantage!”

  “What if I wanted to study photography?”

  Frank looked down at the stack of photographs next to the computer. “As a minor? How would that help you?”

  “No, I mean take courses in photography and digital media–learn more about graphic design.”

  “In addition to your business degree?” Frank was still trying to clarify.

  “Instead of.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Brendan, be serious. We’ve had this planned for a long time. You’re going to study business. That’s the only way this works.” He drew the sentences out slowly, as if they’d somehow solidify in the process. “You go to school at U Penn or Cornell and I make sure you get set up with a nice, comfortable living. If you want to take pictures, you do it on your own time, not mine.”

  Brendan sat brooding. The scars began to ache.

  Frank looked down at him with disdain. “Of course, you’ll have to grow up a bit first–lose the piercings and cut your hair and get a pair of decent shoes and all. But hey, that’s what college is for, right? You’ll join a fraternity, do a bunch of stupid pranks, but eventually it’ll be time to get serious. Don’t misunderstand me Brendan. I won’t pay Ivy League money for a sissy profession.”

  “Maybe I don’t have to go to The University of Pennsylvania. I could study digital media and production at NYU or Columbia.”

  “The University of Pennsylvania is my alma mater.”

  “So?”

  “So it’s the best. NYU and Columbia are city schools.” He said it as if the words themselves were bitter.

  “Columbia is Ivy League! That’s still not good enough?” Brendan thought he might suffocate. His throat started to close at the thought of wearing a suit and sitting in an office. He wanted to be out wandering the plains of Africa, eating locusts and trying to catch a Cheetah on film at a full speed run, but his only hope was to comply–or at least, appear to. “You know what dad? You’re probably right.”

  “I am?”

  “Absolutely. Let’s plan for Wharton in the fall. But how about a deal?”

  His father leaned forward. “I’m listening.”

  “After graduation, how would you feel about me doing a little touring for the summer?”

  “Touring?”

  “Kind of like a graduation present. I want to get out of New York and see the world a bit; you want me to follow the plan. I’ll take the summer to travel with my camera, get the burr off my back, and come back in the fall ready to dive into college life.”

  Frank took a minute to consider the request. “Your mother tells me your grades are up.”

  “Yes sir, they are. Not to mention I’m taking four AP classes.”

  He gave Brendan the once over then looked around the room. “Where are all the posters?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The posters–you know, beautiful women sprawled across the hoods of sports cars.”

  “I’m not gay, dad.”

  “I didn’t say anything about that.”

  “Are you kidding me? I see in your eyes. I see it in the way you look at me–the way you judge my clothes and my hair and my lip piercings. Just because I don’t have a woman parked in every country from here to Switzerland doesn’t mean I’m gay.”

  Frank looked around to make sure Ginny wasn’t in hearing distance. “Keep your voice down.”

  “You think she doesn’t know? That makes you either crazy or stupid.”

  “You watch your mouth!”

  Brendan looked away. Frank just stared at the floor for a minute.

  “How long until graduation?”

  “Just under seven weeks.”

  “It’ll take six to get your passport.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Frank left the room and Brendan didn’t even shut the door. He just pulled out a joint and lit the thing, blowing smoke rings out the door and into the hallway. After he settled down he pulled the blade from the drawer and made the shadows dance on the
ceiling. A clean cut was a beautiful thing…

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “You believe a man can change his destiny?”

  “I think a man does what he can, until his destiny is revealed.”

  - The Last Samurai

  “Mr. Banks?”

  Nate looked up from the computer screen. “Yes Christina? What is it?”

  “There’s a young man here to see you.”

  “A young man?”

  “Yes, he’s…”

  “What is it Christina?”

  The young girl scrunched up her face, trying to form the words. “I think he might be on something.”

  Nate looked through the glass to the outer office and saw Brendan standing by the desk with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Initiative. This is good. Show him in.”

  “In here? To your office?”

  “Yes Christina–to my office. It’s all right. We know each other.”

  Christina left with a considerable amount of bewilderment, and led the boy back to Nate’s door.

  “Brendan! It’s nice to see you again. Won’t you come in?”

  He kept his head down and took a seat across from Nate.

  “What can I do for you Brendan?”

  “What makes you think I want you to do something for me?”

  Nate folded his hands under his on the desktop. “Well, I’m not sitting in your office, am I?”

  Brendan continued to look at his pants. “You gave me your card. Said I could come by some time. I figured I’d take you up on it, that’s all.”

  “Unannounced?”

  Brendan looked around the room as he spoke. “So you’re the king then? Holding court?”

  Nate drew a deep breath in through his nose and stared hard at Brendan. “Look, if you’re going to work for me you need to learn to look me in the eye–stoned, sober, whatever it is, you got that? And no, I’m not the king. But there is such a thing as professional courtesy, and you’re going to need to start using some.”

  Nate sat back and waited. When Brendan finally looked up, his glassy eyes portrayed a generous mix of anger and desperation. “Work for you?”

  “Possibly. I guess that depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On if you’re ready or not.”