The Woman on the Rooftop
Apr. 19th, 2011 10:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonI wasn’t sure if she was actually ready to jump or whether she had just landed fresh out of some trick of my eye, but there was a woman standing on the roof of my apartment building that night. Despite a brisk but clear midnight sky with a bright moon just shy of full to her back, she was canopied under a black umbrella. Despite the early March chill she wore a strawberry ice-cream pink summer dress; the folds of which billowed violently around wide hips and stout thighs planted sternly along the roof’s edge. In her other hand she sipped a mimosa, or a screwdriver, or something Tang colored and strong. She didn’t seem to notice me.
Why would she? Those days I barely recognized myself.
Moving on autopilot, I had just gotten off a 2 – 11 shift at the Cube Farm where I logged eight solid hours of processing car crashes and brain hemorrhages into billable CPT Codes. By the time I clocked out at the end of the ‘day’ my soul had shriveled up more than an old man’s balls underwater and the buses had long stopped running. Thankfully the trains still did. Rode a usually solitary southbound out of Medical Center station and hopped the last eastbound off Five Points to Candler Park. From there hoofed four blocks to the corner of Euclid and North. Destination: home. No rush. I had just started living solo – Violet having recently broke up and moved out on me in the same day. My routine since was as follows. Nuke up some dinner, write for a few hours and pass out with a bowl to some old Man from U.N.C.L.E. reruns off Turner South. Try to squeeze in the occasional bout of weep inducing masturbation when I could. Nowhere, however, was I scheduled for rendezvousing with some rooftop dwelling freak before I even have a chance to walk in through the front door.
I paused in my tracks, coming down the driveway that led to one of two doors into my crummy one bedroom apartment. Lit up a cigarette and waited for her to notice me. If she did I was beneath her concern – literally. So I broke the ice.
“Don’t jump, Lady!” I shouted between cupped hands, “That Mary Poppins shit only works in England.”
She looked down and from the veil of her parasol’s shadow a Cheshire smile emerged.
The smile hit colder than the wind it brought with it.
Unperturbed, I pressed on: “Seriously… you alright up there?”
“I’m fine,” the smile receded back into the dark, “thanks for asking.”
“So what’re you, like friends with Jeff and Eric?” Those were the two stoners who lived upstairs from me and spent most of their free time (of which they had an ample amount of) rehearsing the opening chords of Stairway to Heaven, a crime so heinous that the infernal powers that be had to actually open a specially designated circle in the Inferno shortly after the release of Led Zeppelin IV.
“Who?”
“The guys whose ceiling your standing on!”
She snorted and peered curiously down from her shade. The eyes were those of the one who got away, lit with a flame bright as genius and wild as madness. Fluttering hair the exact color of your first love’s trailed into veiling wisps before a nocturnal skyline. Lips sculpted perfectly for kissing you goodbye one last time and saying:
“No.”
“Ohhh-kay. So what’s up, then?”
“Me.”
I rolled my eyes and chuckled politely: “Seriously?”
“Come up here and find out.” There was no hint of challenge or command in her voice.
“Do I know you…?” I asked, puffing on my smoke thoughtfully.
She shrugged and an orange drop plummeted and splashed off her glass before me.
I tried figuring it out. There was no way up there via the apartment building. The only way I knew of was to shimmy up the poles to the upstairs neighbors’ apartment and then do a pull up off the ledge. Not impossible, but highly unlikely.
Still I tried just that.
I shrugged out of my saddle bag, walked up to the metal pole and started dry humping my way up its length. I got as far as halfway before the smoothness of the pole’s surface sent me sliding back down. I tried this a couple of times before finally almost reaching the balcony and dropping backwards to land with a smack across the grass.
It was hard, but I pretended to not hear her giggle.
Instead I just laid there soaking in the pain and staring up at her: “Right, so look, what’s your name, again?”
In response she reached out her glass, maneuvered it just right and tilted it to pour out slowly. A steady trickle flowed directly into my mouth and drowned out my next question. I gulped it down and shambled back up. I tried again, this time grabbing the next door neighbor’s outdoor shelf stuffed with girlfriend potted plants and dragged it just under the balcony. I scrambled up the shelf and precariously stood on its top. I was well in reach of the balcony’s rail. Just in time. A shift of my weight sent the shelf toppling over. I leapt blindly and slammed chest first into the rail. Instinct took over and bear hugged my arms for purchase. With a struggle I managed to squirm over the rail.
