Letters From The Ledge (29 page)

"There you are!" Ginny sang out. She grabbed his hands and pretended to kiss his cheek. "We’re going to dinner at six, ok?"

"Sure. No problem."

Ginny began recounting the story of how Brendan would be traveling in Europe for six weeks as a graduation present from her and Frank before starting The Wharton School of Business in the fall. Her words were like white noise and suddenly he caught the scent of apples. When he looked up Sarah was standing a few feet away, watching him.

"Excuse me a minute, Mom."

Ginny turned to see what had caught his attention and raised her eyebrows in the direction of the cute brown haired girl he was heading toward.

"You’re back to you." Brendan nodded his approval.

She fingered her hair. "I’m surprised you remember the original color."

"I remember a lot of things."

Sarah smiled. "Yeah, well–I realized I was pretty ok the way I was."

"I’m glad you came." His voice was gentle and his eyes were soft and when he smiled the look on her face stuck tiny pins into his heart.

"I brought you something." She held out what looked like a book, wrapped in white paper and tied with a black and white ribbon.

"Thanks. You didn’t have to do that."

"Actually, I did."

"Should I open it now?" He began to tug at the ribbon but she put her hand on top of his to stay his fingers. The electric pulse was almost immediate, running back and forth between the two of them.

"No! Wait, please–at least until I’m gone. In fact, you–might want to wait until you’ve got some time alone."

Brendan looked up at her, a bit puzzled. "Ok."

"So what’s next? For you, I mean."

She was trying to be casual, he could tell, but his conversation with Nate still had him by the throat, and between the two of them, the idea of getting on that plane in the morning was becoming less and less appealing.

“I leave in the morning.”

"Europe! You’ll love it."

"Have you been?"

"Once, yes. My aunt took me, two summers ago. She’s the one I’ll be staying with."

"Right. And when do you leave?"

"Not for a couple more weeks. Some of us still have finals.”

Brendan remembered the AP Exam. They’d given out the results of the exams after yesterday’s rehearsal. He wasn’t sure if she’d gotten hers yet. “So, did you get your test score back yet? For the AP Bio exam?”

She shook her head. “I’m not so sure I passed. I could always take another shot at it next year.”

He’d forgotten that she still had a year to go. He nodded.

Sarah stuffed her hands in her pockets. "So, are you going to Europe all by yourself?"

"Does my camera count? The two of us spend an awful lot of time together!”

“That should be great for those long, cold nights." She laughed. "Better pack a sweater, just in case!"

His eyes lit up. "Tell me your favorite place and I’ll make sure to visit it!"

She tried to read his expression and flushed pink. “Really?”

“Of course!”

"Well, are you going to France?"

"Absolutely!"

Sarah didn’t need to think long. "Paris Opera House–hands down."

Brendan held up his fingers and wiggled them "Ooh! You mean where the Phantom lives?"

"Yes, actually. Tell him I said hi."

They both laughed.

"Seriously though, I’ve never felt anything like that place."

"Don’t you mean seen? You’ve never
seen
anything like it?"

"No, I’m pretty sure I know what I meant. You’ll see."

His mother was standing about ten feet away, watching them with interest. He watched Sarah smile and then quickly look away.

"I’d introduce you, but she’s like a piranha. Trust me–I’m doing you a favor." He waved his mother off behind his back.

"It’s ok. I have to go anyway. I just came to give you that."

"Well, thanks again."

She hesitated for a minute before clearing her throat. "I realize, that I might never see you again, and…I just want you to know how much you’ve meant to me. The present explains the rest."

Brendan’s mouth went dry. "Ok."
I’m pretty sure I love you.

"Thanks for helping me to be brave."

She took his face in her right hand and stood on her tiptoes, leaning in toward his freshly shaven cheek. When she got close he turned toward her and took her mouth instead, grabbing hold of her by both upper arms, holding her captive and unleashing a gentle fury he didn’t know he possessed. He lost himself in the waves of it, until the room came back into focus and he released her just as gently.

