Date: Tue, 22 Sep 1998 00:21:43 PDT From: Guy Trache Subject: Strings Attached Strings Attached By Pfantazm ~~~ Author's Note: The following story contains depictions of-- oh, wait. No, it doesn't. Oops. Never mind. Oh, wait, there was something I wanted to say. You're going to read this story, then go back, see the title and go huh? I don't know either. It just seems to fit. ~~~ It's actually kinda nice out here. I can see why no one would want to spend their lunch hour here, but it is a pleasant spot nonetheless. Just don't look down. Of course, there's really no reason for me to heed my own advice. What am I going to do, fall? When you're looking *out* a window, it doesn't seem so high, because there's so much directly ahead of you in the skyline to distract you. But if you look down.... My mother hates high places. She told me it's because when she looks down from them, she feels this urge to jump. So maybe it's hardwired into us. One day, one time, we all just want gravity to claim us. So why not now? Enought sightseeing and dawdling, it's time to end it. Gotta hurry before someone sees me. Whoops. Too late. What are those three idiots doing down there? One's running off (oh, great, the cops) and one's taking off his jacket. Oh, for Christ's sake. You jackass, you'll never catch me in that. This guy must be an engineering major, I can tell. I'm ten stories up. How fast do you figure I'll be going when I get to street level? Just my luck, I'll probably land on one of them, he'll break my fall, I'll break his neck, and I'll end up in jail for involuntary manslaughter. I don't need this. Huh. I'll fix them. It's a long ledge. I'll just go around the corner. They're following me. I don't believe it, they're following me. How does that poem go? Razors pain you, rivers are damp, acids stain you, drugs cause cramp, guns aren't lawful, nooses give, gas smells awful... and if you jump two dickheads will try to catch you in a sportscoat. Oh, to hell with this. If I can find that open window, I can get back inside, find another building and try again. No delays. Oh, hello. Fine. Don't stay to talk. People rarely do. Well, if the cops aren't already coming, he'll call them. He *locked* the *window*?! You asshole! Great, now I'm stuck out here whether I want to jump or not. If I run along the ledge, I can take a flying leap and those two-- no, three, the other guy's come back. And oh, look, they're donating another jacket to the cause. Anyway. If I take a run at it, the Flying Wallendas down there can't catch me. But I'll land right in that playpark. Little kids. I can't do that. What's the other way? Parking lot. What's that? A news truck?! The guy with the jacket had his friend call for a camera crew? Maybe I should land on them. No matter who dies I'd be doing the world a favor. [Excuse me...] "What do you want?" [The lady on the phone wants to talk with you.] "Go away!" What an extremely brown person. Brown eyes, brown hair (bald head), brown moustache, brown glasses, brown cardigan and beige dress shirt. For variety, I guess. This is probably the most exciting thing that's happened to him since he lost his virginity. Assuming. Gotta be 911 he's talking to. Who else knows I'm here? Oh. Maybe everyone. That cameraman looks ready. Maybe if I go to the other side of the building, I can get this done in peace. Shit. Now the cops are here. I pass either of those windows and they'll try to grab me. I'm trapped. I don't fucking *believe* this. I can't even fall off a building right. [Can I talk to you?] Police negotiator. I've been expecting you. "No. What makes you think I want to talk?" [I'd just like to know why you're doing this.] "I'd like to tell you, really, but I've got places to be..." Damn. They've got a net. You guys really know how to ruin someone's day. [What's your name?] "You can fish my ID out of my wallet when I'm finished." If I tell you, you're going to call someone, and then I'll have to *explain*. And where could I begin? I'd have to explain that having the marks I have coming out of university make me useless for everything. Any job for which I'd need the degree, they'd take one look at my transcript and turn me down flat. Any job for which I wouldn't need the degree, as soon as they see I have one, they'll throw out my resume. Everybody thinks I'm so smart because I was "gifted" in school. All that means is that the other kids all hated me. Some gift. From an educational standpoint, I'm a fraud. I have almost no friends, no job, no money, no prospects, no chance, no hope. I'm having to rely on about my only friend I have to let me stay with him. Now _he_'s having money problems, and I'm so deep into despair I'm pushing him away so he's not going to want to have anything to do with me. And let's not even think about my love life. It's amazing. Being