I caught my breath and looked over the railing. The shelf was shattered along with all the potted plants I meticulously didn’t move to safety. Behind the balcony’s door, the upstairs neighbors’ German Sheppard went berserk. Barking furiously and clawing furiously to reach me. I climbed up on the banister and was ready to hoist myself up on the roof when I saw the apartment lights click on. I tried hurrying up but already the door was clicking open and suddenly this brown comet of yawning jaws came at me lightning quick. I heard Eric’s voice command: “Rip his balls out, Marley!”
Panic shook me. I jumped back from the snatching jaws and remembered how high up I was as I fell for the second time that night. This time not alone. Marley dived right after me, also apparently unaware of the consequences. Behind the falling German Sheppard, I saw the woman on the rooftop looking down with a hand over those perfect lips and…
… lights out.
When I came back to the land of the living I was haloed by a ring of concerned faces. Eric and Jeff. Magpie and Megan. The creepy guy who lived across the hall from me. Some locals from the complex across the driveway and Marley who was licking my face and panting excitedly.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Everyone looked at each other oddly and I knew right there and then not to bother.
“What were you trying to do?” Eric asked incredulously.
“Trying to get on the roof.” I answered and with a groan started to move.
“Well you’re lucky you hit the grass.” Magpie chortled
“And real lucky Marley landed on you…,” Jeff huffed and Eric put a consolatory hand over his shoulders.
“Wait,” Megan asked with dawning realization while I awkwardly scrambled up on my feet, “why were you trying to get on the roof?”
“Dunno… figured I’d find out when I got there.”
The crowd traded uneasy looks and slowly began to filter away. I dismissed an offer of an ambulance. Confirmed that outside of a few bruises I was fine. Apologized profusely to Megan about her plants. Promised the upstairs neighbors that I would never try a stunt like that again… and finally grabbed my bag and walked in the front door.
Where, once I turned on the living room lights, discovered the woman on the rooftop sitting on the corner of my coffin/coffee table. The umbrella was folded up and her hands folded over the curved handle with her chin resting on top of that.
“Good effort, “ she winked.
“Who are you?” I asked throwing my keys across the table and shutting the door behind me.
“Well, that depends.”
“On what?”
“How far you’re still willing to crawl...”
I nodded with a wisdom I clearly did not possess and turned the lights back off.
Why would she? Those days I barely recognized myself.
Moving on autopilot, I had just gotten off a 2 – 11 shift at the Cube Farm where I logged eight solid hours of processing car crashes and brain hemorrhages into billable CPT Codes. By the time I clocked out at the end of the ‘day’ my soul had shriveled up more than an old man’s balls underwater and the buses had long stopped running. Thankfully the trains still did. Rode a usually solitary southbound out of Medical Center station and hopped the last eastbound off Five Points to Candler Park. From there hoofed four blocks to the corner of Euclid and North. Destination: home. No rush. I had just started living solo – Violet having recently broke up and moved out on me in the same day. My routine since was as follows. Nuke up some dinner, write for a few hours and pass out with a bowl to some old Man from U.N.C.L.E. reruns off Turner South. Try to squeeze in the occasional bout of weep inducing masturbation when I could. Nowhere, however, was I scheduled for rendezvousing with some rooftop dwelling freak before I even have a chance to walk in through the front door.
I paused in my tracks, coming down the driveway that led to one of two doors into my crummy one bedroom apartment. Lit up a cigarette and waited for her to notice me. If she did I was beneath her concern – literally. So I broke the ice.
“Don’t jump, Lady!” I shouted between cupped hands, “That Mary Poppins shit only works in England.”
She looked down and from the veil of her parasol’s shadow a Cheshire smile emerged.
The smile hit colder than the wind it brought with it.
Unperturbed, I pressed on: “Seriously… you alright up there?”
“I’m fine,” the smile receded back into the dark, “thanks for asking.”
“So what’re you, like friends with Jeff and Eric?” Those were the two stoners who lived upstairs from me and spent most of their free time (of which they had an ample amount of) rehearsing the opening chords of Stairway to Heaven, a crime so heinous that the infernal powers that be had to actually open a specially designated circle in the Inferno shortly after the release of Led Zeppelin IV.