Sarah stood wide-eyed. He licked his lips and tasted her again, swallowing and searching for the right words.

"Goodbye Brendan." She turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Suddenly his mother’s biting voice was in his ear. "So much for your father’s theory. You ready to go, Romeo?"

Brendan looked up. “Yeah. Ready.”

“So, is that the same girl I saw you with that one day? Sarah, was it? The one who’s ‘just a friend’?”

He didn’t have the strength to fight her anymore. “Yeah. It’s…complicated.”

Ginny smiled at him. “I understand.”

It was strange, having his mother become more and more of a human before his very eyes. He wondered how he would see her five years from now, or ten, for that matter. She was right, of course. His birth mother had given him breath but Ginny had given him the rest. She’d been there every single day of his life. Still, it didn’t excuse the neglect, and it didn’t help that she’d turned her head the other way every time his father got physical. But looking down at her now, she looked small and fragile.

Brendan was following Ginny out of the building when he stopped cold and looked down at the book in his hands.
We even nicknamed you guys Romeo and Juliet for a while.
Her journal? He shook his head and vowed to keep it for the plane. He didn’t need anything else to distract him from leaving.

"Get busy living, or get busy dying."

- The Shawshank Redemption

As the stewardess settled him into his first class seat, Brendan fought the urge to try to order a drink and asked for a soda instead. International flight attendants were notorious for looking the other way as long as you looked at least sixteen. As soon as they shut the doors and began to taxi toward the runway, he pulled Sarah’s gift out of his knapsack. It was still wrapped in the delicate white paper, the black and white ribbon closed around it as if it could keep reality at bay. He pulled one of the pictures he’d taken of her out of his wallet. She was blond in the picture, but he remembered her face at graduation instead and licked his lips absently, searching for the taste of her.

Carefully he untied the ribbon and attached it to the strap on his camera, then gently removed the tissue paper wrapping. He laid the simple, brown leather book in his lap and chuckled. He tried smelling it, but it just smelled like leather. There was no inscription. He opened it just as the plane was lifting off the ground.

I saw him again tonight. Three nights in a row he’s been out there on the ledge. Sometimes he stands, holding his arms out like a bird, and I don’t know if he wants to jump or just fly away...

The breath caught in Brendan’s chest. He’d known the truth, but somehow reading it there in her delicate script made it seem even more real. What really threw him was that she’d known too, but she didn’t say anything. How long had she known?

He read the entries with interest, calculating the dates, trying to put together a mental picture of what she was doing, of when they met; anything that would help to make sense of the bizarre coincidences that seemed to be taking over his life these last few months.

As her read her account of the angel bouncers, he pulled out his own journal, flipping through time to find his own words, comparing the two and wondering where the truth fit. The dates matched up exactly. He swallowed down a sip of coke and tried to steady the beating of his heart, which was now pounding against the barrier of his skin. A cold sweat broke out on his neck and his hands went numb.
Calm down Brendan.

Slowly he reached into his backpack once again and pulled out Tess’ letter. His hands were shaking as he held it there. He could’ve used a joint, but of course that was out of the question. Maybe he’d have to take up cigarettes. Or maybe he’d just have to get over himself.

The guy next to him looked over. “You ok mate?”

Brendan looked straight ahead and nodded, but the shaking didn’t stop. The guy looked around and then pushed his Rum and Coke toward Brendan. “You want this?”

Brendan looked sideways at him and nodded.

The guy popped the top on the miniature rum bottle and poured the rest in, then switched cups with him.

“Thanks.”

The guy just nodded and went back to reading. It was going to be a long flight.

Brendan opened the letter, still trembling, and read the words he already knew were written on the page.

