by Sarah Toney
(This story contains suicide.)
The air was thin and icy. Breathing it in felt like swallowing shattered glass. The city was beautiful from this height and the boy wanted to reach out and feel the warmth of the setting sun. The heaviness in his chest felt a little lighter from where he stood on the roof’s edge. With his hands tucked into his coat pockets, he looked down at his shoes and admired how worn they were. He felt just as ragged, but unlike the tattered Converse holding his weight, he felt he had no true purpose. His eyes wandered away from his shoes toward the sidewalk below. He watched as crowds of people rushed to reach their destinations. They moved with a swiftness that seemed to suggest that they knew exactly where they were going. Only people who know their purpose move this way, he thought. He yearned for just one of them to look up to see the boy on the ledge, to notice him, to understand that his pain was real. He made a deal with himself: if just one person noticed him, he would climb down from the ledge. Seconds turned into minutes and he lost faith that his deal would be sealed. He waited until his lips were so numb he barely felt the tear that had traveled down to greet them.
The access door to the roof creaked open. An older woman, with a cigarette tucked between her lips and a lighter, shielded from the wind by her hands, burning the end, moved from behind the door. The orange glow from the cigarette lit up her face as she slid the lighter into her coat pocket and adjusted the thick scarf that was wrapped around her neck. As she crossed her arms in front of her chest, she turned to see the boy and froze. His silhouette against the glowing city lights and setting sun was stunning. Her cigarette fell as her mouth hung open in shock. Her jaw seemed stuck in place as she searched for the words, any words, to say but every thought slipped from her mind as she stared at him.
The silence that followed after the door had slammed shut told him that she had noticed him. He didn’t turn to face her. He felt embarrassed; he waited so long for someone on the sidewalk to notice him but now he wanted to be invisible once again. He wanted someone to notice his suffering, but not this closely. He didn’t want to explain to a stranger that even his shoes had more of a purpose than he did. He didn’t want to be convinced that life was worth living, he just wanted to feel validated in his agony. He wanted a sign, not a conversation. Another hot tear rolled down his cheek as he heard the woman speak.
“The city is beautiful tonight, wouldn’t you agree?” She felt her words reverberate through her body as she began to tremble. A warm sensation clawed its way up her neck from her chest, making her face so feverish she could no longer feel the cold breeze on her cheeks.
As he opened his mouth to speak, a gust of wind interrupted him and the words caught in his throat. Catching his breath, he said, “It isn’t beautiful enough.”
The woman swallowed the lump in her own throat and replied, “Enough for what?”
“To convince me to stay,” he whispered through trembling lips.
The woman’s eyes widened as her heart quickened. She once again searched for the right words to say. Before she could speak, the boy turned to face her. His lips were pale and the cold wind had dried his tears, staining his cheeks.
“The city lights, the sunset,” he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as he tilted his head toward the sky, “even the stars all have a purpose.” His eyes were swollen and fresh tears welled up in them.
“You have a purpose too. I may not know you but I do know that every person has a purpose in life. But you have to be present to learn what yours is.” She wasn’t sure of the string of words that had fallen from her lips. As she stared into the boy’s eyes, her own began to fill with tears.
He tilted his head down again and locked eyes with her. “You’re right. Everyone has a purpose in life,” he turned his back to the woman once more, “except me.”
The woman reached her hand out toward him as she tried to meet him at the ledge. Before she could make it to him the boy gave his shoes one last purpose.
The city really was beautiful, especially on the way down.
Category: Featured, Short Story