“Who?”
“The guys whose ceiling your standing on!”
She snorted and peered curiously down from her shade. The eyes were those of the one who got away, lit with a flame bright as genius and wild as madness. Fluttering hair the exact color of your first love’s trailed into veiling wisps before a nocturnal skyline. Lips sculpted perfectly for kissing you goodbye one last time and saying:
“No.”
“Ohhh-kay. So what’s up, then?”
“Me.”
I rolled my eyes and chuckled politely: “Seriously?”
“Come up here and find out.” There was no hint of challenge or command in her voice.
“Do I know you…?” I asked, puffing on my smoke thoughtfully.
She shrugged and an orange drop plummeted and splashed off her glass before me.
I tried figuring it out. There was no way up there via the apartment building. The only way I knew of was to shimmy up the poles to the upstairs neighbors’ apartment and then do a pull up off the ledge. Not impossible, but highly unlikely.
Still I tried just that.
I shrugged out of my saddle bag, walked up to the metal pole and started dry humping my way up its length. I got as far as halfway before the smoothness of the pole’s surface sent me sliding back down. I tried this a couple of times before finally almost reaching the balcony and dropping backwards to land with a smack across the grass.
It was hard, but I pretended to not hear her giggle.
Instead I just laid there soaking in the pain and staring up at her: “Right, so look, what’s your name, again?”
In response she reached out her glass, maneuvered it just right and tilted it to pour out slowly. A steady trickle flowed directly into my mouth and drowned out my next question. I gulped it down and shambled back up. I tried again, this time grabbing the next door neighbor’s outdoor shelf stuffed with girlfriend potted plants and dragged it just under the balcony. I scrambled up the shelf and precariously stood on its top. I was well in reach of the balcony’s rail. Just in time. A shift of my weight sent the shelf toppling over. I leapt blindly and slammed chest first into the rail. Instinct took over and bear hugged my arms for purchase. With a struggle I managed to squirm over the rail.
I caught my breath and looked over the railing. The shelf was shattered along with all the potted plants I meticulously didn’t move to safety. Behind the balcony’s door, the upstairs neighbors’ German Sheppard went berserk. Barking furiously and clawing furiously to reach me. I climbed up on the banister and was ready to hoist myself up on the roof when I saw the apartment lights click on. I tried hurrying up but already the door was clicking open and suddenly this brown comet of yawning jaws came at me lightning quick. I heard Eric’s voice command: “Rip his balls out, Marley!”
Panic shook me. I jumped back from the snatching jaws and remembered how high up I was as I fell for the second time that night. This time not alone. Marley dived right after me, also apparently unaware of the consequences. Behind the falling German Sheppard, I saw the woman on the rooftop looking down with a hand over those perfect lips and…
… lights out.
When I came back to the land of the living I was haloed by a ring of concerned faces. Eric and Jeff. Magpie and Megan. The creepy guy who lived across the hall from me. Some locals from the complex across the driveway and Marley who was licking my face and panting excitedly.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Everyone looked at each other oddly and I knew right there and then not to bother.
“What were you trying to do?” Eric asked incredulously.
“Trying to get on the roof.” I answered and with a groan started to move.
“Well you’re lucky you hit the grass.” Magpie chortled
“And real lucky Marley landed on you…,” Jeff huffed and Eric put a consolatory hand over his shoulders.
“Wait,” Megan asked with dawning realization while I awkwardly scrambled up on my feet, “why were you trying to get on the roof?”
“Dunno… figured I’d find out when I got there.”
The crowd traded uneasy looks and slowly began to filter away. I dismissed an offer of an ambulance. Confirmed that outside of a few bruises I was fine. Apologized profusely to Megan about her plants. Promised the upstairs neighbors that I would never try a stunt like that again… and finally grabbed my bag and walked in the front door.
Where, once I turned on the living room lights, discovered the woman on the rooftop sitting on the corner of my coffin/coffee table. The umbrella was folded up and her hands folded over the curved handle with her chin resting on top of that.
“Good effort, “ she winked.
“Who are you?” I asked throwing my keys across the table and shutting the door behind me.
“Well, that depends.”
“On what?”
“How far you’re still willing to crawl...”
I nodded with a wisdom I clearly did not possess and turned the lights back off.