Know that I loved you. And if it’s possible at all, I’ll be watching out for you. Me and the angels, that is…

Brendan put his hand over his mouth and wasn’t able to stop the tears from dripping down his face in an embarrassing show of weakness. After a minute, he downed the Rum and Coke in two big gulps and the guy next to him quietly switched their cups back, then signaled the stewardess and asked for another.

I guess there are angels everywhere, aren’t there Tess?

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reconcile it. There were no logical explanations for this. Then again, maybe there had been things throughout his life that had little explanation, he’d just been unaware. Maybe he’d been protected many times and never known it. So many stories had emerged since 9/11 of people who, by some strange coincidence weren’t in the towers the morning they collapsed, it had raised the awareness, with or without faith, of some strange, karma-like force that held the universe together.

For Brendan it begged the obvious questions. Why him? And why now? Because of her? Was Tess somehow trying to set him up with Sarah? She did give her permission, after all. And if he could believe in the voice he’d heard in his head that day he ran after Sarah at the cemetery, then surely he could believe…

He sighed as the guy next to him smiled sympathetically and slid the new Rum and Coke into his spot, pulling the regular coke onto his own tray table. “I’ve had some rough trips myself” the guy explained, sticking out his hand. “I’m Rob.”

“Brendan.” The two shook hands.

Rob nodded. His white long-sleeved shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, was made to be worn untucked, over jeans. Add to that the spiked dirty blond hair and gleaming white teeth and for all Brendan knew he could’ve been a British rock star. Rob looked down at the growing stack of journals and letters on Brendan’s lap. “Trouble with a girl?”

Brendan laughed a little. He’d guessed right on the British part–maybe tipped with a bit of Australian.

“Two, actually.”

Now it was Rob’s turn to laugh, inclining his head toward the clear plastic cup filled with brown syrupy liquid. “I was right. You needed that more than me.” He eyed the picture of Sarah and his eyebrows raised in admiration. “Nice. She the one you’re choosing?”

Brendan blinked, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. He was about to say that he didn’t have a choice, but that wasn’t really true. It wasn’t just that Tess was dead and Sarah was alive. He could still choose to hold onto the pain of losing Tess, but as time went on it seemed pointless. Especially since she seemed to be letting go first. The whole thing was just bizarre. It was like she knew. And not only did she know what, she knew
when
. That was the part that really freaked him out.

He held the picture of Sarah between his fingers. “You think this one’s good–get a load of this picture here.” He dug through his backpack one more time and produced his copy of the book he’d made for Tess. At the end there was a black and white of Sarah’s face–the picture he’d snapped at the coffee shop that day. In that picture you couldn’t tell what color her hair was, so all you noticed was her skin and her eyes and her lips and–

“You’re right.” Rob said. “Much better photo. Did you take these?”

Brendan thought it was hilarious that when a Brit asked a question, the inflection dropped on the last word instead of going up. It was so strange for two people to speak the same language, but speak it a totally different way. He looked down at the book in his hand. “Uh–yeah. I did.”

“May I?”

There it was again. Brendan found himself chuckling. He took another sip of the Rum and Coke. It was sweeter than he preferred, but it was doing the trick and he was thankful for it.

Rob looked skeptical. “Did I say something funny?”

One more time, ok… It really wasn’t
that
funny and Brendan had to stop laughing at the poor guy. “No, no. You’re fine. I was just thinking about something else.”

Rob looked through the book slowly, deliberately. It started to make Brendan a little uncomfortable. He watched Rob read through every poem; examine every image. Of course, it was an eight-hour flight. They had nothing but time to kill. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did.

“Did you write these words?”

Brendan looked up. “What? No. Well, only a couple. Most of them were written by a friend of mine.”

“Well, I’d like to meet him. They’d make amazing lyrics.”

“Her.” Brendan corrected.

His face brightened and he flipped to the black and white of Sarah’s face. “The one in the picture then?”

Brendan shook his head. “No. The other one.”

“Have you got a picture of her too?”