gay is about the only part of my life that doesn't depress me. It's about the only thing in myself I can be sure of. I still can't tell anyone. My parents would never accept it. I don't dare tell my roommate 'cause I'm on shaky ground there as it is. But I can still accept it within myself. Since I've been on my own, socially, since I was about six, I never heard any of the crap the other kids must have said about being gay. So I never saw what was wrong with it. I was not only anti-social in the most literal meaning of the word, I was pretty much asexual too. I didn't figure out about me until almost a year *after* university, when I was all edumacated and could think about it rationally. Being gay itself didn't bother me. [We want you to know we're here for you. We are all worried about you.] "Don;t make me laugh. You and that guy with the phone and those three idiots down there with the jackets, you're all keeping me from what I need to do! Youdon't care about me, you don't even know me. The people down there are wondering if I'm going to cave in their car. If you all give such a damn about me as a human being, then where the hell were you when I needed you?! "Where was everyone who was supposed to help me? What were my parents thinking of when I said I should go looking for a job and they forced me to work in the family business and live at home? No paycheck, just room, board and a small allowance, like I'm a child and not a univeristy grad? "Where's the government help when living with my family *and* working with them finally drives me up the wall so far that I *have* to move out and get a job, but because they paid no unemployment insurance all they can do for me is hand me a newspaper and say, [Start looking, kid.] You see, because I can be enough of a shitheel to sponge off my parents and friends I'm not desperate enough to get their help. "Do you care so much about me that you want me to continue living without *any* kind of hope for a future except living on the street and dying slowly from starvation instead of like this? "And that's just the tip of the iceberg. There are so many other things wrong with me, it's all too much! Whenyou can find some way to solve those problems, I'll give you a few more. *Then* we can talk about coming inside. "But you can't. No one can make it all better. It's just not possible." I lied to the nice policeman. I don't have my ID. I don't have anything with my name on it. With luck, they'll never figure out who I am. My parents, my roommate, or (exasperated sigh) him, no one who cares about me will ever connect this with me. And there won't be enough left of my face for an identification. So if I jump now when no one's expecting it, maybe-- `Matt?' Oh, god no. No... "Andy?" There he is leaning out the window. Dark eyes, gorgeous face, wavy hair blowing in the breeze. Squinting a little 'cause the sun's in his eyes. He's looking like he didn't want to see me standing out here. "Andy, what the hell are you doing here? How...?" `I saw you on the news. I recognizes the patches on your coat. Why are you doing this?' "Andy, just go home. Go back downstairs and forget about this." Oh shit, I'm gonna cry. "Please." `I couldn't forget this. I need to know why. It's not what I said about...?' "No, it's not. It's too many other things." But you're really high up on the list. "Please, I don't want you here. I don't want you to see this." `You're not going to jump if I'm here, you mean. And I'm not going anywhere until you tell me about it.' Shit. Shit, shit, shit. "Alright, let's start with you. We're great together, I thought. We can talk. You know how difficult that is for me. I love to spend time with you. I love holding you. I love kissing you." I love *you*, you jerk, that's the problem. "I just...." Dammit, I am crying now. `So why are you always shying away from me? I know we're good friends. But when I start to talk about a future together, you change the subject. I start taking your shirt off, you back off. I'm getting mixed signals from you and I don't know what the problem is.' "I just don't want to hurt you anymore" `You think if you killed yourself, that wouldn't hurt me?' "You weren't supposed to find out, damn you. I'd just go quietly and no one would know." `If you went missing one day, I would do everything I could to find you. Trust me, I'd find out. That still doesn't tell me why you keep your distance.' "I'm too fucked up, Andy!" God, I sound pathetic. Snivelly and whiny. "I don't want to unload all my problems on you. I don't want to talk about the future 'cause I don;t think I'm going to *have* any kind of a future. I can't help with the rent if I moved in with you. And I don't take my clothes off because-- here. I'll show you. Then you'll leave me alone and I can get on with it." I've got no