Letters From The Ledge

by Meyers, Lynda

  “Brendan? What happened to your face?”

  He wasn’t in the mood to play games. Not any more. He was tired of keeping her out of it, so he looked right at her. “Your husband happened to my face.”

  She swallowed visibly and gripped the counter. “Oh my God.”

  “You think that’s bad, you should see this.” He hiked up his t-shirt and revealed a landscape of color where the ribs were starting to heal.

  Ginny put her hand over her mouth and started to cry. She reached out for him instinctively but he put his shirt down and pulled out of the way, his message clear.

  “We have to see a doctor.”

  “What’s the point? They’re just going to ask me what happened. Are you willing to be honest about it?” He’d already decided that since he hadn’t died of his injuries in the past forty-eight hours, the ribs were either bruised or cracked, but either way they couldn’t do anything for him except pain meds, and he had plenty of meds.

  Ginny was silent.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  He watched her start to get angry.

  “Don’t be mad at me–I’m not the one who beats people up. Where is he, anyway?”

  “He had to go out of town.”

  “How convenient.” Brendan took a bite of his sandwich, noting that every time he chewed, the one side of his face ached with the motion. He catalogued the pain and let it push his hatred deeper in.

  He felt sorry for her. She pulled a chair out and sat down, looking dazed and confused. “What did you fight about?”

  Brendan suddenly realized that she might be his only ally. “It started out being about Wharton. It ended up being about him. It’s always about him.”

  She looked up at Brendan with a mixture of sorrow and fear. “You told him you knew, didn’t you?”

  “I can’t believe this. You’re going to put this on me? That is just so typical.”

  “That’s not what I meant! I’m just–trying to figure out what would make him do something like that again. It’s been so long since we’ve had an incident.”

  “Is that what you need to believe?”

  When she looked into his eyes and saw the truth, the tears started to flow freely. “No.”

  “Do you honestly believe that someone with a problem like that can just beat it on their own? Just say “ok I promise I won’t do it again” and then stick to their word? Is that what you think? All these years, all the women, all the booze. The only thing that’s changed is that I got smart enough to stay out of his way. This time he came looking for me.”

  It was early enough in the morning that she was still sober, but it wouldn’t be long after this news, so he took advantage of the moment. “I’m done. I’m staying until graduation, but that’s it. If he won’t pay for Europe I think I’ve got enough saved for a plane ticket, but make no mistake, it’ll be a one-way.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t be silly Brendan. Where would you go?”

  “At this point, I don’t really care.”

  She dried her eyes. “Now wait a minute. You can’t be short-sighted about this. You have to have a plan.”

  “Oh, I have a plan. I may not have much else, but a plan I’ve got.”

  Brendan walked out of the kitchen and left his mother sitting there. She was crushed and he didn’t care. He felt guilty for not caring more. But what kind of a mother stands by and allows that kind of abuse? He was starting to think maybe he’d have been better off with Gina Marie Foster.

  __________

  Brendan grabbed his camera and left the house with Tess’ box under one arm. He boarded the subway, clutching the box as if it were a briefcase full of unmarked bills.

  Peggy greeted him with a smile. “Howdy handsome! What-cha got there? A present?”

  He looked down at the box, decorated with such care and beauty. It was a gift–Tess’s gift. From one broken heart to another. She’d gifted it to him. Now they needed to talk about it.

  “Sort of.” It was all Brendan could think to say.

  “What’ll it be?”

  Brendan smiled. “The usual.”

  Peggy’s face lit up. “I like it when you smile. You have a nice smile.”

  Brendan shook his head, embarrassed. “So I’ve been told.”

  He wandered up the path and made his way to the oak tree and found Tommy sitting there, in the spot he usually occupied. Tommy looked up at him through tear-stained eyes. “Hey Brendan.”

  Brendan squatted down in front of Tommy and set the box down, laying his camera on top. “Are you ok?”

  Tommy shook his head and started to cry. Brendan moved in beside him and put an arm around the boy’s shoulders. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen, but he was small for his age, and timid. Brendan held back tears of his own and sat looking out at the view.

  Finally Tommy spoke. “I don’t want to end up like her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feel so guilty for being mad at her, but she took the easy way out.”

  Running always seemed like the coward’s way out to people who weren’t going through it, but sometimes it was the only choice. Brendan understood that–he understood Tess–understood the desperation that drove her, but from Tommy’s point of view, that’s not how it went down.

  Tommy was stiff under Brendan’s arm. “She quit, man–and now I’m left here, and my life is shitty too, and this is the example I get to follow?” He shrugged out of Brendan’s grasp, anger giving him a boldness that overcame grief, even if just for the moment.

  Brendan sighed. “It wasn’t like that Tommy–not exactly. She just couldn’t see her way out. Her vision was too small. Too focused. It consumed her.”

  “You’ve read the letters; the journal. You know what he did to her, right?”

  “Yeah.” Brendan’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

  “I can’t even look at him. I hate him with everything that’s in me. At night I lie in bed thinking about ways that I could make him pay.” Tommy’s freckles seemed to heat up along with his face. Framed in bright red hair he looked almost like a cartoon of himself.

