Letters From The Ledge (17 page)

“I like how it feels not to feel.”

“I know the feeling.”

-
Life as a House

Nate walked for over an hour before he dropped into a club on Madison that a lot of his former college friends frequented on the weekends. It was loud and crowded and he wove his way through the throng, taking a seat at the bar. A lanky brunette was bartending, and she recognized him from his days running with the pack.

“Are you lost?” Her smile was flirty and somewhat hopeful.

“Nope.”

She looked him over. “You lookin’ for Chaz?”

He turned on the stool and looked around the room. “Not really, why? Is he here?”

She inclined her head in the direction of the dance floor and there, at a semi-circular booth he could see Chaz’s dreds and his arm draped around a gorgeous redhead. “Sapphire and tonic with a good dose of lime. Make it nice and strong and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You got it.”

She looked a little too excited about that last comment. He hadn’t meant it the way she took it, so he pulled out a twenty, which he stuck under the glass that held the stir sticks. When he glanced again in Chaz’s direction, the two made eye contact and Chaz’s huge grin made Nate smile. He waved from his seat, not wanting to interrupt what was obviously a good date. Still, Chaz jumped right up and whispered something to the redhead, who looked back at Nate with a mixture of hunger and offense.

Soon a large black hand was clamping him on the shoulder and pumping his other arm up and down in one exaggerated motion, which quickly morphed into a warm embrace.

“You see Chaz–that is
exactly
why you never make it past the first date. You’re too quick to love ‘em and leave ‘em!”

Chaz grinned all the more and spoke with his characteristically thick Jamaican accent. “Brothers come first. Always first. The women must understand.” They hugged again. “Ah, my friend. How are things?”

Nate’s drink appeared in a tall rocks glass. Chaz grabbed it up before Nate could reach for it and brought it to his lips, tasting the near gimlet and shaking his head. “Oh no! You tell old Chaz what’s the matter now!” He used his big hands to push Nate’s shoulders down until he was back on the barstool.

Nate laughed good-naturedly. “No way man. You go back to your date. At least one of us needs to get lucky tonight.”

“That’s what I thought. Women trouble, no? Hmmm. But look at you! You could have any one of these women here.”

It was Nate’s turn to put a hand to Chaz’s shoulder. “Thanks man, but I’m not lookin’.”

“Oh-ho!” Chaz yelled, loud enough to grab the attention of everyone in a ten-foot radius. “You have trouble of the worst kind then, my friend! Ho-yes…”

Nate leaned in toward Chaz’s ear, embarrassed by the attention. “Go back to your date, Chaz. I was kind of hoping to disappear.”

Chaz pulled back. “No problem. I will go now, but–you did not come to disappear. Not here.” He walked back to his date, but turned around just before he got to the table and gave Nate a look that told him he understood.

Nate sipped his drink and pulled an extra lime out of one of the containers on the bar, adding its juice to his glass and then pulling it through closed teeth. He thought about what Chaz said. If he’d really wanted to disappear he could’ve ducked into any number of bars where he was sure to know no one. But he didn’t. He chose to go someplace familiar. That had to mean something.

The room was fully stocked with everything he would have wanted a few years back–plenty of booze, beautiful women, and more than a few guys who’d be happy to pick a fight. He was in just the right mood for a fight, but only half of him hoped for one.

He’d screwed it up with Paige. Again. She was right–he’d taken a horrific experience that anyone would want to forget and tried to make it into something they should celebrate. What was he thinking?

He wanted to conquer it. She wanted to forget. Both of them wanted to move on, they were just going about it different ways. But she needed to be given the right of way, not him. His desire to master the past would have to yield to her need to be shielded from it–at least for now.

The redhead breezed past him just as he was finishing his drink. “I like your friend, but I’d be happy to change partners.”

He looked at her and almost pitied her. “No you wouldn’t.”

She stopped, smiling seductively. “How can you be so sure?”

Nate looked into her eyes and told her the truth. “Because if you’ve gotten this far being this beautiful and no one has made you happy yet, then I’m not your golden ticket. Believe me, men are a poor substitute for what you really need.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what I need.”