reason to be afraid here. I just turn him completely off me and all my troubles will be over. So I take my hacket off and throw it to him. Pull my shirt over my head.... `You're going to do this in public?' "It's only my shirt." I'm thin, but not built, and that's not the problem. Look at my back, Andy. All those spots. Used to be acne. Now they're just little tiny scars. All over. "I bleed on my pillowcases some nights. They still open up. I've had them for years. They're not going away. No matter what else I do, I'll always have those, and I'll bleed all over the bed, and I'll bleed all over you and that's the least of my problems." Look him right in the eye and scare him off for good. "I'm not going to be able to get a job anytime soon. It's gotten to the point where I don't bother sending out resumes most days. "And then you say that if I can't contribute more to this relationship, you don't see the point in going on? I can't get more involved with you any more, Andy. I'm an anchor. I'll only drag you down. I'm trying to protect you." Have to wipe away the tears. Damn, it's getting cold up here. "So I gotta leave you alone. "But do you remember how we met?" `Playing a game online. So?' "Andy, you don't know this, but that was the only time I'd ever played under that name, and the only time I've ever been in the gay room. One night, for about an hour and you were there and I asked for a location check and you and I were in the same city. We lived near each other. We exchanged e-mail addresses. We talked on the phone. We met. I fell in love with you and you liked me. In *one hour* online, the only time I've taken a chance and exposed myself as gay *anywhere* in my life I found *you*. Think of the odds! When will I ever see that kind of luck again if I drive you away? "And since I can't bring myself to be with you, I have no choice. I can't come out. I'll be alone all my life. One more disaster to live down. It's not *worth* living!" There. He's ducking back inside. He's gone. He's back. What is he doing? He's climbing out! "Andy, get back inside that goddamn building! What the fuck are you doing?" `I'm coming out to see you.' And there he is. Tall, handsome. He's not shy about taking his shirt off, so I know his skin is clear. I've never ever seen anyone as bad as me. "Christ, be careful. Go back! I'm not worth this!" He's standing up. He's edging over. "So help me if you fall, *no* one will be able to keep me from killing myself!" He's inches away. I can smell him even though he's upwind of me. I'm a wreck, but he's still turning me on just by his presence. I've seen this body. I've held him close. Yeah, just like this. He's got his hands on my bare back and he's hugging me tight. He really doesn't want to let me go. Feels so good. Don't move. Stay like this forever. `I've never seen you like this, Matt. When we're together, you're funny and bright. I love that person. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Is he in here someplace?' I don't know, is he? Or is he just the person I hide behind to deal with the world? Right now I don't want to think about it. I just want to be here, safe and warm and loved. I'm happy like this. That other guy is me, happy. "I think so. But I don't know where he is. Do you want to help me find him?" `Yes, Matt. But on the ground floor.' Oh man, we're out here and he's cracking jokes. Maybe there's hope for me yet. "Let's go in. But one at a time. You first. I promise I won't jump." I feel a chill run down my back. We're not safe yet. What a dumb time to get scared of falling off. Thank god he's made it to the window. He's gesturing for me to go in. He doesn't trust me at all. Can't say I blame him. Cops and office workers. I wish they'd stop staring. Ah, Andy went to get a chair before. Okay, I'm in, I'm safe, but I'm not going anywhere until you are too. Take my hand. Good. Now I can relax. I need to hold you again. "You really want to help me? You don't care how many problems I have?" I love that laugh. `I really want to help, and I really don't care how many problems we have.' Huh? `Hey, I'm not perfect either. But we can survive them together.' You better be for real, Andy, 'cause I'm going to hold onto you for dear life. ~~~ Another Author's Note: There's a lot of me in there, guys, but don't worry. I don't plan to off myself anytime soon. No buildings have ledges anymore anyway. I went through this whole story in my head in bed this morning. I even made myself cry, and I didn't even cry at my grandfather's funeral. I go scary places sometimes. If you're thinking about ending it all yourself, I don't recommend it. It's amazing what being important to someone can do for you. I'm not a counselor, and if I had all the answers, I'd never have been able to write this thing. Let me be one voice. Please don't. ~~~