  “It won’t do any good. You’d end up in juvi.”

  “Can’t he be put in jail? I mean, surely they could lock him up for that.”

  Brendan sighed. “Not now that she’s dead.” The word ‘dead’ hung suspended in the air between them. It was funny how saying someone had died was different than saying they were dead. Dead had an eerie weight to it–a finality that indicated past tense. Died was a word that kept it fresh - like it had just happened, but dead was for people who’d been gone a long time. Tess had been dead for nearly a year.

  “That doesn’t seem fair. She paid with her life. He should pay with his. He can’t just walk around like nothing’s happened.”

  “Normally it would be his word against hers. A few letters and a journal isn’t enough to stand up in court. Ask any lawyer. We could have written these journals just to get him in trouble. Besides, it’d put your family through the ringer.”

  “Yeah, and we’re not messed up enough.” Tommy scoffed.

  “Because she killed herself his defense would be that she was always mentally unstable and that she fabricated the whole thing.”

  “It’s not right.” Tommy wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. “And it’ll never be ok again. Never.”

  “It will.” Brendan said with more authority than he felt. “It just takes time.”

  Tommy shook his head then looked over at the box. “Why’d you bring that here?”

  Brendan followed his gaze. “Just some unfinished business. I needed to talk to her about some stuff.”

  “Do you always bring flowers?”

  “Yeah.” Brendan felt uncomfortable answering, even though it was the truth.

  “That’s nice. Really nice. I’m sorry you guys couldn’t have been together in real life.”

  “Me too.”

  Tommy brushed his pants off and started to get up. �
��Well, I’d better go. Leave you two alone.” He grinned and Brendan tousled his hair. “You might want to take off those glasses–she’d want you to look her in the eye when you talk to her.”

  “Get outta here already!” As he watched Tommy walk away, he wondered what it would’ve been like to have a little brother. Maybe he did have one, out there somewhere, and he just didn’t know it. He wondered if Gina Marie Foster ever got married and had other kids, or if maybe she ended up in a cemetery somewhere, just like Tess.

  When Tommy was out of sight he took the top off the box and pulled out the first letter he’d read–the one that had been taped to the top of the box. He flapped it against one hand as he tried to form the words in his mind, then he took Tommy’s advice and removed his hat and glasses, even though it made no sense whatsoever.

  “I love you Tess. I always have. But Tommy’s right. I don’t want to end up like you either. I’m not saying you took the easy way out, I’m just tired of running away. I want a different life, and I’m going to go make one for myself, so in a few more weeks, after graduation, I won’t be coming around as much. I’m hoping to do some traveling in Europe and I might not be coming back right away.”

  “And there’s something else you should know.” He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his chin. It scraped across the stubble he’d been avoiding so he wouldn’t have to shave around the bruises. “I met someone.” He tried to get the words out without breaking them, but they cracked ever so slightly on the way past his heart. “And she’s great. And…she makes me feel like a man, Tess. She makes me feel like I can do it, you know? Like I can do the right thing and be strong enough and–”

  “Brendan?”

  His head shot around at the sound of her voice and stopped his heart momentarily. “What are you doing here?”

  Sarah looked from the stone marker to the box to the flowers and back to Brendan’s face. “Oh my God! What happened to your face?” She knelt down in front of him and reached out gingerly to touch the bruises.

  Brendan’s heart was spinning in circles. She shouldn’t be here. This was his place, with Tess. He pulled away from her touch. “Why are you here, Sarah?” It came out angrier than he’d intended, and he kicked himself for being harsh.

  She backed up off of her knees and put some distance between them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was a private cemetery.”

  “It’s not, I just–” He put the hat and the glasses back on. “This is the last place I expected to see you.”

  She turned and pointed behind her. “My little brother is buried here. I come to see him every year on his birthday.” She stared openly at the box. “My grandmother owns a family plot here and… I was just leaving but I thought it looked like you from the back.”

  Brendan kept quiet.

  “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll leave you alone.”

  She turned and walked away and he let her. He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes until the sound of wind and rustling papers got his attention. The box top was still off. A breeze had picked up some of its contents and they were blowing away. Brendan jumped to his feet and ran after them, carefully placing them back in the box and putting the lid on it. When he sat down again something felt different. It was as if Tess was mocking him from the grave. He could almost hear her voice in his head saying, “You’ll run after papers left by a dead girl and let the live one get away? Are you crazy or just stupid?”

  It hit him like a two-by-four to the head. He’d come for her permission, what he hadn’t expected was to actually get it. The same voice kept prodding him. “Well go on–go after her!”

  He smiled down at the grave marker and winked. “Thanks Tess!” He grabbed up the box and the camera and took off at a run. He left the flowers lying on the ground.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony.”

  - The Matrix

  His best guess was that she’d have to take the subway, but he couldn’t be sure. He ran out the gates and had to guess which station to try.

  “Hey Peggy!” He stopped in front of her cart and put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Cute girl, jeans and a little red jacket with a–” He made a motion with his hand that circled his neck “–scarf…thingy.”