He looked down into his drink, sorry for having begun the conversation. “You’re probably right. I actually don’t know much of anything.”

She walked away in a huff, and Chaz was close on her heels, giving Nate a quizzical look on his way by. He leaned in so Nate could shout into his ear over the music.

“Sorry man! She started it!”

Chaz just shook his head, grinned and kept going.

The bartender was back. “You ready for another?”

“No, thanks. I gotta get out of here.”

“Suit yourself.”

He walked home with his hands stuffed in his pockets, fortified by the gin and ready to eat crow.

When he got back to the apartment she wasn’t out on the fire escape, which was a good sign, but she wasn’t in the kitchen or living room either. It was a small apartment though, and there wasn’t much room to hide. The light coming from underneath the bathroom door was a dead giveaway.

After a minute or two she came out. Nate was leaning up against the wall that divided the kitchen area from the living room with his arms crossed against his chest and his legs crossed at the ankles. "Hi."

She was quiet and her face was pale. "Hey there."

"We need to talk."

Her words came tumbling down as if she’d been holding them over her head for hours. "I know. Listen, I overreacted. The trip sounds wonderful. It was really great of you to plan that and I shouldn’t have come down on you. I’m sorry Nate."

"No–no, don’t. This isn’t your fault. I was a jerk, and I’m the one who should be sorry Paige. I don’t know what gets into me sometimes. I don’t know why I do stupid stuff like that. It seems like such a good idea at the time and then–"

He shook his head and laughed at himself. "Most days I do ok, but then something triggers in me and I’m right back there. What you said about it affecting me more than it affected you–I don’t think it’s possible, of course, but sometimes it sure feels that way."

Paige smiled. "Why does it have to be so hard? Why can’t we just walk past it in our lives the same way we’d choose to walk past a pile of dog poop on the sidewalk? Yes, it’s poop. Yes, it stinks. We can choose not to step in it, but we also don’t have to stop by and visit it every day. We don’t have to keep staring at it to see how much it’s decayed since the last time we looked. You know what I mean?"

Nate looked up from his shoes and smiled. "That’s a really good analogy."

"Thanks." She smiled sheepishly. "Been thinking about it since you left." She reached her hands out to him and led him over to the bed. She laid down on it and invited him to join her. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

He kissed her softly. “How about a compromise?”

“I’m all ears.”

“Let’s go to Barbados...” He slipped his arms around her waist, imagining her on a beach in a bikini and all the fringe benefits that came with it.

“Yes–”

“Because let’s face it, it would be a shame to waste perfectly good tickets.”

“A total shame.” She kissed down his neck and started unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way.

“But we’ll leave the dog poop in New York, in the past, where it belongs.”

She sighed. “That sounds fanta–” He covered her words with his mouth until she pulled away. “I just have one more, rather important question.”

He brought his mind back from the beach and the white sand and the smell of her suntan lotion and looked at her. “What’s that?”

“Do I still get the cabana boy?”

He smiled. “You’re…not going to need the cabana boy.”

__________

Brendan woke up the next morning feeling empty and sick. He took one drag off the butt of a joint just to calm the shakes, then went out to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee from the pot. He took one sip and spit it back into the sink, then rinsed the cup, grabbed a piece of bread from the drawer and picked up the phone. He paced around the living room, flipping it around in his hand a few times before pulling Nate’s card out of his wallet and dialing. It was barely seven, so he figured he’d be leaving a voice mail, which was fine. He didn’t exactly know why he was calling anyway.

It rang three times before Nate picked up. Brendan almost hung up, but caller ID would have identified it as Frank’s number and then there’d be the inevitable explanation.

“Hey, uh–Nate. This is Brendan Evans.” He tried to sound as professional as possible.

If he was shocked by the hour or the identity of the caller, Nate wasn’t letting it show in his voice. “Brendan! Good to hear from you! What’s up?”

“Uh–not much. I was just…just wondering if we could have lunch or something.”

There was a momentary silence but Nate jumped back in quickly. “I’d love to have lunch. But what about school?”