Brendan swallowed and looked him in the eye. “She’s dead.”

“Oh. Oh! Sorry then. So, so sorry.”

Brendan just shook his head softly and tried to smile. They sat in silence for a while longer. Rob kept reading that first poem over and over. His head was just bobbing up and down to a rhythm all its own. Brendan watched him with a quizzical look on his face.

Rob looked up, surprised but not at all embarrassed. “I’m sorry, it’s just–I can hear music to this in my head when I read it. Was it a song once?”

Brendan shook his head. “No. Not that I know of.”

“Pity. I think it’d be really, really good.”

Brendan smiled. “Yeah? Are you a musician?”

“Yeah, you know, me and the boys play a little on the weekends.” The guy might not be a rock star, but he’d guessed pretty close, anyway. And not too many starving musicians flew first class. Rob was still bobbing up and down to the music in his head, tapping out the drumbeat on his thigh. “So where are you headed?” Rob wondered.

The question was valid. He was, after all, on a plane bound for London. “Me? I’m not sure.”

“Well they are going to drop you round Heathrow in about seven more hours, you know.” Rob smiled indulgently. “Business or pleasure?”

“Both, I hope. But mostly just to see all the stuff I’ve been reading about all these years. Graduation gift from my parents.”

“Well that’s a fine gift, isn’t it?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“So you’re starting in London then?”

“Yeah. Figured I’d start where they speak English and move on as I get braver.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been everywhere. You can almost always find someone who speaks your language.”

“Probably.” Brendan looked out the window.

“Have you got a place to stay while you’re in London?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, me and a couple of my band members have got a flat in town, and you’re welcome to the couch for a few days if you want it. At least until you get your bearings.”

Brendan blinked back his surprise. “Thanks.”

“No worries.” Rob smiled, looking down at the book again. “Maybe you’ll even let me and the boys have a crack at making this into a song.”

“I think she would’ve liked that.”

Rob smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

Maybe there really were angels every step of the way.

Dear Brendan,

This will be the last entry into this journal. This will be my last act of courage where you’re concerned, because I’m letting you go so that you can fly. But before I do, I want you to know some things.

When I saw that it was you through my dad’s binoculars, I knew for the first time in my life that God was real, and those angels I saw lift you up that one night–they were real too. You’ve been kept alive for something special, because everything happens for a reason. It makes so much sense now–why I was drawn to you.

The hardest thing to come to terms with is that I may not be a part of that something in your life. It’s possible that my part to play in your life is over, and now you’ll move on and do whatever it is you were meant to do. I’m glad you never jumped. I’m glad you’re less angry now than you used to be.

What I want to explain to you–and maybe I can’t even put it into words, is that without even knowing it, you’ve helped me to find my own freedom. Somehow knowing you has given me the courage I needed to step outside my fears and explore what I’m really made of. I’ll never forget you for that, and I want you to know that I don’t regret one minute of the time I spent with you.

I leave for Brigus in a couple of weeks. My aunt’s restaurant is on the south side of town, with a view of the harbor, and there must be a nest along the cliffs somewhere because I always see eagles flying through the harbor. I don’t think I’ll ever see them again without thinking of you and your desire to fly free, and I’ll be praying that you find what you need to get you where you’re going.

By the time I get back you’ll probably be gone–off to wherever it is your life is calling you. In November my family will move again, and I’ll say goodbye to New York, just as I’ve said goodbye to so many other places. This time will be different though, because I’m leaving part of my heart behind. For the first time, I made an investment in a place that went deeper than the surface.

Our lives so far have been very different, but I’m glad that for a brief moment in time, our paths saw fit to converge and mingle. I’m glad that I got to be a friend for part of the journey. You’ve left on me some of your fairy dust, and because of it, now I can fly too. It wasn’t so much that I needed to think happy thoughts, but I did need to learn how to believe.

Thank you. I hope you have an incredible life.

Love,

Sarah