  Peggy smiled. “Now that’s the spirit!” She pointed west and he took off again.

  “Thanks Peggy!”

  “Go get ‘em tiger!”

  He waved behind him, hiking the box up under his arm better as he ran. The camera was still slung around his neck, and the first time it whacked him in the ribs he saw stars. He grabbed onto it and held it steady the rest of the way. At the entrance to the subway, he took the stairs two at a time, and jumped the last three at the bottom, landing hard on the concrete. It took a minute to catch his breath. The jarring hurt worse than he’d anticipated, but he stilled his breath and focused on the pain and willed back the desire it created.

  He entered the station with his eyes peeled. It was amazing how much faster you could find something if you told your mind to only look for the color red. He spotted her jacket easily. She was standing on the platform, waiting for the next train, arms wrapped around her middle as if she was trying to hold her insides together. Had she learned nothing from their walk around Manhattan?

  He walked up behind her and waited for her to notice. When she did, he took off the hat and glasses and waited, watching her eyes float across the surface of the bruises. She almost looked hurt by association.

  “I’m sorry.” His words came whispering out and she didn’t respond. “I shouldn’t have acted like that, I just–” He looked down at the box and thought about Tess.

  “Was that her grave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you go there often?”

  Brendan licked his lips. He didn’t want to talk about Tess, but supposed it was inevitable. “Every Saturday.”

  Sarah nodded her understanding. She was still holding herself, watching the ground and jiggling one leg nervously. The train whistle blew and she glanced in the direction it came from.

  Brendan stepped forward, took her chin in his hand and tipped her face up to meet his. Her mouth was just as he’d remembered it, soft and willing. He lost himself there while the train blew in to the station, its brakes squealing loud against the beating of his heart.

  She pulled away. “That’s my train.”

  “Only if you want it to be.”

  She looked into his face and smiled. “No. Not really.”

  He slid his camera around to the back and pulled her into him. There was always another train. He threaded his fingers through her hair and poured into her everything he’d been holding inside.

  When she slid her arms around his waist he cringed slightly.

  “My God. You really are hurt, aren’t you?”

  Brendan backed up a bit. “It’s getting better.”

  Fear was carved in deep grooves along her temples. “What happened?” She reached up and tried to touch the swollen eye but Brendan pulled back.

  “Please don’t touch it.”

  “Who did this to you?”

  He grabbed hold of her hands and pleaded with his eyes. “I really…really don’t want to talk about it. Not now. I’m sorry.”

  Sarah studied him for a minute. “It’s ok.” Her eyes were rimmed with tears but she held firm. “Maybe some day, when you’re ready, you’ll tell me.”

  His smile quietly betrayed the harsh reality of his face. “Thanks for understanding.”

  “What are friends for?”

  “That’s a very good question.” He stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Are they for–” Brendan winked his good eye and scrunched up his mouth “Kissing swollen, grotesque looking guys with nice smiles? By any chance?”

  She leaned in and gently kissed his lips.

  “Hmm. Maybe I should get someone to beat me up more often.”

  She
pouted. “Don’t say that.”

  He turned away and put his hat and glasses back on. “What do you say we go for a walk? I know a deli near the cemetery that makes great sub sandwiches.”

  “Are you asking me on a date?”

  “I don’t know. Would you like it if I did?”

  “Yes.”

  He took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “Then this is definitely a date.”

  They walked hand in hand for a couple of blocks to the deli. Her touch seemed to breathe life into his exhausting search for answers. They grabbed sandwiches and sodas and went back to the cemetery. Peggy nodded her approval on their way by and snuck a pink rose into his free hand, relay-style.

  Brendan laughed and Sarah looked up. “What’s so funny?”

  He shrugged. “Do you mind if we eat in here? It’s the only grass around.”

  “No. I don’t mind. Cemeteries don’t bother me. Besides, it makes for a great story. Bet you haven’t taken many first dates here, have you?”

  He looked at her and simply said. “Nope. Not one.” He pulled out the rose and presented it to her. “But I’m glad you’re the first.”

  Her smile was simple and genuine and it melted his heart. She wasn’t dark and beautiful like Tess, but there was something about her that defied logic and flew in the face of all his reasoning. He didn’t know why. It just had to be her.

  “Thank you. It’s beautiful, but where did you get–” She looked down the path toward the street vendor’s cart.

  Brendan tried to hide his embarrassment in another shrug. “We’re old friends.”

  “So I see.”

  They sat down on the grass and she proceeded to harvest all the peperoncini from her sandwich.

  “Note to self: next time, hold the peppers.”

  She crinkled up her nose. “Sorry. I’m kind of high maintenance when it comes to food.”

  “That’s ok. I’m kind of high maintenance when it comes to everything else. But I can eat just about anything!” Brendan took an enormous bite of his sandwich trying to be funny. It hurt like hell, opening his mouth that wide.

  The box sat between them like an armed guard, and in some strange way Brendan was sorry he’d brought it–not that he could have known he’d see her–and at the cemetery, of all places. Still, it loomed unnecessarily large, like a dark cloud hanging low over their heads, threatening rain.