He sat on the rooftop, staring over the edge of the stones before him. The sun was making its final descent towards the sea and its bed, the moon moving slow to take its place. Clouds lazily passed over the purple and pinks in the sky.
He'd tried so hard to make it work in his mind. Tried to rationalize. Tried to explain. Tried to see the world through the tears in his eyes, making the world dance like a water color sprung to life.
She said she loved him. Said they'd be together forever. And she lied. Her eyes were cold as ice as she turned away from him and walked out the door for the last time. Her words had cut deeper than anything he'd ever experienced.
Another wave of sadness washed over him. His muscles ached from the crying. Hot tears ran down his chilled cheeks. Even breathing was starting to hurt. Even as the city seventy stories below him sang its never ending song he barely heard it. His ears flooded with her voice.
He barely felt the dawn come, the night passing without incident. He hadnt moved. Hadn't tried.
Soon his muscles drove him. Aches and soreness ran through him as his legs lifted his weight onto the edge of the building, the street below beckoning.
The wind seemed to push at him, wanting him to jump. Then. He heard it. A voice as clear as the dawn rising before him. "What the hell are you doing?" He didn't answer. It was obvious. "Gonna jump? Over her, huh?" The smell of cigarette danced with the bittersweet wind that glided past him.
He drew a deep breath.
"Now that will not be an open casket." The voice continued, "The fall will just make you mush. They'll put your remains in a mashed potato bucket." He tried not to smile at the image. "Hey. Maybe we can get KFC to sponsor the whole thing. Your epitaph will be 'Loved food so much he became it.'" The smile finally cracked and more tears came. "Shut up, man. You don't understand." He tried to argue. "Don't understand? Pfft. There's a million girls just like her. Waiting to tap dance on your heart."
He spread his arms, trying to steel himself for the fall. "I give it four days and a bottle of schnapps. You'll be right as rain." Another waft of cigarette smoke ran up his nose. "I don't drink schnapps." It was useless to argue but he tried. "Well you never drank like a man. Always buying those fruity drinks." Both he and the voice chuckled. "One time." "A man can build a million bridges and suck one cock. He will not be known as a bridge builder. He'll be known as a cocksucker." The laughter made him drop his arms.
He wiped the tears from his eyes. His face hurt from the smile. Suddenly memories flooded him, bars and noisy parties. "Besides. You can't kill yourself." The smile faded away. "Why is that?" Another plume of smoke wafted by. "Oh I'm not doubting your ability to simply take a step forward. You've been walking since you were eight." Again the two chuckled together. "Then what?"
The voice laughed. It was a voice he'd known for almost all his life. It's the voice of his best friend. The two of them cavorted and drank and genuinely made each others lives miserable and impossible to live without the other. "Then what? Did you forget? You made me a promise." He took a deep breath, reeling back the tears that tried to start anew. "Yeah. Yeah I did." The words ran through his mind at a pace. Like they had since the day he'd said them.
"You can't break that promise. You said so yourself. Remind me. What did you promise me?"
It was a sad smile as the words came forth. Both he and the voice of his best friend spoke them together. "If you can't walk, brother, You crawl. If you can't crawl, man, you find someone to carry you. And if you can't do that them you get someone to carry your memory. I'll never let you die, man. Never." He nodded, remembering those words. Remembering what they meant.
He stepped off the ledge, knowing his best friend was right.
"I can't honor that if I die." "No. You can't." He wiped the new tears away, smiling the best he could. "You've always known what to say. Always, man." He turned, expecting that big bright smile, pale hands holding a cigarette. But he wasn't there. Then the last memory he wanted came back. His best friend died two years ago. An accidental shooting in a bar he was in. He had gotten there just in time to promise his best friend that and hold him as he breathed his last breath through a smile.
The day was new and bright. And he decided: "I'll carry on. Until the end, I'll carry on. Thanks, brother."
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