“We have half-days for the rest of this week because of some teacher conferences or something. Does today work for you?”

“Today’s great! When and where?”

Brendan tried to think about what he could possibly eat that would stay in his stomach, but the only thing he could ever come up with on a day like today was a burger. “Ever had a Shack Burger?”

“The Shake Shack? Madison Square Park? Are you kidding? That used to be my hangover food!”

Brendan blinked a couple of times. This was just too weird for words. “Yeah. Well, how about twelve thirty?”

“I have a meeting that probably won’t finish until then. Make it one and you’ve got a deal.”

“Ok, well, I guess I’ll see you at one then.”

“Sounds good. And Brendan?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you called.”

Brendan hung up the phone and finished getting ready for school. He looked through the stack of papers in the folder his mom had left for him and pulled out the birth certificate with his current name on it. School finished at eleven and he could probably drop the passport application off and still make it by one, so he gathered up his photos and pulled a hundred from the drawer before heading out the door.

The school day dragged on and because of the short-day schedule, he didn’t have biology to look forward to. He did see Sarah at her locker but she didn’t see him. She was talking to a tall, blond, football-type goon who was obviously trying to be charming. He started to get angry, but watching Sarah’s face as he talked made it plain that she was just tolerating him. He smiled at the thought, and right when he did, Sarah looked over and caught his eye. She waved at him, causing football-man to scowl.

He turned and walked away. It wasn’t worth a fight. Besides, she deserved someone without a divided heart; someone with a future.

The post office at Madison Square Station was mobbed. He should’ve known better than to come at lunchtime. Brendan stood in line for twenty minutes before he realized there was a separate window for passport applications. The process was pretty simple. Hand in your paperwork, give them the photos, and a hundred bucks later you’re out the door with a six-week waiting period. Less if you’re lucky, but they say six weeks just to hedge their bets.

He was a few minutes late getting to the park. The iconic metal structure, standing in the shadow of the Flatiron Building, was known for its gourmet burgers and creative attempts at frozen custard. Nate was already waiting in line. He didn’t seem upset, and greeted Brendan with a handshake. “I think we should’ve checked the webcam!” He winked and nodded at the line, which was at least twenty deep.

Brendan felt suddenly nervous. “If you don’t have time, we can go somewhere else.”

Nate seemed to be in an especially good mood. “Are you kidding me? I haven’t had one of these in over a year–almost forgot this place existed until you brought it up! Don’t worry. I knew enough to clear a generous block of time for one of these babies.”

“One of the perks of owning the company?”

“You might say that. So what’s your favorite? Burger or Shack-cago Dog?”

“Burger. Definitely.”

“Me too.”

“Ever tried the sweet corn custard?” Brendan was testing him.

Nate squinted in the direction of the menu board. “Is that a real flavor?”

“It was. Kind of different. I tried it on a whim once in a fit of the munchies.”

Nate just nodded.

“Speaking of which, I uh–wanted to apologize for coming to your office that day. You were right. It wasn’t exactly ‘professional’ conduct.”

“I appreciate your saying that. Thanks. I didn’t know if you even remembered coming in.”

"Look, Nate–I’ve been using since I was fifteen. I can do all kinds of things while I’m high. I write most of my English papers that way. It’s not like your brain shuts down completely."

"Sorry."

"Whatev-"

"Seriously, that was uncalled for. I was judging you and I shouldn’t have been."

Brendan blinked back surprise and turned away. "I said whatev man–don’t worry about it."

"Why do I get the distinct impression you’re not used to people apologizing to you?"

Brendan scoffed. "Apologies are old school–I don’t know anyone who apologizes anymore.”

“You just did.”

“Yeah, well–that was a professional apology."

“I see. Well, as a potential boss I accept your apology, and as a potential friend, I hope you’ll accept mine.”

Brendan fidgeted with his pockets and chose not to respond. He didn’t have many guy friends. Wasn’t sure he wanted another one. But there was something about Nate that made him feel grounded in a way he hadn’t noticed until now. He was a no bullshit guy, but somehow he understood things on a level that Brendan didn’t quite get yet.